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thedemoninme141 · 2 days ago

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The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is Wednesday here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.” Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax

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alexvolleyball · 2 days ago

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🧸ྀི A man! 🧸ྀི

What lads men doing for you?

characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.

a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open!!!

It's New Year's Eve in four days. I would love for you to decorate my Christmas tree!

warnings: Mentioning clubs, drunk people, clingy men, kids, not highly toxic jokes.

Sylus:

• He won’t let you feel uncomfortable.

• Is the club music too loud? Sylus will throw out the DJ to lower the volume.

• Is the company unpleasant? He will wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you away.

• Is some guy staring at you strangely? Sylus will take care of him without hesitation.

• Today was another visit to the club. You didn’t give Sylus a heads-up, and now you regret it. You’ve had too much to drink and are struggling to walk. It feels like you might break your ankles in these heels. Leaning against the wall of a tall building, you touched your hot face with an equally warm hand. Your eyes struggled to make sense of the figures around you.

• “Hey, gorgeous! Need some help?” a strange male voice called out. The stranger stood too close, his hands already reaching for your shoulders when suddenly, black and red threads wrapped around him and lifted him away.

• “Keep your filthy hands to yourself.” Oh, that voice—you could recognize it anywhere. Your man arrived just in time, as always. You heard the man's screams, the crack of bones, and Sylus’s heavy footsteps. “Here I am saving you again, kitten.”

• “Sylus?” You swayed and fell right into his arms. “I missed you so much!” To be honest, Sylus likes it when you’re drunk because you become quite clingy. “These stupid heels hurt! Can I take them off?”

• He supported you with one hand while the other removed his shoes. Then he crouched down and placed you on his knee. Sylus began to take off your heels and slipped on his shoes instead. “Is this better?” he asked, gently standing while holding your heels.

• “Oh! So comfortable!” You clapped your hands joyfully, and in response, he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

Xavier:

• He always walks ahead of you, shielding you with his broad back.

• As one of the top Hunters, Xavier takes on the most perilous missions. When you join him on assignments, he turns into a protective hen. “Hold on. I’ll check it out.” Or “Shh, there’s someone over there. I’ll handle it; you stay put.” Or “Don’t interfere; I’ve got this.” At first, it stung, making you feel like a burden. But that couldn’t be further from the truth! Xavier just wants to keep you safe and sound.

• His worry for you even led him to argue with his superiors. When they refused to make any changes (Xavier believes you should get easier tasks), he got angrier than ever before.

• It seems that Hunter has everything under wraps, but when it comes to his beloved, he just can’t keep his emotions at bay.

• He protects you even during casual strolls. Xavier is always alert, ready to take on any threat just so you’re okay.

• When unfamiliar guys approach, he draws you in closer and shoots them a cold glare. With that displeased look, he wards off anyone who dares to come near. “Wow, you’ve really got a jealous streak!” you chuckle, watching him shoo away yet another suitor.

• “Jealous?”

• “Well, it’s when you think that someone you care about might go off with someone else. You’re deeply attached, and you feel a pang when someone tries to steal your partner. Something like that.” You smile awkwardly, realizing how silly it sounds.

• “Yeah, probably.” Xavier’s words hit home. “I’d protect you from anyone in this world.” He gently brushed your cheek and pulled you closer. “Especially from men who have their eyes on my treasure.” His soft lips brushed against yours. Through that tender kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t say aloud.

Zayne:

• This doctor won’t let you lift anything heavy.

• Heading to the store? He’ll tag along to haul all those bulky bags for you.

• Want to move the couch to make the room look nicer? Better step aside. Zayne will handle it all.

• Right now, you’re secretly trying to drag heavy boxes filled with useless junk up to the attic without your husband knowing. But you miscalculated the distance from the wall and crashed into it, sending the boxes tumbling. The racket alerted your husband, and he surveyed the scene with a disapproving look. “Why didn’t you call for me?” First, he helped you up, then you both gathered everything that tumbled out of the boxes back inside. After a heavy sigh, he stacked the boxes and lifted them effortlessly. Once everything was stowed away in the attic, Zayne came back down to you. “So, why didn’t you tell me?”

• “You were busy working, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

• “And that’s why you thought it was a good idea to do this on your own? Y/N, you’re my woman. You shouldn’t be doing all the heavy lifting when I’m around.” He pulled you into his chilly embrace, but the warmth of your body soon turned it cozy. “You could’ve hurt your back or worse.” Zayne pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

• “Sorry for worrying you.”

• “It's all good,” he sighed. “But don’t let it happen again. The mother of my future children needs to stay healthy.” He smiled and ruffled your hair.

• “Mother of your future children?”

• “You thought you could get away from me? Not a chance. I want to build a family with you. I want kids, and only with you.” Zayne's words made you blush. Despite his serious nature, he loves to playfully tease you just to see the flustered look on your face.

Rafayel:

• He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair like a true gentleman.

• This man is far too glamorous and sophisticated for this world.

• Today, like usual, he decided to take you to the most upscale restaurant. You’ve realized time and again that in his suit, Rafayel is just too hot to handle.

• He loves it when your outfits match; it shows everyone around that you’re a genuine, loving couple.

• As he opened the car door, he waved his hand gallantly, inviting you to hop in. You laughed, lifted the hem of your dress, and slipped into the car.

• Once you arrived, the artist was the first out, opening your door and helping you out. Wrapping your arm around his, you beamed and rested your head on his shoulder. “Today, you’re glowing with happiness—it’s nauseating,” your husband joked, pretending to feel ill.

• “Oh, you rascal! I’m just…” you turned away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m just happy to have you with me.”

• “Ah, that’s it!” He said, holding the door open and ushering you inside. “How adorably sweet!” The artist chuckled, and as you made your way to the table, he pulled out your chair, sat you down, and scooted you in. “In that case, order whatever your heart desires, babe! Let’s blow this card’s limit!” He slapped the table, placing his credit card beside your hand.

• “Wow, what a surprise!” You feigned amazement. As you browsed the menu, you sneaked glances at your man. Rafayel met your gaze. “Why are you staring so hard?”

• “I love you.”

• “What?”

• “I said, ‘hurry up and order.’ I’m starving over here.” You noticed his ears turning red, and with a giggle, you intertwined your fingers with his. Rafayel looked at your hands, half-lidded eyes taking in the moment. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles and gently raised your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I want to spend my life taking you to fancy restaurants.”

© 2024 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @alexvolleyball

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chaengluva · 3 days ago

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Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.9k (soz, short ik)

Warnings: reader crying (emotional drunk), fluff

Part 5: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist! (this is the second last chapter, maybe last....) It depends

The weight of guilt had been like an anchor around your chest ever since that night. The words you said to Ellie still echoed in your mind, each repetition making your regret sharper and deeper. She had been nothing but understanding, but you had let your fear control you. You had been terrified of the world, of what people would say, of losing the life you’d built for yourself. But you never stopped to consider how much you could lose by pushing her away, by denying yourself and your feelings.

The next few days felt like a blur. You went through the motions—school, meals with your family, awkward interactions with friends—but all you could think about was Ellie. Her laughter. Her smile. The way she had looked at you when she still believed in what the two of you could be. You’d shattered that belief, and now you were left trying to piece things back together, only to realize how much damage had already been done.

It wasn’t just Ellie that you were worried about. You were terrified of your own reflection. Every time you thought about the future, about how things were going to change, your heart filled with dread. What if you lost everything? What if the people who claimed to be your friends turned their backs on you? What if the world didn’t accept you for who you really were?

But in your heart, you knew there was no going back. You couldn’t stay in the shadow of fear forever. Not when the person you cared about most was Ellie. Not when you knew she deserved more than the broken apology you had given her. She deserved the truth. She deserved someone who could stand by her and love her openly, without hesitation or shame.

You couldn’t pretend anymore. You couldn’t run from what you were feeling. And so, when you woke up that morning, something inside you snapped. You had to face this. You had to face her, and more importantly, you had to face yourself.

You got out of bed and walked over to your desk. Your phone sat there, still glowing from last night’s message. Ellie’s words had meant everything to you. They were a lifeline, a sign that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption. But you knew you couldn’t fix everything over text. The only way forward was to show up, to prove that you were ready to take responsibility for the hurt you had caused.

It was early, and you hadn’t had your coffee yet, but you didn’t care. You were already on your way out the door before your brain could convince you otherwise. The drive to Ellie’s house was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Your palms were sweaty, your stomach in knots. You kept picturing the look on her face—the way she had looked at you with those sad eyes, like she wasn’t sure whether she could ever trust you again.

When you arrived at her house, your heart was pounding in your chest. You hesitated at the door, raising your hand to knock. What if she didn’t want to see you? What if she didn’t care anymore? But before you could overthink it any further, the door opened, and there she was—standing in front of you, arms crossed, eyes guarded.

“What do you want?” Ellie’s voice was flat, devoid of the warmth it had once held when she greeted you. It stung, but you understood. You had earned that coldness.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “Ellie, I’m so sorry,” you began, your voice trembling. “I said those things because I was scared. I’ve been scared of what people will think, scared of losing everything, but… I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself for pushing you away.”

Ellie didn’t move. Her expression softened for a moment, but she didn’t let go of her distance. You could see the hurt in her eyes, the way it still lingered even though she wasn’t showing it. She was hurting too, but she wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily.

“I… I can’t be a lesbian. It’ll ruin everything—my reputation, my friends, everything I’ve worked for. And I know that makes me sound selfish and awful, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with us.”

The words hung in the air between you, but instead of the anger you expected, you saw Ellie’s eyes soften just a little more. She stepped forward, closing the distance between you. For a brief moment, you thought she might forgive you, that maybe you could fix this, but then her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“That didn’t mean anything,” she said, her voice firm. “You can’t just cry your way out of this, Y/N. You hurt me, and you need to figure out who you are before you drag me along with you.”

Her words stung more than you could have imagined. You nodded, your throat tight, unable to say anything more. What could you say? How could you make her understand that you didn’t want to hurt her, that you hadn’t meant to push her away? You had to leave. You had to let her have the space she needed, but that didn’t make the hurt any less.

You turned and walked away, feeling more broken than ever. But as you reached the end of her driveway, you realized something. You were still carrying the weight of the apology you needed to give, the one you hadn’t quite figured out yet. You couldn’t give up now. You couldn’t let this be the end.

That night, after a long and difficult day at school, you sat at your desk, pencil in hand. You weren’t an artist. You didn’t have a natural talent for drawing. But you needed to do something, anything, to show Ellie that you were sorry. You weren’t sure if it would fix anything, but maybe it would show her that you still cared, that you weren’t just trying to sweep everything under the rug.

You sketched, your hand moving almost instinctively, guided by the memories of her—her smile, the way her hair framed her face, the way she looked at you when she was happy. When you were done, you looked at the drawing, and your heart sank. It was awful. The proportions were off, the lines were messy, and her face looked nothing like the perfect image you had in your mind. But it was real. It was from the heart.

The next day, at school, you sought Ellie out. You had no idea how she would respond, but you knew you had to try. You approached her in the hallway, the drawing folded in your hands. She was standing with her friends, talking and laughing, but when she saw you, she excused herself and came over.

“Ellie,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. “I made this for you. I know it’s not much, and I know I’ve been horrible, but… I just wanted you to have it.”

Ellie looked at you for a long moment, then glanced down at the folded paper in your hands. She took it slowly, unfolding it with care. You held your breath as she studied the drawing, her expression unreadable. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, like it might explode any second.

Then, to your surprise, she laughed. “Is this supposed to be me?” she asked, her voice light, but not mocking. There was a small, amused smile on her lips.

You flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah… I’m not exactly Picasso.”

Ellie smiled again, the first real smile you had seen from her in days. “It’s terrible,” she said, shaking her head, but there was no malice in her voice. “But it’s kind of sweet. Thanks, Y/N.”

The tension in your chest loosened just a little. It wasn’t perfect, and you didn’t know if it would fix everything, but it was a start. It was a step in the right direction.

But even as you felt a small flicker of hope, you knew there was still more to do. You couldn’t ignore Olivia and the damage she had caused, the lies she had spread about you and Ellie. You had to stand up for yourself, for your truth.

You found Olivia later that day, leaning against her locker with a group of her friends. When she saw you, she dismissed them with a wave and turned to face you. Her smirk was as sharp as ever, her eyes gleaming with something like amusement.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N,” she drawled. “What do you want?”

You squared your shoulders, refusing to let her intimidate you. “I know what you did,” you said, your voice steady, even though your hands were shaking. “You had no right to twist things and tell Ellie I was talking about her.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. “I was just being honest. Ellie deserves to know what kind of person you are.”

You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you so obsessed with me? Is it because you can’t stand the idea of me being happy?”

Olivia’s expression darkened. “You’re pathetic, Y/N. You think you can be a lesbian and still keep your perfect little life? If you go through with this, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are.”

Her words stung, but you stood your ground. You didn’t need her validation anymore. “Do whatever you want, Olivia,” you said coldly. “I don’t care anymore.”

You turned on your heel and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel afraid. You felt defiant. If Olivia wanted to try and ruin you, fine. You were done hiding.

Later that evening, you sat in your room, your phone in hand. Olivia’s words replayed in your mind, but instead of fear, you felt something else—something stronger. You were ready to take control of your story, to stop letting others dictate who you were.

You snapped a picture of yourself—no makeup, messy hair, raw and vulnerable. It wasn’t the most flattering picture, but it was real. It was you. And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t care what anyone else thought.

You uploaded the picture to Instagram with the caption: “This girl is a girl kisser.”

Your finger hovered over the post button for a moment, but then you took a deep breath and pressed it. The photo went live, and almost immediately, the likes and comments started rolling in.

“Proud of you, Y/N ”

“You’re so brave omg!”

“Girl kisser AND stunning? Unfair.”

“Love this for you!”

Not a single bad comment. Except, of course, for Olivia, who wrote, “You’re disgusting.” But you ignored her. She didn’t matter anymore.

Then, just as you were about to put your phone down, you saw a new message pop up. It was from Ellie.

“I saw your post. I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

You stared at the message, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t the happy ending you had imagined, but it was a start. And for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you were getting there. And that was enough.

Taglist: @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo@lamorenita @kissedberries @liasxeatt @smiths-fan--13 @0phantom0

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slitherinky · 23 hours ago

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Masterlist | About me | Requests

The Magic of Forgiveness

Setting: soft!Theodore Nott x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut and fluff, MDNI, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie & Theo being more nice than he should

Summary: On a frosty Christmas Eve, Theodore Nott’s distant demeanor towards you unravels as he finally confesses the truth behind his distance: his overwhelming feelings for you. The tension melts away as he offers not only a heartfelt apology but also a special gift...

