#i feel happier i feel less stale
Text
every time i look at my pfp + url combo im like. yeah sure i am brian molko smokint a cigarette and my heart is an ashtray and i am a 10k notes post goldmine. a diamond in the rough. everyone desires me carnally
#i am just sayung words at this point but i think that this rebranding was a much needed one fr#i feel happier i feel less stale#and by god someone needs to remind me 2928385 times that if i ever start feeling bored and restless and like im rotting from the inside out#that i should probably change my entire living situation#piksla.txt#also i feel like this pfp is sexier than my prev one like this one is giving real girlblogger premium tumblrina you can see im a bunette
0 notes
Note
Hello ! I saw your Valentino's daughter fics and they're ⭐amazing⭐
Can u request Valentino with a daughter who also has shitty eyesight ( you can pick any scenario but this could be one if main points in the fic)
Thank you💛
As someone who ALSO has super bad eyesight, this was a fun one to write! I hope you enjoy the scenario- and if you're looking for a different vibe, please feel free to request!
Valentino’s biggest frustration with having an elementary aged daughter was parent teacher conferences. And the first one of the school year was always the worst. Year after year, it never failed. His darling wife would conveniently be out of town that week, or working late or for one of the numerous, annoying, yet totally valid reasons, he would end up by himself, with a notebook of discussion points painstakingly written by his wife.
Without her by his side, what should be a friendly discussion about their pride and joy often felt more like a business meeting. He tried so hard to not take offense to her list of improvements, and bit back any snarky response to comments that even hinted that his sweet little girl was anything less than perfect. So much so that he felt the need to distance himself from the start, lest his emotions get the best of him.
On the flip side, their concerns about their daughter were front and center, to be brought up first before anything else. This year, the headaches were at the top of that list. And the possible cause was enough to make Valentino’s blood boil.
“Daddy, I have a headache,” his daughter complained once again over breakfast that morning. Like every other occurrence, he took her temperature, gave her some aspirin and sent her off to school. By the time she was picked up, either the headache was gone or it had gotten worse. But with no fever and no other symptoms they could tell, he and his wife wondered if something else was going on at school.
The very thought made it close to impossible to keep the business facade on.
As he tried to bite back the potential accusation, he looked around at the empty elementary hallway. As a rule, Valentino refused to acknowledge the nostalgic feeling that threatened to wash over him. Though he had to admit to himself, no matter how many years had passed, the scent of stale air and dusty chalk still remained the same.
“Ah, Mr. Valentino. Come on in,” her teacher greeted him with a smile as she stood up from her desk. “I’m Miss. Tyme. It’s nice to meet you- your daughter is truly a delight to have in my classroom.” She led him across the room and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Please, take a seat.”
With her friendly nature and off the bat compliment, he felt his anger slowly recede. Alright, Valentino, he thought to himself, you can do this. You can treat this like every other business meeting. Don’t make it personal.
He took a seat in the too small chair and looked around at the room. For all of the things hell lacked, a decent schooling system for hellborn children was not one of those things. The classroom itself was bright, cheerful and covered in work clearly done by a group of kindergarteners.
“Before we get started, do you have any concerns you’d like to address?” Miss. Tyme asked.
“Yes, I do.” He leaned forward. “reader frequently complains of headaches in the morning and after school. My wife and I have received numerous calls from the school nurse about the same issue, so much so we gave written permission for the nurse to dispense tylenol at school. I want to know if there is something going on here that could be causing her to not want to come to school each day. Something going on here that could be causing those headaches.” Even to him, his voice sounded sharp.
To her credit, Miss. Tyme didn’t flinch. She nodded as she spoke, “I’m glad you brought that up, it’s a topic I wanted to discuss as well. Last week, reader complained of not being able to see the board. I moved her closer and she seemed to be much happier and kept up with the class work. I also noticed she’s been progressively holding her papers and books closer to her face. Have you seen that at all at home?”
Her confidence caught him off guard. He expected her to argue against his insinuation, not politely side step it.
“Her Uncle Vox does her homework with her. I can ask him,” he replied defensively.
She nodded, “very good. I would like to suggest you reach out to her pediatrician about her headaches and schedule a vision test. While I’m not a doctor, I have seen students with similar concerns who ended up needing glasses.”
Valentino stared at her. “Glasses?”
She nodded, “of course it’s only a suggestion. Let’s move onto her academics…” she pulled out a thick file, “your daughter is kind, creative and quite bright. She is a joy to have in class. Take a look at this story she wrote….”
As Valentino reviewed the work with her teacher, he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that he may have ever so slightly jumped to conclusions. By all the teacher reports, his daughter was well liked, and above average in all subject areas. So where did the headaches fit in? Was she right? Was it vision related?
Sure,he had glasses, but her mom had perfect eyesight. And when was the last time her pediatrician did a vision test? As soon as the conference was over, and he was safely in the privacy of his limo, he called his wife. After all, every parenting decision they made was done in unison.
“Vision issues don’t run on my side of the family, but it can’t hurt,” his wife replied after he filled her in on the details. “Schedule her an appointment for this afternoon. She’d be delighted to have some daddy daughter time.”
Valentino pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t just have her come downstairs for this one, mi amore. I actually have to call my ophthalmologist and see if he’ll take her. Or if he can recommend someone who specializes in kids.”
“Like I said Val, it can’t hurt. If not tonight, later this week. Make a day out of it with her, it’s been awhile since either one of us took her out for anything really. And check with Vox and Vel. See if they’ve noticed anything.”
His wife had a point. She spent more time being babysat by Vox or Velvette as of the late with the amount they both needed to be working. It would be nice to actually spend some time with his own daughter. He hung up with his wife and with another phone call, she had an appointment with his eye doctor the next day. Perfect. He texted Vox and Velvette the plan and got a quick response back from both. Vox agreed with the assessment- he had noticed the change in behavior as well. Velvette too, noted that she seemed to be sitting closer and closer to the TV screen. With this knowledge, Valentino sighed. He was certain she would end up with glasses, just like her Papi.
Later that night, as he helped her change into her pajamas, he told her the plan to keep her home from school the next day.
“What’s an opthoi…ophi…ophimi…” reader tried to ask.
"Opthamologist, little one. It’s a doctor that specializes in just checking your eyes,” Valentino replied as he tugged her shirt over her head. He lifted her up onto the bed and covered her up with her blanket before he laid down next to her. “Your teacher noticed you seem to be having a hard time reading the board, so we’re going to have your eyes checked out.,Valentino leaned over and kissed her forehead, “might be why you’re getting such bad headaches all the time.”
She snuggled into him and buried her face into his side. “Good. Cause my head hurts alot,” she said, “like a lot alot.”
Valentino felt a pang of guilt as he held her. He wished he had thought of this potential cause sooner. Maybe they would already have a reason, and she wouldn’t be in so much pain.
“I know, bebita, but hopefully this will give us some answers,” he said softly. “Now go to sleep.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Am I going to need glasses like you?” She looked up at him.
Valentino felt a pang in his heart. “Would that trouble you?”
She shrugged against him. “I dunno. A little. Only one of my friends has glasses. And what happens if I don’t need glasses, and the headaches keep happening.”
He listened quietly as she unloaded her worries and fears, offering reassurance when necessary and silently rubbed her back as she spoke. Eventually, her voice grew softer and he lifted her onto his chest and laid her head against him. He felt her press her head into his chest and he let out a slow exhale as her eyelids fell shut.
“Whatever happens, pequeño amor, Papi will be right there by your side the whole time. And we all love you so very much.” He felt her breathing slow and dropped the volume of his voice. “Duerme bebe niña papá está aquí. Sleep, baby girl. Daddy is here. Shush…”
With the weight of her tiny body on top of his chest, he closed his own eyes. Eventually, he would be able to get up and get to his laptop to get a little bit more work done, but for the moment, he was content where he was.
When she came bounding out of her bedroom that next morning, Valentino had breakfast ready for her. Together they ate blueberry pancakes and giggled over the newspaper comics until it was time for her to get ready.
“Daddy?” She asked as he tied her sneakers.
“Yes bebita?”
“My tummy feels funny.”
His head shot up and his eyes met hers. Worry played over her features and Valentino relaxed. He could handle her fears.
“Butterflies?” He asked with a kiss on her forehead. “Daddy’s got you. Don’t worry, my love. It will be okay, I promise.”
He lifted her up and carried her out to the limo. She sat on his lap and watched out the window as he scrolled through his phone. Never did Valentino ever think that a gold wedding band and his daughter on his lap would be his reality, especially inside this limo.
Now that he thought about it, he should probably consider an upgrade. Or at least a deep clean.
As the limo slowed down, she grew quiet.
“Daddy? Will it hurt?” She asked as he took her hand.
He smiled, “no, bebita. This is Daddy’s doctor too. I promise you you’re safe.”
The fact alone seemed to reassure her. As they went through the motions of the eye doctor, Valentino watched as his little girl seemed to struggle. His heart sank. He knew what the doctor would say before he said it.
“Bebita, you can choose any frames you would like,” he said as cheerfully as he could once the doctor broke the news. “And if you can’t find one you like, Daddy will tell Uncle Vox to have them made. But choose one to take home today, okay?”
So she searched. Tried on frames. Valentino quietly set aside ones that might be more practical, and ones that fit her face well. She may not love them because of the color, but it would be good for her to have options.
“Daddy, I want these!” she said suddenly, thrusting a pair of purple, heart shaped glasses into his hand. “Then I’ll look just like you!”
He would be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt.
“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he replied with a kiss on her head. He handed the frames to the doctor who sent them to the back to be put together with her prescription.
Twenty seven minutes later they walked out, hand in hand, reader beaming in her new glasses.
“Just like you, Daddy!” She said as she hugged his leg.
He lifted her up and gave her a kiss on the forehead as he brought her into the limo.
“Yes conejito, just like Daddy.”
As they pulled away, one final thought flitted through Valentino’s mind.
Like father, like daughter. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything
#valentino x reader#hazbin fluff#valentino x you#hazbin hotel#the vees x reader#valentino hazbin hotel#valentino#vox x reader#valentino x wife#the vees
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
ANGR Magical Girl AU: Wrong Universe
The Robbie I usually write wakes up in the Ghost Rider Magical Girl AU.
I figured that in Magical Girl AU, Robbie is likely to go to Lisa to ask for help walking in heels (assuming Johnny's tips are less than useful) and Lisa gets so excited at the prospect of Robbie participating in drag and he denies that's what he's doing but refuses to explain so in her desire to be supportive she ends up stalking him so she can cheer for him at his show and ends up finding out that he's a magical girl which somehow makes a lot more sense. She becomes a valuable member of the team because she has social skills. Of a sort.
If anything here contradicts any other ideas anyone else has in the works, MULTIVERSE BAYBEE it's noncanon :) The Sharpie thing is purely a case of Great Minds Think Alike though. I saw that in Moose's fic and was like, twins!
This is way too long 😭
As Robbie scrubbed the brake cleaner off his hands, the axle grease wiped away and so did the black Sharpie he’d hastily scribbled onto his fingernails that morning. His bright pink fingernails. If it was nail polish, the brake cleaner should be taking that off, too; he scrubbed hopefully at his thumbnail but this was as useless as the acetone he’d tried before resorting to Sharpie.
He’d woken up feeling more normal than he had in a long time. The pleasant sensation of a full night’s rest had faded as he’d gotten dressed and made Gabe breakfast. His bad eye was mysteriously back to normal and the scar on his forehead was completely gone, but his goatee was shaved off, he had some kind of jewel embedded in his chest, his fingernails were pink, and. And Gabe wasn’t his Gabe. It was Gabe’s face, and Gabe’s smile, but instead of cartoon and comic book heroes filling his shelves and plastered all over his door, it was sparkly anime girls and Japanese motorcycle riders; he was happier, stronger legs and steadier hands, and he didn’t second-guess Robbie’s every expression and movement or double-check his identity after every time Robbie left his sight. Robbie spent half an hour tossing the bathroom looking for his epilepsy meds before he checked the app on his phone where he tracked expenses and found that this Gabe had been off them for an entire year.
The apartment was mostly the same; same view across Hillrock Lane out the apartment window, same pile of automotive magazines on the coffee table—now with manga mixed in—same thrifted art on the walls. Robbie had wondered if he was still asleep, and dreaming, or better, if the last two years had been a long and vivid nightmare, until he noticed the time and realized that he’d missed Gabe’s bus and was about to be late to work. He’d stuffed a stale tortilla in his mouth and gnawed on it while grabbing a pair of coveralls and helping Gabe into the Charger to get to school. He’d dropped Gabe off and made it all the way to Canelo’s before he realized that he hadn’t heard from Eli all morning.
He stood now under a half-disassembled Chevy Tahoe, scrubbing desperately at his glossy pink fingernails as though with enough solvent and friction he could wipe himself from this world and return to his own body, his own curse, his own Hillrock Heights, his own brother. He simply had no better ideas.
“Reyes!” Canelo barked from across the shop, and he jumped, dropped the can of brake cleaner. “Quit daydreaming!”
Eli would have had a snide comment about how Canelo ought to mind his own fucking business or risk getting disemboweled. Robbie checked the time and added up the hours he was due by the end of the day, for future reference in case Canelo rounded his pay down when it was due next week. If he was still here next week. He couldn’t be stuck here until next week but he didn’t know to do anything but work. Did his other self know anybody here who dealt with interdimensional travel and too-pleasant dreams? He wasn’t a Ghost Rider here, Johnny Blaze wouldn’t have any reason to have met him…
...But he was a something.
What the hell was he now?
He was on the clock, that’s what. He had a job he knew how to do, to provide for a brother he loved, even though neither of them were his, and he would reinstall this truck’s axles and wheel bearings and not get his alternate self fired and then he would, somehow, figure out how to get home. (Dread filled him.) (He hadn’t fantasized about murdering anyone all morning.) (The world felt brighter, his senses more vivid, his flesh and skin snug over his bones, and he could believe for the first time in a long time that he might be safe for others to be around.)
“You alright, son?” Canelo asked from two feet behind him, and Robbie hit his head on the Tahoe’s subframe. It didn’t hurt as much as it probably should have. Canelo was just standing there, frowning a little. “Take five, I’ll get you some ice.”
What the hell, Robbie thought, and no one answered.
Canelo did, indeed, return from the break room with an ice pack. No one else at the shop seemed to think this was unusual. Marty winced at Robbie and patted his own head, mouthing, You okay? and even Ramon grunted sympathetically at him. Robbie retreated to the bathroom where he pressed the ice pack to the starting bruise and stared himself down in the mirror. Without his beard, he looked young and delicate—that’s why he’d grown it. But it wasn’t just the beard; his eyes were brighter, his skin was smoother, the scar through his eyebrow had faded—all the scars on his hands were gone, too, the bashed knuckles and burns and scrapes that were inevitable if you worked with cars all day. He looked tender and undamaged. He looked like someone worth protecting.
