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#inevitable war art
notacluedo · 1 year
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Doodle of Achilles and Ajax playing dice based on this black figure vase painting by Exekias
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tobytost · 7 months
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when the freaky force you don’t understand is trying to translate the whole vastness of the universe to your cool wizard boyfriend but his body is still a fragile thing and the knowledge is like a star turning supernova so he’s shortcircuiting and you don’t know what to do and-
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thebxghag · 1 year
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Azulaang aus c:
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yukipri · 2 years
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Boba Fett: That's some nice armor. Jango Fett: That's some nice armor yourself.
Inspired by this exchange in the Lego Star Wars: the Skywalker Saga game:
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PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!
❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!
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w1lmuttart · 1 year
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Tw for blood, death, violence and war ⬇️
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“Aren’t you tired? Won’t you rest already, for as long as you’re here I won’t know peace” said who?
Hi I had a comic idea for one of the cursed Links I created, specifically the hero of death and his outdrawn battle with Ganondorf
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kazeofthemagun · 1 year
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"If you must weep, Do it right here in my bed as I sleep If you must mourn, my love Mourn with the moon and the stars up above If you must mourn, Don't do it alone"
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viriborne · 7 months
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Get Barbie-doll'd, idiot.
I am so so ready for Glorious Masquerade releasing tomorrow bitchhhh I made a whole base for my self-insert so I can properly design clothes for the event for them
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bluebudgie · 8 months
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not getting over the fact that there are now THREE final fantasy games with guilt-ridden depressed blond princes whose kingdoms get destroyed one way or the other and TWO of them wield a spear
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berrisweetsiren · 9 months
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In the loud of the room, from his mentor yelling at Caithe to the sounds of Bangar prattling off in his cage... Elias stood, silent. Everything sounded- felt...muffled. The realization that... even if they succeeded, the likelihood of the world coming undone... Did any of what he had done matter? Has any of his sacrifices, any of his suffering... mattered?
With that question weighing heavy on his mind, he found himself... lost. So he did the only thing he really could. And so, instead of breaking up the arguing... he turns, and he walks out.
Aka: Icebrood Saga isn't just about the Icebrood enemies.
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Luddites didn’t hate looms. They smashed looms because their bosses wanted to fire skilled workers, ship kidnapped Napoleonic War orphans north from London, and lock them inside factories for a decade of indenture, to be starved, beaten, maimed and killed. Designing industrial machinery that’s “so easy a child can use it,” isn’t necessarily a prelude to child-slavery, but it’s not not a prelude to child-slavery, either. The Luddites weren’t mad about what the machines did — they were mad at who the machines did it for and whom they did it to. The child-kidnapping millionaires of the Industrial Revolution said, “There is no alternative,” and the Luddites roared, “The hell you say there isn’t!” Today’s tech millionaires are no different. Mark Zuckerberg used to insist that there was no way to talk to your friends without being comprehensively spied upon, so every intimate and compromising fact of your life could be gathered, processed, and mobilised against you. He said this was inevitable, as though some bearded prophet staggered down off a mountain, bearing two stone tablets, intoning, “Zuck, thou shalt stop rotating thine logfiles, and lo, thou shalt mine them for actionable market intelligence.”
-There Is Always An Alternative: Remarks presented to York University’s Faculty of Liberal Arts and Professional Studies Graduating Class of 2023
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alteredphoenix · 1 year
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Some character designs for some more of the girls that appear in the Daemon Familiar’s story in the present day era and whom Airi will meet - and contend with - on her travels to find the Demon King-in-Exile. That I...did during the ice storm and three of the sixteen hours spent in the dark without power, but y’all don’t need to know that.
Locations, and mostly outfits, are not 100% finalized, but written here as a reference point for future material.
A quick rundown:
Rochelle (left): The current leader of a community-driven law enforcement agency out in the jungles west of Esserings that was founded by her ancestors shortly after the Great War, in a direct counter-response to the police brutality and corruption among and enacted by the Displacers. Rochelle is dedicated to continuing her family’s line of work and upholding the peace that they feel the Displacers have failed in their duty to follow since their formation in the Rift War. Although she is willing to give the Displacers an opportunity to redeem themselves of their crimes against the common folk, Rochelle is willing to fight dirty and shed blood against them if it means their corruptive influence and arrogance will not harm her people and fellow officers - including a time-displaced cadet in training such as Airi, whose wanderings with Iryna lead her right into the heart - and the cross-hairs - of the group colloquially called ‘the Displacer Hunters’.
Hikari/Akari (middle): A former Displacer in the Esserings Displacer agency. As one of the two rising stars among their generation, Hikari was considered to be a candidate for promotion as an elite captain of the Displacer Honor Guard, an exceptional honor that is normally granted to more older, experienced members - especially to people that inhabit the islands to the far west and south of the mainland continent. However, observation of the corruption and misconduct committed by not only her own unit but other divisions among the Displacers led Hikari to become increasingly disillusioned, frustrated, and ultimately disgusted with the lack of investigation and accountability toward them, until she became a target of harassment and sexual abuse from the upper echelons. One such crime committed by her unit was the theft of a sword from a demon society, said to be forged under a full red moon, with the spirit of a night gaunt and the ability to drink the blood of people with sinful hearts. Unaware of the crime that had been done save for the claims of its creation, Hikari was drawn to and found solace at the sight of the bloodletting blade. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that the Displacers were a lost cause and must be dismantled. On that day, she broke through the containment housing the Blade, slaughtered her way through the ranks she once called ally, and fled the Esserings a wanted fugitive, taking up the pseudonym Akari. There she finds her way into Rochelle’s community and slowly earns her favor - and her respect - by providing evidence of the ongoing misconduct of the Displacer agencies. At the time of Airi’s travels, Hikari is currently Rochelle’s third-in-command, below her lieutenant and confidante, Marshall.
Eri (right): The second of the two Displacers within the Esserings Displacer agency that were considered for promotion to Honorary Guard. Eri and Hikari belonged to and fought in the same unit and were known to be close friends, to the envy of many that vied for Hikari’s attention. However, whereas Hikari had been relaxed and carefree, Eri is quiet, no-nonsense, and a strict follower of the law, focused on upholding the honor and integrity of her organization. However, she herself was not blind to the rumors and allegations of corruption among the Displacers, and although Hikari struggled to bring to light their severity and calls for investigation from the unions and parliament, Eri could only watch as each request was denied or failed with no follow-up. It is then that news of Hikari’s theft of the Bloodletting Blade and mass slaughter of their comrades quickly spreads through the mainland - news that drives Eri into denial and despair. What became of that promotion is unknown, but presently Eri remains within the ranks not only as an elite Displacer but as a licensed bounty hunter, in the wake of rumblings that the Demon King-in-Exile has selected a new Chosen Hero. Eri bides her time and carries out her duty as seen fit, determined to keep tabs on the time-lost stranger named Airi who is on the move with the return of the Majestic Twelve but root out the corruption of the Displacers from within - and, eventually, come to blows with Hikari, who is equally resolute in supplanting the Displacers from their seat of power.