3117 Words

Please be aware of the warnings before proceeding. If you are underage, sensitive to depictions of violence, or intense explicit content, it is do not to read further. This story is purely fictional and does not reflect or endorse such behavior in real life. Any attempt to replicate the actions described in this story in real life is strongly discouraged. Harry Potter and the Wizarding World is a trademark of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall glittered with floating snowflakes, their icy shimmer mirroring the wintry magic that seemed to overtake every corner of Hogwarts as Christmas drew near. The castle, cloaked in frost and decorated with festive garlands, felt like a living fairytale. Students bustled through the hallways, their laughter mingling with soft hum of Christmas carols.

You found yourself walking through the long, drafty corridors of Hogwarts, surrounded by the lively chatter of your friends. The scent of winter followed you as your boots clicked softly against the stone floors. It wasn’t long before your small group reached the familiar classroom door, which led to your last class of the day.

You threw your books onto one of the tables with an audible thump. Taking your seat, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. Just one more period, then you could hurry back to your common room and get changed. After that, it was nothing but a relaxing night with friends until the feasts tomorrow.

The minutes ticked by at a snail’s pace. Professor Binns was droning about yet another goblin rebellion. The rhythmic monotony of his lecture, coupled with the soft scratching of quills and the occasional whispered exchange between students, created an almost trance-like atmosphere. You found your gaze wandering to the frost-covered windows, your quill tapping absentmindedly on your parchment as your thoughts drifted far from the lesson at hand.

As you reached for your inkpot, a folded piece of parchment appeared on your desk. You blinked, certain it hadn’t been there a moment ago. Glancing around, you noticed nothing suspicious — no one looking your way, no hint of a culprit. Curious, you unfolded it, your heart skipping as you read the delicate handwriting.

Meet me tonight by the Christmas tree in the courtyard.

The note was unsigned, and your mind raced. Was this some sort of prank? Or something more… genuine? Your fingers grazed the edge of the parchment, tracing the loops of the handwriting as if they could give you a clue. It didn’t look like anyone’s you immediately recognized, and yet, there was something familiar about it.

For the rest of the lesson, you couldn’t focus. Who had sent the note? And why?

As you packed up your things at the end of class, your eyes darted toward the front, where Theodore Nott sat, his sharp profile illuminated by the pale winter light. You couldn’t help but remember a time when the two of you had been inseparable, sharing your deepest secrets during late-night conversations in the common room. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. He’d grown distant, his easy smiles replaced by guarded glances. Now, he seemed as disinterested in you, as you had been in the lesson.

The evening couldn’t come fast enough. As you slipped out of the common room and made your way to the courtyard, the air was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine. The massive Christmas tree stood in the center, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and glittering ornaments. Your breath formed clouds in the chilly air as you hesitated, half-wondering if this was all a mistake.

“You came.”

The voice startled you, low and soft. You turned to find Theodore Nott standing behind the tree, his hands tucked into the pockets and his face half buried in his green and silver scarf.

“It was you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah. It’s me. Look, I know I’ve been… distant. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Theo, why?"

He hesitated, his breath visible in the cold air. "I… I didn’t know how to face you anymore. It’s not an excuse, but I was scared. You mean more to me than anyone else, and I thought… if I kept my distance, maybe it would hurt less if something went wrong."

He fell silent, and for a long moment, you simply stared, your thoughts whirling. His words had knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you feeling like you were suspended in time.

"Theo," you said at last, "what are you talking about?"

He let out a frustrated sigh, as if he’d already said too much.

"I have feelings for you y/n. Ever since we were first years. I thought we were just friends, but I want you to be more," He paused. "I thought you would have left me if I had told you."

His confession hit you like a wave, and for a moment, all the confusion and frustration of the past months melted away.

"You’re an idiot," you said, still in shock of what he had just said.

"I know. But I’m here now. And I want to make it up to you."

Before you could reply, he gestured toward the castle. "Come with me. I… I want to show you something."

Curious, you followed him as he led you through the snow-covered grounds and into the dungeons. The familiar green glow of the Slytherin common room greeted you as Theo ushered you inside. The space was quiet, as most of the students had left after the last lesson to go home for the holidays.

"Wait here," he said, disappearing for a moment. When he returned, he held a small box and motioned for you to join him by the window. Snow had begun to fall outside, the flakes dancing against the dark sky. He opened the box to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a polished emerald dangling.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours.

You took the necklace, your fingers brushing his. "Theo, it’s beautiful."

He smiled softly. "Not as beautiful as you."

The words hung in the air, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned closer. His lips met yours, warm and soft, as the snow fell gently outside the window. In that moment, all the distance, all the questions, faded away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the promise of something new.

As you pulled back, your chest felt fluttery and your lips tingled with the memory of his touch.

"I- I think that’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had."

"I’m glad," he murmured, taking a step closer, "but I can make it even better, if you let me."

Without thinking, you reached for him, and he met you halfway. Your lips were still tender from the previous kiss, but as they brushed together, they seemed to spark with new energy. This time, his lips moved more insistently, his tongue seeking yours out. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heady taste of each other. His teeth grazed your lower lip, and you felt the kiss deep in your stomach.

"Theo," you moaned. The sound seemed to encourage him, his arms wrapping tighter around you as his mouth trailed down your throat. His breath ghosted across your skin, raising goosebumps.

The sight of his teeth biting your lip made you moan, and suddenly you felt hungry for more. More of what had been hidden from you for so long. More of what you wanted from him at this very moment. Your tongue swirled with his, tasting him. Your mouth was so hot and wet from his saliva.

“You’re blushing,” he said, pulling slowly away from the kiss. His voice was low and teasing.

Your cheeks burned even more at his words, and you crossed your arms in a feeble attempt to look composed.

“I am not,” you shot back, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips as he straightened and took a step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand reached up, brushing gently against your cheek, and your breath hitched at the contact.

“You’re a terrible liar, Love.” he murmured, his thumb grazing your jawline.

Before you could formulate a reply, Theodore moved again, this time slipping one arm behind your back and the other under your knees. In one smooth motion, he lifted you off the windowsill.

“Theo!” you exclaimed, instinctively clutching at his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

His smirk deepened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You looked like you were about to collapse. Can’t have you fainting after one kiss, now can we?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the warmth of his arms around you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the heat rising to your face made it hard to string words together. “I wasn’t going to collapse,” you muttered, but your voice was softer now, more uncertain.

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, clearly unconvinced as he carried you through the common room.

The space was quiet, the usual chatter and footsteps absent. The remaining Slytherins were long asleep, leaving only the two of you under the dim, flickering green light.

When Theodore reached his dorm, he nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside. His room was tidy, almost minimalistic, with a faint scent of cedarwood and parchment lying in the air.

He lowered you onto his bed with care, his hands lingering just a moment longer than they needed to before he straightened. But instead of stepping away, he sat down beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“There,” he said softly, his tone lighter now. “Safe and sound.”

You pushed yourself up slightly, your gaze flickering between his face and the faint pattern of shadows on the wall.

“You really didn’t have to carry me,” you said, though your voice lacked the sharpness you’d intended.

“Maybe not," He took a deep breath, "But I wanted to. I want to adequately apologize for my behavior the last months. May I?" He asked, leaning forward.

Your heart began pounding in your chest.

“Yes,” you replied.

His mouth met yours, this time without hesitation. He pushed you against the pillows. His hands roamed your body, his lips making their way down to your thighs. He was seeking your consent, and you found yourself wanting to give it, to give him every part of you.

You trembled at the sensation, his lips and tongue sending shivers up your leg. His fingers kneaded into your thigh, pressing gently into your muscle. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your reactions.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Mhm,” you repeated while nodding, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

Theodore’s fingers tightened around your thighs, his thumbs trailing across the seam of your trousers. Your head tipped back at the touch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured. “I want you to see me. See how much I love this. See what I’m giving you.”

His thumbs brushed higher, grazing against your pussy. You felt your breath catch, your thighs quivering. He kissed the inside of your thigh, his tongue tracing delicate circles on your skin. The sensation made you quiver, your legs falling open for him. He hummed his approval and teased your slit with his fingers, drawing slow circles around your clit.

“Theo,” you moaned, your hips twitching.

He kissed his way up your thigh, nipping at the crease before gently pulling at your pants and underwear. You lifted your hips for him, allowing him to slide them off. The cool air tickled against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of his mouth.

When his lips closed around your clit, you gasped, your whole body clenching. He groaned at the sound, his fingers joining his mouth as he rubbed you in slow, deliberate motions. Your head rolled back, and you could feel your legs trembling, your toes curling against the mattress.

“Feel good?” He asked between kisses.

“Yes,” you gasped. "god yes."

He growled softly and slid one finger inside of you. “How about now?”

Your hips arched at the intrusion, your body clenching around him.

His tongue swirled against your clit as he fingered you, his strokes slow and deep. Your pussy clenched around him, your vision blurring. You were close to the edge, your breath quickening with every stroke of his tongue, every movement of his fingers.

“Theo, I’m-“ you gasped, but couldn’t finish before your orgasm overtook you. Your back arched, and you cried out, the feeling ripping through you. You felt like you were falling apart, the sensations too powerful to bear.

Theodore withdrew his fingers and licked them clean.

"You taste delicious," he moaned. "Like sweet cream and vanilla."

He kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste your pussy on his tongue.

You laughed, the sound weak. Your body was still buzzing from his touch, the memory of it still echoing in your senses.

"You're a bastard," you said, but there was no heat behind your words.

Theodore smirked, his eyes glinting. "So I've been told." He leaned back, his gaze sliding down your body.

You noticed then that he was still dressed. His robes had slipped down in the heat of the moment, revealing a tantalizing slice of his collarbone. The sight sparked an ache in your stomach, and you suddenly, desperately wanted to see him — really see him.

“Take off your clothes,” you ordered, your voice low and commanding.

He blinked, his eyes wide. “Really?”

You nodded, your pulse thrumming. "I want everything of you Theo."

Without a word, he reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He undressed slowly, deliberately, each movement almost agonizing in its slowness. When the last button was undone, he shrugged the garment off and let it fall to the floor.

Your breath caught at the sight of him — his chest was broad, his abs tight and defined. He looked even better than you’d imagined, his body lean and toned. A trail of dark hair dusted his chest, trailing lower to disappear beneath his trousers.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, but you didn’t move. You wanted to savor this, to commit every detail of him to memory.

With a smirk, Theodore reached down and began to undo his trousers. They slid down his hips, revealing a pair of dark boxers and a bulge that left no doubt as to his arousal. You swallowed, your mouth dry at the thought of his cock inside you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured, glancing up at you.

You nodded wordlessly. “Yes.”

He slipped out of his boxers, his cock springing free. It was long and thick, the head flushed red with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, his fist moving in long, lazy motions.

“Come here, Love,” he murmured.

You obeyed, reaching out to take his cock in your hands. Your palms were warm against him, the skin hot and velvet-soft. You stroked him, your hands moving in tandem with his. His head tipped back at your touch, a groan escaping his throat.

“Fuck y/n,” he rasped, his voice low.

You moved down, your tongue swiping across his tip. He was hot against your lips, salty and musky. You licked him slowly, tasting him thoroughly as you worked your way down his shaft. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath coming in short, quick gasps.

You took him between your lips and sucked, moving slowly as you took him deeper. His fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed on his cock. Your tongue slid down his length, swiping at the tender skin. He let out a loud moan at the sensation, his hips jerking.

Suddenly he pulled your head back.

"Get naked for me, Love." he growled. "I want to see your body."

You obeyed, stripping the garment off and tossing it away. The room was warm, but a shiver ran down your spine as his eyes traveled your body.

He ran his fingers over the necklace he had just gifted you, trailing down over your small, pebbled nipples. You let out a soft gasp. "You're perfect," he groaned. "Lay back on the bed."

You did as he asked, sliding back on your elbows and spreading your legs for him. His eyes ran down you, his breathing speeding up. He gripped his cock in one hand, trailing the hand through your legs. You gasped, arching up into the touch. He felt so fucking good against you.

Theo let out a soft moan, pushing inside of you. The feeling was overwhelming. He stretched you out, his thickness rubbing against your inner walls. You let out a small cry at the intrusion. He paused, looking up at you.

"Are you okay?" he rasped.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned while nodding.

He pushed deeper inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling back and thrusting slowly inside of you again. Your whole body lit up with pleasure at the feeling of him moving in and out of you. His hips were quick, his strokes deep and strong. You could hear the slap of his skin against yours and the wet sounds of him fucking you.

"I will never let you down again," he moaned. "I promise."

His thrusts sped up as he fucked you, pushing deeper inside of you. He pulled your thighs wider apart, groaning as he watched himself disappear inside of you.

"Look at how pretty you look taking my cock," he gasped.

You met his eyes, the connection making you burn up with desire. His gaze ran over your body, taking in every detail.

He pulled you up to him, your legs wrapping around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. He pounded into you, thrusting in deep and strong strokes. His hands ran down your back to grip your ass, lifting you up and down on his cock. You felt like he was holding you together, like you would fall apart if he let go of you.

He brought his mouth to yours, kissing you passionately as he fucked you. You felt overwhelmed by his touch. He was consuming you. Your whole world was centered on him and his touch.

"I'm going to come," you cried out.

He grunted, his pace quickening. You felt his cock twitch inside of you as your pussy clenched, your orgasm waving through you both. He filled you with his come, your pussy clenching around him for more. Your chest heaved as you gasped for breath, your vision blurring as pleasure overtook you.

When your body relaxed, he leaned down and kissed you. "Merry Christmas, Love."

You smiled at him, pulling his face to yours.

"It sure is." You kissed him again, softer this time. "Thank you."

He pressed a last kiss to your forehead before he almost inaudibly whispered in your ear

"I love you."

You want more? My Masterlist

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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hyunip · 3 days ago

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Ex man! Armin x plus size! Black! Reader

✞IRRESISTIBLE PLEASURE✰

A/N: It's just something about running back to Armin for sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[H]e was just a cliché. Just another man with a bunch of women on his dick because he can’t stand to be in a relationship. Those charms of his work all kinds of wonders, his looks and confidence being the main thing to fuel his cocky attitude, and the women that flock to him like birds to birdseed fueling his already high ego. You couldn’t stand him. But you couldn’t fight your desires, your wants—your needs. You couldn’t fight the fact that your body wanted him in the ways that it did. The arousal that pooled between your legs once you heard that mellifluous voice mumbling from the other side of the door reminded you of how much you wanted him. But that would just mean you were also a cliché, right?

Right.

All of Armin’s exes wanted him. In the same exact way you did. And they caved to the pressure they felt when they started to throb where he always seemed to be when they needed it. The same way you did. It irked your soul and it damn sure pissed you off. Way more than he did.

The way he thrusted his fingers in and out of you slowly while twisting them drove you insane, he knew this, deciding to add to the intense pleasure, he wrapped his mouth around your clit. He loved the way your body reacted to him. That jolt and shiver of pure shock and pleasure always made him feel something that certainly wasn’t foreign to him. A feeling he always dodged with any of the women he’s been with. Your moans, pleads, and curses like a euphoric song he could hear on replay. The way you moaned his name and the way you looked at him with nothing but pure hatred while he made you feel like you were on cloud nine made him want to push your limits further. While you pulled his head deeper between your thighs by his long, messy hair, he groaned and pushed his fingers deeper inside of your pussy and began to flick his tongue quickly on the overstimulated bud above your hole “Fuck! Armin!” You screamed out his name, rolling your wide hips on his face.