He had a terrible thought and whispered, “Talk to me. I’m not doing this on purpose but if I know you’re in here I think I can give you your body back.” He stared uncomfortably into his own eyes, but the back of his mind was silent.
He got out his phone—same PIN as usual—and checked his contacts list. Johnny Blaze was on there, but Johnny Blaze had almost killed him and Eli the first time they’d met; how would Johnny react to some strange, murderous version of Robbie wearing the skin of the Robbie he knew? He couldn’t beat Johnny in a fight in the real world. He didn’t know how to explain himself. There was nothing to do but finish the Tahoe.
The day rolled on, he returned the Tahoe to drivable condition and did a couple tune-ups and oil changes, and he snagged a moment to Sharpie his nails black again. He wasn’t afraid of nail polish—he had black nail polish at home somewhere, eyeliner too—but pink was not his style and was liable to attract the wrong kind of attention, especially with how...how he looked, in this world. (What was he? Was he something that could fight, defend itself? There was no fire waiting under his skin to consume his human weakness.)
He was puzzling over a set of trouble codes from a fifteen-year-old Nissan Maxima when his phone buzzed. If this version of himself worked on the same logic, he’d set it up to mute unknown numbers but programmed in all Gabe’s teachers and therapists. He dug into his pocket under his coveralls and checked it. It was Lisa, saved in his contacts list with a photo he didn’t remember taking: familiar bright hair and smile, raising two fingers in a V in front of one eye while her other hand displayed a river rock with a large hole worn through the center, dangling from a pink ribbon.
This was not a conversation he was ready to have. He ended the call. A minute later, she called again. Robbie walked to the time clock and punched out as he answered. “Uh, what’s up.”
Screeching and howling and buzzing in the background. “Omigod where are you?” Lisa demanded. She sounded out of breath.
“Work,” Robbie said, baffled. “What’s going on, are you okay?”
“What do you mean what’s—” Banging, panting. “Where’s Eli?”
A chill unfurled under his skin, his hand grew numb as he gripped his phone case. “What are you talking about.”
“Did you lock him in the freezer again?” Lisa demanded. What. “I know he’s annoying—”
“That’s one word for it,” Robbie muttered, swallowing bile.
“—but he’s an essential member of the team!”
“What team?”
Lisa paused. “The, the team,” she said hesitantly. “The Guardians of Hillrock Heights. Robbie, you. You know what you do helps people, right?”
He was disappointing her somehow—no, worse, letting her down. “Yeah, of course, I, uh.” Eli existed here, but this Lisa knew about him; obviously this version of Robbie had trusted her more. Or she’d just stalked him and figured it out. “What do you need me to do?”
“Get to the Cecil Hotel,” Lisa panted. “Bring Eli. And stay and talk to me after you transform back.”
Transform. Robbie rubbed the hard pink jewel embedded in his sternum. “Right. Okay.”
He left the time clock and approached Canelo’s office, racking his brain for some excuse—a lie about Gabe? A medical appointment? When he opened the door, Canelo met his eyes and sighed. “Again? Well, go on.” Robbie stared at him. He wasn’t even scowling. “What do you want, a hug? Go do your thing.”
He ran out of the shop and threw himself into the Charger. As he sped out of the parking lot, he almost clipped off one of its mirrors against the security gate. He grabbed his phone and started to search for the Cecil Hotel while making a left turn onto Atlantic Boulevard and almost crashed head-on into an F-250; he couldn’t drive and use his phone at the same time anymore. The phone dropped to the floorboards and he pulled hastily to the side of the road, cursing.
His connection to the Charger was different here, too. Still there, but weaker. Possibly just in his head. He tried to stretch out into it anyway, feeling its vibrations, listening to the loping chug of its idle and the continuous hiss of its supercharger, but his consciousness stayed firmly in his human body.
He heard something clank in the trunk.
Atlantic Boulevard was not a good place for a street fight. Robbie found his phone, pulled up a route to the Cecil, took a detour in an alley behind a warehouse. He hit the gas and slammed the brakes a couple times before shutting down the car and sprinting around the back to pop the trunk, confront this alternate version of his uncle, slam the trunk on his neck while he was still dazed, kill him like this alternate Robbie wasn’t yet sullied enough to do.
There was no washed-up mob henchman wriggling in the Charger’s trunk. Robbie found a couple bags of school supplies, a tool box, and a big first-aid kit, nothing sinister, and then in the shadows, oddly, something pink and shiny—one of this Gabe’s collectibles? A Beanie Baby?
“FUCK,” the pink thing bellowed, and then it unspooled and slipped up over the edge of the trunk, hit the ground with a slap, and slithered away, S-curves glittering in the sun as it struggled against the smooth pavement. Robbie gaped, then chased after it. Him. Eli was making slow progress and Robbie caught up quickly, but he turned on a dime; Robbie headed him off away from a nearby dumpster and danced around him for almost a minute before he had the idea to shrug off his jacket and throw it on Eli’s head. Eli backed out from under it but by this time Robbie had him by the neck. “Look. Revenge is, you don’t got the mindset for it? There’s healing in forgiveness. It makes you more stable. Less prone to violent, emotional outbursts. Kid. Kid! We had our differences, but it was the situation, the close quarters, you know? You’d do the same in my position, I just wanted to live, I had unfinished business! And now, heh, you got a body, I got a body, we can go our separate ways. Kid? Hey?”
Eli was a shimmery pink snake about half-again as long as Robbie’s arm. He had round shining eyes in a hundred shades of rose, and the large scale between them was shaped like a heart. His forked tongue sparkled as it scented the air. His voice was exactly the same.
“You, uh. Look different.”
Robbie had a sinking feeling that stomping the snake’s head under his boot wouldn’t be doing this world’s Robbie any favors. He dangled Eli in one fist at arm’s length—an essential member of the team. “You don’t know what’s going on, either.”
“Believe it or not, I’m not the cause of everything that goes wrong in your life.”
“Lisa wants us at the Cecil Hotel,” Robbie said, returning to the Charger and dumping Eli on the passenger seat. “She requested you by name. We’re gonna take care of whatever’s going on and figure it out from there.”
“The Cecil, huh? Good times.”
“Don’t tell me you killed people there.”
“I won’t.” Eli awkwardly pressed his long narrow body against the door, slowly lifting his head toward the window. Robbie took a hard left and Eli slipped sideways between the seat and the side pillar. “Fuck.”
“Apparently you’re important for some reason.”
“Can you not act like my existence is an imposition for two seconds.”
Robbie slammed his fist into the steering wheel. “You exist because you committed human sacrifice.” Eli slithered out of view behind the passenger seat. Robbie took a breath. “You’re a talking pink snake here. You probably have magic powers.”
“Pink?”
“You color-blind, too?”
Eli was silent for the rest of the drive. Robbie hoped he was figuring out what magic powers he had, otherwise they’d just have to wing it.
Hotel Cecil was a trio of brick buildings spanning half a city block and joined by skywalks. The complex had probably been impressive before the invention of reinforced concrete. No longer a failing hotel for people falling down the ladder of society, it was being converted to affordable housing for people crawling back up. Robbie parked across the street and squinted up at it. He was pretty sure the walls weren’t supposed to be covered in gray goo, but there was a ghost tour or something right there on the sidewalk and none of the tourists were taking pictures. Maybe it was a maintenance thing? An art installation?
“Huh,” Eli said, finally squirming his way up onto the dashboard to take a look.
Robbie texted Lisa: Here.
Her reply was immediate. Fourth floor front building room 73
No emojis. That couldn’t be good. “Any ideas on how to get inside?” Robbie asked.
“Put on your spare coveralls and act pissy.”
Robbie could have thought of that himself, but he had no better ideas. He stomped through the graffitoed doors of the unassuming entryway and through the unexpectedly grand marble halls of the lobby floor, scowling like he’d been called in on his day off to fix a plumbing catastrophe that could have been prevented by routine maintenance the previous week, and glancing up now and again at the pulsing tangle of veins the color of neglected differential fluid that wormed between the ceiling lights and which no one else seemed to notice. Eli wrapped himself around Robbie’s neck like a scarf; uncomfortably close, but better, at least logically, than having him ride along in his thoughts like usual.
“Art nouveau,” Eli commented, peering up an angular gold-and-green wall sconce beside a statue in an alcove whose opening was carved to look like palm leaves and Egyptian columns. “Classy place full of staff who don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Shut up,” Robbie hissed. They reached the pair of elevators that served this part of the complex: just two, and one was out of order. A big brass dial on the top indicated that the elevator was on the eighth floor, and going up. Robbie stabbed the button irritably, then gave up and ran for the stairs.
On the fourth floor, the gray veins were so thick that the ceiling looked a foot lower than it should have been, and the light sconces were mostly covered. Somehow, the light escaped anyway, leaving the carpet brightly lit and the air at shoulder-height and above dim like twilight. Robbie watched a tall man in a business suit strolling down the hall, his entire head vanishing into the pulsing fleshy mass. “Keep your head down, there’s gray magical crap on the ceiling,” Eli informed him.
Robbie felt a moment of glee that Eli couldn’t just look out through his eyes anymore. “I noticed.”
“Try touching it. Left hand.”
Robbie poked one of the ceiling tentacles with his left pinkie finger as he advanced down the hall toward room 73, and cringed as the rock in his chest seemed to shudder in protest. The gray flesh was clammy and yielding, leaving his finger numb as he pulled away. Even if it was invisible, how did anyone walk around with their whole head swimming in this stuff without noticing? What was it doing to the people it enveloped?
He passed room fifty, and noticed that the higher the numbers progressed, the thicker the veins overhead pulsed and the lower they sagged, growing to fill more of the narrow space even as he watched. He crouched low and broke into a run. Room 73 was nearly overtaken; limbs as thick as ventilation ducts sprouted through the walls, heaving and pulsing and moaning, ozone and rot thick in the air. He had to kneel beside the door as he knocked. “Lisa! It’s Robbie. I’m outside.”
“Get in here!” Lisa yelled from within.
“They ain’t changed this lock since ‘98. You can shim it with a credit card.”
Robbie bypassed the latch and shoved the door inward against the mass of shifting tendrils packed against the ceiling. There was barely room to crouch inside; the rust-red carpet shone in the light of fixtures completely swallowed by the strange rot overtaking the hotel. He ducked as a gray coil twisted past his face.“Can you get to the door?”
“Kinda busy!” Lisa grunted. Someone else screamed, inhumanly long and somehow muted, the volume too soft for the cracks of agony in the voice. Robbie leaned down and spotted what looked like a clear space around the hotel bed. He army-crawled toward it. There was something wet and sticky on the floor—not blood, it smelled like solvent. White spray-paint, circling the bed. He dragged himself over the painted lines and got his first look at what Lisa was busy with.
There was a body on top of the blankets, a middle-aged white woman with hollow cheeks and loose skin rising in narrow folds where gray tendrils sank into her from above. Lisa had a broken bottle in one hand and was sawing at the thickest of the tendrils just above where it sank between the motionless woman’s eyes. With another, she held a flat rock with a hole in the center, scowling through it like a lens. From the nest of gray veins on the ceiling, a human figure sagged down, joined to the woman joint by joint with those tendrils. Its mouth was a formless hole, its eyes cold wet pits, its flesh the same sludgy substance as the rest of the hotel’s infestation. Robbie swallowed. “Is she alive?”
“For now,” Lisa said, scraping furiously at the tendril. Robbie noticed with horror that two other tendrils had descended from the ceiling to sink into Lisa’s shoulders; he lunged forward and ripped them away. The rock in his chest shuddered as his hand went numb. “Was it on me?” She turned around and looked at him for the first time. “Omigod, why aren’t you changed?”
Robbie took a deep breath and stared up at the vacant eyes of the abomination on the ceiling. He pulled out the blade on his multitool and joined in cutting the woman free; the gray stuff yielded like flesh to expose a tough stringy black core. “We can wrap her in the blanket and drag her out.” The human shape began to drag one of its hands down toward them, struggling against an unseen force.
Lisa grabbed his wrist. “Robbie, she needs an exorcism. You have to change.” He stared at the river rock that dangled from a long pink ribbon on her neck as she tried to meet his eyes. “She’s got kids who miss her, she’s turning her life around, you gotta help! Come on!”
“I don’t remember what you’re talking about,” Robbie blurted.
“Omigod are you cursed or something?”
The horror on the ceiling reached closer, closer, as black claws unsheathed from half-molded fingers. Then it drew back and tension shuddered through its body; the woman on the bed shuddered in synchrony. Its eyes fixed on the back of Lisa’s neck. It lunged, but Robbie was faster, slicing its wet palm with his knife as he pushed Lisa aside. As it swiped back to retaliate, he instinctively leaned into its path—baiting it with the Rider’s leather skin filled with the Charger’s fire ready to erupt the moment those claws released it to burn his enemy—and screamed as the talons sank into his human shoulder. He could barely feel the wounds through the hollow ache the creature’s touch carried, but the worst pain was the furious hum from the stone in his sternum, rocking and jerking like an engine that had snapped its mounts; he thought his chest would crack open from the force. His hand went limp and the knife dropped and stabbed blade-first into the bed. He punched ineffectually with his good hand as the creature lifted him. New tendrils sprouted from its body, seeking to plug into his own. He was as frightened and angry and frustrated as he’d ever been in his life, and though he was suppressing none of it since this Lisa was already enmeshed in his supernatural bullshit, the transformation wasn’t happening.
Eli slithered down his coveralls and escaped out his pant leg as he struggled. Lisa stared in horror through her river rock. “Eli! Help him!”
“Eh, sure,” Eli said, watching Robbie from the bedcovers while Robbie’s leg went cold and dead. “Rake its eyes! Behind your left shoulder!” Robbie flailed blindly with his working arm, hoping Eli hadn’t gotten his left and right confused.
Lisa stood up and grabbed Robbie by the waist, trying to pull him down. Blood from his shoulder soaked her hair. “What’s wrong with you two? Say the words!”
“What words?”
Lisa groped his chest until her palm pressed against his pink troll-doll gem. “Oh, thank God. Say it: Tie cloth nee, ya toys or chalk!”
“What?!”
“Say it! Tie cloth—”
“Ty glavny, ya tvoy suchok,” Eli interrupted. “Five words, you can do it.”