#armi's art#armi's ocs#traditional art#traditional sketch#drawing#sketch#original characters#character design#if you had asked me if i would come up w/ a story that would go on to tackle police brutality#under the guise of the inversion of the demon king candidate trope i would've called you crazy#but the past several years have been crazy so here we are#we have the 2020 riots to thank for changing my mind on making rochelle a villain that would inevitably kill her off#to making her into an anti-hero/anti-villain that cares deeply for bringing justice to the poor & downtrodden#but also absolutely willing & ready to throw down against the rich the elite & the very political bodies that keep the cycle of abuse going#in that manner eri is not much different save that she is in a much more dangerous position in remaining among the displacers#to fight the corruption from within even though there are also displacers that are fighting alongside her to change the system#hikari OTOH believes the displacers are too far gone to change from within & that an outside force must enact change#and carry on the duty placed upon them when they formed in the wake of the rift war#which in daemon familiar's canon will cause a 2v1 to inevitably erupt#and eventually become a 2v2 when airi aligns with eri - albeit for her own reasons a'la continue to find the demon king-in-exile#in reality no one is the antagonist - just ppl w/ different views on how the system should be properly utilized#especially when demons and familiars come into play among humanity#honestly i surprised myself w/ that development LMAO#i can't say much about who rochelle & eri would embody IRL#but i always likened hikari to be a feminine cross between frank serpico & adrian schoolcraft#honestly looking back on it now initially conceiving rochelle as a villain leaves a poor taste in my mouth#she is not a bad person by any means#however i wanted an antagonist that would openly challenge airi's ideals#as both displacer and the demon king's hero#if there was anybody that would fit the bill it would be rochelle
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i literally spend at least 2 hours a week just looking at various pictures of the terracotta army. utterly entranced. look at the details in the hair. you'd never see ANY of this when they're lined up in formation, but they're there.  
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theres about 8000 of these guys down there, no two faces are alike. they're works of art. they're the manifestation of a cruel despot's delusions of grandeur. a talisman against the terrible inevitability of death, both pathetic and strangely pitiful. like watching a child clinging to his blanket, begging you not to turn off the light. they were a bunch of insignificant clay statues from a side chamber that was so small and unremarkable, no one bothered to write down the location. they were modelled after real people. their only purpose was to serve qin shi huang in the afterlife, so he could reign in heaven as he did on earth. now the emperor is just a ghost and his pawns are immortal. my dad and i visited them in the dead of winter, on a weekday, just so we wouldn't have to deal with tourists like us. the place had easily 500 people--not including the ones below ground. we traveled to xian via the old "green skin" diesel train. there are faster means, like highspeed rail but dad insisted i try the authentic way, the same way he would have traveled when he was my age it was also like, a quarter of the price but im sure that had nothing to do with it! back in the 80s carriages would get so packed people had to have their luggage passed in via the windows. as we chugged along, i read my book and my dad made us cup noodles. car is just a shortened version of "carriage", the word is the same but the mechanism is different. it's the same in chinese. i think if i told someone from the warring states period i could travel from the Kingdom of Qi to Qin in just four hours with my metal carriage, i'd be laughed out of town--or accused of being a spy and sentenced to 'death by carriage.' we hopped off the train at 4am and took a different "carriage." the taxi driver joked; "basically every dynasty put their capital in xian, stick a shovel anywhere and you'll turn up some national treasure or another." i wonder what it would have felt like to be a farmer digging a well and then out pops a remarkably realistic human head. statistical analysis show the soldier's faces bear a strong similarity to people living in the region today. the taxi stopped in front of a jewellery-hawking tourist trap and refused budge an inch until we went inside. did you know the terracotta soldiers were originally multi-coloured and painfully gaudy, just like the greek marbles? they were made assembly-line style. the arms and legs were made from the same workshops that made clay plumbing pipes and roof tiles. for quality control, the artisans were required to stamp their names. the workers who built these tombs were executed shortly afterwards, because only dead men can be trusted with secrets. qin shi huang's mausoleum is unlikely to be excavated in my father's lifetime, or mine, not unless i'm willing to take a BIG ONE for the team... instead of the tomb, they built some kind of qin shi huang-themed theme park next to it. not only was it tacky as hell the entrance fee was like $50. we went to the museum and i looked at bronze tools and pottery shards for three hours. look why can't we just crack the thing open i can't be the only one here whos dying from curiosity what if we all just took turns digging
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hollowdeath · 3 months
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professor potter
pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)
summary: 2 years after the war, harry accepted a position as a substitute professor at hogwarts and recognized you from his years as a student. old feelings come to the surface as you both try to remain professional to keep his position safe.
content warning: slight teacher/student dynamic (they used to be classmates, reader is 18+), mostly slow burn & angst. smut mostly doesn't happen til the end (masturbation, penetration)
word count: 12.5k
a/n: wrote this for fun between working on requests! thank you to everyone who sends them in, they're so good and i'm excited to post more soon! just another fluffy, angsty harry fic taking place in school w a hint of smut...kinda similar to my last one but thats ok ! as always not exactly book/movie/canon accurate i apologize !
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it's your first day of your last year at hogwarts, and you're probably the only student here that's not completely thrilled to be back. young witches and wizards running around you in the halls with their robes dragging on the ground, completely in awe with each other at the architecture and moving portraits.
you have to admit, if hogwarts does anything right, it's the ambience. probably the only thing you'll miss after leaving this year is the magic castle itself, particularly the library and your dorm room, which have been your sanctuaries for the past 7 years. there's just no place in the world, even the wizarding world, you've found, that quite compares to hogwarts.
but no, unfortunately, not even the grandiose castle of every young wizard's dream was enough to make you want to stay here even a day longer than you had to. and trust, you were counting down the days.
there was a lot that went into your disdain for the school. after the war in your 5th year, nothing had been the same. sure, the building was restored to its original form and even had some upgrades installed, but the energy within the walls felt so…unsettling.
it had been more than 2 and half years since then, and most students who remember the war well had either graduated or moved on from it. you, however, continued to feel the effects of it every day.
you've had a lot of personal struggles since then mentally, which affects your social life. you've overheard your friends talking about how they don't feel like you're the same person and you inevitably bring them down. it wasn't long after that they stopped talking to you completely. you didn't bother to rekindle the connection; you were ready to leave this place behind anyways, what was the point in faking a friendship for another year?
even without all that, you truly just hated your classes. you actually used to be a scholar student in your day, consistently making the top of the headmaster's list every year until the war. and you still loved headmaster mcgonagall, of course, you don't think that'd ever change, it was mainly the other professors that gave you a hard time. once you showed signs of struggling and burn out, it was like they just completely gave up on you and moved on to the next eager, bright-eyed bushy-tailed 1st year to dote on.