Armin was truly in heaven. Barely being able to breathe between those heavy thighs and devouring every part of your fat cunt, your face messy with tears and drool while you rolled your eyes to the back of your head from how good it felt. He couldn’t help but roll his hips on the silky, baby pink sheets below the both of you, desperate for that friction, the wet feeling of your mouth. “You like that baby?” he mumbled cockily into your slippery wet folds, his soothing voice sending vibrations to your clit. You couldn’t help but let the truth fly past your lips along with a nod of your head “Yes..“ your slowly drawl out as he adds another finger inside of you.

Fuck… Why was it so hard to leave him alone? It’s not that hard, you’ve done it before, but what made him different? Was it the sex and how he could have you coming undone within a few minutes? How he put your needs way before his own? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You know it, yet you couldn’t find not even a bit of regret for it. For how you gave into him almost too easily.

The flicks of his tongue on your clit got faster and so did the slow pace of his three thick fingers, your pussy twitching around them and your stomach twisting. This feeling. You knew this orgasm was going to be more overwhelming than the last three before this one “m’gonna cum daddy..” you whined out as you threw your head back, your hand that was once intertwined and tangled in the long golden locks of his hair now playing with those pretty brown tits, squeezing and pinching at your nipples to add to the intense feeling “then cum for me, baby. What you holdin’ out fa’?” He’d say picking up the pace and sucking on your clit. Grabbing one of your thighs and squeezing it, landing a few harsh taps to the jiggly fat. The more your thighs suffocated him and kept him between them made him hornier than words could ever come to explain. He was nose deep in that pussy, messily licking every inch of the area, his face slick with that clear fluid that ran out of you like a fountain.

That was the last straw. The last flick of his skilled tongue and the final deep thrust of his thick fingers had you trembling and screaming into the skin of your arm. “Fuck! Armiinnn..” you moaned, dragging his name on your tongue and continuing to roll your hips on his fingers, riding out your high with the help of the man you claimed you hated most.

Armin would be damned if he let a woman like you go. He knew that after this, there would be many many times he’d have you shaking on his fingers and tongue.

He slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, making you feel empty. You wanted more—you needed more—from him. You have been fighting the urges for so long. The urges of swinging your door open and smashing your lips into his and letting him fuck you crazy like he did when you were ‘together’.

He sucked on his fingers and dragged them out slowly as you watched, heavily breathing, never breaking eye contact with him. “You actually had me thinking you hated me” he chuckled, licking between his fingers. Flicking his tongue the same exact way he did inside of you, having you to roll your eyes at him and his cocky attitude. “I do.” You replied with a light snarl as you sat up in your bed. All he wanted to do was have sex. But you couldn’t say that to him, because you knew that’s what you wanted from him as well. But that wasn’t the only thing you wanted. You wanted his heart—his love and all he could give you. Tonight was just a call from lust, like the devil felt your need for relief.

You hated his cocky attitude—you hated that he was even here in your bed, looking down at you from between your legs. He raspily chuckled, tilting his head to the side. His blue orbs burning into yours with that sexy gaze you always came to hate after falling for his silent charms. His stare was chilling but it made your body feel hot and in need for him in this moment. It made you ache for him in places you knew you shouldn't want him.

The more you stared, the more that stupid fucking grin spread across his reddened cheeks "You already saying that? I didn’t even propose baby." he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head at his words, just wishing he would shut the hell up.

He crawled between your legs, pressing his hard-on to your leaking pussy, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against the wet skin as he pressed his hips a bit harder into you.

Your mouth gaped open at the familiar hard feeling, but at the fact he was rubbing his jeans on you—between your legs at that. You weren’t one to do shit just because it felt good and risk an infection. You didn’t know what he did in them jeans before he came to you.

“Uh-uh!” You furrowed your brows and shook your head, cupping your pussy, making a barrier between you and Armin below. “Don’t be rubbing yo damn jeans on me. Ion know where yo dog ass been at.” You scowled, feeling him pull away, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He loved when you subtly insulted him. He just didn’t know why, but he loved it, only from you.

Armin hovered over you with his silver chain hanging from his neck, the tips of his silky blonde hair tickling the bridge of your nose. “You don’t know where my dog ass been at but you called me over to beat yo shit in.” He said, lifting up to tie his hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way. “What sense that make?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he snapped the hair tie on his hair.

He was right. You hated when he was right. He was always clocking whatever you said, fact checking your every sentence like it was all he could do.

You stayed silent to his truth, avoiding eye contact with him. You weren’t gonna tell him he was right. That would just be feeding his ego.

“I missed you,” he began, hovering over you again, his blue orbs staring into yours with mischief swirling in them. He slowly raised your legs to his face, kissing and massaging your freshly pedicured feet, sending a tingle up your spine. “I missed you too much baby…” he murmured, kissing the sole of your foot “I know you missed me too. Just say it ma’..” he hissed, pushing your leg up more to kiss around your calf.

Fuck it. “I missed you too daddy”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 FINISHED.

Finally.. Imma start part two right after this. It’s not gonna start off from the cut off of part one, but it’s gonna have all the things that happened before you called this man over for some good dick.

Now this ain’t much, I know I know, n I’m sorry for that.

#hyunip #hyunny #black reader #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x black reader #i love yall #armin arlert #armin smut #I’m sorry #I feel like I led yall on and this was bad #BUT it’s more coming #I promise

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 days ago

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Insecurities ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,870ish

Summary: You and Logan struggle with some insecurities.

Warning(s): talk of sex, non-con elements, mental health issues, ptsd, possibly triggering, please read with caution

Notes: Please share your thoughts! This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan had the whole week off, putting him in a great mood. That meant a whole week of solely focusing on you in whatever capacity he could. That also meant that he would have a hard time keeping his hands off of you. He woke up first, immediately pulling you closer, and began to press kisses over your open skin.

You moaned as you started to wake. “Logan,” you rasped, keeping your eyes closed.

Logan shushed you, moving to hover over you as he continued to kiss your skin. “Go back to sleep, princess.”

This wasn't the first time Logan has woken you up like this. And a good majority of the time, you were completely fine with it. But there was something different this morning.

Your past made your mind cruel to you sometimes. It seemed like the anxieties and insecurities were rising once again, ones that you had never told Logan about. Due to what you had to do to survive while you were homeless, sometimes you believed that you were just an object to fulfill men’s sexual needs. Logan never made you feel that way. You always felt special and important, never an object.

But the mind was cruel, and sometimes you couldn’t stop it. And as you lay, still half asleep, as Logan began to have sex with you, you couldn’t help but feel like an object. You knew that Logan was focusing more on your pleasure than his own, as he generally did, but your mind was making you feel like nothing to him. Like you were not his wife who he loved and cared deeply for, you were an object, something he only used to please himself.

Throughout the day, Logan couldn’t keep his hands, among other things, to himself. You never vocalized your internal struggles, letting Logan use you as to not make him upset. Your mind had you believing that if you vocalized what you were feeling, Logan would leave you. Though, deep down, you knew that was farther from the truth.

“Baby,” Logan smirked as you as you finished making the bed. “Wanna shower?”

Logan reached for you, moving to pull you into him, but you recoiled and took a step back. The moment you recoiled from Logan’s touch, he was on high alert. His brows furrowed as he immediately began noting the way your heart was racing and how he could smell your nervousness. And now that he had smelt it, he realized that he had been smelling it all day.

“Sweetheart–”

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. Let’s go,” your words were clipped and almost in the same breath. You weren’t looking at him as you grabbed his wrist, not even his hand, and began to lead him towards the bathroom. “We can shower together. I’m fine.”

Logan shook free from your weak grip. “You’re not fine. What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, still not looking at him. “You wanted to shower together. Let’s just shower.”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Stop sayin’ that, princess. It’s not fine. If you don’t want to do something, we’re not gonna do it.” Logan’s eyes went wide in realization as tears slipped down your cheeks. “Oh, God… Sweetheart. Did I… Did I push you too far this morning? Did I–” He cut himself off, swallowing down the words he needed to say. “Did you… Did you not want to have sex?”

“I’m sorry,” you collapsed on your knees.

Logan clenched his hands together, growing angry at himself for not noticing that you didn’t want to have sex this morning and he pushed you. He couldn’t get himself to get on the ground to hold you, not wanting to push you further than he apparently already had.

“I’m so sorry,” you continued to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Please, princess. It’s not your fault.” He crouched down in front of you, still keeping his space. “It’s my fault. I should have known.”

“No, I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I… I… Please know that I know that this isn’t true, but on bad days it slips in and I sometimes fail to not believe it.” Logan stayed silent, waiting for more of your explanation. “Because of my… past… I sometimes fail to remember that you want me for more than just my body… that I’m an actual person to you, not just an object… when I get in that mindset, it’s hard for me to stop you.”

“Is this…” Logan had to stop himself, afraid of his own question. “Is this the first time this has happened?”

“Logan–”

“Answer the question, sweetheart.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you answered. “No.”

Logan growled as he stood up and walked out. You cried harder, curling in on yourself as you couldn’t get yourself to follow after him. Apparently, your mind had been right, the truth would cause Logan to leave you.

But Logan wasn't walking out on you; he was trying to calm himself. He was angry at himself for not making sure you were completely okay with having sex and for ignoring the signs that he had subtly noticed all day. He let out a shout as he punched the wall, allowing his claws to go through it. He needed to calm down so that he could fix this and take care of you.

Suddenly, you appeared in the doorway, a sobbing mess. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “It's all my fault. Please don't leave. Please don't leave!"

Logan’s heart felt like it had been ripped down and crushed into a million pieces. You thought he was leaving you. That would be impossible for him to do. But in your current state, you couldn’t see that. He ripped his hand from the wall, hiding his claws, and took a step forward. Before he could even say anything, you had lunged at him. You gripped his flannel like it was a lifeline, though the heat of your hands was threatening to burn it.

“Please don’t leave,” you begged. “I’ll do anything. Be anything. I can’t--"

“Honey, I need you to breathe,” Logan’s voice came out as calm as he could. His hands hovered over you, too scared to push you farther. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You—You aren’t?"

“No, I walked out so that I could calm down.”

“You're---You're mad at me?”

“No, sweetheart, never… Yes, I'm disappointed that you felt like you couldn't tell me no and that you think I don’t see you as more than an object. But I’m not mad, and I'm not leaving.”

“Can… can you hold me then?”

Logan didn’t waste another second in pulling you into him. “I need you to be honest with me when you're mind is doing this to you.”

“I know.”

“I hate that I… that I did anything without your consent. I never want to do that. Ever.”

“I know... I’m sorry."

“I’m sorry, too… We need to come up with a way for you to tell me when you're feeling this way. I can pick up the changes in your body, and I will not ignore them again, but I also need you to be honest with me.”

“I know… I know... I'll tell you next time it happens."

“Does it happen often?"

“No… not at all.”

“But it's happened before?"

“Yes.”

Logan pulled back and cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. “I love you, baby. I love you. The whole person that you are. Every bit of your brain, your mutation, your body, and your personality. You are more to me than some object and I will do whatever I can to get your brain to believe me.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. "Thank you, Logan."