“Die glovny, a twoy sujock,” Robbie gritted out just before the ceiling monster’s limbs closed around his throat. For an instant, all he knew was aching cold and darkness. Then the stone in his chest sparked and a shockwave erupted through his body, driving away the clammy gray tentacles in a blast of warm pink light. It doesn’t hurt, he thought, shocked. Changing into the Rider in his own world was a cathartic blast of agony as his body cremated itself from within, but this, this was nice. He was weightless in a void of dancing blue-green lights. The pain of talons crushing his shoulder was gone, and so were the low-grade headache he always got about halfway through the work day and the tension in his spine and the knot on his head from banging it into the Tahoe that morning; he tingled all over with the contentment of an hour-long hot shower where he wouldn’t have to pay the heating bill. He stretched out, luxuriating in the feeling, and realized with horror that his body wasn’t there.
I’m hallucinating, he told himself. It was hard to think through the nice bubbly feeling, but he remembered that Lisa was right there trying to stop him from getting eaten, and there was a woman on the bed below who was dying, and he couldn’t see or feel anything but the bright pink gem illuminating the hollow space where his body was supposed to be. He thrashed, but it was like trying to fight the wind with a puff of smoke. He was nothing but thought, and he couldn’t even panic properly.
Solidity returned in jolts and starts: cool fabric twisting around his body and snugging him into shape. Protective gloves, leather boots long enough to save his knees from road rash, body armor, something to guard his forehead. The familiar handles of a pair of body hammers filled his palms, and the world snapped back into place. No time at all seemed to have passed; he was still suspended above the bed by the ceiling monster.
He was not the Rider, but he knew what the Rider would do. He jammed one hand into the mouth of the humanoid sludge stalactite and stabbed the spike of a body hammer through its skull. It moaned, and he stabbed again, flipped himself around, gripped its leg between his knees to anchor himself, and struck for the heart, the throat, all the vital targets that he’d trained himself to avoid whenever he gave in to the urge to beat down local thugs in Hillrock Heights. Black blood spattered into his eyes and trickled up his nose, reeking of mold. Its touch no longer chilled him; his touch seemed to burn it. He beat the creature until it melted away and retreated back into the ceiling, all the veins and coils and tree-root limbs draining away after it. Robbie landed hard on the edge of the bed, bounced, and rolled to his feet. His feet—
“Point your toes!” Lisa yelled, too late. He tripped over his own ankles and crashed face-first into the bedside table.
Whenever the Rider ate shit like this, he’d sink through his own shadow and reappear in the car like he’d meant to do it—not that he was embarrassed, just that he preferred not to take the time to pick himself up. Robbie pried himself up off the floor when he realized that his powers in this world did not include the ability to dissolve into the room’s nicotine-stained carpet. He was wet, disappointingly fleshy, and entirely alone in his head. His protective gloves were doing a poor job, already soaked through with disgustingly organic black slime, and his feet—
He looked down at himself for the first time. He wasn’t wearing protective gloves or work boots or body armor. He had the kind of delicate white cotton gloves that women wore with ballgowns in old movies, and thigh-high go-go boots over tights, and what looked like a women’s ice-dancing costume. The ankles of the high-heeled boots were decorated with pink rhinestones, and so were his white-painted hammers. The worst part was that under the pink satin bow where the gem from his chest had migrated, the black leotard bore the same staple-shaped white stripe as his favorite jacket. This was his ice-dancing costume.
He tried to get his feet under him to stand, but the heels were in the way. Whatever force had undressed him seemed to have a grudge against the stock geometry of the human foot; the boots were so stiff he could barely bend his ankles. When he yanked at them, they didn’t budge. He couldn’t find any fasteners. He was about to grab one of his spiked hammers and try ripping through the leather when he noticed Lisa looking down at him from the bed, holding Eli twined around her forearms like a pet corn snake.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Robbie snarled, lunging on his knees.
Lisa jerked back, carrying Eli with her. “Okay, what is your deal today? I thought you had amnesia, but the way you bashed up that genius loci—are you, like, possessed by your alternate universe evil twin with a goatee?”
“Basically,” Robbie said, retrieving one hammer from under the bed. “Put him down.”
“Hey, looks like we’re friends in this universe, too.” Eli rested his head in the crook of Lisa’s elbow and flicked his tongue at Robbie.
“Rrrrrrrr,” Robbie growled. It sounded ridiculous without the rumble of the Charger’s engine filtering through his throat. He could tackle Lisa and rip Eli away from her, bash his head into the wall—but she’d never trust him after that. “He’s not safe, he used to be a—”
“I know you are, but what am I?” Eli interrupted, and Robbie wavered.
Lisa passed him the box of tissues from the bedside table. “Wipe your face and exorcise Mrs. Sanchez so we can get her out of here.”
Robbie hated that this “change” had left him with a human face to wipe. He struggled to his feet, gripping the mattress for balance. The woman on the bed hadn’t moved; she stared vacantly at the ceiling, black veins spreading from the points on her body where the ceiling-monster’s roots had anchored. She was breathing, at least. Her lips were an unhealthy gray-purple. “Any idea how I do that?” he asked, glaring at Eli.
“Search me, I dunno what trigger words alternate-me picked.”
“You make a cross with your hammers,” Lisa said, demonstrating with her empty fists, “and say something like, eej an owie, sucker?”
“Idi na hui, suka,” Eli corrected her.
Robbie had a bad feeling that all his powers were activated by Russian vulgarities. He took careful crouching steps as he retrieved his other hammer, keeping one hand on the bed or on the wall as much as possible, then crossed his hammers like a priest in a vampire movie and did his best to parrot Eli’s words. There was a rush of wind that set his hair fluttering along with the skirt and pink bows of his leotard, and a fountain of pink sparks erupted from the hammers, right at the comatose woman’s bare face and the flammable-looking bedclothes. He had to separate the hammers, to turn off the power or at least point it in a safer direction, but his body wouldn’t obey him: his spine straightened and his shoulders drew back and his legs stepped wide into a power-stance despite the boots pinning his feet at an unnatural angle; he was spraying hot sparks at a defenseless innocent person and he was posing like he was proud of himself.
The seizure ended and he dropped the hammers and stumbled to the edge of the bed, ready to smother fires with his thin cotton gloves, brush off any burning embers from the woman’s hair. Lisa caught him by the shoulder. “Hey! Hey, look, you did it,” she said, examining the woman through her river rock.
There were no fires or burns. The infected gray-black marks were retreating up from her skin and trickling away into inert slime. “What did I do,” Robbie panted.
“You saved the day!” Lisa said brightly. She lifted her rock to check the ceiling; fresh veins had begun to ripple over the paint in a human outline that mirrored Mrs. Sanchez. “You saved...two thirds of the day. Eli, so your thing.”
Robbie hated that he knew Eli well enough to read from the tension in his sigmoid posture that he was taken aback. “My thing.”
“Bite her!” Lisa said impatiently, watching the ceiling.
“What?”
“His bites heal people.”
“Puta madre.” Eli stared at the woman in...probably disgust. “This is…” He cut himself off, looking up at Lisa. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”
“You are so full of shit,” Robbie hissed. Lisa glared at him, and Robbie glared back. “He is!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Lisa said to Eli, making a strange gripping gesture beside his head. “Hurry up or I’ll do it for you. Manually.”
Eli grudgingly fit his mouth around Mrs. Sanchez’ wrist and wriggled his lips and teeth around with disturbingly more mobility than Robbie had expected a snake to be capable of. Robbie clenched his fists as translucent pink fangs flicked into view before sinking into her wasted skin. Eli’s body glowed, and pink sparks shimmered along her veins, circled over her heart, and flashed twice before vanishing. Mrs. Sanchez opened her eyes and sat bolt upright, staring at Robbie.
“Uh,” Robbie said.
“Oh thank God you’re okay!” Lisa squealed, throwing herself between them and gripping Mrs. Sanchez by the torso. “Ma’am, you just survived a carbon monoxide leak, it’s absolutely imperative that we get you to fresh air, you may still be experiencing visual disturbances, first responders have been called, come on, let’s get you out, don’t worry about your belongings, let’s go. Go. Go.” She half-led, half-wrestled the confused woman out the door. Robbie took two steps after them before his ankles did a death-wobble and dumped him to his knees. “We’ll figure out your amnesia-whatever when I get back,” Lisa assured him. “If the hotel wakes up again…” She mimed bashing something with a hammer. “You got this!”
“I got this,” Robbie whispered to himself, stumbling to the nearest wall for balance.
“He can’t even walk!”
#ghost rider magical girl au#magical girl au#ghost rider#robbie reyes#lisa (ghost rider)#eli morrow#fanfic#my fanfic#Lisa is using a hag stone to view the ghost through and a magician's circle to create a defensive perimeter#Familiar!Eli made Robbie say 'You're the boss. I'm your bitch' as his transformation trigger#and 'Go sit on a dick' as the exorcism spell. Headcanon that Eli knows very little Russian that's not cursing#The Cecil Hotel has an unfortunate reputation as an incredibly haunted murder hotspot
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unfaithful, Part 1
Summary: married to Mike Weiss, but once a week you have lunch with Andy Barber, until it’s not enough
Pairings: Mike Weiss X Reader, Andy Barber X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: dark, explicit language, mentions of drug use (needles), cheating, explicit sexual content, smut, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, kidnapping, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 2.5K
Series Masterlist
*divider created by @firefly-graphics
You rub the back of your neck, taking a deep breath, and count to five before releasing it. Repeating this process over and over again. Thinking about last night, and just the draining life that you live. This isn’t how you thought it was going to be.
You never envisioned yourself where you are now.
Twisting you rings around your finger with your thumb, you start to take them off, before pausing, remembering happier and less complicated times.
You loved him, but that was the problem. The love had grown stale. It didn’t grow with your marriage, and therefore, you were drifting apart. If it wasn’t for the constant arguing, vile accusations, or those tell tell marks on his skin, it would be different.
Your husband had changed. The world he lived in had tainted his vision of your life. Spending more money than needed. Racking up bills because most his money went to his nasty habit. Refusing to even have sex with him, because you didn’t trust him.
He tried to reassure you that there were no other girls, and he wasn’t the common junkie. He didn’t share needles and they were always new. But too many nights left you in the bed alone. Days would pass before he would walk through the front door.
Bags under his eyes, blotchy skin, a constant sniffling, and you just said nothing. Refusing to start an argument because you were a shell of who you once were. Except for those weekly meetings. They were what kept you moving.
Mike looks at the calendar, noting the day before turns and jeers at you, “You got nothing to say because you’re going to meet with your precious Andy. The same Andy that couldn’t make the time of day for you that I did. You do know he’s married, too?”
You slam the fridge close, and start to walk out the door, but he catches your wrist. “You keep our secrets. You are my wife. Go have your fun. Fuck a married man, but you won’t fuck your husband.”
“I have never once cheated on you, Mike. You’re the one that is gone for days, and our cards are charged with cheap motels. What whore you got sleeping in the bed with you this week?”
“Well if my wife would lay down and take it the way a wife is supposed to,” you scowl at him, prying his fingers off of you. “Remind me to ask Andy how my wife’s pussy tastes when we’re in court tomorrow.”
“You’re disgusting,” you spit at him. Turning on your heels, you go to leave. Not caring to hear another word.
Placing your chin in your in your hand, you stare blankly at the door. Not really focusing on anything, just trying to forget the morning.
Andy walks into the cafe, his eyes scanning the area until he spots you. Nearly jogging over to you, before he pulls you up into a tight hug. You have never felt as loved or as safe as when you’re in his arms. And that terrifies you. Mike once made you feel that way. Now you hate the days he comes home.
Andy pulls you body back, and gives a regretful smile, “What did he do this time?” he asks, leading you both back to the table.
“I believe it was a ten days away. It keeps getting longer,” you drift your eyes to the table, and his hand moves to cover yours. You don’t have to tell him there’s more he just knows. “He accused me of having an affair.”
“Seriously?” Andy chuckles, shaking his head. “With who?” you lift your eyes to look at him, before sliding your own hand out from under his. “Oh…well…” he begins, reaching for your hand again.
Andy ever the careful one with his words, licks his lips slowly. His thumb starts making circles on the back of your hand, and even your own breathing picks up. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.”
“You’re very funny, Andy.”
“It’s just, every week. Every damn Thursday we meet, we talk, and we get very personal with our conversations,” he gives you a wicked grin and you roll your eyes.
“Admit it,” you shake your head no. “No? Have you never heard of an emotional affair? And we’ve got history.”
“Yep, you wanted to focus on your school and dumped me, then married Laurie two years later,” you cock up an eyebrow noticing how Andy never responds.
His fingers slowly trace the outline of his beard, and you clench your thighs together; remembering the times he would do that raising up from between your legs.
“I deserve that. It was the worst mistake of my life. By that time you and Mike were married, and I didn’t want to be alone,” he stifles out a laugh, his hand going to yours, and you had yet to quit playing with your rings.
Andy takes a quick gulp, removing his wedding band, and looks up at you, “Lets give them a reason to think we’re having an affair.”
“You’re crazy,” you reach to grab your purse. Andy was truly your love, but this…it can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.
“No, no I’m not. Laurie thinks I’m cheating on her, too. Threatened a divorce last night, if I came here today. If I’m being accused of a sexual affair, I’d at least like to have sex. Wouldn’t you? Mike already assumes that we fuck every week. Makes snide comments while in court. Disrespecting you every time we’re alone, and I’m tired of it, Peanut. You deserve better. We…we deserve better, and you’ve always been my one. That’s why I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
“I always hate when you call me that.”
“You didn’t say no,” his dark blue eyes roll up to meet your own. Whispering your name, he goes to remove your rings, and you don’t argue. He slips them into his pocket, and watches you expectantly. “Where?”
“There’s a hotel down the road.”
“They’ll start asking about the charges.”
“I’ll do what Mike does, and deny it,” standing up, you hold out your hand for Andy to take, and he grips it firmly. Following you to the car. You don’t even feel guilty. This feels right.
Sitting at breakfast, alone again for the fourth day in a row. Your rings had been sitting on Mike’s bedside table for all of those days. You were tired. Tired of pretending to live this perfect life, when your husband couldn’t bother to come home.
When you go to clean up, a knock on the door, leads you to pause in confusion. No one ever comes here, everyone is tired of Mike’s shenanigans. Walking to the door, you stand their mouth agape, and tears already forming in your eyes.
Andy lifts up his left hand, showing you only a faint tan line, “I can’t do it. I filed yesterday. This past month has been everything I’ve always wanted, because it’s with you.”
“You have a case in two hours,” both Andy and Mike had told you such.
“Give me one,” he hums already walking through the door, slamming it shut he locks it behind you. His hand smooths down your side before you wrap your own around his neck.