no matter, because again, you were ready to leave for a variety of reasons. even if you had loved your professors and graduated at the top of the class, you still had no friends to celebrate with. and even if you had those so-called "friends" back in your life, you still felt completely alone with them.
and so you laid in bed, the same bed you've had for 7 years now, retracting the ornate trim on the ceiling like you have a million nights before.
you decided to look back at your schedule once more, floating the paper out of its folder in your bag and towards your open hand. you read through it slowly, but nothing had changed. pretty much the worst line up of classes you've had so far. particularly your least anticipated course, defense against the dark arts.
at this point, you'd had more than enough when it came to the dark arts. those death eaters nearly killed you in that war, and actually did manage to kill too many of your classmates and teachers in the process. you saw your second home crumble in front of you, classrooms you grew up in completely leveled and the bridge burned to the ground, so much death and destruction over nothing but power. you resented the dark magic in this world.
sighing, you set the paper down on your bedside table and roll over, attempting to fall asleep. you have plenty of early classes this year and don't look forward to having to wake up with the sun to make it to them on time.
you're wasting time in the bathroom just before your defense against the dark arts, your last class of the day, when your peace is interrupted by a group of girls who come in giggling and talking rapidly amongst each other. from inside your stall you can't help but tune into their gossip. it's the only thing you could hear and, who cares, you could use some good drama.
you tried to dissect their conversation but they were constantly talking over each other, squealing, giggling, and you couldn't understand a thing. after a few moments of craning your neck towards the door to get a better listen, one girl's voice stood out amongst the rest as she asked, "okay, but, who's going to try and flirt with potter first?" her question was followed by many desperate "me!" "me!" "me!"s, a wave of giggling following.
potter. there's no way…
the bells begin ringing, signaling your next class is starting soon, and the girls go rushing out of the bathroom together. you slowly open the stall door and walk to the closest mirror. pale, like you've seen a ghost.
they couldn't possibly be talking about harry potter, right?
just his name had become plenty famous in its own right. the boy who lived; the boy who lived twice. you hadn't heard his name mentioned in a long time, though that's not hard when you've hardly interacted with anyone here in a long time.
you remembered harry from your years before the war that you had shared with him. he was 2 years ahead of you, so it wasn't often you had the chance to speak with him, but he was pretty much as legendary as one student could be at hogwarts. however, whenever you did manage to have a conversation with him, you always thought he was cute. really cute.
okay, so maybe you had a ginormous crush on him your entire time at hogwarts. but so did pretty much every other girl. but you didn't just think he was cute, you admired his gentle nature and timid personality. despite his heroic and outright dangerous adventures, he was always so kind, so humble…
the bells begin ringing again, meaning you're now late to class. "shit." you mutter, grabbing your bag and stumbling through the bathroom door.
you're jogging to your dark arts class with a racing mind, still wondering why those girls would mention potter's name so randomly.
you turn the corner and see the classroom door is already closed. "shit." you mutter again, stomping your foot. now you have to open the heavy doors and draw everyone's attention towards you, quite literally the last thing in the world you want right now.
sighing, you push open one of the doors, making the loudest noises you've ever heard echo throughout the silent classroom. you walk in and, as expected, all eyes are on you.
you grit your teeth and close the door behind you, making your way towards an empty seat in the middle of the room. the silence lingers as your footsteps hit the ground, trying your best not to make eye contact with anyone. you hear a few snickers and whispers coming from behind, and you can already tell it's your old friend group. you roll your eyes, sighing as you drop your weight into the creaky wooden seat.
you hadn't realized, but headmaster mcgonagall was at the front of the room. you noticed once she continued talking, looking up to see her smiling at you. you returned it. you love how she's always liked you despite your grades slipping lately.
you quickly look back down at your hands as people begin to turn away from you, drawing their attention back to mcgonagall as she continues to introduce the class.
"like i was saying, class, we apologize for the change this semester and hope you'll be understanding of us as we navigate this situation carefully. i suspect you'll all be respectful and courteous to our guest as he donates his time to hogwarts and to you, our students."
you look back up, a confused look on your face. what change? what situation? what guest?
it didn't take you long to connect the dots. it's like everything was in slow motion. the girls talking in the bathroom, the guest, the reason all the front rows of seats in class were completely filled with girls…
"please, class, welcome hogwarts' very own, mr. harry james potter."
all at once, your eyes landed on harry, who had been sitting to the side, obscured from your vision by several girls and a pillar. as he walks towards mcgonagall, eager applause erupt from the girls and the boys offer mediocre claps. you're too stunned to react, watching harry intently as he shakes mcgonagall's hand with that same timid smile.
you can hardly believe your eyes. what is going on? why is he here? and how the hell does he look even better now than he did 2 years ago?
"thank you, headmaster mcgonagall," harry says shyly, turning to the students. his eyes immediately fall on you. you try to convince yourself he's looking just in front of you or even past you, but you can feel his stare into your eyes. its the only thing that breaks you out of your shock.
you blink a few times and slump into your seat, feeling your blood run cold at harry's eye contact. he looks down at the desk he's standing at and shuffles a few papers. you sink even lower into your chair. this can't be good.
"uh, well, hello…everyone," harry says awkwardly, earning some flirtatious giggles from the girls just ahead of you. "it's a pleasure to be here, really, despite the circumstances. uh, i'm sure as some of you know…i've been very close with the weasley family for years and feel devastated for bill– uh, professor weasley, that is," harry corrects himself nervously, clearing his throat and glancing at his papers again.
"and when he reached out to me personally, specifically me out of anyone, to teach in his place for this semester, i couldn't say no to him. so, while it's a real honor to be here with you all, please know it's just for this semester and then professor weasley will be back to continue with the lesson plan in the spring," harry explains, looking around the room yet always letting his eyes land on you specifically with a lingering gaze.
harry goes into the schedule for the semester, the skills you'll be learning, and, well, you can't really focus on what else because you're just completely lost in your own head.
harry potter, the harry potter, is your professor for an entire semester.
you were completely dumbfounded. he couldn't hardly be older than 20 years old at this point. he had only left hogwarts just 2 years prior, yet he looked so different. though the glasses and hair stayed relatively the same, he had matured in the face. a slight beard, defined smile lines, and he'd definitely spent some time in the gym…
seeing him in a button up with his old gryffindor tie on drove you mad. is he really getting you worked up in the middle of class by just standing there? you feel like you're 14 again, staring him down in the courtyard from behind a tree.
it doesn't help that you swear he keeps looking at you. specifically you. his gaze is unmistakable at this point, it can't be a coincidence.
you try to stop yourself from having these thoughts and physical reactions. if he's going to be your professor for an entire semester you have to get over this silly crush that was never going to work out anyway. though you're soon turning 19, it makes no difference if he's working with the school, it would never be allowed…
what are you even saying? as if anything would ever happen except in your dreams. all you're going to do is lust for him until christmas and then he'll be gone again, his name nothing but a spoken legend again.
before you can process all he's said, harry announces that everyone's free to leave once you grab a textbook from him. girls are immediately standing up and running to get in line, and the boys are rolling their eyes as they sluggishly follow behind.
you're inevitably the last one, getting a headache as you listen to girls try to ask harry all kinds of questions for a bit of his attention. he mostly just gives simple answers or laughs them off, referring back to the class or the textbook he was handing them in some way to change the subject.
mcgonagall eventually shoos the girls away, which harry thanks her for in a low tone. he hands a book to each of the boys in front of you before it comes down to you. as the boy in front of you is being escorted away by mcgonagall, you briefly catch harry putting the library card of your book inside the front cover before he closes it.
your eyes connect as he hands the book to you, but he doesn't let go. your heart instantly flutters.