“Always, sweetheart. Always.”

~~~

Logan had gotten used to his adamantium skeleton over the years, but it still didn't change the fact that sometimes he was scared that he could accidentally hurt you. Not just with his claws, but that he could hold you a bit too tight, or crush you during sex, or even just hit you a bit too hard in any of his movements.

The two of you were in town for a quick errand. You jumped out of the truck and came to his side. Before you could grab his hand to hold, Logan stuffed them into his pockets. A tinge of hurt ran through you, but you shook it off. Logan wasn't a fan of PDA, even the simplest of actions, though you were usually the exception. Not trying to think of Logan's rejection too much, you led him into the store.

“I got it,” he muttered, taking the cart from you.

Your head tilted as you caught sight of how tightly both of his hands were gripping the cart. The bar was threatening to give way. “Are you okay, baby?”

“‘m fine.”

You sighed, knowing that it wasn't worth it to push in such a public space. You made sure to get your groceries quickly as you could feel the tension radiating off of Logan. Once the two of you got back into the truck, Logan gripped the steering wheel tightly, where he would usually place a hand on your thigh. You tried not to take it personally as the tension grew in the truck.

Logan was quick to get out and gather all the groceries before heading into the house. You were even more confused and concerned than before. You found him in the kitchen putting the items away. You walked over and went to wrap your arms around him, but Logan tensed, causing you to reel back.

“Honey, are you okay?” You asked, clearly concerned.

“Fine,” he grunted, pulling away from you.

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Do I… When we… When I…” He stammered. He glanced at you, almost melting at you stood there waiting for him to gather his thoughts with such loving patience. “When I touch you, do I ever hurt you?”

“What?”

“Like when I hold your hand or hug you or when we have sex?”

“Never,” you shook your head, stepping forward. “You never hurt me. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just… I’m stronger than you and then there’s my adamantium skeleton. I… I could hurt you so easily… Are you sure I don’t?”

“James,” you carefully rested your hands on his chest as you kept eye contact with him. “I never feel anything but pure love and safety in your touch.”

“But I—“

“You are stronger than me and your skeleton is much heavier, but the only place I truly feel safe is in your arms. You would never to anything to hurt me like that on purpose, I know it. You are always so careful with me. I always feel treasured by you.”

Slowly, his hands came to your waist, barely holding you. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, honey.”

“I don’t hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Never.”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against yours. “It’s gonna take me a minute to get out of this mindset, princess.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll still be here.”

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muiitoloko · 1 day ago

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Hi could you please write a Harry (love actually) x reader in which reader is his wife who suspects that he’s cheating and sees the necklace in his coat and basically follows the plot with the gifts exchange and him giving reader something else causing her to cry, however unlike the movie he later when alone gifts it to reader and he tells her that his receptionist does try to seduce him but no one can come near to reader

Thanks in advance!

Title: Threads of Forgiveness

Summary: A wife discovers a hidden necklace in her husband’s pocket, unraveling doubts about his fidelity. As truths are confronted, they navigate the fragility of love and the strength of forgiveness.

Pairing: Harry ( Love Actually) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request!

Also read on Ao3

You folded the laundry, mechanically smoothing out each piece of clothing, trying to suppress the storm of emotions raging within you. The expensive necklace you’d found in Harry’s pocket earlier that day had burned a hole through your composure. You tried to rationalize it—Maybe it’s not what it looks like, you thought. But the implication loomed over you, undeniable and suffocating.

A necklace like that wasn’t something Harry would buy for just anyone. Certainly not for you, his wife, who had received a Joni Mitchell CD as a Christmas gift just days ago. A thoughtful gift, perhaps, but hardly one to match the elegance of the necklace. If it wasn’t for you, who could it possibly be for?

Another woman.

Your breath hitched at the thought, and you paused mid-fold, your hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. The tears threatened to spill, but you bit them back, inhaling deeply to regain control. You’d spent years devoted to Harry, sacrificing your own dreams to care for him, to nurture his son, Hadrian. Was this how it all ended? With your husband straying to someone younger, someone… shinier?

“Mom?” a small voice called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You quickly wiped at your eyes and turned to see Hadrian standing in the doorway, his 10-year-old frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He looked at you with a furrowed brow, concern evident in his hazel eyes—the same eyes that always reminded you of Harry.

“Can you make me a sandwich?” he asked hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. “I’m busy right now, sweetheart. But there’s turkey breast in the fridge. You can make one yourself, can’t you?”

Hadrian nodded but lingered in the doorway, his gaze searching your face. “Are you okay, Mom? You look… tired.”

Your heart ached at his observation, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine, Hadrian. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

He seemed to accept your answer, nodding again before heading downstairs. You watched him go, your chest tight with the effort of keeping it together. Once you were alone again, you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the neatly folded laundry with unseeing eyes.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry sat on the living room couch, his gaze fixed on the television but his mind elsewhere. A Christmas movie played in the background, but he couldn’t focus on it. His thoughts kept drifting to the necklace hidden in the drawer of his office desk. He didn’t even know why he’d bought it. Or maybe he did.

The intention had been clear at the time: to give it to Mia, his secretary. For weeks, she’d been lingering a little too long by his desk, her flirtations growing bolder. And Harry… he hadn’t pushed her away. If anything, he’d enjoyed the attention. It had been so long since he’d felt wanted, noticed, desired.

Things with you had changed after Hadrian was born. Not overnight, but slowly, like a ship drifting further and further from shore. Your world seemed to revolve around your son, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like an afterthought. He told himself it was selfish to feel that way, but the longing for connection, for intimacy, was a heavy burden.

Still, as he sat there, the box in his desk drawer felt like a physical weight. Could he really go through with it? Could he betray the woman who had stood by him, loved him, and built a life with him? Could he cheat on the mother of his son with someone younger, someone who made him feel alive again but whose allure was nothing more than a fleeting spark?

A loud thudding sound startled him out of his thoughts. Harry turned to see Hadrian bounding down the stairs, his steps echoing through the house.

“Hadrian!” Harry barked, his baritone voice sharp. “How many times have I told you not to run down the stairs? You’ll break your neck!”

Hadrian skidded to a halt at the bottom, wide-eyed at his father’s tone. “Sorry, Dad,” he mumbled, clutching his half-made sandwich.

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… be careful, alright?” he said, his voice softening. “Go eat your sandwich.”

Hadrian nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once more. He leaned back against the couch, his glasses catching the flickering light of the TV. His hazel eyes stared unseeingly at the screen as he grappled with the weight of his actions—or, rather, his inaction.

The box in the desk drawer loomed large in his mind, a decision waiting to be made. Would he open it and let it define his choices? Or would he bury it, along with the temptation that had brought him to this point?

Upstairs, you sat in silence, staring out the window at the falling snow, the quiet of the room broken only by the soft rustle of the curtains. Unspoken questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you.

And downstairs, Harry stared at the screen, his chest tight with indecision.

Two hearts, two minds, two paths converging on a truth neither of you wanted to face.

The box. The necklace. The shame. His jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his glasses further up his nose. No, he couldn’t let this fester. He wouldn’t stay like this—paralyzed by his mistakes, his cowardice.

With a deep breath, he stood, the decision made in the steel of his resolve. The television flicked off with a click, and the room fell silent except for the faint hum of the radiator. Harry crossed to his office, his heart pounding as he pulled open the desk drawer. Beneath a stack of papers and old receipts, his fingers found the small velvet box. He stared at it for a long moment, his hazel eyes clouded with self-loathing and determination.

This was it.

He climbed the stairs, each step feeling like a penance, and made his way to your shared bedroom. There you were, sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. You didn’t turn when you heard him enter; your silence felt colder than the winter night outside.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, his baritone voice unusually soft, almost pleading.

You didn’t respond, your gaze remaining fixed on the falling snow. He hesitated but then moved closer, his steps careful, deliberate. He knelt before you, his glasses catching the faint light, his hooked nose silhouetted against the soft shadow of the room.

“Please, love,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out to caress your knee. The touch was hesitant, unsure, but still familiar. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. The pain in your gaze hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard and placed the velvet box on your lap, his hand lingering there for a moment as if afraid you might push it away.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice steady but cold.

Harry exhaled shakily, lowering his gaze to the floor before looking back up at you. “It’s a necklace,” he began, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I bought it… for Mia.”

The words felt like knives, each syllable cutting deeper into the fragile fabric of trust between you. Your breath hitched, and Harry quickly continued, his tone desperate.

“She’s my secretary,” he admitted, his hazel eyes searching yours for some glimmer of understanding. “She’s been… persistent, trying to… get closer. And I—” He faltered, his voice thick with shame. “I didn’t stop her attention. I let it feed a part of me that felt… empty.”

You stiffened, your fingers clenching around the edge of the box. “Empty?” The word fell from your lips, sharp and accusatory.

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice breaking as he leaned forward, his hands gripping your thighs. “Since Hadrian was born, everything’s been about him. I don’t blame you for that—I love him, too—but I’ve felt… neglected, invisible. Like I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. You looked down at the man kneeling before you, his face etched with regret, his hands trembling as they clung to you.

“But I couldn’t do it,” Harry continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I couldn’t give it to her. Because no one compares to you. No one. You’re the one who deserves this, not her. You’re the woman I love, the mother of my son, the person who’s given me a life worth living.”

You said nothing, your gaze fixed on the box in your lap. Slowly, you set it aside, and Harry’s breath hitched as he buried his face in your lap, his shoulders trembling. “Please,” he begged, his voice muffled but raw. “Forgive me. I was a fool. I let my loneliness drive me to the edge, but I swear I never crossed it. I love you. Only you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and regret. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his body as he clung to you. Before you could respond, a voice called from downstairs, breaking the moment.

“Mom!” Hadrian shouted. “Where’s the peanut butter?”

Harry groaned against your lap, his voice muffled but laced with frustration. “Bloody hell, that kid has the worst timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, despite the turmoil in your chest. You gently pushed Harry back, his hazel eyes looking up at you, still filled with vulnerability. “Go help him find it,” you said softly, your voice wavering.

“But—” Harry began, his hand tightening on your thigh.

“Go,” you repeated, more firmly this time. “We’ll talk more later.”

“No.” Harry’s voice was resolute as he pushed himself to kneel upright, his hands sliding up to your waist. “Hadrian can find it himself. I need to make things right with you. Now.”

You hesitated, your lips parting to speak, but Hadrian’s voice interrupted again, louder this time. “Mom! I still can’t find it!”

Harry turned sharply toward the door, his baritone voice booming. “Hadrian! Check the upstairs cupboard, behind the cereal!”

A few moments of silence passed before a triumphant yell echoed from downstairs. “Found it!”

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “That boy…”

You laughed softly, and the sound seemed to melt some of the tension in the room. Harry turned back to you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands came up, firm and commanding, cupping your face as he tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze.

“Don’t laugh at me, love,” he said, his voice low, the playful edge tinged with something darker. “I’m not done begging.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hooked nose brushing yours, his warm breath mingling with your own. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his touch both possessive and tender.

“Harry,” you whispered, your hands coming up to cover his. Your fingers trembled as they closed around his wrists, and he stilled, waiting. “I need to know… Did you sleep with her?”

His hazel eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, fiercely. “No,” he said, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his denial. “No, I swear to you, I didn’t. I thought about it, yes. I entertained the idea for a moment, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” His grip on your face tightened just slightly, his desperation evident. “You have to believe me.”

Your forehead dropped against his, your breaths shallow as you tried to process the flood of emotions. His hands remained on your face, steadying you, grounding you.

“I believe you,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling. “But, Harry… If you feel neglected, if you’re lonely… you have to tell me. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I let it fester, and I… I was a bloody fool. I’m sorry.”

Your hands slid down to his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his sweater. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “We can’t let this happen again,” you murmured, your voice steadier now. “If something’s wrong, we talk about it. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Harry replied immediately, his baritone voice low and rough with emotion. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer. “But let me show you something else right now. Let me remind you of what you mean to me.”

You felt the heat of his words, the intensity of his gaze as his fingers pressed into your waist. A spark ignited between you, the tension shifting from uncertainty to something far more primal.

“Harry,” you murmured, your voice wavering as his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shh,” he murmured back, his voice a velvet growl. “Let me worship you, love. Let me remind you that no one else could ever make me feel the way you do. No one else could ever compare to my wife.”

Your resolve wavered as his lips trailed along your jaw, his hands sliding up your back to pull you flush against him. He paused, his nose nuzzling your ear, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his words laced with possessiveness. “Tell me no one else gets to touch you, to see you like this.”

You shivered, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whispered back, “I’m yours, Harry. Only yours.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he claimed your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, desperate, a silent vow that he would never take you for granted again. As he pulled you into his arms, the snow continued to fall outside, but neither of you noticed, lost in the warmth of each other.

Harry’s lips left yours reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. But the sound of a small voice broke the spell.

“Yuck,” Hadrian muttered, his words muffled by the bite of sandwich in his mouth.

You both turned sharply toward the doorway to see your son standing there, a smug little grin on his face. He was holding his sandwich with one hand, the other planted firmly on his hip, looking at you as if he’d caught you both committing a crime.

“Hadrian,” Harry growled, his baritone voice filled with exasperation as he straightened up, adjusting his glasses. “What have I told you about knocking before entering?”

Hadrian shrugged, clearly unbothered. “The door was already open.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry replied, his hazel eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He crossed his arms, his hooked nose accentuating the stern expression he was trying to maintain. “You still announce yourself. It’s called manners, young man.”

Hadrian took another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he tilted his head. “Why do I have to knock if you’re just kissing Mom? It’s not like you’re doing anything weird.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly stood from your chair, brushing imaginary crumbs off your pants. “Hadrian,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered with suppressed laughter, “what do you need, sweetheart?”

Hadrian swallowed his bite, then smiled brightly. “Can we watch a movie together? All of us?”

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath, “This boy and his timing.”

You shot Harry a warning glance, your lips twitching with amusement as you addressed your son. “Of course, we can. Go pick out a movie, and we’ll join you in a minute.”

Hadrian’s face lit up, and he turned to dash off but paused halfway down the hall, spinning around. “But it has to be one we all like! No boring grown-up movies, okay?”

“No boring grown-up movies,” you agreed, chuckling. “Now, go pick one.”

Once Hadrian was out of sight, Harry let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair and mussing it slightly. He turned to you, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “That boy will be the death of me,” he muttered.

You reached out, smoothing down the tousled strands of his hair. “He’s your son, Harry. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry gave you a crooked smile, his hooked nose twitching slightly as he leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. “True,” he admitted. “But he could learn better timing.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his as you both made your way downstairs. “Consider it payback for all those times you’ve interrupted me mid-thought or while I was busy with something important.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock offense in his baritone voice. “I’d never interrupt my beloved wife so carelessly.”

“Hmm,” you teased, patting his arm. “Sure you wouldn’t, love.”

When you reached the living room, Hadrian was already curled up on the couch, clutching a DVD in his hands. “I picked The Incredibles!” he announced proudly, holding it up like a trophy.

Harry groaned dramatically, sinking into the couch next to him. “Superheroes again?”

Hadrian nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll love it, Dad. It’s about a family, and you always say we’re a super team, right?”

Harry glanced at you, his hazel eyes softening as he gave a resigned smile. “Alright, champ,” he said, ruffling Hadrian’s hair. “Let’s see if this family can live up to ours.”

You joined them on the couch, snuggling close to Harry as he put an arm around you. Hadrian nestled between you both, the TV glowing softly as the movie began.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly at peace—together, as a family.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #harry x reader #harry love actually

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galaxy-stardust · 3 days ago

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Simon Ghost Riley x you

Part 11

Two options

Choosing Your Husband: A Return to Stability

The weight of the decision was crushing, but in the end, you knew the life you had built with your husband was something you couldn’t abandon. It wasn’t just years of memories—it was a partnership, a shared history, a foundation. You owed it to both of you to try again.

One evening, you packed your things, tears streaking your face as you prepared to leave Ghost's apartment. You left a note on the small table by the door, the words agonizing to write:

*"I love you, but I can’t stay. I need a life with certainty, and as much as I want you, I can’t bear the thought of losing myself in the shadows. I’ll never forget you, Simon. I hope you find peace, even if it’s not with me."*

When you returned home, your husband stood in the doorway, his expression torn between relief and hesitation.

“You’re back,” he said softly, his voice trembling.

“I’m back,” you replied, stepping inside.

The days that followed were anything but easy. He wanted answers—needed them—and you gave him as much as you could without breaking him further. You admitted to the emotional connection you’d formed with Ghost, but you reassured him that you had chosen him.

Still, things weren’t the same. He watched you closely, as if waiting for you to disappear again. The weight of guilt and unspoken truths lingered in every interaction. And while you tried to find joy in your old routines, a piece of you always remained elsewhere—haunted by the memory of Ghost.

~~~

Choosing Ghost: A Leap into the Unknown

The life you had with your husband was safe, but safe wasn’t enough anymore. Ghost had awakened something in you that you couldn’t ignore. The passion, the fire, the intensity—it wasn’t something you could just walk away from. You needed him, even if it meant giving up the life you knew.

When you called your husband to tell him, his silence was deafening.

“You’re choosing him?” he finally said, his voice hollow. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I love you, but this…this isn’t enough for me anymore. I need something else, something I can’t find here.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t beg. Instead, he simply said, “I hope he’s worth it.”

The flight back to Ghost was the longest of your life. Every mile brought a mixture of excitement and dread. Would he accept you? Would he be waiting for you?

When you arrived, he was there, standing in the same spot where he’d seen you off weeks ago. He didn’t speak as you approached, his dark eyes searching yours.

“I chose you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what this means or how we’ll make it work, but I couldn’t stay away.”

His gloved hand reached for yours, gripping it tightly. “You’re here now,” he said, his voice low and full of emotion. “That’s all that matters.”

~~~

Reactions and Consequences

Your Husband’s Response

Whether you stayed or left, your husband was forever changed. If you stayed, he fought to rebuild what you’d broken, but a small part of him always questioned whether he was enough. If you left, he shut himself off, the pain of your betrayal pushing him into a shell you feared he might never break out of.

Ghost’s Response

If you chose him, Ghost’s commitment was absolute. He wasn’t the kind of man to take half-measures. You were his, and he made sure you knew it. But his world was dangerous, and every day brought new challenges. You lived for the moments he was with you, even as you feared the ones where he wasn’t.

~~~

No matter what choice you made, the consequences were profound. You questioned yourself constantly: Did you make the right decision? Could you have had it all if you’d chosen differently?