Animalistic in your need to have him, your hands already pull off his jacket. Carefully trying to undo every button, as Andy backs you towards you bedroom. “Andy, no,” you pull back looking at him.
“When was the last time he slept in it?”
“Months ago,” he picks you up, slamming your body on the bed, before he’s ripping off your dress. His hands begin to knead your breasts, before he harshly removes your bra. Getting to your panties, Andy leisurely removes them, placing the drenched lace in his pocket. “Andy, you’re playing with fire.”
“I’m playing with what’s mine,” he groans, undoing his belt, he jerks it out, and quickly uses it to tie up your hands. “Should leave you like this, for Mike to find,” scowling at him, he chuckles. “Better not, he stays gone so long you might die of starvation before he returns.”
“Andy, shut up!” your legs go to spread, and he watches your drenched cunt leak out on the duvet, and moans. “You gonna leave me hanging?”
“Never,” finally removing his pants, he crawls over your body, and it’s almost cruel that you can’t run your fingers through his hair. Can’t bring those succulent lips closer to yours. And can’t even pull his hips closer to your weeping cunt.
Andy runs his tip through your glistening folds, almost laughing at how much every part of your body is begging for him. You look over to the clock, but he doesn’t stop. “Andy, please, baby, I need you.”
“Getting greedy, huh? Every fucking day for over a month. You need it so bad don’t you?” you anxiously nod your head, and he pushes the tip through your entrance. You moan at the severe stretch, but then grunt when he doesn’t push through.
“You have become my needy little girl haven’t you?” with a single whispered yes, he pushes through an inch more. “You never stopped did you?”
“No.”
“Say it,” he almost screams, needing a vocal confirmation. “Tell me.”
“I love you.”
He pushes in a bit more, “Do you regret what we’re doing?”
“No.”
“I love you, too,” his voice thick and hungry as he slides his remaining length all the way through. Bottoming out, and your back arches, wrapping your legs around him, you hold him there. “What do you want?”
“You. It’s always been you. That’s why…I couldn’t let you go,” your voice soft, but sure.
His mouth crashes into yours with as much fervor as his hips as he thrusts into you harshly. Pulling in and out of your squelching heat. Both of your mouths swallowing the other’s sweet sounds, and you have never felt better.
Your skin heats up and becomes raw from his beard, but you don’t care. The only thing you care about is Andy. Every inch of his skin on you. Every bit of him stretching you out deliciously. His pounding pace hurting so good, as your juices soak the bed. Giving him his sick need for a job well done.
No one has ever done it better than Andy. No one has ever made you sob out their name like he does. And no one has ever made you feel so raw and loved. He was perfect. And he was yours.
Andy pushes into you with such force, your body becomes limp. Pliant to the man, and you blink away stars that cover his beautiful sculpted body. Your body aching for the need to fill you up.
Your walls start to flutter around him, and he only drives into you faster. Jack hammering into you like it was his job, and Andy always takes his job seriously.
Your legs clench around his waist, much like your cunt clenches around his girthy length. Breathily whispering his name like a prayer. With a few more staccatoed stabs into your abused hole, the two of you cum together, and Andy collapses on top of you.
His hands reach behind you as he undoes his belt, and your arms fall on his back. Running your hands up and down his freckled and sticky skin. “I’ll keep doing this until it sticks. I’ve filed for your divorce along mine. Laurie signed a prenup, but you want nothing from him.”
“There’s nothing to have.”
“Good. You’re mine. And I won’t have him touching what belongs to me.”
Andy smirks at Mike as he walks out of his office. Starting to head to the courtroom, but Mike let’s out a grumbled, “How did she feel this morning?”
“Excuse me?” Andy asks turning back around to glare at Mike.
He holds up the divorce papers he was served, shoving it into Andy’s chest, “I knew it was only a matter of time before you tainted her view on me.”
Swiftly Andy jerks up Mike’s shirt revealing the track marks, “I think you did that all on your own.”
“I wasn’t like this before her. She’s been cheating on me for years. She can’t stay away from you. Home wrecker. How. Did. She. Feel?” Mike flips around his phone, revealing the compromising position you and Andy were in this morning. “Trying to knock my wife up, Barber? Just wait until I get home, I’ll fucking have my wife.”
Andy grabs Mike’s shirt by the collar, shoving him up against the wall. Pulling him forward, he slams him back, but Mike only laughs manically. “You won’t see her again.”
“Won’t I?”
After waking up in a stupor with Mike sinisterly smiling over you, he points out the hidden camera. Yours and Andy’s love making on display on the television. “I thought you said you didn’t fuck him. Should have known you little slut. I love you, and I have a little surprise for you.”
You gulp as Mike all but drags you down the stairs to the basement. Time feeling off as it moves quickly but also painfully slow. He shoves you on the floor, slamming a new door closed. Looking up, you see his beautiful face bloody and bruised. His arms bound behind him, and a gag over his mouth, but that doesn’t stop Andy from mumbling expletives at Mike.
“You wanted him. There he is. You’re not going anywhere, and neither will he. I brought you, you’re own little plaything, honey,” you turn to look at him with your tear streaked face and shake your head.
“I thought you’d be happy. You have everything you ever wanted. That is if my junkie ass doesn’t stay gone too long,” he sneers at you, and presses his hand over your stomach.
“He wanted it to take, did it?”
“Mike, let him go. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, let him go.”
“Aw, Honey, it’s not that easy. Oop,” he gleefully screeches out when your phone rings. “Looks like Laurie is calling you. Should I tell her I caught you two? Tell her what a fucking whore you are? Have fun playing house, while I play the distraught husband because my wife ran off and left me with her best friend. Laurie knows. She’s already told me her suspicions. That’s the only reason that I started asking. Laurie knew first.”
He walks to the door, slamming it shut, and you hear a thick lock go into place.
Rushing over to Andy, you jerk down his gag, and move to his hands. Once free, you cling to each other. His mouth kissing all over your head.
“I’m so sorry Peanut. He knew, he-he…”
“I saw it. Andy what’re we gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
Next
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @harrysthiccthighss
#mike weiss#mike weiss x reader#dark!mike weiss#dark!mike Weiss x reader#andy barber#andy barber x reader#cheating fic#dark fic#Chris evans#chris Evans character#mike weiss fanfiction#andy barber fanfiction#andy barber smut
472 notes
·
View notes
Text
7/10/2023
Weigh in, my OMAD, symptoms suck
Hello again!! Very happy to tell you all again about my day!!!! But first, the (dramatic music...) weigh in. Today I am.... 89.8 lbs!!!! We are in the 80's range now!! Isn't that something!!! I had to weigh a few times before I actually believed it!! Wow..
Onto my OMAD, it was okay I guess. Tried freeze dried fruit because there are no more bananas, but there were freeze dried bananas (and strawberries) in the bag. It was 120 🄲als per bag, so I decided why not. Should've stuck with oatmeal like I said I was going to yesterday.... the strawberries didn't taste very good. I tried dipping them in some peppermint tea, but it still didn't taste great. The freeze dried bananas on the other hand.... yum. You can never go wrong with bananas. It tasted like hard stale marshmallows with a hint of banana. I'd eat a bag of just freeze dried bananas. Probably not strawberries again, though.. I didn't eat the rest of the strawberries. At least it means less kcaal! But now I have to wait 24 hours until the next omad, and this one was disappointing ☹︎ well, the fruit was, but the tuna and egg was so so so good. I used to do this a lot, put a sunny side up egg into a can of tuna and mash it up. I failed boiling the egg, so I just fried it... I tried to skip the oil but that was a bad idea. I'll have to wash my pan very well now. I'm just sad with my lunch now. Can't wait until tomorrow so that I can have the comfort of my usual same lunch... tuna, boiled egg, oatmeal, tea. That's all I want, so good and filling!! But we are almost out of tuna too, I don't know what I'll do then, I think I'll probably cry a lot. I just love tuna so much, it's so safe.
I'm getting kind of sad now, I just need to take a walk.. "walks" are just pacing in a circle around my room and daydreaming. The freeze dried fruit really ruined my appetite... thinking about eating is just making me feel sick. I couldn't sleep at all last night. I just want to sleep at night, but it's so hard now. Aɴasømn1a, I guess! Also, I lost a suspicious amount of hair in the shower last night, but my hair is really thick and curly so it's not very obvious.... yet. I've been getting symptoms a lot and they really suck. I wake up, see black, ears ring, almost pass out stumble out of bed, body check, weigh, eat, and then I either pace or lay in bed if I feel too weak.
I would like for school to start soon because every day feels pointless now. I have no use, just laying around... I want to study and work hard!!! I want to go to class!!!! I want to learn new skills!!!! I want to take notes!!!!! I want to walk in the hallways, I love the way my shoes tap the tile and I want to dress up for school.. I always wear pretty, flowing skirts. But not the skirt you think of, I mean skirts to my ankles. It works for me because it's very modest, very pretty, and it hides my big fat legs. Don't worry, I would never judge anyone else for their clothing, modesty just makes me happier and more comfortable!! Anyways, I'll try to make my lonely days better. Typing this and my stomach really hurts suddenly wow omg ouch okay it's done. Anyways I'm not so sure what else to say..
If you read this far, thank you!!! It means a lot to me ♡♡ see you tomorrow!!!!
Lots of love, heart-of-wool ☺︎
#tw ana diary#🕯️as a 🪶#anatumblr#thinnblr#eedee tumblr#thinner is better#i want to be weightless#⭐️ving#tw ana rant#tw ed diet
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
I haven't slept and I'm watching Be Cool Scooby Doo on Boomerang and I have opinions
The art style is disgusting but I do like the characterization they give the gang and especially Daphne. This is an exact polar opposite to how I feel about Mystery Inc: gorgeous art style, terrible characterization.
Let me explain by saying this: Daphne is so much better just being a weird silly bitch than a love sick teenager.
BCSD Daph will literally talk with only puppets for an episode
MI Daph will obsess over Fred
BCSD Daph will try to steal a jewel from her own family hotel using high tech jewelry thief tech
MI Daph will obsess over Fred
BCSD Daph makes silly beards out of her own hair and weirds out her best friends on a regular basis
MI Daph will obsess over Fred- and look really amazing as a Hex Girl band member, but still obsess and obsess over Fred
For the record, Velma is just a nerdy asshole in BCSD but that vastly beats her bitchy "I'm really going to force my boyfriend/close friend to choose me over an ACTUAL TALKING DOG THAT IS HIS ACTUAL AND MAYBE ONLY ACTUAL BEST FRIEND and get pissy about it and treat my friends like absolute shit" self in MI. Maybe also the tired mom friend in BCSD.
Fred is still obsessed with traps but is no longer a himbo and is more or less the tired dad friend forced to play the straight man. This is actually less annoying and plays off better believe it or not.
Shaggy and Scooby are actually kinda low key comedy relief in BCSD like usual but they lean towards hipster nerds. But they're about as stale as American Dad characters. This still beats how weirdly they were portrayed in MI by just being the Team Screamers and occasionally being forced to expunge edgy teenage romance plot that has no business coming out of a hippy and dog's mouths.
These are almost entirely different characters but for the better imo
And you know what? They are entirely different characters compared to the past iterations in almost every regard. That's not a bad thing at all.
Silly and weird girl Daphne is the best personality for her since What's New Scooby Doo. Not only is she allowed to emote about things that aren't fashion or Fred or whatever, she's actually a character! She has a personality! A fun one! Not that I disliked her personality when she was finally a capable investigator that could also kick ass- I just like silly himbos and SHE TOOK FRED'S HIMBO ENERGY
If only the series didn't look like it was animated by the guys behind those very bad, low effort comedy central cop/forest ranger shows. Call it a unique art style thats subjective, I call it "ugly for the sake of being ugly" like most Adult Swim shows. If it was animated like Scooby Doo and Guess Who? Or What's New Scooby Doo then I'd be much happier.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Random Post on Weight Loss...Just Because
So I don't have a lot of people in my personal life outside of my family to talk about this with, and it has been hard sometimes to just sit on my feelings when I have been going through one of the biggest mental health transitions of my life.
Since June I've been working to lose weight and I'm currently down 43 pounds. I have a goal to lose 50 by the end of this year, and next year I intend to lose another 50 at least (it'd be nice to lose more than that and get back to the weight I was in high school but really I just want to be comfortably able to shop in stores lol). Anxiety and depression skyrocketed my weight from about 2011-2016 and I've really been taking back my life. I got a long way to go regarding fixing the larger issues with my mental health, but I'm super proud of myself for setting and meeting goals.
I've not been doing anything revolutionary. Just tracking my calories and eating anywhere from 500-700 less than my daily recommended intake. Not depriving myself of food (apart from fast food which was the single biggest addiction I had to get grapple), not following some fad diet...just looking at food labels and going "fuck, I'd rather make a healthier choice." I've been cooking way more, specifically cooking international meals which have made eating healthier a lot more fun to do. Just exploring food options that aren't so stale and basic, and broadening horizons and curtailing my picky eater ways.
I've dropped two pant sizes. I fit way more comfortably into XL tops. And I just FEEL better...I got more energy everyday now. I sleep without tossing and turning from back pain. It has just been a life-altering change in every single way and while I wish I never got to this low point, I'm very proud of myself for overcoming this obstacle.
My next big project is to begin exercising which I simply have not been doing beyond getting steps in. Now that my busiest work season is over I will be walking a lot less in my job so I set a new, ambitious goal of running a 5k by the summer of next year. I found a good program to wean me into it. I feel ready to go, and motivated to do so too.
It sucks that I've withdrawn so much from others due to my mental health struggles that I don't have a ton of people to tell this stuff to. The hardest goal I set for myself is finally seeking therapy for conditions I was diagnosed with as a child...I'm really scared of opening up to the wrong person after my previous experience with therapy and how some people in my life reacted to it. But I'm doing better already, and I'm just really happier as a person for the first time in ages.
Anyway back to Survivor and eventual Big Brother shitposting.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
2hrs of sleep
i still feel every cell in my body spring up with energy anytime you look at me and smile
but at the same time that energy gets sapped away just as quickly, sitting here next to you knowing i cant call you my baby anymore
you are my entire world, you are my reason to be
somedays i need you more than the blood in my veins and the air in my lungs
you are everything i know, you are what i think of when i hear the word love
you are what i think of when i hear the word happiness
nowadays every morning becomes harder than the last to wake up to
another day, is just another day without my girl
i wait and i wait for us to link ourselves again, and go up against the entire world one more time
somedays i have the strength to keep waiting and hoping
waiting, finding things to smile at
the plants in our living room, the air in the morning, the food i cook for you, a glancing brush of fur from our cat
finding healing in the small things, finding reason in my thoughts
finding a reason to keep going, even without your love at the moment
.
somedays i want to lay in bed with my eyes closed indefinitely, waiting for you to tell me "i love you, i miss you. i want to be with you again" and i imagine myself spring up with the biggest goofiest toothy smile
the sun shines brighter, and a cool breeze blows in clearing out the stale air from a many months long grief
i stay day dreaming
at night i close my eyes and hope that all of this was just a dream, and in the morning i will wake up with a ring back on my finger and something to offer you
.
somedays nothing matters anymore, not knowing if my sunshine will be taken away
not knowing if i am enough
telling myself you'd just be happier with somebody else, someone better than me
someone prettier, someone who you'd love even more
someone who could make you laugh and smile and heal you more and more each day
i wish i could laugh again with my entire chest somedays
somedays everything becomes dull once again
the green hue of our living room morning glories and chia plants become uninspiring
"why cant i feel!?"