"it's nice to see you again, [y/n]," he says softly, letting the weight of the book fall in your hands.
the way he says your name has you frozen in place. his pretty blue eyes have stayed just as mesmerizing. it takes a moment before you're able to wrap the book in your arms, offering him a friendly smile as you softly reply, "you too, harry…"
you're quickly making your way back to your room with the biggest, cheesiest smile plastered on your face. he remembered you. you had barely ever interacted with harry, only a handful of times as far as you could remember, and you were sure he had completely forgotten about you, or at least forgotten your name. you tried to chalk it up to him having access to the attendance records of the class and reading over your name, but you still felt like a giddy school girl skipping along day dreaming about her crush.
when you got back to your dorm, you set the class textbook down on your desk and went to turn around before looking back at it longingly. harry had just put the library card back in the book before handing it off to you. you were most likely crazy, but something inside you was insanely curious to see if he had done something to the card.
you slowly opened the book and took the card out, a blank piece of cardstock except for a fresh label printed at the top. you sigh, almost putting it back before seeing something on the card catch the shimmer of the light.
you give the card a curious look. you turn it in your hands towards the light, trying to see what's on it. before giving up in frustration, a thought comes into your brain.
no…
you dig into your luggage, still unpacked from the day prior, looking for your old ink and quill. once you find them you come back to the card, setting it on your desk as you open the ink pot. you dip your quill in the ink and touch it to the spot you noticed earlier.
as you watched, the ink collected into letters and numbers, forming a message across the dotted lines of the check out columns. you were stunned. harry actually wrote to you in disappearing ink? you thought you were delusional thinking it was a possibility, but here was the proof plain as day:
[y/n],
hagrid's, 8:30pm
harry
you kept rereading the lines over and over before they slowly disappeared, fading away into the paper. you stood back in pure disbelief. what does this mean? obviously it means he wants to meet with you, but for the life of you you just can't figure out why. you two barely knew one another personally, it had been two years since you'd seen or heard of each other again, and now he's secretly inviting you to hagrid's after hours using disappearing ink? as your substitute professor, too…
from 5-8 pm you mainly paced around your room in both lingering disbelief and unbridled excitement. though you had no idea why harry had invited you out in secret, you were anxious just to be in his presence at his request.
you spent forever deciding on your outfit, feeling a bit silly for putting so much effort into this suspicious rendezvous that you were still clueless about.
sneaking out had become somewhat natural to you over the years. you knew all the blind spots of the castle and could hear a prefect coming from a mile away. you were out of your room and walking down to hagrid's completely unnoticed in less than 10 minutes.
on your way down the hill, your mind is racing with possibilities of what this meeting could entail.
arriving at hagrid's hut, you admire the warm glow of the windows and intoxicating smell coming from the smoking chimney – a mix of wood and garlic. hagrid's pumpkins are just beginning to plump up, his yard scattered with overgrown vines.
as you walk up to the door, a wave of anxiety hits you. knocking seems like the most impossible task in the world all of a sudden.
you steady your breathing, let your heart rate slow, and knock before you have the chance to stop yourself.
a few seconds of some rustling can be heard behind the door before it swings open. harry greets you with a warm smile. no longer dressed for class, harry looks quite adorable in a comfy sweater and baggy jeans standing before you in the hut.
"[y/n], you got my message," he says, clearly impressed. you couldn't believe this was real. he really did leave you that note on purpose. just hearing him acknowledge it made your heart race all over again.
"i-i did," you say in shock, searching his expression for an answer to all your questions. why are you here?
harry gestures for you to come in. "well, join me, please," he insists. you politely smile and enter the hut, the smell of food making your mouth water immediately. "smells amazing in here," you comment under your breath.
harry closes the door, looking back at you with a shy smile. "oh, thank you. it's for us, actually." he tells you, nodding his head towards the dining table.
completely set up with a tablecloth, harry has food plated for the two of you on the tiny table, along with tea still steaming on the stove.
"if you don't mind, of course," he checks with you, his voice soft and unsure. you look back at harry, barely able to grasp what's happening before you reply, "of course,"
he suppresses a grin as he gestures to the table once more. "please," he prompts you. you hand him your bag and jacket before taking your seat at the table, admiring the food he prepared for you. you're still lost in thought when harry asks, "tea?" holding the kettle from the stove.
"please, thank you," you reply. he pours you both cups of tea before bringing them to the table with a smile on his face.
as you're eating you notice a record playing in the corner you hadn't heard earlier. it fills the space nicely as you both take your first bites of dinner. "hope you like it, i wasn't sure what to make," he says nervously.
wiping your lips with a napkin, you simply tell him, "it's lovely,"
after another moment or so, harry sits back in his chair. "so…[y/n]..." he sighs. hearing him say your name like that makes your brain fuzzy for just a second before he speaks again. "you're probably, um, wondering why…"
you stifle a laugh at his stalling, getting a hint of confidence as you interrupt him. "wondering why professor potter secretly invited me to have a home cooked dinner with him?"
harry goes still, his eyes searching your expression as a blush grows over his cheeks. he swallows nervously, blinking and shaking his head before attempting to respond. "u-um, yeah, that,"
smirking, enjoying his nerves, you wait for his explanation with your arms crossed and a raised brow. he clears his throat and diverts his eyes from your gaze. he takes a sip of tea before smacking his lips and looking back at you.
"i just, i haven't seen you…" he starts, eyes softening at you. "i-i know we didn't talk much, but…i always cared for you." the last part was hard for harry to get out, a weight lifting off his shoulders in the process.
you were blushing, but more than that you were sweating. this is like something you would dream about as a kid. hell, even just earlier today…
"when i saw you today…in class…" he seemed uncomfortable referencing that. "i just…a lot of memories came back to me," his hands move with him nervously as he speaks.
he sighs and stands up, his body language clearly stressed. you haven't said a word, you simply can't. what could you possibly say?
harry's facing the fireplace, his head in his hands. "look, i just, now that i'm your professor this semester i just think…" he takes a moment to find the words before turning to you. "i had a crush on you. okay? there. god damn it," harry huffs angrily, rolling his head back as he throws his hands down.