But one thing was clear—you had chosen not just a person, but a path. One full of uncertainty and growth, pain and passion, love and loss.

And while the future was unknown, you had taken control of your life, stepping into the storm rather than hiding from it.

which path will you choose?

Part 12

#cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader

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teamchasezwrites · 14 hours ago

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Call Me When You’re Sober

Word Count: 7,634

Characters: Damian Priest/OC

Genre: Drunken Confessions, Dirty Talk

Summary: The drunken confession wasn’t exactly unwelcome…

Author’s Note: Hoping to write a sober follow up in the near future.

Damian Priest shouldered the arena door open and stepped outside. The crisp fall Boston air slapped him in the face, causing a shiver to motor through him. He tugged the neckline of his black leather jacket further up his neck to fight against the chill the low temps brought. Luckily he’s lived in the north for many years, so he was used to the winter cold. Not that he particularly wanted to be hanging outside in freezing temps.

It wasn’t a long walk to his rental in the private parking lot. Then he’d be inside and on his way to the hotel where he planned to take the hottest shower he could stand in hopes the water would soothe his sore muscles. Then he would crawl into bed, find something mindless on television to watch before he fell asleep. Tomorrow, he’d be heading toward the airport and home to New York City to get ready for the upcoming holidays.

Raw was a double taping that night, recording next week’s episode as well so the talent and crew could spend time with their families leading up to Christmas before the bustle of live shows littered the days between Christmas and New Years. He was actually looking forward to the days off the double taping afforded, especially after his work tonight.

First he had a match with his current nemesis, Finn Balor. Their match happened in the last hour of the show. The match was nearly twenty minutes to make up for a scrapped match between Pete Dunn and R-Truth. He heard Pete was having an issue with a muscle spasm and to play it safe, they decided to just ax it. In order to make up the time, his match got extended.

Which was fine. Both he and Finn worked so well together. They threw everything at each other; challenging each other during the match and they were actually able to pull the crowd back into their feud. He knew the fans were getting tired of him and The Judgement Day constantly being at arms. So was he. They were all ready to move on to other storylines. The New Year was set to do just that and he couldn’t wait.

His match with Finn ended in a disqualification as Dom and JD interrupted. He ended up on the ground with his former friends over him victorious. He was comforted by boos raining down on them. For the taping of next week’s episode, he attacked JD in a backstage spot. The scuffle drew Finn and Dom of course. Multiple security guards and referees pulled them apart. To close out the show, he was in a six-man tag team match. Him and the War Raiders versus Finn, JD, and Dom.

This time, he ended the night with his hand raised in victory, but damn was his body feeling it. A hot shower and Ibuprofen was on the agenda tonight.

Damian turned the corner as he pulled keys from the pocket of his black jeans. He was almost to his car when he heard a sound. His steps faltered and slowed, tuning his ear to the sound. The parking lot was well lighted unlike some arenas he performed in. Some everyone made sure to never leave alone. Just in case.

The sound came again and he realized someone was crying. His brows furrowed and he followed the sound. She was standing with her back to him and the parking lot, leaning against the concrete barrier separating them from the access road. He wasn’t sure who it was, until the bowed head came up revealing the brown mass of wavy curls.

Cassie.

The ‘Queen of Hearts’ wrestler spent the majority of her career on the Smackdown roster. It wasn’t until this past year where she was traded to Raw during the draft. One of the few wrestlers who actually changed shows. She was shy and a little naïve and a lot introverted which was a little funny considering their profession. Rhea’s extraverted self eventually wore her down. Cassie hadn’t stood a chance.

That’s how he became enraptured by her.

Shy at first with everyone but Rhea, Cassie eventually warmed up to him, Finn, and Dom. Rhea would make Cassie sit with them when they were in catering. She would squish into their rental to go back to the hotel. She’d hang out in the locker room with them. She’d hang with them while they checked out the various cities.

During this time, Damian slowly found himself catching feelings.

“Cassie? Are you okay?” Damian asked softly as he walked up behind her.

Cassie froze at the voice. A quick tinge of fear rushed through her initially, not expecting to hear a voice. Recognizing Damian’s voice, her body relaxed. She stuffed her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, erasing the evidence of her tears. She took a deep shuttering breath as she fought to settle her emotions. When she felt she was okay, she turned around to face Damian.

“Hey,” Damian took a step closer. He gave a quick perusal of the area, but didn’t see anyone or anything to warrant suspicions. They were alone. He could just make out the tear stains on her cheeks. The wet eye lashes. A rush of protectiveness swarmed him. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m okay,” she said softly, sending him a small smile that wobbled as more tears threatened. “Just family stuff.”

Damian nodded, relaxing the vigilant stance he held. “I understand that. Holidays don’t make it any easier either.”

She snorted. “I figured not being back home would leave me out of things but…” she huffed as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m pulled in the middle anyway. I just…” her voice broke and she lifted a hand to pinch at the corner of her eyes in an effort to stop the new tears.

Damian’s heart lurched at her tears and the way she hid her face from him. “Ah Princesa,” he dropped his bag to the ground and stepped forward drawing her into a hug. With their height difference, her head ticked under his chin perfectly. She didn’t wrap her arms around his waist like he hoped, but kept her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with quiet tears, like she was ashamed to be crying in front of him.

He wanted to tell her to let go. He would shoulder her pain. She could lean on him as much as she needed. He would protect her. Everything would be okay; he would make sure of it.

But he couldn’t.

She didn’t know his feelings. He did a good job keeping them under wraps.

“Come on,” Damian said in a low voice when her tears quieted. Her breaths still hitched, causing her shoulders to jolt in his arms. “Let me give you a ride to the hotel.”

Cassie nodded and lifted her head as she stepped out of his arms. The cold penetrated her once again and she shivered. Her coat was back home in Philadelphia, not wanting to travel with it. Instead she relied on a hoodie if she went out, but with the double taping, the majority of her time was spent at the arena.

“Do you have your bag?” Damian felt the loss immediately. He forced himself to reach for the strap of his bag and not for her. He hooked the strap on his shoulder and reached for hers laying near the concrete wall. Once he had both bags, he nodded in the direction of his rental.

The ride was mostly silent, broken only by the low volume of the radio and her occasional sniffles. She never spoke and he never offered conversation. She sat in the passenger seat with her head turned to stare out the window. He wanted to offer a comforting hand, but her hands were both stuffed beneath the thigh of the leg she had crossed over the other. Her posture was definitely reading, ‘don’t.’

Damian just settled in the driver’s seat and tried to be content with the bonus time he received in her presence.

At the hotel, he pulled into a parking spot and grabbed their bags from the backseat. She walked next to him, their shoulders brushing. In the glow of the outside lights, he saw her eyes were dry and he was thankful she stopped crying. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe her tears were over for the night. Probably waiting until she was back in her room alone.

Once they were inside the lobby, they made their way to the elevators. The car was waiting and the doors opened immediately. Inside he pressed the button to the sixth floor and looked at her expectantly. “What floor are you on?”

“Four,” Cassie answered. Her face burned in embarrassment at falling apart on him. “Listen Damian…”

“Hold the door!”

Cassie’s words were cut off and she quickly reached a hand out to stop the doors from closing. Then was pushed out of the way as Sonya, Shayna, Zoey, and Zelina filed in along with their wheeled suitcases. She was herded to the back next to Damian as the four women situated themselves on the elevator.

“Hey!” Zelina greeted her with a smile. “Great match tonight!”

“Thanks,” Cassie smiled as the door closed and the elevator began its assent. She was part of the tournament to crown the first ever Women’s Intercontinental Champion. The opening round was a bunch of triple threat matches. She wrestled tonight with Iyo Sky and Natalya to air during next week’s episode. It was supposed to be Kairi, but she was taken out with an injury after the other three women in the elevator attacked her to set up a feud between the Pure Fusion Collective and Kairi’s Damage CTRL. Iyo eventually won.

It was a bitter pill to swallow since she was supposed to win, but swerves happened all the time. She just hoped Creative had something for her in the New Year.

The elevator dinged before she could comment on Zelina’s own triple threat match. As the other ladies started to clear the elevator, she glanced at Damian, who was silent the whole ride. She sent him a smile, still embarrassed to have cried on him and reached for the bag he still carried. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

Damian’s low voice wrapped around her. Their fingers brushed as he handed her bag to her.

Damian wanted to keep her near him longer, but he had no idea what to say. He wished Rhea was with them. She could draw them both to her room for whatever and takeout. With a small wave of her hand, he watched her follow the rest of the wrestlers off the elevator leaving him alone. As the door closed he caught their conversation.

“Hey, we’re going out in about thirty. There is this really great bar Zoey wants to check out. Wanna come?”

“Well I don’t…” He could hear the hesitation in her voice and held his breath when Zelina practically begged Cassie.

The doors close and the elevator rose, but Damian could still hear Cassie giving in.

*~*

Almost one am and Damian was still wide awake. All he could think about was Cassie’s tear filled gaze. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but couldn’t think of an excuse. Plus he didn’t want to do it in front of an audience. He didn’t have the kind of friendship with Cassie as he did with Rhea. If he caught Rhea crying in the parking lot, he would have gathered her in his arms, herding her back to the hotel, and take her back to his room. He would have ordered take out and put a movie on.

He was also still wide awake because she went from tears in the parking lot to being drug out to a bar. He wasn’t sure how close she was to those girls. Would they watch her? Make sure she didn’t drink too much? She was obviously hurting…

He didn’t even know if she was still out. For all he knew, she could already be back and fast asleep unaware she was the reason he couldn’t sleep.

Blowing out a breath, he rolled over and reached for his phone. She was a grown woman. He didn’t know why he was so worried. She probably went out a lot of times he didn’t know about. He didn’t know why tonight was any different. Maybe it was because he couldn’t erase the image of her tear stained face looking up at him with tears clinging to her lashes. Couldn’t erase the feel of her body against his even as hers shook with sobs.

Browsing Instagram, Damian saw no new posts from her except the previous shared post promoting her upcoming triple threat match airing next week. Disappointment set in as he watched her match from backstage with Rhea. Rhea yelled at the TV, while he sat quietly keeping his thoughts to himself. He would have laughed at Rhea’s excitement for Iyo’s victory and the anger at Cassie’s loss if he hadn’t been gutted for her loss at the same time.

Another universe he would have been waiting in Gorilla for her to appear.

No postings of the night’s bar trip were from none of the other girls either.

Damian told himself he just wanted to check on her, make sure she was okay. He didn’t know how she reacted to emotional issues. Sometimes he went out and got trashed. Sometimes he picked up an unknown woman for a night of fun. Other times he shut himself up in his apartment or hotel room and brooded ignoring everything and everyone.

Did she do the same? Was she out there getting trashed before stumbling back to her hotel room? Was she picking up some loser who didn’t deserve to even stand in the same vicinity? His hand folded into a tight fist at the thought. Before he could stop himself, he was sending a text to Rhea.

‘U up?’

It took too long for his liking for Rhea to answer him

‘No.’

Damian snorted at Rhea’s answer.

‘Can you find out where Shayna, Zoey, and the rest went tonight?’

The dots appeared and disappeared a few times. Damian understood. While friendly, the newest female faction wasn’t who he normally spent time with.

‘Why?’

Damian wondered what Rhea really wanted to say before she settled on the simple noun. Now he was left with having to explain why he wanted the information. Rhea wouldn’t let him get away with anything less than the truth. She wouldn’t believe he was just curious.

‘Cassie went out with them.’

‘Ahhh…’

Damian waited for the teasing to come. He was sure Rhea didn’t know about his crush, but maybe she did.

‘Why in the world would she go out with them?’

‘She was upset. Family stuff I guess. I caught her crying outside the arena when I left. Brought her back to the hotel with me where they snatched her up.’

‘You let her go???’

‘What was I supposed to do? Tie her up?’

‘A little drastic. That would probably scare her away. You gotta hide your crazy until it’s too late.’

Damian grew antsy but Rhea’s next text was the name of the bar.

Armed with the information, Damian stood up and dressed in the same clothes he’d taken off just a few hours before. Making sure he had his wallet and room key, he snatched the rental key from the table and left his room before he could talk himself out of going.

It didn’t take long before he was parking his car a block away from the bar. The bar was packed given the late night hour and it being a Monday night, but who was he to judge. The holidays tended to have that affect on people. The music was loud. The conversation louder. The sound of balls breaking signified a pool table somewhere in the madness.

Damian’s eyes swept the room; meeting and dismissing many. They weren’t the ones he was looking for. He wasn’t here for a good time. He was here for one reason.

And that reason was tucked on the lap of some clean cut guy with a wide grin. Damian watched as Cassie downed the shot in her hand to the cheers of the table. Two other men egged her on to take another. He could read the looks exchanged between them just as easy as if their words appeared in a bubble above their head as she reached for the shot glass filled by the man whose lap she sat on.

His jaw clenched painfully, his molars grinding together. She wiggled on the man’s lap. His hands gripped her waist holding her steady and he knew he was pressing his cock into her ass. He wanted to send his fist right into the smiling face and break those perfectly straight white teeth.

Maybe he should have sent Rhea to save her.

Then again, Rhea might react worse than him.

The shot in Cassie’s hand lifted and her head titled back. In the same movement, the man’s hand reached up copping a feel of her breast. The fabric nearly pulled down to give a show to the table who were practically drooling over their own liquor glasses.

His feet moved, cutting through the patrons quickly. Satisfaction coursed through him seeing the eyes of the two men who didn’t have their hands in inappropriate places widen. Their laughter died suddenly as he stopped in front of them.

Anger rolled off him.

“Damian!”

Damian’s arms were immediately filled with a warm, wiggling, very drunk female body. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed against him.

“Hi Princesa,” his lightened voice a direct contraction against the menacing look he was sending to the men behind her.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” She grinned as her arms fell from his neck to his chest. The muscles were hard beneath her hands and she curled her fingers into the skin. She licked her lips as she swayed toward him.

Damian couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he stared down at her. She was clearly very drunk. The red of her cheeks. The wide pupils. The slight slur of her words. The weight gone from her shoulders. Her muscles relaxed and languid. Copious amounts of touching. Her hands were all over him. Running up and down his chest, his waist and up his back.

“I just got here Corazòn.”

“Nice,” Cassie grinned, her hands moving to his back and she hugged him again. “I’m glad you came. I was hoping you would.”

The twinkle in her eye caused his heart to skip. “I’m actually your ride home…” Damian let the fib slip. He was certain he had hearts in his eyes as he watched her frown with her eyebrows drawn in confusion as she tried to decipher his words. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and that moved caused his cock to take notice. ‘Down boy,’ he thought.

Cassie lifted her arm to stare at the watch wrapped on her left wrist. She stumbled on her feet and nearly went down until warm hands grabbed her waist. Looking up, her breath caught as she met Damian’s dark brown eyes. Her hand fell on his bicep as she straightened. Her body pressed against his, her eyes never wavering. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Damian grinned. If he wasn’t in love with her before, he was after that look. “You ready to go?”

“Where we goin?” Cassie grinned.