"why am i feeling so much? i dont want to feel"
the morning air becomes heavy and harder to breathe
the breakfast i make becomes bland, and i lose my appetite
our cat jumps up on my desk as if to cheer me up, to no avail
i am not strong enough somedays
i am not enough i feel like i will never be enough
there are so many others better than me
with less flaws, with brighter smiles
with unclouded thoughts and sharper minds
they'd know all the right things to say to cheer you up on bad days
they'd always know what to do when you need help
i remain flawed and imperfect no matter how hard i try, i'd freeze instead of fight
i'd say the wrong thing in the worst moment, in the wrong place
i'm awkward
i'd stumble and trip trying to help you and i'd just make everything worse
0 notes
Text
new post because we kept writing between editors in our thread for @wrench-jackie from here. <3 <3
good, she wants to say; cracked lips pulling to the side in what was almost a sneer - i hope it was worth it. leave it to the end of what had once been the world to turn the good sister into a star rapture citizen. charity, the tool of the parasite; generosity, a trait of a rube. survival of the fittest now that the great chain had broken. god had long since abandoned this place alongside whatever had served as the government - it made sense. they'd tried to play god here; tried to rewrite the very essence of humanity in their hubris and now? ruin. sodom and gomorrah had burned for a day and a night straight - rapture would burn for a month or more.
" figures. " her voice is thin, reedy; parched from the lack of water ( from the lack of anything that isn't coated in a fine layer of fucking salt ); lips curled in the slightest and barest of sneers still - half-hearted; more show than anything. come no closer. " this place has been leaking since it was built, i think. " sooner or later, they'd sink with it. still, she takes the trade; the metallic wrappers slick in her thin fingers; laying the candy bars in the lap of her tattered day dress.
the boy didn't seem like a threat - not really. at least, not as large a threat as the splicers were with their fractured minds and otherworldly, ungodly abilities. perhaps a whole mind was far more dangerous, then. splicers were easy enough to predict - stuck in a different world, a safer and happier time. anyone left, though? not so transparent - and far less easier to read. still, she kept her distance; perched neatly on the top of a palette pile - no doubt left over from the civil war - if it had ever ended.
" thanks, kid. " an uncharacteristic roughness to her voice - she'd had etiquette lessons, hadn't she? the good lady cannot remember - or, perhaps, she was going to. it doesn't matter. not much does now - just a series of motions working over and over again; repeating in a circle, a cycle. survive. survive. survive. what's the saying? let bygones be bygones; and her fingers tear open a wrapper. it's stale - salty, too; damp as anything. she grimaces.
she's content to sit like this - in tense silence; feeling sorry for herself with her candy bars - but the boy speaks; so, so wistful. the sky. she can remember it - blindly bright; remembers it in the same way she can never remember how she'd come to rapture. god - this place had made her bitter; just as it had done to everyone else. but not him - not yet, at least; and the good lady shifts uncomfortably - bright eyes glancing sidelong. she'd been cruel to him - like any other soul in rapture. it did not make it right. " i do. " a pause; she swallows. " it... it was the clearest and brightest blue some days; so blue you could drown. the sunsets, the dawns - so much colour. and the stars were infinite. "
0 notes
Text
Whoops , missed it - 8/10
I was travelling and then I had loads of work , so i forgot to post this.
Damn this year went by so fast, I've been working here like a slaving mule, from the crack of dawn , i bring the bacon home and when i get done at night, all the stars are big and bright!
Oh boy , was i complaining how stale last year was, and did i wish for change last year , cuz change is what we got all year long! Literally all the things i wanted happened - i got a new job, i moved to a different country, i got a sweet new place ,a bunch of cool ass plants , new stuff , squeezed all i could from Ireland , made bank and i got a new young piece of ass, what more can a guy ask for? But then again its not 10/10 , but 8/10 , AGAIN you never appreciate anything, nothing truly makes you happy and i can not understand why? Am I messed up in the head like Bo - with his distorted ideals of reality, perfection and appreciation, how things "should" be and the failure to achieve these ideas makes you miserable and feeling unaccomplished. Does truly nothing ever makes me happy?
I find that hard to believe, what kind of sick fuck do i have to be , not to feel happiness at all. I do feel happy , happier than ever i suppose - but I can't lie to myself , something is missing and i don't know what - its not money , sex , work or kinship , but its definitely not her fault and i will not let this poison me , her , us or anyone else I care about for that matter. I won't let it happen , not this time, not ever again. I will never bring ruin upon myself like that again. I will look for that missing part of me in the years to come and my only hope is to find it soon enough. Maybe its a little baby or two lol. I hope her babygirl makes that dumb bitch happy, more than her fat loser husband anyway.
The only thing that sucked this year is i didn't get to travel so much , they screwed me with my holidays , or i screwed myself tbh, by believing and giving to people that do not deserve my very presence . That nice vacation in Sicily was good, but not nearly enough and what good is all this money , when you don't spend it , so I've made some hefty travel plans this year, i hope they pan out, adventure awaits !
I think this year I've read/listen to more books and visited more museums than i have in the last 5 years, i feel so much more culturally enriched than before , slowly but surely I'm becoming the person i aspire to be, my bullshit tolerance has gone down to almost zero , you would be so proud of me lol. I thought of you less and less and less, the occasional vision or dream would mess things a little, but it's just a faint whisper in the dead of night , rather than a loud ominous presence at the back of my head during every passing moment .
Overall it was a great year, my biggest issues were the lack of lactose free skyr in Amsterdam and making the fucking Dutch sounds. I feel like i need more toil and strife in my life, I'm getting soft. If only the world wasn't going to shit, this would've been a great start of a beautiful decade in my life , sadly i think it will all come crashing down soon and we are gonna be left with a big bag o dicks.
P.S. I am old now lol
0 notes
Text
thoughts
Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if I had made different decisions. What if i would have stayed in Miami, what if i would have decided something else. had a kid early or not gotten married. i wonder who I would be. I am always working to the next thing career and life wise. But then i find myself so caught up in the past. Looking and digging into it wondering by looking at these people if my life would be like theirs if i would not have made the decisions I made. Would I be happier? Would life feel less stale? would I have followed my passions? Would I have found someone who lets me be selfish the way I have now?
Maybe what weirds me out is that I never envisioned the traditional life I have. who knows what would have been.
0 notes
Text
ralvez but...
*spelling errors will be fixed tomorrow, this is just getting my thoughts down while they're still coherent in my mind, I just don't have the energy to edit at the moment*
ralvez but it's just luke helping Spence heal. not move on, not push down, not get over. heal from all the shit he's gone through, abandon all of the nasty habits and ideologies he's formed over the years.
ralvez but it's Luke just holding Spence's head above the water giving him a chance to breathe without a fight.
ralvez but its Luke holding Reid close, giving him all of the love and attention he need, and staring in awe every morning when he wakes up before Spence and gets to see the sun cast down on his face.
ralvez but Luke heals himself by helping Spencer. Spencer healing Luke without even knowing, just by existing, by rambling and fiddling and loving.
ralvez but its just luke treating Reid like a person, not something small and fragile, not like a child, not patronizing and pitying him for his neurodivergence and trauma. giving him the accommodations he needs without treating him like an other or thing to be coddled.
ralvez but its Luke being the supportive shoulder to lean on. asking questions by giving options, not leaving it so open ended that it's overwhelming. not making Spencer feel like he has to say he's fine, giving him the space to talk when he wants, and space to hurt and feel when he's not ready to put everything into words.
ralvez but Luke never takes their relationship as consent. he always asks before touching, always makes sure Reid is comfortable even with the smallest of things.
ralvez but Luke doesn't become Spencer's keeper. he lets Spencer be his own person, let's him fight his own battles, unless he asks for help. he doesn't become and over bearing gaurd dog, boxing Reid in, cutting him off from the world.
ralvez, but it's Luke giving Reid a space to be angry. angry at the team for every time they let him down. telling him it's ok to be angry and still love them, to acknowledge they didn't mean to hurt him but still did.
ralvez but it's just Luke taking the time to learn who Spencer is, helping Spencer relearn himself.
ralvez but it starts with Luke just helping Reid exist, they don't even realize it; hanging out after work cause they're both lonely turns into sleepovers. sleepovers go from one in the couch and then other on the bed, to sharing the bed. sharing turns into cuddling, cuddling turns to pressing close during nightmares and sleepless nights. waking up and still staying close till they're both forced out of bed for one reason or another, cause they both yearn for touch. they're basically inseparable, the team can't help but notice how they are tied together by a invisible yet tangible force. how they're both visibly happier. they are, by definition, a couple for years before they make it official with words. they've held hands and gone on dates, don't the typical couple things the whole time, shared a kiss here and there, and they're perfectly content. they've said 'I love you' since they can remember. they just never needed to put a word or label on it, both are fine just being and existing as they are. that's more then enough for them.
ralvez but each other's existence, is both a comforting weight that presses the breath out of your lungs, making you feel like you're no longer full of stale air and cobwebs - and a reliving lightness, that eases the pain in tired bones.
ralvez, but they're just soulmates. nothing more, nothing less.
am I autistic rambling about a ship I'm obsessed with because I'm autistic and I project onto Spence AND luke makes me feel safe, and then turning that rambling into something close to a poem because I'm gay and a writer... no, why would you say that?
#ralvez#luke alvez#spencer reid#criminal minds#autism#original poem#kinda sorta#writing#my writing#gay#gay mlm#im gay autistic and tired
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY
characters ♡ bokuto, tendō, matsukawa & suna
tw ♡ gn! reader, timeskip! bokuto (all sfw tho), swearing, reader wears makeup (matsukawa), swearing, mentions of death & food
cred ♡ thanks to anon for this request <3
KŌTARŌ BOKUTO
♡ he was literally counting down the days to your birthday, he even took the day off practise to celebrate it with you so imagine his surprise when the special day finally rolls around and he wakes up to an empty bed
♡ at first, he thought that perhaps you were just around the house somewhere but nope, the place was completely empty and even worse, all signs pointed to his theory that you had gone to work/school on your birthday
♡ outraged. he was absolutely outraged.
♡ firstly, he tried calling you but you wouldn’t pick up, even after his many attempts so his next resort to call your place of work/school reception
♡ obviously he managed to get a hold of you then-
♡ he was originally gonna yell about how you lied to him about taking the day off on your birthday but there was no way he could be angry at you — almost ever — so instead, he made the quick decision of telling you to have a nice day before hanging up
♡ you were kinda pissed that he wasted your time like that but how could you stay mad at him? he’s fkn adorable! he blew you audible kisses over the phone for good luck!
♡ you laboured your way through the day, putting in great effort yet through it all, the only thing on your mind was how much you wanted to just pass out on the couch with bokuto as soon as you got home. you weren’t even sure if you had the energy to change into your pjyamas.
♡ however, when you finally did arrive home, there was no need to put yourself through the onerous task of changing clothes as the first thing you were greeted by when you stepped foot in your own home was a chorus of cheers of ‘surprise!’ followed by people spilling out into the foyer from the kitchen and living room
♡ then there was bokuto, the loudest of them all leading the crowd, blowing into the party horn while dashing up to, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight hug, ‘happy birthday, sweetie!’
♡ a light gasp escaped your lips at the sudden hoots, and the unfamiliar — and frankly uncomfortable — sight of many friends swarm towards you had you on edge but when you felt bokuto wrap you in his warm embrace, you knew you were home
♡ he held you close until you were forced apart by many guests tearing you away to personally wish you a happy birthday
♡ now that the initial shock had died down, you noticed that there wasn’t as many people present as you thought, it was a humble gathering of all your closest friends
♡ there was a massive pile of bright-colored gifts lying on the stairs, and it was hard not to immediately acknowledge them as the sheer mass and number of the presents scattered across the steps prevented anyone from being able to go upstairs
♡ the following day, you were made aware of the fact 90% of those presents were addressed from ‘your best ace husband ;)’ which was pretty straight-forward considering you only have one husband; kiyoomi sakusa.
♡ jokes, you married bokuto but sakusa was also at the party. he originally just wanted to drop off his gift then leave but bokuto persuaded him to stay, though he seemed to be regretting it now as almost everyone at the party now shared an unspoken goal to slam sakusa’s face into one of the cupcakes that decorated the circumference of your cake
♡ speaking of the cake, bokuto remembered what type of cake was your favorite from the wedding planning and he was so chuffed with himself. in fact, he was so confident in his cake picking ability that he ordered a massive 3-tier monster of a dessert
♡ neither of you would be able to finish it before it goes bad so you ended up cutting it up into pieces and sending each guest away with a little goody-bag with a slice of cake inside lmao
♡ once you had finished your goodbyes and everyone had filed out of your home, you flopped onto the couch and let out a deep sigh of relief. well, it was only a sigh for a few moment as it became a wheeze when bokuto laid down on top of you
♡ ‘happy birthday, (y/n). i’m sorry if i tired you out.’ he hummed, fiddling with your fingers as his lips curled into a shaky smile
♡ ‘i’m a bit sleepy but i had an amazing time. thank you so much, kō.’
♡ bokuto smiled, his heavy lid falling shut as he finally rested his neck, being able to fall asleep comfortably now that you’ve told him that you had fun
SATORI TENDŌ
♡ unlike bokuto, he’ll actually mention your birthday a few weeks prior to the celebration so he can plan the perfect date :3
♡ ‘so do you wanna go to the aquarium or the theme park? because i know we’ve went to the park before but they remodelled it apparently. plus, maybe the aquarium is a bit underwhelming for such a special day, but it’s up to yo--’
♡ ‘we won’t really get to spend much time in either. if you consider the time school finishes, the train ride and the time the aquarium and park closes so maybe we could just chill at my house instead.’
♡ tendō deadpanned for a moment, the most unamused look taking over his features until he suddenly burst out laughing, cackling as if you just told the joke of the century, ‘seriously, (y/n)? you’re gonna go to school on your birthday.’