"i had a crush on you for like 3 years, it was stupid, and i don't want it to affect my teaching with you. so…i guess i practically set up a fucking date to tell you this, sent hagrid away for the evening for nothing…" he gestures to the table, sighing in defeat.
you're stunned into silence, to say the least. there aren't words to describe what's going on in your head at this moment.
after a moment harry looks back at you, his gaze softening once again. "[y/n]...please understand i wouldn't be telling you any of this unless i thought there was another way i could deal with it. when i saw you today…it was like i was 16 again," a small smile creeps onto his face before he wipes it away.
"and if i didn't tell you now, it's all i would've thought about when i saw you, so…yeah. there." harry says with a huff, avoiding eye contact with you.
before you can even process what's going on, your body reacts for you. you stand up, walking over to harry, getting his attention off the floor. he looks at you almost with fear in his eyes at how close you are. you sigh shakily before speaking.
"harry…u-um, professor potter…" you correct yourself. "please, just, harry…for now at least," harry insisted, his eyes apologetic.
"harry…" you say, suppressing a grin. "you don't have to worry. really…um, it was definitely mutual, to put it lightly…"
harry gives you a surprised look. "really?"
you roll your eyes, taking a step away from him and towards the fire, enjoying the warmth. "harry, you forget who you are sometimes. essentially every girl i knew had a crush on you at one point."
harry's a little flustered at this statement, also taking a step closer to the fire, and towards you. "i-i wouldn't say that, i was definitely not that lucky back in the day," he jokes.
"so those girls that were practically all over you during class today…?" you tease him. "'oh, professor potter, what can i do to get a good grade?'" you mock their voices, giving him puppy dog eyes as you lean towards him before laughing and turning towards the fire. "is that not luck?" you ask with your arms crossed, a smirk hiding your slight jealousy.
harry's silent for a few moments before you look over at him. you see his eyes dark and fixated on you for just a second before he blinks and shakes his head at you, also turning to the fire. "please. they're children. they crush on any slightly older guy they see."
you roll your eyes again at his denial. "some of them were my age, well on their way to being 19. but, whatever you say."
the fire crackles in front of you two, filling the space and creating a warm glow. "besides…none of them are you." harry says. you look over at him, and he's lost staring at the fire. he feels you looking at him and quickly corrects himself. "i mean, nobody was like you, at least to me, back then…" he trails off awkwardly, wincing at his own choice of words.
you adore his nervous antics. he's just the same sweet, timid boy you remember, except he's a bit taller with a 5 o'clock shadow and looks gorgeous in the glow of a fireplace right now.
"i've really mucked this night up, haven't i? i was supposed to tell you about the crush calmly and professionally, with no inappropriate comments, and send you on your way into the night with your first reading in the textbook…" harry sighs, giving you a pathetic look.
"well…" you start. "your first mistake was probably leaving me a secret note, and cooking me a wonderful dinner," you gesture towards the table. harry lets out a pathetic laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, probably."
you don't know why you feel the need to, but you instinctively grab for harry's hand. he gives you a surprised, scared look.
you try to reassure him with a soft smile. "harry, i appreciate you telling me. i hope it can make this semester easier for you."
harry smiles in return, but it's not genuine. he looks like he's holding back from letting you know how he really feels.
regardless, he invited you two to finish up your food, laughing as you both attempted to resume casual conversation without the awkward air.
surprisingly, the two of you naturally begin to talk up a storm, reminiscing on memories and catching up on what's happened since then. harry tells you about his career as an auror and his experiences that lead him to being able to teach defense against the dark arts. when professor weasley's wife had died of sudden illness, the only person he wanted to take his place was harry.
you're hesitant to tell him about your lack of eventful news, practically hiding your face in embarrassment as you admit that your grades have been suffering since the war.
harry put a reassuring hand on your knee, his chair pushed closer to you. you had both long since finished dinner and just talked, enjoying the fire as harry continued to feed it wood every so often.
you looked up at him, melting at how adorable his tired eyes looked through his glasses. "i get it. trust me." he tells you. his voice puts you at ease, and you don't feel quite as embarrassed as before.
"maybe this semester i could help you. if you'd like, of course," harry offers. you smile. "of course."
as you're slowly making your way towards the door to leave, harry watches you search through your bag to find chapstick. as you're putting it on, he continues to watch you. you sneak a glance at him, his face soft and full of admiration.
"you know, if i may say, in the least inappropriate manner possible…" he says with a laugh, causing you to laugh with him. "you have truly only gotten more beautiful after all this time, [y/n]."
looking over at him, you can feel your face form a cheesy grin with blushing cheeks. "well, thank you, that's very kind," you say, putting your chapstick away and taking another step towards the door. "but, really, i should be saying the same about you."
harry waves you away, but you notice the smile planted on his cheeks. "please," he says sarcastically.
he reaches for the door to open it for you, and finds himself rather close to you by accident. you smile up at him, and he nervously steps back.
"u-uh, thank you for coming tonight, really, even if it was a bit weird…" harry says, an embarrassed laugh following. giggling with him, you take a step outside. "it was nice. but, no more invisible ink. just ask me from now on, okay?" you ask, still giggling at him.
harry shakes his head at himself. "will do."
you give him a warm smile before reaching in for a one-arm hug, resting your head on harry's shoulder for just a second before pulling back. "i'll see you tomorrow, professor potter." 
enjoying the shocked and flustered look on his face, you walk away still laughing, making your way up the hill and towards the castle. you heard the door shut behind you quickly after you left, but could feel harry's lingering eyes following you through the window the entire way back.
that night you're laying in bed trying to convince yourself everything that just happened wasn't a dream. if it weren't for your full stomach and muddy shoes sitting by your door you might've convinced yourself it really was all an illusion. rather than dreading the next day of classes, you're actually excited to wake up as it only means you'll see harry sooner.
though you're not sure exactly why. yes you'd had a friendly conversation with him tonight after he admitted his feelings towards you, which still hasn't quite settled in yet…but what happens now? he's still your professor for the next 5 months minimum, and you both know you used to like each other. harry might feel better getting it off his chest, but you were perfectly fine keeping that secret to yourself like you always had. if anything, now it's the only thing you're going to think about every day.
rolling over, you try to fall asleep without thinking about harry too much.