“Back to the hotel.”

“Okay,” Cassie turned back toward the table, frowning seeing it empty. The table was littered with empty shot glasses, beer glasses, high ball glasses, and a pitcher. The chairs pushed back from the table. She reached for the remaining half empty glass containing Bud Light. “I wanted you to meet my friends.”

“Maybe next time.” A single glare over Cassie’s head had them cutting their losses and scattering into the crowd. No doubt searching for someone else to talk into going home with them. He tried to find himself to care about the next unsuspecting girl, but he couldn’t. There was only one woman he cared about and she was currently chugging the rest of the beer in her glass.

“You sure we have to leave?”

Damian nearly gave in when she stared up at him with big doe eyes. Ready to sit in one of the vacated chairs, pull her down in his lap, and order a drink. He nodded his head and gently took her arm to lead her away from table and toward the front of the building.

As they reached the door to leave the bar, the bartender yelled, ‘Last call!’ to the disappointment of the many patrons. He drew her closer when they made it to the sidewalk. When she shivered against the cold, he stopped and slid his jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She swayed on her feet, but didn’t fall. When her eyes met his, she sent him a smile.

In a different time… in a different dynamic, he would have taken her face in his hands and kissed her smiling lips.

“Come on Corazòn,” Damian wrapped his arm around her waist and led her down the street to his car. Their steps were disjointed with her inability to walk straight. Every stumble caused her to giggle and clutch him tighter with the hand around his back. He found it hard to care about their slow pace with her hand on him.

Reaching his car, he patted the front pocket of his jeans searching for the keys. His pockets were empty. He had a moment of fright before he heard the giggle next to him. Looking up, he saw her holding his keys in the air.

“Looking for these?”

The keys must have been in the pocket of his jacket. He reached up to take them when she pulled them away. The movement nearly sent her to the ground.

“Nuh huh,” Cassie laughed.

“Come on Corazòn, give me the keys so we can get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Cassie clutched the keys in her hand, swaying toward Damian.

“Back to the hotel…” Damian’s eyes widened when she moved right into his space. Her hands pressed against his stomach. His muscles twitched beneath her touch. Her hands crawled up his chest to entwine around his neck and his breath caught when she pushed up on her tip toes.

“You didn’t even buy me a drink,” Cassie teased, scrapping her nails over the nape of his neck. His close shaved hair rough on her fingertips.

“Next time Corazòn.” Damian reached up to untangle her arms from around his neck before he did something stupid like kiss her. He was unable to stop from pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he slipped the car keys from her grasp.

When he unlocked the door, Damian helped her into the car. It was pure torture being this close to her – so pliant… so ready… but he would never take advantage of her. The seatbelt proved to be too much of an adversary and he took pity on her. He leaned down and pulled the seatbelt across her body. A shivered worked through him when he felt her lips on his cheek. Then nearly lost his balance when she nipped his ear.

“Behave Corazòn.”

“Sorry,” she giggled sitting back in the seat.

“You are trouble,” Damian clicked the belt in place and backed away. He shut the door and quickly rounded the front of the car getting into the driver’s seat. More of the bar patrons spilled onto the sidewalk and he wanted to get away before he was stopped by a fan.

Starting the car, he quickly checked the mirrors before he pulled out onto the street.

“What’s your passcode?”

Damian looked over at the question and saw his phone in her hand. The screen lit up with a number pad waiting for his passcode to be entered before the phone unlocked. “How’d you get my phone?”

“It was in your coat,” Cassie grinned. “Please?”

Just like that, Damian found himself giving her his passcode. ‘The minx,’ he thought as he chuckled. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do too much damage control with any messages she sent or posted to any of his accounts. Switching into the left lane, he put his turn signal on and stopped at the red light.

“Here, hurry up before it turns green!” Cassie held the phone out in front of her with her right hand and leaned toward Damian.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked, glancing at her.

“Taking a selfie! Hurry before the light turns!”

Damian shook his head, but he shifted in the seat to lean toward the center counsel. The camera was up on his phone. He smiled as she leaned even closer to him, her temple resting on his cheek. The light turned green as she was moving back to her seat. He hit the gas making the turn to head back to the hotel.

Cassie grinned as she pulled up his Instagram account and posted the photo.

‘Uber driver. Highly recommend. Five stars.’

“What are you doing?” Damian asked, hearing the giggles. “Corazòn, if you’re posting crazy stuff…”

“I’m not!” Cassie insisted. She drew up his messages and opened a new one. She attached the selfie and typed in her name. Nothing came up. She frowned. Erasing the name, she typed it in again, hoping her contact info would come up.

“What’s wrong?” The drive was quick in the dead of night. The hotel loomed in front of him.

“I wanted to send this to me, but you don’t have my number…”

“I don’t think so. Just put your number in.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Damian asked as he was pulled into the hotel parking lot.

“I can’t remember it.”

Damian laughed as he pulled into the empty spot he vacated not that long ago.

“Oh!” Cassie shouted suddenly and typed in Rhea’s name. The text thread came up and she brought the phone closer to her eyes. The letters blurring in front of her.

‘Send this photo to me.’

’Cassie.’

‘I can’t remember my number.’

‘I think I drank too much.’

She giggled as she tucked his phone back in the coat pocket.

“You’re trouble Corazòn.” Damian killed the engine and climbed from the car. He made his way to the passenger side where he opened her door and helped her out. She swayed on her feet and he reached to steady her. “You good?”

Cassie nodded. The movement caused her vision to blur. Her hand clutched his bicep as she waited for the world to right itself. She blew out her breath and smiled up at him as they walked into the hotel. “What does Corazòn mean?”

It was Damian’s turn to stumble. His face heated in embarrassment. The endearment slipped out accidentally earlier and he hadn’t been able to stop using it. Her being impaired felt like a free chance to get away with something so innocent.

“Is it bad?” Cassie leaned against him as they stopped at the elevator.

“Is what bad?” Damian asked, buying time. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He kept her close as he hit the number 4.

“Corazòn? Is it bad?”

He cursed under his breath at her small voice. “No. It’s not bad. It means sweetheart.”

“I like that,” Cassie said as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. “Corazòn,” she repeated softly. A warmness flowed through her.

“What’s your room number?” Damian asked. When she stepped off earlier, he hadn’t noticed the direction she took.

“426.”

Damian turned them to the right and walked halfway down the quiet hallway until they came to her door. He watched as she started patting her pockets. The front of her jeans turned up empty. The left back pocket revealed her phone. A sobering thought went through him. What if she gave her room key to the douche at the bar? If that was the case, there was no way he would let her stay in her room. He’d take her to his… Rhea’s…

That would be safer.

He opened his mouth to suggest staying elsewhere when she finally produced her room key. She held it up triumphantly in her hand along with her driver’s license, and folded up cash.

“Success!” She grinned. She frowned when she noticed the cash in her hand. “I drank a lot for someone who didn’t buy a drink all night.”

Damian laughed. “I bet.”

He watched her struggle to keep her hand still enough for the keypad on the door to read the room key. He wrapped his hand around hers to hold it steady. The light turned green. He tugged the handle down and pushed the door open allowing her to enter first. For a moment he thought about letting it shut with her safely inside and he outside, but then she stumbled and fell into the wall.

Stepping into the room, his mind shouted he was entering a dangerous zone. He should leave her to her own devices. Have Rhea check on her in the morning. Obviously glutton for punishment, he stayed. He told himself he was only going to get her shoes off and get her into bed. Fully clothed. Make sure her phone was plugged in with an alarm set. Then he would leave and go back to his own room.

Maybe get her to take some Advil before she passed out. She would definitely be hating life in the morning.

“Are we having a sleepover?”

She looked so cute dwarfed in his jacket. Smiling, he shook his head. “No sleepover. I’m going to make sure you get in to bed.”

Cassie frowned at his words and Damian watched as she made her way forward to stand in front of him. He looked down in her eyes. Her arms once again entwined around his neck and she went up on her tip toes again. Her lips a whispered away. He knew he should step away but he couldn’t. His feet were glued to the floor. “You can…get in to bed with me…Corazòn…”

It was the whispered Spanish term of endearment. It made him weak. Weak enough to lower his head and brush his lips against hers. She tasted of alcohol and the spicy hint of cinnamon. Her lips were soft and pliant. When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, her lips parted with a sigh. He chased the taste of cinnamon in her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his body. His tongue stroked against hers, exploring the cavern until he knew it as well as his own.

He withdrew his tongue and the noise she made in protest hit deep in his gut. Her hands clutched the front of his hoodie; the material gripped tight in her hands, pulling it hard across his chest. The whispered, wanton ‘more’ from her mouth caused all the blood to rush below his belt to his hardening cock.

“Damian,” she whispered pressing closer. She felt the hard cock against her belly. Desire pooled at her center and she clenched around nothing feeling empty.

“Cassie,” Damian murmured against her lips. His hands traced down her back over his coat to her ass. He cupped the globes, encased in tight jeans, in his hands and pressed her into his cock, manipulating her hips to move against him.

“I need you…”

Damian froze when he felt her hands at the front of his jeans, trying to work the button open and lower the zipper. He brought one of his hands to wrap around hers, stopping the movement. A low moan escaped from his throat as her hand pressed against his cock. Her fingers working in small ministrations unable to fully move her hand because of his hold. His eyes drifted closed. His free hand threaded through her hair, a much safer location than her ass. He pressed her against his chest as he breath heavily.

“Please…”

It took everything he had to take a step back. Their hands fell from the front of his jeans. His cock still painfully against his zipper, begging to be released. “Wait…” Damian knew he needed to gather control quickly.

“I don’t wanna wait,” Cassie murmured, lifting her head.

Damian bit back a groan. Her lips were puffy and reddened from his kisses.

“I want you…” Cassie dropped her hands from him to slip her arms from his jacket. The leather jacket fell to the floor with a muffled thud as his phone hit the thin carpet. “I’ve wanted you for awhile…”

Damian’s eyes flared at the piece of information. He wished he knew it before he pulled her drunken self from the bar. He stepped back from her when she stepped forward and found himself with his back against the wall separating the room from the bathroom. She pressed a hand on his chest and let it trail down his body. The internal fight had him grabbing her hand just before it reached his cock.

“Let me suck you,” she whispered swaying toward him. “Please. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve dreamt about dropping to my knees in front of you. Pressing my face into your crotch. Breathing you in. Mouthing you through your clothes before pulling the zipper down. Reaching in and baring you to me…” she licked her lips as her mouth filled with saliva as it would in hunger… and she was hungry. Could already feel the weight of his cock on her tongue.

Damian moaned, his eyes closing as his head fell back. His cock twitched in his jeans, eagerly wanting Cassie to do just as she begged. He wanted to let her fall to her knees in front of him. He wanted to hold his cock in his hand as he fed it to her. “We can’t…” The hardest words he ever had to speak.

“That’s okay. I got a list of things I want to do to you… with you.”

He was only a man. A weak man apparently. One definitely glutton for more punishment as if the night hadn’t doled out enough already. “What else?”

Cassie reached out and squeezed his bicep; the hard muscle hidden from view because of his hoodie. “I’ve wanted you to pick me up and fuck me against the wall. Hold me above your cock before lowering me until I’m impaled…”

“Jesus Christ,” Damian groaned. His cock championed that position. To rid her of those skin tight jeans and press her to the wall behind him. Lower his jeans just enough to release his weeping cock and send himself home with one thrust.

“I want to strip you naked. Lay you down on the bed and trace every single tattoo with my tongue until I get to your cock…” Cassie reached for his hand with both of hers. She maneuvered his fingers leaving his pointer finger up. She brought their hands to her lips, where she swiped the pad of his finger with her tongue. “Then I’ll suck your cock…” At his swift intake of breath, she drew his finger into her mouth. Sinking down on the digit in a lewd manner. Her tongue teased the underside as she withdrew. The finger fell from her mouth with a pop.

“I wanna climb on top of you and ride your cock… With your hands on my hips in a bruising grip. I don’t have tattoos, but I’d wear those marks proudly. I wanna sink on your hard cock, slamming down on you, taking you deep inside me. I wanna ride you until completion… coming apart on your cock. Then I want you to roll me over and take me from behind. Pounding in me, while pulling my hair. Taking what you need until you explode. Your cum deep inside of me.”

With his free hand, Damian reached down and squeezed his denim clad cock, trying to stave off coming. The bed was right behind her. He could tear off her clothes and toss her down. Mount her from behind; pistoning in and out of her until completion. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long.

“I also want to straddle your face. Press my pussy down on your mouth forcing your tongue to lick me. Feeling your tongue inside of me. You licking and sucking on my clit. Your arms hooked on my thighs not letting me go. You can’t breath, you’re consumed by me… the smell… the taste of my pussy…God you keep licking. My thighs are quaking until I’m screaming out your name coming all over your lips.”

Damian was nearing the end of his rope. He knew if he shoved his hand down her pants he’d find her dripping. A slight musky scent of arousal hung in the air. It made him want to be the one to drop to his knees and press his face against her center. Toss one of her legs over his shoulders, baring her to him. He wanted to lick until those thighs quaked. Lick until she coated his cheeks with her essence.

“I also want you to take me in the locker room or in a dark hallway at the arena… fast and quick and hard… your hand pressed over my mouth to keep me quiet because someone could find us…I want you to tie me to my bed and make me beg… beg you to kiss me. Beg you to touch me. To put your mouth on me. I want you to mark me. Sucking bruising bites on my skin. My neck… my breasts…my thighs. I want you to mark me with your cum. Watch you with your hand on your cock, stroking up and down, until you explode… your cum painting my body…” Cassie hummed, her eyes falling shut. “I want to watch you stroke yourself. Your hand moving on your cock. See the muscles on your arm dancing as you grip your cock. Your thumb swirling on the head through the pre cum. Watch you lick your hand for a better glide…those thick fingers wrapping around your cock.”

Cassie’s eyes opened and trapped his. “I need to feel those fingers inside of me. One… two… three… stuffing me full…” A breathy moan released from between her lips. “Damian…Corazòn… kiss me. Please…”

Damian could no more refuse the plea than he could stop breathing. With a hand cupping her jaw, he titled her head up as he lowered his. Their lips met in a soft kiss – a much softer kiss than he was feeling after listening to her describe what she wanted to do to him or what she wanted him to do to her. He could feel her trying to push it further, but he kept it light. Their lips moving together.

When she swayed, he broke the kiss and pulled her head to rest on his chest. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath to try to get a reign on his anatomy. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Surprisingly she gave no resistance. As he removed her black booties and socks from her feet, she never tried to hit on him. She stayed silent as he knelt on the ground, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance. When he stood up, he reached for the black fitted long sleeve turtleneck shirt. Again, she simply lifted her arms over her head and allowed him to pull it off. His eyes gave a quick glance over the black lace bra before he averted his gaze. He didn’t need any more fodder for his late night activities but he would love to press his lips to the soft mounds encased in the lacy fabric. To tease her nipples through the lace drawing them into stiff peaks before he sucked on them.