♡ ‘yes, of course.’ you replied in all seriousness, resulting in tendō awkwardly beginning to stifle his chuckles.
♡ he frowned, slumping back into the seat beside you, ‘c’mon, it’s your birthday, though! you deserve the day off.’
♡ you shook your head, kindly declining his suggestion, ‘i have a test on that day.’
♡ ‘all the more reason to ditch!’
♡ now it was your turn to deadpan
♡ tendō tossed his head back while letting out a sigh of defeat, draping his arm around your shoulder to lovingly pull you to his chest, ‘alright, then. whatever you want, dear.’
♡ you smiled, glad that you didn’t need to disagree with him any longer — and you were even happier on the day. even though you insisted that he keeps things small on your birthday, he still managed to find a way to make things extra asf by getting you a massive plush that was about half the size of your stature and a hamper of homemade chocolates ><
ISSEI MATSUKAWA
♡ honestly, he’s never been the best at giving gifts but he tries extra hard for you
♡ like if you off-handedly say that you are cold during class, he’ll buy you a bunch of new jackets, jumpers and gloves
♡ or if you say you need more mascara, he’ll buy you exact same one you usually wear
♡ he’s observant enough to notice and remember the exact shade and brands of all your cosmetic products but he’s not observant enough to pick up on the subtle hints you drop as to what you want for your birthday
♡ you can never guess what he’s gonna get you and that adds to your anticipation for the day
♡ if your birthday is on a school day, he’ll bring in a batch of homemade cupcakes (which hanamaki helped him with) and stick a candle in one of them for you to blow out
♡ he offers you one but they are all pretty stale- just smile and nod while your teeth feel like they are being shattered trying to bite down on the cupcake
♡ it might set off the fire alarm but oh well, just count that as another present
♡ oikawa will probably get you something like a bouquet and try flirt with you so at that point, matsukawa and hanamaki begin using the cupcakes as weapons
♡ they are a two for one deal so you’re going to be spending the day with both of them tailing you like lost puppies
platonic RINTARŌ SUNA
♡ (requester specified) your birthday is on the same day as his so ofc he’s going to be a little salty abt it
♡ you both created a game to see who receives the most birthday wishes and whoever won gets ¥1500 from the loser’s birthday money
♡ for the past few years, he’s usually been the winner by just a few but this year, you made it a point to befriend all him teammates in order to ensure victory
♡ having to pretend to be friendly with atsumu — who wasn’t very good at hiding his massive crush —was definitely a challenge but you powered through
♡ in fact, you may have played the role too well as both the miya twins gave you a gift
♡ osamu gave both you and suna a plastic bag filled with some food he made and water bottles
♡ as for atsumu, his gift to you was a massive hamper filled with an assortment of many different luxury confectionary which didn’t look cheap at all but it didn’t feel appropriate to question the price so you simply took it from him with a bright smile
♡ of course, suna was excited (and very hungry) as he expected the same gift but he was more than disappointed when all he received was a bag of chips and a slap on the back
♡ he goes out of his way to tell every teacher it’s your birthday in hopes that they’ll make the class sing happy birthday to you
♡ but it pisses him off to no end when you add that it’s his birthday too so he ends up getting roped into your misery
♡ also your thumbs are going to be sore at night swiping through all the various candid pics that suna took of you throughout the day (in less than flattering poses) which he uplaoded to almost all of his social media stories with stupid ass captions
♡ but dw bc he’ll eventually post a nice photo of you with a sweet message
♡ ‘happy birthday to @(y/n) . i would die for you, bitch (even though you annoy the hell out of me every single day 🤠).’
#bokuto x reader#bokuto fluff#suna rintaro scenarios#hq matsukawa#tendou satori#tendou scenario#tendou headcanon#hq tendou#tendou fluff#matsukawa issei#matsukawa x y/n#matsukawa headcanons#hq x gender neutral reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro fluff#suna x reader#suna x y/n#suna imagines
198 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Gunpowder Tastes Like Love Gone Sour
"Now, do not misunderstand me;
when I call myself a shell
I mean– a used up bullet casing.
As in, the aftermath of something lethal.
As in, an echo of inflicted evil."
-Amrita Chakraborty
––––––––––––––––
A shell of a man. That’s all he is now.
Burr sits along the bank of the Thames, staring pensively down at the ripples breaking the surface of the water, though inside he feels far less peaceful than he likely looks to the innocent passerby.
It has been years. Years.
And yet he still can’t find peace.
No matter where he travels, every step he takes, every word he utters, Hamilton’s ghost is there to taunt him for his mistakes. He should have never drawn his gun....
It’s a warm, incredibly humid summer day, and when Burr closes his eyes, the breeze off the river just barely stirring the stale air, he can picture that day in Weehawken. Hamilton’s bullet inexplicably missing its target. His own lodging firmly just above Hamilton’s hip, digging inside flesh with all the enthusiasm of a race horse at full gallop, impossible to stop once it was set loose. Wild. Wild like Hamilton’s own reckless words. Like the passionate flame in those blue eyes while he conversed, going on and on about any number of things he believed in, and perhaps more importantly, those that he didn’t.
Those words. Those exhilarating, haunting, calamitous words. He uttered so many in such a short life, it is as if he had determined to never give Burr a moment’s peace, even after his untimely death, even now, when all he has left are the echoes of soiled memories.
But echoes can rattle around in one’s mind more persistently than screams, and so they do when he thinks of Hamilton and himself, back at the beginning. Days spent in Albany and as neighbors on Wall Street and in the courtroom. The two of them together. Two young men with so much promise. So much potential. So many similarities. So many talents. In the end, that damned noise, Hamilton’s relentless voice, it is only louder. The end…
The political games. The animosity. Hamilton’s insufferable paranoia spiraling, all of that destructive hurricane force focused directly on Burr, on ruining him, on wiping out any trace of influence he had managed to build for himself in their new nation.
What was the exact point of no return? Burr isn’t quite sure. Everytime he tries to pin down the moment where everything went wrong, his mind trips down a dangerous rabbit hole of memories, free falling into a hellish void, suspended in a time and place where there’s still a chance to stop this. Where Hamilton is still alive.
Burr is merely a shell– but no. Shell isn’t quite the right word.
He is a bullet casing. Used up, useless. Everything worthwhile in his soul aimed and fired in one poor moment of judgement. All of the anger and resentment built up from endless antagonism, the potential energy in his spring-loaded soul too much to bear. Until that bullet itself was inevitable.
But was it always inevitable?
Destiny, fate, all of those lofty ideas that the course of the world is predetermined. No, Burr thinks stubbornly, his fist pressing almost painfully into the top of his thigh. Man would not have been given free will if he were not meant to use it. To shape his own destiny. So then when. When did everything become irreparable?
If he could only know, maybe at the very least in his fitful dreams he could go back to that point, stop himself from committing such a grave error. Throw a wrench into that spinning wheel of their lives and rewrite it with a happier ending.
Rewrite their story so that Hamilton– infuriating, abrasive, defiant, argumentative, obsessive, passionate, overly ambitious, surprisingly charming Hamilton– might have a chance to live. So that Burr might have a chance to look him in the eyes once again, mend what was broken, one last attempt to make things right. For one last chance for them to–
He cuts his own dangerous thoughts off with a sudden, fervent shake of his head, silent tears tracing over his cheeks and falling down, disappearing into the river as if it could carry away all of his regrets on its lazy current.
When he glances down into the water, Burr sees a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring back into his own. As vivid and full of his characteristic fire as the first day the two of them met all those years ago. A lifetime ago. Young and handsome and so very alive. Burr reaches out a hand, stretching his arm as close to the river as he can manage, desperate, almost, almost–
A heavy raindrop breaks the surface of the water, and that beautiful face shatters like glass. He’s gone.
The rain continues to fall, but Burr doesn’t leave his spot by the river. His clothes soak through, what’s left of his hair sticks to his face and neck, and tears mingle with the rough lash of the rain against his cheeks, but he feels nothing. He is nothing. No more than the aftermath of his most tragic mistake. A lethal evil he can never undo. His own heart torn apart just as surely as Hamilton’s organs the day his bullet struck its mark.
#hamburr#alexander hamilton#aaron burr#historical hamburr#writing#my writing#fanfiction#crossposted from my ao3#server challenge piece
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
you'd better write a fluffy thing of Remus calming down and doing back and admitting that of course that's what he wants but he feels like he doesn't deserve it and then Sirius asks again and he says yes or so help me god...
@cunningambitousdetermined
whoops this is LATe but anyways, here it is at last, i reread that and felt guilty so here is a happier ending
sequel to this, but can be read as a standalone!
*
In retrospect, Remus agrees he could’ve handled things a little differently.
In his defence, though, it really hasn’t been a great week.
He didn’t get a refill of his anxiety medication because the pharmacy near his flat closed, and so he didn’t take any and turned into an overly emotional mess, and he got his period, so he’s been a fucking wreck. His electric kettle broke on Tuesday so he couldn’t make any tea in the morning. Then his cat got sick, and Remus nearly cried when she hadn’t eaten her breakfast for the second day in a row and then didn’t even protest when he took her to the vet. And, on top of all that, his neighbours had a party on Saturday, and Remus woke up on Sunday with a throbbing headache and the most unpleasant mood he’s been in in months.
And then Sirius came over, dragging him out to dinner - Remus just wanted to lay in bed. But Sirius insisted, and, as usual, if Sirius wanted something, he usually got it.
The dinner was bearable, though added more to Remus’s irritation and headache - everything was noisy, smelled too strong, and he was tired. The end of the meal was a blessing, and Remus couldn’t even argue about Sirius paying (he was fairly sure it was his turn to pay for a date, but he just didn’t care that day). Sirius drove them to Remus’s flat, and Remus was ready to crawl into bed, maybe inviting Sirius with him if he was up for a cuddle.
He hadn’t exactly expected to be sitting on the couch with Sirius in front of him on one knee, a black box with a shiny ring inside of it in his hand.
And once he initially flinched, and knew that Sirius saw that he did, he panicked.
It’s not that I don’t want to! It’s just- it’s a bit early. We don’t even live together, a-and we’re still figuring things out, I don’t think it’d be wise to get married now. Hell, do we really need to get married? I think it’s a bit obnoxious and stupid, we don’t want that, I don’t think I want that.
He went a bit overboard, yes, but it was a shitty week and once he saw the hesitation on Sirius’s face, he started babbling whatever came to his mind.
It’s been on his mind constantly since then - and it’s been days now. Sirius hadn’t texted, nor called, but it’s not like Remus can blame him. He fucked up. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sirius chose to dump him now.
What a way to just flush six years down the drain.
On day 8 since then, Remus wakes up to Lily sitting at his kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee.
“I’ve heard you broke someone’s heart recently.”
Remus groans, taking a seat opposite her, laying his head on the table. He loves her, but she’d always been incredibly straightforward, and that’s not what he needs right now.
“I fucked up, is that what you want to hear?”
“Not necessarily,” she says calmly, sipping her coffee. “You’ve no obligation to say yes when someone proposes to you. I was, however, under the impression that it’s what you want. You’ve dated him for, what, seven years now?”
“Seven in August, yeah,” Remus mumbles, burying his face into the corner of his elbow - he’s been wearing the same sweater for days now, and it’s starting to smell stale. “I mean. Would be, if I didn’t just do that.”
“Are you over, then?”
“I doubt he wants to date me after this.”
“Have you talked to him at all?”
“No.”
“Tell me what happened, then,” Lily puts her mug down and crosses her arms. “He’s really hurt and thinks you said no cause he’s not good husband material. And,” she smiles slightly at him. “I know you. And I know you were looking at wedding bands when we went to get my necklace fixed last month. So spill.”
Remus runs a hand through his hair, feeling his face heat up.
“I had an awful week and it just- bad timing, I guess,” he says defeatedly. “I know it’s a bad excuse but I was a mess and then in comes he and drops this huge thing on me and I just… I panicked. And once I didn’t say anything and I saw the fucking defeated look in his eyes I started talking, and that just made it worse.”
Lily sighs, but she has a smile on her face still.
“Typical you,” she replies, amused. “You could’ve told him you just didn’t expect it.”
“Well, when have I ever reacted well in a stressful situation?”
“Talk to him,” Lily ignores him. “You’re getting dressed, and we’re going over to his flat, where you’re going to tell him that you’ll marry him, buy a house with a picket fence and have a bunch of babies together. Simple as that.”
“What makes you think he even wants to see me?” Remus protests. “You didn’t see the look on his face, he was crushed-”
“And it’s why you need to fix it right now. Come on. Shoes on, I’m taking you to his place.”
*
When Sirius opens the door, Remus feels like his heart will drum out of his chest and drop right in front of his feet. Sirius doesn’t shut the door on him when he sees him, but neither of them say anything for a touch too long, to the point Remus starts feeling unbelievably awkward.
“Uhm,” Sirius starts, his cheeks already red, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Hi.”
He steps to the side, letting Remus in. He notices Sirius is still in the clothes he usually sleeps in, which is rather odd - usually he’d be out of bed long ago.
“So, what do you-”
“I panicked,” Remus says quickly, before his anxiety can talk him out of it. “I had the worst week ever, Sugar got sick, my stomach was cramping, I was out of my meds, I was tired and my head was hurting and I just wanted to go to sleep but I didn’t want to be rude so I went to that restaurant with you and then I was so exhausted but then you- and I-I… I didn’t know what to do,” Remus breathes out, blinking rapidly and hoping he won’t cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging or say anything I’ve said, I-I just… it was the worst possible timing in the world and I don’t do well with things springing on me unexpectedly. I don’t know what you want to do now, you can break up with me cause I hurt you in like the most possible way but that’s honestly what-”
He stops talking as Sirius pulls him into his arms, crushing him into a hug. Remus blinks, confused at first, but then finds his head resting on Sirius’s shoulder - he’s missed that so damn much.
“You should’ve said,” Sirius says weakly - Remus thinks he hears a hint of tears in his voice, but he can’t be sure.
“I panicked,” Remus mumbles. “And by the time I started rambling, I couldn’t stop and didn’t even know what I was saying.”
“So, uhm- if I- if I asked-”
“Yes,” he immediately replies, pulling away so he can look at Sirius’s face. “Sirius Black, you’re the love of my goddamn life and I would love to marry you. As long as you don’t mind me being, well… me.”
“You being you is the best part,” Sirius whispers - and he is crying, now. “Can I kiss you?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
“I just want to make sure,” he smiles. “Last time I asked something I was sure you’d say yes to, you said no, so I have to double check.”
“Okay, now I might say no, you ass.”
Sirius laughs, and nuzzles their noses together, pressing his lips to Remus’s for a short moment.