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it had been a few weeks since you met with harry that night in hagrid's hut, and things were going…okay, so far.
well, to be completely honest, you had utterly fallen back into your crush on harry harder than you ever had before.
and you tried to stop yourself this time. really, you did. working with harry in class and then stopping by his office at least 3 times a week for his help in other classes was a lot of time to be spending with a professor, and you rather despised just how fast harry made your heart beat or how easily his eyes could distract you.
so you tried your best to convince yourself it was lingering feelings from your past self, even trying to have a crush on other boys in your year to distract your brain. that failed miserably. none of those boys were attractive or interesting on their own, especially in comparison to professor potter…
but you couldn't fool yourself. you still felt the same butterflies seeing harry now like you did in 5th year. when he's talking to you in the quiet of his office, reading your textbook to you, you feel like the only two people in the world. when he fixes your hands to hold the wand properly, or moves your arm for you in the correct pattern to cast a spell, you can't focus for the rest of class. if his eyes linger on you just a bit too long during one of his lectures, a knowing smile growing on his face, you melt in your seat.
there was no denying it. you liked him more now than you ever had before. maybe it's just the sheer amount of time you've spent with him this past month or so, but your feelings for him had never been this strong in the past. there were days where he was quite literally the only thing you thought about, or at least wanted to think about. though you were doing better in your other classes, it was only because of him. you spent barely any outside time putting effort into these classes because, ultimately, you were completely distracted by harry.
and not just the idea of him, but particularly the growing tension you had noticed between you two recently.
you also tried to convince yourself that this was going on in your head. but there were just too many instances of prolonged eye contact, harry sitting a bit too close to you during your tutoring sessions, and lingering hands on your skin that made you question if harry maybe wasn't entirely over his crush either…
not that you tried to make it easy for him. since the semester started, you've been taking some extra time each morning to perfect your hair/makeup, put on your favorite perfumes on days you knew you'd be close to harry, and would even change your outfit completely when going to study with him outside of your school robes to give you a boost of confidence.
not that you needed the boost. lately you could only feel confident in yourself and nothing less. something about learning your life long crush who seemed so unattainable also had feelings for you, and could possibly still, made you feel untouchable. not to mention that any girl you heard talk about him or swoon over him in class just made you laugh to yourself; they had no idea you were with him alone for hours every week goofing off together as he attempted to help you study.
this confidence made its way into other parts of your day outside of harry as well. you were talking more in class, making a few new friends, even going to parties and outings just for the fun of it. you were actually enjoying your time at hogwarts instead of dreading every day. not all because of harry, but it definitely didn't hurt to consider him a friend.
a friend. a professor. an old classmate. a crush. a temporary fixation. your relationship to harry, in your mind, seemed so complicated and sometimes incredibly frustrating. especially when he seemed to flirt with you so subtly. you couldn't stand the, 'is he, isn't he' thoughts. but, at the same time, it just made you more motivated to push the limits to see how he responded.
of course it started with looking good, enjoying his reaction seeing you each day with a small smile and blushing cheeks. then it was making flirtatious jokes and purposefully giving him innocent looks while he rambled about whatever subject to get him flustered and distracted. and, lately, you've stepped it up by wearing shorter and shorter skirts whenever you stop by his office, and have even caught him looking at your legs a number of times when he thinks you're not paying attention.
all this to say, there was definitely tension.
you had to admit you felt a bit guilty, you knew harry valued his position as a substitute professor and was enjoying his time there, and you would feel awful if anything ever happened to cost him this position. he told you about his crush specifically to alleviate it, and your only goal this semester has been to do the opposite.
but, at the same time, you wouldn't act this way if harry didn't also create tension between you two. he also made overtly flirty jokes and comments, even seeming a tad bit jealous whenever you mentioned another boy during your time together. and you weren't stupid, you could tell when he wore the cologne you complimented one time when you were around or had even changed from his school clothes before you came to see him. there was definitely something unspoken going on between the two of you, but you were both afraid of crossing that line and making things complicated. besides, if anything, you both seemed to enjoy this game you were playing of teasing each other in private and then acting normally during class as student and teacher.
honestly, you found it to be insanely erotic, and were more turned on in class than any other time you were with harry due to the secretive nature of everything. his longing gaze as you walk in, his nervous glances towards specifically you, the shift in his voice from talking to one student to talking to you, it was all so subtle yet in plain view. something about wanting what you can't have only made you want it more.
on this particular day, you had been with harry for over two hours studying for an exam for a class you had been struggling with all semester, even with harry's help. you were frustrated, laying your head in your arms with your textbook in front of you, groaning as harry chuckled at you. 
"c'mon, [y/n], you've got this. i mean, you did just fine on this last practice test, better than you have all semester really," harry comments, pulling the paper out of your folder. you lift your head up, giving him a mean look. "i got a 75. barely." you deadpan.
"yes, and that's better than what you have been getting." harry stated, trying to hide a smirk. you throw a crumpled up paper at him. "stop, that's not funny," you whine, also trying to hide your laugh.
chuckling, harry stands up and walks towards the bookshelf in his office. "look, i'm just trying to be encouraging here," he says over his shoulder as he scans the rows of books.
you try to get back to your work, but you're just so utterly confused and upset that you close the book with a huff and lean back in your seat with an exasperated expression. harry hears this and turns to you, giving you a sympathetic smile.
he walks back over, picking up the book in front of you and setting it in your bag. "here, we can be done for today. it's not good to push yourself past your limit."
you sigh as you push back the urge to tear up. "sometimes i just feel so stupid," you say in a soft, despondent voice, staring off into the window across from harry's desk.
harry's watching you intently, and nearly drops to his knees as he crouches beside your chair and catches your eyes in his. "hey, you're not stupid. quite the opposite, actually." he says with a genuine voice. you look away, still not believing him.
"really, [y/n], and i'm not saying this as your professor. back in school i was constantly listening to hermione go on and on about your intelligence and class rank. she was incredibly impressed and slightly envious that someone 2 years below her was actually providing some competition at this school." harry says with a laugh.
you can't help but blush like crazy at this confession. hermione had been your academic inspiration for all of your time at hogwarts, and even still now despite your declining lack of effort. you'd had quite a few conversations with her in the past about classes and certain books or authors you both enjoyed, but had no idea she thought that highly of you.
mulling over this information in your head, harry continued to grab your attention with a soft smile and loving eyes. "you're not stupid. different things are harder for different people. you'll get there, and i'll help you. okay?" he asks.
you smile back at him. "okay."
slowly packing up to leave, you and harry both take your time to gather your supplies as you chat about your respective plans for the weekend. you casually mention a party you were thinking of going to. harry perks up at this. "a party?" he asks, a twinge of concern laced in his voice.
you give him a look. "yeah, ever heard of it?" you ask sarcastically, laughing to yourself. "i guess it's one of the slytherin boys' birthdays, or something like that," you wave off, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "apparently it's going to be massive,"
harry continues looking at you with a hint of concern. "well, just…be safe, yeah?" harry comments, his voice uneasy. you laugh at him again, looking at him incredulously. "yes, professor potter, i'll be careful," you tease him. you know harry gets a little squirmy when you call him that outside of class, and it never fails to make you feel powerful.