“My shirt…”

Damian saw the black t-shirt thrown on the end of the bed and grabbed it. Then, like dressing a child, he pulled it down over her head. He stared in shock as the purple print came into view. It was one of his merchandise shirts.

Cassie giggled as she gripped the hem and pulled the shirt away from her body to straighten the fabric. “Rhea gave it to me as a joke. She knows how much I like Damian…”

Damian’s eyes flickered back to Cassie’s in confusion. Her eyes were glazed and he frowned at the far away look in them. The alcohol apparently had taken over her body. He knew from his own experience she was about ready to be gone from the world.

“But you can’t tell him.”

Damian chuckled softly at the secretive whisper in Cassie’s voice. “Why not?” He told himself not to push anymore. He picked his leather jacket up from the floor where Cassie dropped it.

“Because I know he doesn’t like me.”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Damian asked, interested to hear the answer.

“I’m dorky. I’m too short. I’m too shy. I like country music. I don’t really like going out. I like to stay home…” Cassie reached for her jeans, her fingers fumbling with the button.

“I have it on good authority that he likes you.” Already pushing the line, Damian reached out and undid the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. With both hands, he pushed the jeans down her hips. Stumbling a little when she decided to sit down on the bed. He knelt at her feet and pulled the jeans from her legs. His hands twitched to run up and down those smooth legs. From her small, dainty feet capped with dark purple nail polish, all the way up to her thighs.

“That’s what Rhea said…” Cassie fell back onto the bed on her back. Her eyes drifting shut. She offered no resistance when she felt her body being lifted and moved. Her head came down on a soft, cool pillow. Soon a blanket covered her body and warmth settled her. Her eye lids felt heavy – too heavy to open.

He was gonna buy Rhea breakfast in the morning. Damian grabbed her discard jeans and dug her phone out of the pocket. The lock screen lit up showing a few notifications – from Amazon, The Weather Channel, SnapChat, and an alarm found, along with a text from Rhea.

‘Why are you texting me from Damian’s phone???? Did you finally tell him?!’

He smirked at the text. Toyed with the thought of texting from Cassie’s phone, but ultimately plugged it on to the charger next to the bed. He placed the other items from her jeans next to her phone before tossing the jeans over the open suitcase. Looking around, he realized it was time to go.

Before he left, he was unable to stop himself from leaning down and placing a kiss on Cassie’s forehead.

“I love you Damian.”

Damian’s breath caught at the whisper. The words warmed him from the inside out, settling something deep in his soul. Tilting his head down, his eyes met hers. Time and alcohol weighing heavily on them. “Cassie…”

“I do. You’re kind and patient. You’re fun to be around. Funny. Accepting. I love how you love your family. How you work hard and keep pushing no matter what Creative or life throws at you. You’re supportive. I love your friendship with Rhea. It makes me jealous at times and I wish I can be that easy with you. I love how you always smile when you see me. How you ask how I’m doing and about my family. I love your arms. I love how I felt safe and protected the few times you hugged me. Like nothing could ever hurt me when I’m in your arms. I love your smile and the way one side tilts up. It makes my heart skip a beat. I love your laugh. How you make me laugh. I love your voice. How deep it is. Your accent…I get butterflies. I love your eyes. They’re so expressive. How they somehow sparkle when you’re happy even though they are so dark. How they crinkle when you smile. They make me melt…”

Damian nearly jumped when he felt the caress on his hand. Looking down he watched Cassie’s fingers brush over the back of his hand.

“Your hands… I love the shape of them. The long fingers… the veins on the back. The amount of roughness on the palm. I stare at them often. Not just imagining how they’d feel on my body, but how they would look holding my hand. How it would feel brushing my hair away from my face. I love your beautiful skin – tanned and tattooed. How tall you are…and how perfectly we’d fit together despite the height differences. How strong you are… not just physically…you could shoulder all my worries and fears…”

Her voice grew softer and softer as she lost the battle with consciousness, but he never heard anyone more clearly. Damian had many relationships over the years dating back to his junior high days. None of them ever compared to what he was feeling right now. He felt complete for the first time in his life; like a missing piece had slid home. His heart felt full.

Leaning down, Damian brushed his lips against hers. He kept it soft and light and was surprised when he felt the small movement of her lips against his. “Tell me when you’re sober, Corazòn and I’ll give you the world.”

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfics #damian priest #damian priest fanfic #damian priest x oc

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casuallivi · 3 days ago

Text

The Midnight Kiss

I’ve been a sad bitch and the almost nothings that I managed to write were reflecting it terribly. I want to be a happy bitch again and finish a quirky romcom that does not evolve to sad-town-fest. Pray for me and my constancy, godspeed to us all. This is the farthest I’ve ever came writing solos-turned-multichapter. Amazing and wtf.

Warning: mentions of anxiety and self-harm and infuriating blonds.

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 8: 500 days of Azriel - part 1

Five hundred days.

The countdown of his life turning upside down took 500 days

And it was all because of her.

DAY 1

Truth be told Azriel Marino didn't mean to pay her any attention.

The thing is life can be unpredictable, even for a big planner like him, especially when this planner happens to be in constant contact with the most chaotic variant he had ever came across. Well, maybe it was a bit dramatic of him to define a person like that, but Elain Archeron was no regular person, so Azriel couldn’t help but compare her to a surprise variable disrupting the balance of his perfect life equation.

“Fuck!” The strangled curse resonated along with the emergency door hitting the wall. Agitated, Azriel shrugged his suit jacket, making his way to the building's stairwell.

The phone in his hand was ticking time bomb. He held it like a vice, like a nasty habit he couldn't seem to get rid of. Her photo on the screen shined like a beacon, a conductor to his own personal hell. Damn it. He should have erased her contact info by now, should have erase all possible traces of her.

Easier said than done.

Azriel stared at the photo she sent as if he was staring at Morrigan herself, stared at the empty bottle of wine by her side, her tear-stained cheeks and red stained lips doing nothing to distract him from the bunch of pills in her hand. Under the ominous picture laid four bubbles that made his stomach churn.

sometimes I want 2 sleep and never wake up Sorry 4 texting I love u bye Az

It had been an hour since he received the picture documenting Morrigan's latest threat of attempting suicide.

Then nothing.

No further picture, no more threatening messages, nothing. Complete silence from the woman who had been calling and texting nonstop all week after a photo like that was a bad sign. With a shaky hand, Azriel loosened his tie and scratched his throat, willing the air in and out.

I love u

The empty text float in his mind.

It's a lie, he reminded himself. It's always a lie.

There was no coming back from the break up this time. Not for him. Whatever she chose to do or not do was out of his hands now. He had played this part one too many times to know nothing good would come from bending to her.

Scrunching his eyes shut, Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. He hated this feeling, the cruel fait of being responsible for Mor's life, the constant balance of her existent being put in the palm of his hands.

It’s fake, he mentalized. It’s fake like all the other ones.

But what if it wasn’t?

Shaking, he dialed her number.

Azriel didn't know if it was worry or deep resented anger that gave his hand tremors. Deep down he knew what she was doing. This wasn’t his first rodeo with Mor. Facetimes in the middle of the night, hysterical crying on his hallway, pictures of knifes and ropes over her bed, long goodbye emails that he should’ve not read, but couldn’t help doing so. So far, Mor had used a lot of cruel ways to razzle him into taking her back, and Azriel was so fucking done with this shit.

Still, having someone texting you the equivalent of a suicide note was frightening. Why hadn't she reached him again? What if she had gone through with it this time? What if she hurt herself? Azriel ran a hand through his hair.

The call didn't go through, panic slowly seeping through his bones.

Who was he kidding? Azriel would never be able to leave Morrigan. They have been together too long, been through too much. It was too late for him to try and leave her now, too late to break this sickening connection between them.

On the verge of crying, he dialed her number again.

He could be stronger this time, firmer, just a long time friend checking on another. He could do this. He would just check on her, make sure that she was safe and unharmed, and them he–

“You drop that phone. Right! Now!”

The loud command caught him by surprise, Azriel turning back to the exit door. No one had come through, he was still alone on his floor.

“I cannot believe you’re calling this asshole again!” The same feminine voice reprehended.

He recognized her immediately, his ears well used to the high pitch that loved to start a fight with him, only it was a first seeing her using this tone with anyone else. Quietly, he approached the railing to get a better view from the floor below, watching his two employees fight like toddlers

“He called me all day! It’s rude to ignore.” Nuala screeched, pushing Elain’s head away.

“He’s buttering you up, your idiot,” Elain replied two second away from climbing her friend's back. “That’s how that piece of shit manipulates you!”

Jumping, she made failed attempt to grab the phone.

“He doesn’t manipulate me.” Nuala said in a defensive tone.

“Oh, please!”

“… Fine, maybe a little. But he loves me!”

“No he doesn’t. Give me the phone, Nu.”

“I will… I just need to call him real quick, it's the last time, I promise.”

Huffing, Elain placed both hands on her waist, glaring at her friend.

“You’re the one who asked me to guard you phone, remember?” She made a run for her friend, Nuala dodging her with easy. “I won’t let you get back with that walking trash!”

“I’m not trying to get back together.”

“Save the lies for someone who’ll believe you.”

“I’m serious. I just have check on him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“He was so sad Elain, he almost drunk himself to death!”

“That man was cheating on you, he can jump of a cliff an I won’t care! Give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Give it to me!”

“No!”

Azriel rolled his eyes watching them struggle like two toddlers battling for the best toy. The “fight” didn’t last long, not when Elain was willing to stick a wet finger in her friend’s ear to gain advantage. He didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted with how far she was willing to go, and he wasn't the only one.

“Oh my God, you’re disgusting!” Nuala complained, rubbing her ear raw.

“And you are welcome.” Elain replied, turning the phone off and sticking it inside her shirt.

With a sigh, Nuala sat on the stair, hiding her head between her knees, the photographer soon following her steps, wrapping an arm around her friend. The scene seemed too personal for him to be watching, yet Azriel could not walk way without listening to all of it, not when he and Nuala seemed to have so much in commom.

Trying to give them a bit of privacy he turned his back to the railing and sat down. In normal circunstance he would never he sat in an unwkown dirty floor, but his day had been long, and Azriel was tired. The kinds of tiredness that reachs the soul. He did his best not to touch anything that wasn't necessarie.

“He will change," he heard Nuala reasoning. “He promised.”

“He always does, and he never changes. No one change for others, you know that.”

“What if he meant it this time?”

“What if he doesn’t?" A bit of silenced filled the staircase. "Will you spend the rest of your life catering for him? Being unhappy just to stay beside him?” At that, Nuala lifted her head. “Honey, that man doesn’t love. If he really loved you, he would not be terrorizing you, he wouldn’t hurt you, and he wouldn’t pretend to be hurt just to get your attention. You don’t do this to people you love Nuala.”

Nuala groaned, the weight of the words washing over her.

“If he doesn’t love me, why won’t he let me go?"

I know the feeling, Azriel thought on the upper floor.

"He has to love me at least a little bit, right?”

“You know why he won’t leave you alone? Because now that you dumped his useless ass he realized how much you did for him, how much easier you turned his life. In his mind, he can treat you as badly as he wants and you will never leave, because you don’t love yourself enough to leave, but you love him enough to stay even if it makes you unhappy.”

The women stayed silent for a while, Azriel absorbing the words that weren’t meant for him but might as well had been. To love someone more than you love yourself was a dreadful curse to carry.

“I miss him.”

Azriel paused, pensive. Did he missed Mor? Inside him there was long, a long he couldn't quite comprehend or classify. He was so tired of being manipulated and dismissed, so tired of being taken for granted, tired of being alone, still, Azriel missed being in love, and Morrigan was the only woman he had ever loved. But did he miss Mor? Azriel wasn't so sure anymore.

“I know, darling." Elain soothing voice found him again. "You won’t miss him forever, I promise. Give it time Nuala, it sounds cliché but time heals all things, it will heal you too, you’ll see.”

Another moment of silence, then,

"I think to have to keep my phone for a little longer.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let me call him.”

“I won’t.”

“Christ, I can’t believe I’m having a meltdown at work.”

“I know.” Elain laughed. “I’m so gonna make fun of you later. Come one, let’s get back. The busier you are, the less you’ll think about that waste of oxygen, come." Her voice began to feel further. "By the way, Nu, you should try Crushland, is a wonderful problem-solver.”

“And stay hidden behind plants to thirst after Cass? No, thank you.”

“Ugh, shut up. I told you I wasn’t hiding, I was passing by.”

“Sure you were.”

A door opened and closed and then the girls were gone, leaving Azriel behind. His phone rang, Morrigan’s name in capital letters screaming at him to pick up. He starred at it until the screen shut down again.

Turning his device off completely, Azriel stood. He rearrenged his tie, using the linen handkerchief safely tucked in his brest pocket to clean the dirt from hist pants. His eyes followed the material, suddely remembering this particular piece had been a gift from Mor. Azriel took a deep breath, ehxaling slowly, Elain's words replaying on his ming. The busier you are, the less you’ll think about that it. Usually, Azriel would be the first one to disagree with Elain. This time he hopped she was correct.

Reentering the halls of the building, Azriel discharged the handkerchief in the nearest bin, thinking back to the one piece of the conversation that he had not understood at all.

“What the fuck is crushland…” he muttered to himself.

DAY 185

There was a she he didn't want to think about.

And there was a she who would not leave his mind.

To Azriel Marino, Elain Archeron’s mind was a chaotic mess. Well, at least he supposed it was, since he was yet to see her having a linear line of thoughts or exhibit traits of an organized person. And he would know if she had, because Azriel had been paying a lot of attention to Elain since he accidently listen to her conversation.

Going against instinct was hard, but he tried his best to follow the stolen advices. Since that faitful day, Azriel reseted his phone without bothering to save any prior conversation, photo or information on it, switched numbers - both personal and professional - forced himself to develop a new distribution strategy to raise the number os sales, reached for a couple friends that he hadn't catch up with in years, and suspended Morrigan from the list of preaproved guests of his building.

The last action was proving to be a bit tricky since his brother lived on the same place in a different floor, Mor using the opportunit to pretend to visit Cassian and go bang straight on Azriel doors. To his credit he had been doind an excelent job of playing dead in these situation, but it was getting embarassing to pretend not being home when he was a grown asss adult. Should he move? Fuck.

The first days were rough, the suicide threat hunting his dreams. Azriel did his best not to fall, focusing in rebuilding his days without placing Mor at the center of his life, focusing his efforts in fully reviving the magazine instead. These days most of their revenue came from the digital market, but Azriel was determinate to ignite people's love for paper again. There was a certain finesse and class to the final result of a printed magazine that bright ipad screen couldn't compete with. The more he tried to revive this tradition, the less he found himself fixating about Mor.

From the confines of his office, he watched Elain's back as she worked editing some shots. Her advice was solid. Time was indeed a good healer, Azriel being the one that have never gave into it, not entirely. He wondered if she would be proud of how well he managed to follow her lead. Would she praise him? From his observations, Elain was the type to praise every trivial achievement her friends would share with her. Except for his. Not that he had ever shared anything with her. Elain and Azriel weren't friends.