“We’re telling everyone that we got engaged in a restaurant, though,” Sirius tells him. “It was extremely romantic, you said yes and cried.”
“Only if you also cried. And we can always do that,” Remus glances at the clock he knows is on Sirius’s hallway wall. “Less of a surprise this time, so I won’t panic. We might even get a free dessert. And you can make that cute speech again.”
Sirius’s bites his lip, his cheeks turning a pinkish shade.
“If you promise me you’ll say yes this time.”
Remus smiles, and kisses Sirius again.
“Cross my heart.”
#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#wolfstar drabble#my tag#my writing tag#honestly? i'd probably react in the same way#i do not do well in stressful situations at all#remus youre not alone bby#trans remus
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only One [S. Snape]
part two of “The Other Her”
warnings - mentions of death, angst mostly
pairings - severus snape x reader
synopsis - You return to Hogwarts years later to watch your son’s Quidditch match, only to find yourself a little bit in over your head.
a/n - So, this really didn’t end up the way I expected it. But, I had one (1) person ask for this, so I delivered. Thank you to @palegoopbearlight for being so encouraging. It really inspired me to work hard and produce something good, so I hope this is sufficient! It’s long lol. Also, not a song fic so I hope that isn’t too big of a deal?
***
You never expected to find yourself back at Hogwarts after you graduated. But, there you were, standing in the courtyard and staring up at the large doors that would lead you back into the place of memories. They weighed in your shoulders like pounds of brick and you couldn’t shake them off.
A red haired girl ran past you and you found yourself almost calling out Lily’s name before you stopped yourself. Her name rested on the tip of your tongue like poison. 14 years ago, Lily Evans and James Potter were murdered by Voldemort, leaving their son behind. You heart still ached thinking about it. He was here, the boy that Lily loved so deeply. Part of you wanted to see him, just to see her one last time. Another part hoped you could avoid him completely so you wouldn’t feel the guilt of hating her for so long.
“Mama!” A boy cried out from beside you. Putting off your memories to greet your son, you turned to him with a smile. Perfectly painted lips pulled into a grin, you ran to meet him.
“I’m so glad you came,” he said, burying his face in your robes. You pulled back and ruffled his hair with your hand.
“I wouldn’t miss your first Quidditch match for the world,” you told him, making him grin wider. “Your father would be so proud.”
His smile wavered but he straightened his back and lifted his chin to show you that he would make the both of you proud today.
“I have to go,” he said. Already dressed in his blue and bronze quidditch gear, you could see the excitement in his eyes. “Catch you out there?”
“Of course, love.”
You watched him run away, not thinking you could possibly be any prouder.
“y/n,” an woman’s voice said near you. You turned to find Minerva McGonagall standing there. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You as well, Professor.” You stepped forward to embrace her with a smile.
“It’s been too long. Are you hear for the game?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There is no need for such formalities,” McGonagall said with a simple wave of her hand. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. I’ve only just arrived.”
“Come. I’ll get you some food from the kitchens.”
You tried to protest, but if your seven years at Hogwarts had taught you anything, it was that McGonagall was not one argue with.
“Your son is exceptional at Transfiguration,” McGonagall told you as you walked beside her. “And Flitwick often boasts about him.”
You tried to cover a smile.
“He takes after his father.”
McGonagall fell silent.
“y/n, I wanted to say-“
You turned the corner and found yourself face first in the dark cloaks of a man.
“Pardon!” You said, stepping back before seeing who it was.
“Severus,” McGonagall said, her lips flattening into a thin line. Your heart sky rocketed into your chest at the sight of your old friend. It took him a few moments to recognize you. It was true that you had grown up a lot since graduating and you had seen him very little so you weren’t surprised.
“y/n.” His voice was deeper than you remembered, more monotone. There used to be a certain way he said your name that gave you butterflies. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you felt yourself smile.
“Sev,” you said, the old nickname coming to you so easily.
“What are you doing here?” His eyes narrowed again as he donned the mask that you could tell he worked so hard to build. All the confidence you had gained in the 13 years since you graduated evaporated and you found yourself back in the body of the timid student who wanted nothing more than to make her feel friends happy.
“I’m here to see my son play his first Quidditch match,” you said, feeling that blossom of pride burst again in your chest. Severus looked taken aback by your mention of your son, though you were unsure why. He talked about his “Professor Snape” (which was still a struggle for you to get used to) all the time in his letters.
“It’s against Slytherin today,” he drawled. You nodded your head, the air around you turning stale.
“I hear you’re the head of Slytherin house.”
“Yes.”
“I never saw that one coming when we were kids.”
Severus stiffened at the mention of your childhood, even though you had hoped that it would make him relax. He screwed his mouth shut and there was an awkward moment of silence.
“We’ll see you at the game, Severus,” McGonagall said, trying to move you forward.
“Yes,” was all he said in response.
“It was, uh, good to see you,” you told him and he nodded his head once. With a flourish of his cloak, he walked on.
“You two were close once,” McGonagall said.
“Once,” you replied simply.
“Whatever happened?” It was strange, this almost friendly relationship that had developed between you and your former teacher. Part of you felt like there was something she was hiding up her sleeve. Still, you had been aching to talk about it for years. Long buried emotions came to the forefront of your mind and your mouth started speaking before you could stop yourself.
“It’s...it’s a long story.”
***
You remembered the fight that Sev and Lily had in your fifth year. You remembered hearing that cruel word cross his lips, spat like venom in her direction as she tried to defend him. It played like one of those moving pictures in your mind as you lay in bed that night.
Everything was about to change once again.
There had been some semblance of normalcy after you told Sev you loved him and you reveled in it. But after what he said to Lily, you knew there was no hope for going back.
And you were right.
Lily wouldn’t even look at him. No one else would either. Whispers followed to two of you wherever you went. Rumors started to spread, no doubt started by the self proclaimed “Marauders”. The more time you spent with Sev, the more you were at the center of these rumors.
What little popularity you had before was gone and soon Sev was the only person who would even look in your direction.
But then he left you too.
He started to pull away, slowly and then all at once. Where you would once spend meals with him, he was now sitting with his own new friends, a certain group of Slytherins who were well known for their love of the Dark Arts and bullying others.
It hurt you to the core to watch Sev make new friends that weren’t you. He smiled less, laughed less, and you couldn’t help but wander why he would be happier with them than with you. Then you didn’t even care about his love romantically, you only just missed the warmth of his friendship.
As he drifted away, you found yourself alone. At one point, you tried to wave at Lily in the halls but her friends hurried away. Still, you couldn’t help but think that you saw a small smile creep up her lips.
Then you met him. The boy who would steal your heart and refuse to give it back. His name was Cygnus Halcyon.
It was strange, how you and became friends. He found you in a corner of a hidden corridor one day, trying desperately to keep your crying to a minimum. He talked to you, quietly trying to reassure you that everything would be okay, even if he couldn’t really understand what was wrong through your incoherent sobs.
And from that day on, he was your friend. You were suspicious of him at first, wondering why he even cared to talk to you in the first place. But he was persistent. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he kept coming back. Even when he ditched the others to come sit with you at meals, part of you hoped that Sev would see and get so unbearably jealous like you had been of him and Lily that he would come over, but he never did.
Eventually, you stopped thinking about Severus and started to actually see Cygnus sitting there in front of you.
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but you found yourself in love with him one day. It wasn’t anything big or uncomfortable or dramatic. One day, you just felt it, out of the blue and completely comfortable. You kept it to yourself. You had been in this position before and you refused to let history repeat itself.
He kissed you first, one day just sitting out by the Black Lake.
“Why did you do that?” You asked him, eyes wide with shock. He laughed, but not in a mean way.
“You know I love you, right?”
You didn’t actually know that. You hadn’t even considered it a possibility.
“I...I didn’t think...you can’t-”
And then he kissed you again, just so that you would be sure that he was telling you the truth.
It wasn’t until after graduation that you found out you were pregnant. You knew it was his, of course, there was no one else.
You had your son at 18, too young, your parents said. But neither you or Cygnus cared as you stared down at the face of the baby boy the two of you loved so deeply.
***
“He died not shortly after that,” you said, scowling to yourself ever so slightly as you watched a few of the students chase each other through the halls right past you and McGonagall.
“I heard about Mister Halcyon’s death. I am sorry for your loss,” she said and you turned to look at her with the best smile you could muster. “Ah! It looks like we’ve finally arrived at the kitchens.”
“Wonderful,” you said with a wider smile. “I’m starved.”
***
Your cheers of joy could have been heard from the castle as the golden snitch was caught and Ravenclaw won the game. Allyn, who served as one of the chasers, turned to look at you with the widest grin on his face that you had ever seen. If you could snatch him right out of the air and envelope him in the biggest hug, you would have. Unfortunately, he had to go meet with his team first.
“Your son is good,” McGonagall said from beside you with a smile. “Wish he was in Gryffindor.”
“Oh, please, from what I’ve heard, your team is going rather well with Harry Potter as the Seeker.”
You could have sworn you saw the tips of her cheeks tint pink.
“It is true, he is exceptional. I am afraid, however, with the new Inquisitor, he may very well get himself kicked off of the team before we even get to play our first game.”
Of course, you had heard all about Dolores Umbridge from Allyn, who sent you a letter almost as soon as the opening feast had begun. You sighed at the mention of her name.
“I was actually wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming back to the school to take up a teaching position for a while,” McGonagall said as everyone in the stands started to rise. You were taken aback, but not totally surprised. McGonagall had been spending an awful amount of time talking to you today, especially for a teacher you had barely interacted with during school.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not a teaching position exactly. Madam Pince has been having some troubles in the library keeping everything under control. You spent so much of your time in the library during your time here I was hoping-”
“I’ll do it,” you said quickly, starting to smile. “I’ll take the position.”
McGonagall gave a wiry smile.
“Thank you. How soon can you move in?”
***
“Mama!”
You raced forward as Allyn ran out from the Quidditch tent. Even at 14, he didn’t seem to care that the others were watching him run into the arms of his mama. Some of them snickered as she brought him into a tight hug.
“Did you see all the goals I made?” He asked excitedly. You nodded your head as quickly as you could.
“Of course! You were killer out there, little man.”
“Do you think Dad was watching?” His grin was unsurpassable. You nodded your head as your throat ran dry.
“Yes, of course he was,” you told him, trying to keep your voice from breaking. You leaned down just enough to look Allyn in the eyes. “And you is so proud of you. Almost as proud as I am.”
Allyn hugged you one more time, his squeeze a little more firm than before.
“Hey, Halcyon!” One of the players from the tent called. “You coming?”
“Yeah, hold on!” Allyn turned back to you with the widest grin. “Everyone’s going out to eat at Hogsmeade.”
“Go, have fun. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Allyn tilted his head to the side.
“What do you mean?”
“McGonagall has asked me to take up a position working here,” you told your son with a sly smile. The grin on his face grew even wider, if that was possible. “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”
***
You somehow managed to stay out of Severus’ path long for the first few weeks while working at Hogwarts. You fell into the same pattern and rhythm that you had in your last two years of school, practically hiding from him so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. It seemed like nothing had changed.
You were surprised to find him in the library one day. Your first instinct was to hide behind one of the bookshelves.
“Are you hiding from Professor Snape?” A student next to you asked. You turned quickly to find yourself staring down at Neville Longbottom. “I used to be afraid of him too.”
You wanted to tell the fifteen year old boy that you weren’t afraid of Professor Snape, that you just had no desire to talk to him at that given time. Instead, you swallowed your pride and looked back over at your old friend.
“How did you overcome it, Mister Longbottom?” You asked him. He looked up at you and almost smiled.
“I’ve spent too much of my life being afraid. I’m trying to make my parents proud.”
You smiled and a warmth blossomed in your chest.
“I’m sure they are very proud of you, Mister Longbottom.” There was a glassiness to his eyes as he glanced back down at his Herbology textbook. “And if it means anything at all, I’m very proud of you, too.”
He smiled up at you then.
“It means a great deal. Thank you.”
Walking back to your chambers that night, you knew that you couldn’t avoid Severus any longer. He was your coworker now, your fellow employee. You weren’t sure that Dumbledore would take all too kindly to two members of his staff refusing to communicate.
You sought him out the next morning, bristling with courage. You saw a lot of yourself in Neville. If he could overcome his fears, then so could you.
“y/n,” Severus said when you walked into the dungeon where his potions class was. It was clear by the few remaining students that a class had just ended. You felt a twinge of fear strike your heart, but you pushed past it.
“Hello, Severus,” you said. The last few students walked around you and you stepped forward to meet your old friend. He stiffened as you approached and you took that to mean you had gone far enough.
“What do you want?” He asked. You cleared your throat.
“We work together now,” you said and then shook your head. “I should say, I know we have a past...erm...we were friends once....I mean, we are still friends if you want to be friends still, but I just wanted to say....”
Pausing, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine Cygnus there beside you, whispering words of comfort in your ear. He was a steady ground and some place stable to stand. He never judged you for stumbling over your words or starting a sentence over three times in a row. If he was there beside you, you could do anything.
When you opened your eyes again, Severus’ face was just as unreadable as it had been before. But you were no longer afraid.
“I don’t want there to be any ill will or bad blood between us. We’re working together now and I would like that work relationship to be one of mutual respect. You’ve lived your life and I’ve lived mine. But we’re here now and it’s nothing like when we were kids. I would appreciate a having a professional relationship with you, Professor Snape.” When you finished, you could almost hear Cygnus mutter a congratulations.
You almost smiled to yourself. Severus’ face never even twitched.
“You don’t have to call me Professor Snape,” was all he said in response. “Severus is fine.”
That sense of pride that had burned in your chest twisted and became like a heavy weight. Severus...almost like you were friends again. You were partially grateful that it seemed as if he had forgotten how to smile. You always loved his smile.
All you could do was nod your head before turning to leave swiftly.
You barely made it back to your chambers before you started to cry. Maybe it was the relief from the weight you had been carrying around your shoulders for the last few weeks that made you break down, but you had a feeling that it was standing in front of Severus again and feeling like you barely knew him.
You tried to remind yourself as your tears continued to run from your eyes that Severus had long ago stopped being your friend and it had been his choice, not yours. He was the one who walked away, not you.
And he would have to live with it.
***
Severus got his dream job the next year. You had spent almost your entire first year on the job trying very hard not to punch Dolores Umbridge in the throat that you had almost forgotten that it was always DADA that Snape had wanted to teach. But there was something off that year, a chill in the air.
“You’ve gotta be careful, Allyn,” you told your son one day while the two of you were picnicking by the Black Lake. “You can feel the shifts in the wind, right?”
Allyn nodded his head.