"besides, i heard the theme is dress to impress, so you already know i'm gonna look so good," you joke, flipping your hair dramatically. harry's tenseness breaks, letting out a chuckle. "well, still. just…be safe." is all he manages to say as you walk with him to the door.
saying your goodbyes as you separate down the hall, you can still feel harry's eyes on you until you disappear around the corner.
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the night of the party, you were still unsure if you wanted to go. when a couple girls from class saw you and asked if you were going, they ended up convincing you to come with them. so, you got changed into a flashy dress that fit you well, fixed up your hair and makeup a bit, and met them in the courtyard to walk to the slytherin common room together. they obsessively commented on your outfit, telling you just how good you looked and letting you know you'd have no problem finding a guy to snog tonight.
but, you don't want any guy tonight. if anything, you were walking slowly through the hallways hoping by some chance that harry would cross your path and see just how good you looked. but you knew you weren't that lucky.
upon arriving at the party, drinks are immediately pushed into your and your friends' hands. they were right about the party being massive, as every square foot of the slytherin common room was packed with slightly tipsy students of all ages dancing to the loud music. you had barely finished your first drink before your friends dragged you over to do shots with them, wincing at the burn it left in your throat afterwards.
as the night goes on, you're eventually separated from all the girls you came with. not on purpose, some of them were playing drinking games, some were dancing, and one had even left the party with a guy she was completely into. no hard feelings, everyone was just doing their own thing. you had a few shouting-over-the-music conversations with a couple classmates and drank another cup of the mysterious alcoholic punch being served before deciding to head back to your room. you informed one of your friends, who asked if you wanted her to come with you, but you insisted she stay.
entering the hallway is extremely sobering. the loud music and colorful lights made it easy to ignore the growing drunken sensation, but you were now nervously navigating the halls of hogwarts, slightly intoxicated, attempting to warm yourself up with your hands over your arms. you hadn't even thought to bring a jacket, of course, so you were shivering as you made your way back to your room.
not long after leaving the party, you turn the corner and come face to face with another person. a boy a year under you, though you couldn't remember his name or anything else about him. you're a bit startled, not expecting to see anyone else, but politely apologize and attempt to walk around him.
"hey. you were at the party, right?" he asks, stepping in front of you to prevent you from leaving. you're slightly annoyed by him already, but your intoxicated state makes you bite your tongue. "yeah, just on my way back to my room," you try to end the conversation there, taking another step to get around him.
but he gets in your way again, stepping even closer to you this time. "what's the rush? y'know you had every guy talkin' in there tonight? sure would be nice to take home the prize," he slurs into your face, your nose scrunching at his alcoholic breath. god, this kid's way more wasted than you.
"excuse me?" you scoff, turning your face away from him. he tries to put his hand on your waist but you slap it away as hard as you can, causing him to wince and give you an angry look. "i suggest you leave me the fuck alone," you announce firmly, stancing your feet apart as you get ready to defend yourself further.
just as this guy's about to try again, this time his hands going for your neck, a voice from down the hall echoes loudly, scaring you both. "hey!"
you both turn, and it's harry.
"i would further suggest you leave her alone, mr. williams," he announces as he swiftly walks towards you. the kid laughs him off. "mind your business, huh, potter? this doesn't involve you," he continues to slur, looking like he wants to fight as harry walks up to him, chest to chest.
"it does now. leave and you'll be lucky i don't have you expelled or rather arrested for sexually assaulting a fellow student on campus grounds after hours, while intoxicated might i add," harry spits at him, his eyes full of disgust and rage.
the kid falters a bit, but the alcohol still has him acting cocky, getting in harry's face. "yeah? or what," he asks daringly.
you get between them and put your wand, hidden in your dress, against the kid's throat, making him stiff with wide eyes. "touch him and i will gladly get expelled for hurting you in ways you couldn't even conceive of in your fucking nightmares. do you understand? get the fuck out of here!" you nearly shout at the kid, causing him to turn and run.
you sigh a breath of relief, but quickly begin to feel the anxiety return as you bring your wand down and look at harry.
you can feel your body shaking with anger and fear, and also shivering from how cold you hadn't realized you'd gotten. your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven, and nearly on the verge of tears. harry's eyes were still angry, but he gave you a sympathetic look. he promptly took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shivering frame, enveloping you in a hug in the process. it's hard not to let the tears flow just a bit as you rest your head in his chest. you felt so vulnerable with him in that moment.
"here, let's get you back to your room, yeah?" harry says softly, turning your shoulders and guiding you down the hall. you realize you had sobered up during the ordeal, your eyes focusing and walking straightening out as you follow the corridors. once harry begins guiding you down your hallway, you slow to look up at him with a curious expression.
"how do you know where my room is?"
harry's a bit stunned by your question, searching for an answer before you began to think more. "and, wait," you stop walking and turn to him. "how did you even find me?" you ask breathlessly. harry continues to look guilty as he searches for an answer. smirking, you pull his jacket on you closer.
"professor potter, if i didn't know better, i'd say you were watching me tonight," you tease him in a flirty voice. "surely that's not the case, is it?"
harry looks around you two nervously, clearly starting to feel anxious for his actions. all you could do was smirk. you knew he still liked you.
harry sighs, avoiding your eye contact with a completely red face. "look, i just had a bad feeling about that party, okay?" he says simply. you continue to stare at him with a knowing look. "i couldn't sleep tonight knowing something could've happened to you. something like that fucking kid…" harry gets worked up just thinking about it again before stopping himself and calming down. "i'm sorry. it was wrong of me, and completely inappropriate."
your smirk drops into a soft smile. you can't help but feel your stomach erupt into butterflies hearing him admit he was watching you tonight specifically to make sure you were safe.
you softly put your hand to his cheek, causing him to look at you. he looks apologetic, concerned, and sad, his eyes searching yours as he slightly leans into your touch.
"thank you, harry." you say just above a whisper, your voice genuine and loving.
he sighs again, a bit relieved, a bit sad. his hand goes for yours, holding it for just a moment before he gives it back to you, letting go as he looks towards your door.
"well," he starts off, his voice cracking. "i'll leave you here for the night,"
smiling, you nod and take a step towards your door. you slip his jacket off of you and hand it back to him with a grateful, warm smile. he returns the smile as you're opening your door and waving goodbye at him.
as you're getting ready for bed, you replay the events of tonight over and over. you imagine harry watching you leave your room without you having any clue, meeting up with your friends, leaving the party in a daze, attempting to escape that guy before harry decided he had to step in and protect you.
you felt a bit silly for ever thinking harry's crush on you had stopped. even his subtle clues weren't very subtle thinking back now. maybe back in year 5 you assumed you were crazy for thinking he was looking at you funny, but now, nearing 3 years later, and learning he's liked you the whole time, you couldn't deny his longing gaze.
laying in bed, you decided you had to properly thank harry in some way for tonight, and you knew exactly how.