He obsessed over the wrapper one last time, breathing in courage and marching to deliver it.

In his hands Azriel held a Remus 1.5x Full Frame Anamorphic 5 Lens Set all wrapped in pink. He had no inkling about professional lenses quality, but he had seen Elain daydreaming about this particular set once or twice, her computer screen stuck on the specs as she gushed to Nuala or Miguel about inumerous advantages only she seemed to follow. It is a working tool, he would say, to keep improving the magazine's quality.

Truth was the gift was a hidden thank you and a quiet peace offer.

Elain could be a mouthy thing with a questionable wardrobe and an inexplicable supply of energy for someone who disliked coffee, but over the last months Azriel learned that she was also insightful and very considerate, qualities he had failed to apreciate for they could never interact for long without fighting. During their weekly meeting Elain mostly kept to herself, scketing scenarios and playing with possible color gradientes as she dropped a terrible joke here and there, quickly associating which agencies would have the best catalog of models for the monthly issue, humming as she pinned the name to vision bord. When they were in the shooting set her other persona would come out, bossy and stern, not afraid to shout orders at anyone, not even him. Azriel was trying to learn not to interfere with her on set, still, he would razzle her sometimes, unable to stop himself from trying to be in control.

Once he stopped antagonizing her, Azriel realized their goal was the same: do a good job. That's why he suggested Cassian should hire Elain as their official photographer instead of keeping her as backcall freelancer. Elain was too good not to keep. And since she appeared to be a good friend to every one in this office, maybe, just maybe, he and Elain didn't have to be in each other's throat all the time. Maybe they could even be… well, not friends, he didn't know her personally enough for that, but they could be work colleagues. Good colleagues.

They had a couple traits in common, and Azriel was perfectly capable of using them to befriend her.

Or maybe he wasn't.

Azriel’s nose wrinkled on its on as he approached mess scatarred across the wood top that once upon a time, was a desk. Now old food wraps covered half of it, and so did empty cups (which were probably responsible for the stains on the wood); the other half was occupied by cut outs from magazines and multicolored folders, pictures of clothes, places and people that she would somehow turn into an idea.

A shiver ran down his spin, making him physicaly shake in place to get rid of it. His mind would never function properly in this kind of working space. Just thinking about putting his laptop on this desk made his skin crawl. Not surprisingly, her camera was the only item in a proper place, with no garbage nearby, safely secure in a bag and carefully placed on a lower shelf.

If there was one thing, Azriel knew about Elain was that she loved her camera.

And apparently, his brother.

Unaware of his presence, Elain hunched over her phone like a goblin, an old photograph of a shirtless Cassian posing by a waterfall occupying the entirety of her screen. If Elain was trying to be subtle about her crush, she was doing a terrible job of it. By now, he was sure everyone in this department knew she had a thing for his brother.

Well, she was a single woman and his brother was a single man... Still, Azriel didn't like the way her eyes would lite up around Cass, how easily they would slip into casualty and conversation, how she'd play with her hair and smile brightly at him, how her voice would be sweeter and higher than normal, or how they would share the same wave length for flirty jokes and heavily sexual innuendos. He hated those jokes. Hated that insufferable immodest bond that they seemed to share so effortlessly.

Why did they need to be laughing so much around each other? It was annoying and juvenile.

Sick of watching her ridiculous hobby, Azriel lowered himself till his lips were nearly touching the shell of her ear.

“Online stalking can also be considered a form of working harassment.”

Elain nearly jumped from her chair.

“Jesus Christ!” she squealed, holding her phone to her chest.

“Nope, just your boss. About to file an HR complain with you name on it.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“You can’t complain about me, I wasn’t stalking you.”

“So you admit you were stalking.”

“I wasn’t stalking, it was a Facebook memory!” She defended herself, cheeks reds as a tomato.

Azriel watched her. Elain wasn’t the shy blushy type.

In fact, in all those months working with her he hadn’t saw her face red unless she was very angry (usually with him). Elain blushing was kind of… cute. Her heated cheeks matching the soft cherry blossom shade of her lips. Azriel was yet to see Elain with heavy make up on, her daily pattern cosisting in sunscreen, a bit of foundation and lots of gloss. He could tell her lips were the area she liked to play with the most, testing different shades of red and pink that seemed to match her mood. Sometimes they seemed the color of rose buds, sometimes they were closer to cherry red, most times they were glossy and sparkling, and sometimes he stared at them more than he should, so engrossed in the way they moved he forgot to pay attention to what she was saying. Like now.

"–and Cass befriend me," she continued. "Now facebook is reminding me that I accidently liked his old picture, and my phone died, and I couldn’t undo it, and he saw! Which was sooo embarrassing I wanted to die. When I explained he just laughed on my face and liked a really ugly picture of me from high school in return, but I’m not stalking your brother.”

Azriel simple staring at her.

Mistaking his silence for doubt, she repeated herself. “I’m not!”

For some unknown reason, knowing she was blushing because of his brother unsettled him. Azriel knew Cassian well. A girl like Elain: pretty, young, and full of fire, was like a flame ready to attract his moth of a brother. Cassian was fast to be interested in girls like her, and even faster to grew bored of them.

"Don’t let my brother fool you, Archeron. He’ll break your heart.”

A slight frown took over her features.

"I can take care of myself, Marino."

"If you say so."

His mood soured.

Pulling a couple napkings from his pocket, Azriel pushed a few cups aside, cleaning a spot on the desk where he unceremoniously placed the gift upon, not bothering to explain what it was or what was it for, Elain's frown going from annoyed to confused as she watched him dissapair back into his office.

One minute latter her scream filled the entire floor, a scream followed by,

"Thank you, Marino! Thank you! I'll preserve it and use it wisely! Thank you!!!!"

Azriel bit a smile down, too perturbed by his own emotions to enjoy her reaction properly.

That day he realized something important about himself.

Something somewhat unsettling.

In his arduous quest to forget Morrigan, Azriel found himself thinking of a different woman entirely, a woman he had no business paying attention to, a woman infatuated with his brother. A woman who, unknown to himself, had began to drawn him to her crazy way of seeing the world, beguiling him to do something he had never done in his life.

Beguiling him act on a whim.

DAY 309

"When the clock strike midnight, I'll leave this old pinning Elain behind and make out with the first man that looks my way." Elain announced puffing her chest.

If someone asked him what possessed him to meddle in Elain's imaginary love life, he wouldn’t be able to tell. And if someone had told him her love life would turn into his love life, he would have laugh himself hoarse. But there he was, kissing her instead.

His fingers twisted in her hair and Azriel felt Elain growing lax against him, the frailest of whimpers escaping her throat as his tongue slid inside her mouth, the passionate slow kiss they shared at the strike of fireworks announcing midnight making his heart pound and his head throb.

He pulled away first, slight embarrassed by how rusted his tempo was, his breath frenetic and out of place as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. Elain didin't seem to care, chasing him closer as his head moves away. Azriel kept her at bay, the fist tightly wound in her hair holding her back. To calm himself he kissed her jawline; once, twice, thrice, his breath still erratic, agitated. For fucks sakes, why was he feeling so frenetic from kissing while seated?! God, his was out of shape. A kiss to a pulsing vein on her throat and Azriel came back to earth. He had descendent more than he meant, more than it was appropriated for a couple in an open public space.

His mind was a whirlwind of chaos and something very unexpected; want. Want hited him out of nowhere. The reality of what he’s done sinking in. He kissed Elain. He had kissed Elain Archeron and he liked it. Slowly, he disentangles his fingers from her hair, putting distance between their bodies, the soft hand with manicured nails, that were twisting the front of his shirt, letting him go, dropping back to her lap.

"Feeling in love yet?" the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s making a constipated expression. Jesus, Cassianism was beginning to rub on him.

The insult doesn’t land quite right with his voice coming out way breathier than before. Shit. The kiss was supposed to be a provocation. Azriel intended to give her a peck and prove her so called 'resolution' was bullshit.

Once again her crazy rambling appeared to be constructed on solid base, the young mouthy brat proving she was way more experienced in understanding relationships than him, even he was the only one between that had 10 years of experience to acount for.

When he approached Elain's lonely sullen self on the beanbag Azriel handn't meant to kiss her. Misery was the emotion bringing them close, not lust!

I'll just warn her off, he had told himself, simply console her that Cassian wasn't that big of a loss, that migling with him would amount to anything big in the end. Despite their constant disagreements, Elain was hardworking and passionate about her job, and Azriel would hate to lose an efficient employee because his brother couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. A pretty lie his mind carved to give him an excuse to approach her. Seeing Morrigan on his brother's arms was a blown on his progress of forgeting her, and no one here but Elain would be able pro properly share that misery with him.

Azriel was already miserable with himself for waking up sharing a hotel bed with Mor on the night before. In his defense, he had no idea how that happened. Fucking hell, one minute he was visiting a new pub with a friend, the next she was there in his face. He ignored her the best he could, drinking more than he should, his low tolerance for alcohol soon making his wasted. He remember Caleb called calling a cab, hands helping him inside the car, flashes on the elevator and her. No matter how loudly he reprehended or pushed her she did not bulgde.

No matter how hard he tried, Azriel could not remember bedding her, but the evidence was there, their clothes scattered across the room, his coat hung over some chair, a used condom beside his shoe. Fucking idiot, that's what he was. So much effort. So much effort for fucking nothing. No, he would not go down this road again.

It's fine, he thought pulling his pants on, it was a slip, a mistake he would not do again. From now on if he happen to frequent the same space as her Azriel would leave. Being confrontational have never worked with her, Morrigan's habilites to bend him surprising even Azriel. And then she appeared dating his fucking brother not even 24 hours aftwards, the same smiling idiot brother who claimed to have been dating her for months now.

His life was joke.

And so was Elain's.

She didn't know it, but Azriel had watched her pathetic attempt to confess her feelings after the Christmas party, feelings way to pure to be wasted on his heartless brother.

When Elain said her drunken goodbyes and waddled to the elevator, Azriel sat his drink aside and followed on the next one. He doubt she would be able to catch a cab by herself. Turned out she didn't have too, because Cassian had reached her before him, his tall frame nearly hidding Elain from view, a mass of honey curls peeking from his left side.

"I like you," she grabed the front of his shirt for support. "Lainy, don't do this." "Like, really, reaally like you... I think about you all the time." “Oh Lainy, this wouldn’t work.” His brother's voice disperse from where he stood untangling her fingers from the hand-painted shirt Elain had gifted him as secret santa. “We could try," she began shyly, nose red and eyes gliterry from champaign, her own gift - a knitted red scarf, wrapped around her neck. "You don't know it yet, but I'm a great girlfriend," she hiccuped slightly, "I can twerk on it." "You mean swear on it?" "That too." Cassian laughed. "I wouldn't work," he repeted. "Why not?" “You seem like a flowers and chocolate kind of girl, and I don't do flowers and chocolate." Elain was silent for a moment, thinking. "What if I'm lactose intolerant? I won't need that." Cassian ruffed a laugh. "You eat dairy all the time." "Uuurgh, what's wrong with flowers and chocolate? Everybody likes them." "I don't. They bore me. We're better like this, it's not everyday a tight little thing like you has a sense of humor, let's not mess that up, huh. Enough talking now, you're a goner. Give me your phone, I'll uber you."

If his love history with Morrigan wasn't so chaotic, Azriel would have notice that normal Cassian would never have pass to chance to have easy sex with a girl infatuated with him. But his love life sucked and Azriel did not notice, too busy moping about his latest stupid choice as he watched Cassian parading around and introducing Morrigan as his girlfriend, making him feel shittier than ever. Not only he had crawled back into her arms willingly, he had also betrayed his brother.

Fuck his life.

His phone blipped, an incoming message from an unsaved number.

Meet me at mine in 40 minutes.

And now she had his number again.

Fuck his life twice.

When did she get his number? Damn it. He stared at the other texts ignores throgh the day.

why did u leave??? we need to talk call me back enough is enough az i think the condom broke, call me asap

Nothing had broken, and he sure as hell was not calling her. She had used that excuse to reach him before, more than once, which was why he make sure to check it before leaving the hotel. A small hive of bees stabed his spine. He need to leave her presence that instant. Sighing, Azriel took Elain's hand and darted inside de house, searching for an empty room, having to make do with a filthy bathroom when he found none, wandering into another demented conversation with Elain before he could get to the point he wanted.

Her countdown speech had been stupid, but he was out of good ideas to try, and hell would be damned if he would crawl back to Morrigan again.

"Listen, I have a proposition to you. You want to get over my brother, and I want to get over her. I hate to admit, but that crazy talk about a lover might be exactly what I need to move on. What we need. So, instead of doing weird things with strangers, let's help each other, let's date and move on." The words poured out of him fast, courage threatening to leave at any moment.

Elain just stood there, paralyzed, silent, eyes big as saucers. Azriel had no memory of ever seeing her so quiet, but a yappy Elain going mute probably wasn't a good sign.

"Date me, Elain. Date me and I'll date you."

"Why - why me?" She asked in a small voice. "You say you don't hate me, but you don't like me either. We are not friends."

Good, a question. He could work with questions. Azriel was great with quizzes.

"I'm not my brother, I don't like one-nights, it's impersonal and I detest strangers in my space. It's hard for me to connect with people I don't know. You, I know you - you get on my nerves, but that’s just who you are as a person, I've learned to live with that. And kissing you... I enjoyed kissing you more than I anticipated.”

Her eyes cast down, cheeks growing warmer at the mention of their kiss. Azriel kissed her there, right on the bright pink cheek, starting close to her ear to make a line till the corner of her mouth where he nib the skin with intent, his nose desapearing in her soft flesh.

"You said to do different, right?"

She agreed wordlessly.

"Could you imagine me having a heart-to-heart, in a filthy bathroom, with you, of all people? This is me doing different."

Gently, he grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her again, pouring all his attention in Elain and Elain only.

Azriel wouldn't lie, their midnight kiss had been awkward at first, stiffy. Azriel wasn't used to kissing someone he had never managed to maintain a civilized conversation with. Truth be told, Azriel wasn't used to kiss anyone that was not Mor. Once the initial shock waved out, Azriel found himself enjoying the kiss, quickly learning the way Elain liked to be kissed, gently angling her head when their noses bumped, hissing at the sharp nib of teeth sinking in his bottom lip, goosebumps rising as her tongue moved over it to soothe the pain, moving slowly over his tongue next.

Kissing Elain was like nothing he had ever done; kissing her was impulsive, electric... disrupting. It made he feel… something, the sparkle of a feeling that had been dormant for so long he didn't know how to name it anymore. Passionate hands closed round his neck and hair, a sharp tug urging him to move where she wanted, guiding the kiss to her liking.

Elain kissed Azriel as if he was the last man to love in the world, kissed him as if she would never want to kiss anyone else. And Azriel found himself liking that very much.

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