“It feels...darker than last year,” he said, looking up at the sky. You nodded slowly.
“But everything will be alright,” you told him with a smile.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I can be so sure because everything will be fine as long as I have you with me and nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.”
Allyn smiled up at you, a twinkle in his eye. He shifted his gaze out to the water.
“Did you come here with Dad?” he asked. You breathed in deeply through your nose and followed his line of sight.
“Yes. We came out here often.”
“I miss him.”
“I do, too.” Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to the top of Allyn’s head.
The two of you sat blissfully in silence, both picturing Cygnus there with you. It was a happy thought.
Later that day, you were in your chambers getting ready for bed when a hurried knock came to your door.
Scowling, you walked over, part of you fearing that it was Allyn. But when you threw your door wide open, you were more than surprised to see who was on the other side.
“Severus.”
He looked a mess. Dishelved, paler than usual, his eyes wide with fear. He breathed heavily, leaning one hand up against your doorframe as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Severus, what’s-”
“Can I come in?” He asked. His monotonous façade was dropped and you heard the fear in his voice, fear and worry.
“Of course.” You stepped out of the way and let him inside. He crossed the room before you even had the chance to close your door, leaning his back up against your far wall. “Please, tell me what’s happened.”
He pressed his lips together, as if physically keeping a secret inside his mouth. Your heart thrummed in your chest. Only once before had you ever seen him so out of state and that was the night Lily died. He came to your house to deliver the news, but he ended up crying on your bathroom floor instead. That had been the last time you saw him before coming to work at Hogwarts and here you were again in a similar situation.
“I can’t,” he said finally, shaking his head. “No, I can’t.”
“Okay. That’s okay.” You stepped toward him with one raised hand. As slow as your movements were, he still flinched away. “You’re okay, Sev. You’re safe in here.”
He shut his eyes, squeezing them as tight as he could as he leaned his head against the wall. He slowly slid to the ground, knees pressed up against his chest as he rested his face in his arms.
You were frozen where you were. A thousand questions rattled through your brain that you knew would never be answered. You looked at him more carefully and on one of his arms you could see a series of scars that were unmistakable. The Unbreakable Vow.
“Oh, Sev,” you breathed, your heart going suddenly still. What have you done?
At the sound of your voice, he started to cry. It was such a shocking sound that for a few moments, you didn’t even realize that was what was happening. And the few moments after that, you weren’t entirely sure what to do.
But then you reminded yourself that the crying man before you was your friend. And maybe you weren’t great with talking to people and maybe your social skills weren’t the best, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was taking care of the few friends you had.
Pushing past whatever roadblock kept you from comforting him, you stepped forward, quiet on your toes so not to startle him. He flinched again as you slowly lowered yourself to the ground next to him. Moving as slowly as you could so you didn’t startle him away, you slowly put your arms around him. One arm behind his neck and the other wrapped around his front so you could rest your palm against the side of his head.
He tensed against your touch for the first couple of seconds, but the he softened and then he collapsed, turning in toward you. He grabbed your arm for dear life, his fists stuffed full of your long sleeves. His tear stricken face was pressed to your chest, your chin resting on the top of his head as he cried. It broke your heart to hear such a closed down man cry the way he was. Even more so, it killed you to know that your best friend was suffering and there wasn’t a single thing you could do about it.
“Shh,” you whispered gently, holding him as tight as you could. “You are safe, Sev. I’m here. I’m here.”
Dumbledore was killed two months later.
He had never been your favorite person, but seeing his lifeless body lay motionless on the hard stone ground sent chills down your spine. It didn’t help that there had just been Death Eaters storming the castle, Severus as their head.
You weren’t sure what broke your heart more; the fact that he had been working with the Death Eaters all this time and put your son in danger or the fact that he had the chance to kill you but he didn’t.
Allyn was sobbing as you held onto him from behind. Almost the entire school stood around their headmaster’s body, a painful silence hung over all of them. Without Dumbledore, it seemed like the fight against Voldemort would be a vain one.
The world was no longer safe and there was no where to take your son away. Either Voldemort had to die or Allyn could never live in peace again. And for you, only one of those was an option.
***
You gasped, jumping to the side as a spell flew overhead. Taking barely any time to recover from your fall, you fired a return spell at the Death Eater in front of you.
You breathed in deeply through your nose, hoping to stifle the burning fear in your chest. This was a different kind of fear than you were used to. This was deeper, immediate, like gliding over a smooth surface. You were mortified, but there was absolutely no time to waste in being afraid.
Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of the three children who had done the most for this school in the past seven years. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were scurrying across the grounds, heading toward to boat dock. You glanced back at the castle, knowing full well that the battle was raging heavily there and they could use every wand they could get. But you also knew that if those three were going somewhere, it was important.
And you weren’t going to leave them alone.
You supposed you were a bit braver knowing that Allyn was safe and far from here. He had protested wildly when you demanded that he go home, but you didn’t care how loudly he screamed. There was no way you were going to lose him to the same people who killed his father. As long as he was safe from here, you would die fighting Voldemort’s army if that was what it took.
You hurried after the kids, keeping yourself at a safe distance away so you didn’t startle them. When they reached the boat house, you ducked behind a tree. There were voices inside the building. One was definitely the raspy voice of Voldemort. The other was just as easy to place.
“Severus,” you whispered to yourself. Your heart panged painfully. If this past year with him as headmaster had taught you anything, it was that he was no longer the boy you once loved. He had grown up and made all the wrong choices. But you had grown up too.
And then your heard the hiss of a snake and the sickening sound of a body hitting loose glass window panes. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from gasping too loudly. You knew before you even came from out behind the tree what had happened.
Almost instantly, hot tears started to slide down your cheeks. You could hear Voldemort disapparate and as soon as he was gone, you pushed yourself out from behind the tree and ran toward the children. They snapped their heads toward you, wands raised, and you put your hands up.
It took them a few seconds to recognize you, but once they did, they relaxed.
“Professor Snape-” Miss Granger started, her face blanched from fear. You nodded your head.
Mister Potter was the first one to move. He stood from where he was, his legs shaking as he rose. He moved toward the door like he was walking on glass. You supposed, as the adult, you should be the first to go inside, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Not until Harry was all the way inside.
The boathouse smelled like algae. That stench was the only thing you could think about when you first entered. Staring down at Severus as he lay bleeding on the ground, all you could do was wonder why, with all the magic in the world, they couldn’t make the boathouse smell better.
Ron kept a tight arm wrapped around Hermione by the door while you and Harry walked toward Severus on the ground.
“Professor,” Harry said. Severus head lolled to the side and you could see the wide, bleeding gash on his neck. Your lips trembled as you lowered yourself slowly to the ground on the other side. The stone floor was cold, even through your pants. Severus didn’t even look at you.
Silver tears rolled from his eyes, but it was nothing like that night the year before. These were tears of a tired man in pain, ready to let go.
“Take them,” he said to Harry, his voice hoarse. “Take them!”
“Hermione, a vial?” Harry turned back toward his friend.
“Here,” you said, pulling a vial out the pocket of your cloak. You couldn’t remember why you had put it there, but you were glad you did. Harry took it, his hands shaking, and dipped the rim underneath Severus’ tears, collecting them at the bottom.
You were lost. The tears of a dying man meant nothing to you, but Severus seemed to relax once Harry had them in his possession. He took in a shuddering breath and you reached out to grab his hand. Still, he looked at Harry, who held his gaze.
“You have your mother’s eyes,” Severus said. You pushed down a sob. Even with his dying breath, he still thought of her. You hung your head so the children wouldn’t see you crying.
Severus breathed in another shaking breath and squeezed your hand as he let it out. You looked back up at him, but that was it.
He was gone.
***
You were still numb when the battle was over. It was all a blur to you, what happened after Severus died. Harry died but then he wasn’t dead, more fighting. You could barely hear the screams over the buzzing in your ears. Your mind was a blank, banking completely on muscle memory to keep you alive.
But once it was all over, that numbness didn’t fade. You sat with Madam Pince in the Great Hall. It seemed smaller now. You weren’t sure why.
Across from you, Remus Lupin and his new wife lay with their hands clasped together. That made you the last one. You were the only one left. Not even that thought produced a single tear.
“Miss Halcyon?”
You looked up to find Neville Longbottom standing in front of you and you somehow managed to smile. He had cut the head off the snake that sat on Voldemort’s shoulders. it was quite the spectacle.
“Harry’s looking for you,” he said. Your smile turned into a scowl and you pushed yourself onto your feet.
“For me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Won’t say, but he’s in Dumbledore’s Office.”
You nodded your head and took a step forward. Before you walked past the boy, you placed your hand on his shoulder.
“You have made your parents very proud, Mister Longbottom,” you told him. His cheeks turned red, but he nodded anyway.
“And you’ve made your son proud, Miss Halcyon.” You were going to ask him what he meant, but he gave you no time to do so. “Harry. Dumbledore’s Office.”
“Right. Be safe, Neville.”
“The war’s over.”
“Still. Be safe.”
“Will do, Miss H.”
He turned away from you then, sitting in the place you had just been. That left you to go find Harry.
It was a horrible thing, to walk through the castle when it was full of so much destruction. Nearly every corridor was destroyed to some degree. Large slabs of cement littered the ground. Blood splattered here and there. It was impossible to determine if the blood was from someone on your side or someone on Voldemort’s. Either way, you felt your stomach curdle at the sight of it.
Most of the bodies had been cleared at that point, but some still lay around here and there. You tried to ignore them.
You weren’t sure if you should knock on the door to Dumbledore’s office or if you should just go in. You decided that you were an adult and knocking wasn’t required when both men who once worked in that office were now dead.
You pushed your way inside.
Harry was just sitting there on the stairs, the same look of numbness on his face that you imagined was on yours. When he saw you, he looked up and stood.
“Neville said you wanted to see me,” you said, pulling on the edges of your sleeves. The edges were singed and still hot from someone setting your cloak on fire.
“I need to show you something,” he said, taking a few steps toward you. “Or, I guess, Professor Snape does.”
You tilted your head to the side, eyebrows pinched together.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
He beckoned you over to a round bowl floating in the middle of the room.
“What is this?”
“A pensive. It shows you memories.”
You remembered the tears that Harry had collected. They hadn’t been tears at all. They were Severus’ memories.
“He showed me what I needed to see to defeat Voldemort, but I think he left something for you, too.”
You shook your head slowly, tears gathering in your eyes like a storm.
“I don’t want to see his memories.”
“I think you need to.”
You look at the water bowl, rolling your lower lip between your teeth. You looked back at Harry then and finally saw what Severus was talking about. He really did have Lily’s eyes.
“Your mother and I, we were friends, you know,” you said. Harry almost smiled.
“Yeah, I know.”
“I miss her very much,” you told him. “Very much.”
Harry said nothing and you took that to mean that you had better get to surfing through Severus’ memories.
When you placed your face in the bowl, you saw all the same things Harry did. You saw how Severus met Lily, all the time they spent together. You watched how he fell in love with her and how she fell in love with James. You watched yourself on the sidelines of these memories, never speaking, only there in passing. You watched him find her body, watched him as he went pleading with Dumbledore. You watched his horror as he discovered what Dumbledore’s plan for Harry was.
You thought that was it. But then it seemed to start over.
All the memories that had been so full of Lily were now full of you. You watched him laugh beside you at the Black Lake. You watched his little smile at you while you slept on one of your books. You had been studying for OWLs. You remembered that. You watched the two of you dancing horribly in one of the spare classrooms while the rest of the school was partying in the Great Hall one Halloween night. You watched as he held you in the darkness of your room, your parents screaming at each other downstairs. You watched as you stood between him and a spell shot his way by James Potter in third year.
And then you saw him pull away from you at the end of fifth year. He watched on as you and Cygnus grew closer and anger bubbled in your chest. It wasn’t your anger though, it was his.
“Why did you do it?” You wondered as you watched on. “Why did you push me away?”
He seemed to have the answer for you.
Those friends he had, the ones who all turned out to be Death Eaters. You watched them mock you and so many others, joking about how they would torture and hurt you. How, as Voldemort grew more powerful, people like you would be rid of.
But once he had separated ties with you completely, your name was no longer brought up. They mocked and made fun of and threatened others, but not you, never you.
As long as Severus was away from you, you were safe.
You watched the night he came to your house after Lily died. Cygnus was still alive at that point, he was the one who opened the door. Hearing those heart wrenching sobs from Severus broke your heart all over again.
You watched the day you first came back to Hogwarts. You saw yourself through his eyes.
You watched the scene that sent him to your door crying. How the poor Malfoy boy was being forced to kill Dumbledore, but Severus knew he wouldn’t have the strength to do it. Severus knew that he would have to kill one of the only people he had ever trusted.
The last thing you saw was Severus standing in front of the mirror. He was staring at himself, but he was looking at you.
“If something happens to me, y/n, know that I...I am sorry. For everything.”
For everything. Everything that he had just showed you. Everything that he had done. Everything that he was going to do.
“Not all of this was for her,” he said. “Some of it was for you. You were the only one...the only one who stayed after it all. There is so much I wish to tell you, but I can’t. So, I just have one thing to say to you. Thank you.”
There wasn’t even a lingering second before the memory disappeared. Your vision darkened, the murky water returning.
You straightened your back, lifting your face from the bowl. Water trickled down your cheeks, but it wasn’t the water from the bowl. It was your tears.
You ran your sleeve underneath your nose once before turning to face the empty room. Harry had left sometime while you were in the memories. Well enough, you thought. Better than him seeing you in such a mess.
You left the office, leaving behind the last memories of your best friend. It was time to move on. He was gone. He had been gone for a very, very long time.
“It’s time to move on.”
“Mama!”
You snapped your head to the side at the sound of Allyn’s voice.
“Allyn?” Your voice broke.
He was bolting toward you through one of the destroyed corridors, grinning. His face was covered in soot and dust and dirt, but he never looked so happy. His clothes were torn and singed like yours were. It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. He had never left the battle. He had been here the whole time.
But you had no time to be angry with him. Just at the sight of your son, your heart started to soar back to life. The numbness faded and you took one step forward and then another and another until you were running toward him just as quickly as he was running toward you.
The two of you collided, holding onto each other for dear life.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.
“It’s over,” he said when he pulled away. The sixteen year old boy in front of you was all you needed, you realized. Cygnus was gone, Severus was gone, Lily was gone, but you still had your son. As long as he was there, nothing else mattered.
#severus snape#sequel#severus snape imagine#severus snape x reader#harry potter imagine#harry potter fic#snape x reader#snape imagine#snape fic#snape angst#battle of hogwarts#very long for literally no reason#why did I write a sequel to a fic?#because one singular person asked me to#thats why
386 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