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the next day, you paid a special visit to diagon alley with a friend to buy something special for harry. when she asked why you would ever possibly buy something like that for yourself, you make up some story about needing it for a class. she doesn't believe you, but goes along with it anyway and continues to have fun with you on your sunday out shopping.
you head towards his office in the afternoon when he usually spends his time grading assignments and working on the following week's lesson plan. you practically had his schedule memorized after coming to study with him so often.
softly knocking on the door, harry lets out a, "come in,"
you enter the office and he smiles at you immediately before it falters, his eyes then landing on the wrapped box in your hands. "surprise," you say with a shy voice.
he lets out a huff, looking back at you with a disbelieving expression. "[y/n]..." he carries off.
"it's just a little something," you say as you walk towards his desk, setting it down carefully in front of him. "a thank you, for last night," you tell him.
his eyes move back and forth from the box to your eyes, not knowing what to say. a few moments pass before he stands. "[y/n], i can't accept this…" he sighs. "what i did last night, i mean…it shouldn't have happened that way," he says curtly.
you tilt your head to catch his gaze, giving him a warm smile. "you did nothing wrong," you reassure him. you gesture to the gift. "please," you insist.
harry's shoulders relax, giving you an embarrassed smile as he slides the box closer to him, admiring the wrapping. "this is gorgeous, did you do this?" he asks, pointing at the sparkly ribbon and personalized name card. you proudly smile and nod your head.
harry admires it for another moment before carefully untying the ribbon and lifting the lid off the box. he gasps at what he sees.
a signed, hardcover, gold leaf detailed first edition defense against the dark arts textbook from his favorite auror. he had talked to you about seeing it at the bookshop but not wanting to spend the money or not having the place to display it or whatever his excuse was. you had taken note of this comment and when you saw it wasn't as expensive as harry had made it seem you knew it was perfect.
"[y/n]...you didn't…" he utters, practically falling back in his chair as he continues to stare at the cover. you giggle fondly at his reaction. "go ahead, open it up," you tell him excitedly. he can hardly move, but he eventually takes the book out of the box and admires it in his hands. he flips the cover open, sees the signature, and smiles. then, he looks at the inside of the cover and his expression drops.
"i had it personalized, if that's okay with you," you ask anxiously. on the inside of the leather bound cover you had a pressing engraved that said 'harry james potter'.
harry's in shock, his fingers running across the pressing softly. "[y/n], this is…" he trails off, continuing to admire the book as he flips through it, landing back on the inside cover, admiring his name once more.
"thank you." harry says, looking at you with so much love in his eyes it makes your heart burst. it was worth every penny seeing him in awe in front of you like this.
"well, thank you," you respond, smiling, holding your arms behind your back.
harry abruptly stands up, stepping around his desk and pulling you in for a desperate hug. you're a bit surprised, your arms wrapping around his waist as he continues to pull you closer and closer.
after a minute or so of the most comforting hug you've experienced outside of last night in that hallway, harry separates from you only slightly to look down at you. your faces are close enough to feel the breath of the other person.
you just want to tell him, 'fuck it, who cares, nobody's here, just kiss me, please, release this tension', but before you can even consider it, harry breaks the silence.
"i still love you," he says so softly, his face wincing as the words fall from his lips. your breath hitches. love?
"fuck," harry mutters, almost stepping away from you until you pull him closer to you, putting your lips close enough to his they're nearly touching. "please. kiss me. just kiss me. please." you practically beg, your hand finding its way to harry's neck.
"[y/n], we can't, i can't–" "just once, please, maybe it'll stop if we just, please…" you interrupt him, hoping he understands what you're implying, your noses rubbing together.
harry takes a few moments before practically whimpering as he connects your lips to his, wrapping you in his arms tightly. you immediately melt into him, letting the kiss consume you as your hands pull harry closer to you.
it only takes a few seconds before harry has you up on his desk, his hands gripping your ass under your skirt. the cold of the wood on your exposed skin makes you gasp, and harry's tongue quickly slips past your lips.
it's everything you imagined, and the fact that this is happening in his office is just making you even more turned on. you had played this scenario in your head so many times, and it hardly felt real once it was actually happening. and on the desk you spent so many hours at, pining over him and fantasizing him taking you like he is right now.
after a few minutes of making out and needy groping through your clothes, harry pulls away breathlessly. opening your eyes you see he's completely flushed, his hair slightly messy as he nervously takes his hands off you.
you awkwardly clear your throat, your hands falling to your sides and resting back on the desk. harry takes a step away, straightening his tie and fixing his hair. you hop off his desk and adjust your skirt.
the silence between you is awkward, but there's just nothing to say. the kiss only left you wanting more, of course, it was pointless to ever hope it would quell your feelings in some way.
"well," harry begins, his voice shaky and quiet. "that didn't work."
you let out a nervous laugh, coughing to cover it up. "yeah…sorry." you mumble.
harry sighs. "no, i'm sorry. i'm technically your superior, i shouldn't be doing this to you. leading you on, flirting with you, for fuck's sake, following you around after hours…"
you shake your head. "look, i'm not kissing professor potter, okay? i like you, harry. i've liked you since i was 13. i don't want to ruin your position here either, and i'll stop if that's what you truly want…" you choke up just a bit before swallowing it back. "but, just, please, stop blaming yourself. i want this, too."
the silence returns, harry clearly thinking over what you said as his eyes stare off beside you. you're anxiously shifting your weight, watching his face get lost in his own thoughts.
"i can't risk this job," harry says finally. "i don't give a shit about the money, pay me everything in the world i would still want you…" he mumbles. you feel your stomach drop at this sentiment. you want him so, so badly. but… 
"but…" harry says.
you smile at him sadly, knowing what's coming. "i can't let down bill, or mcgonagall, or any professors or students here who may actually still like me," he says with a dry laugh. "if we ever got caught, and i just know we would, and what would happen to you…i just–" "i know, harry," you interrupt him, taking a small step towards him.
he smiles at you sadly as well. "and i agree. it's not worth it. well, you're worth it, of course…" you say shyly, diverting your gaze before continuing. "but, it's too risky. you deserve to finish out this semester without that hanging over your head, y'know?"
harry stares at you lovingly, no attempt to hide his adoration for you in this moment. "you're truly incredible. you know that?" harry comments softly.
you respond by blushing and crossing your arms. he hums softly, his smile taking over his cheeks. "thank you, really, for everything, if things were any different, i wish…" harry stumbles. you smile at him again. "i know."
harry returns to his gift, admiring the book in his hands over and over before putting it on the bookshelf next to his desk. he admires it there for a while as well before thanking you again.
as you're getting ready to leave, harry stops you for a moment. "if you don't mind, i'd still love to help you in your other classes. and, just, remain friendly in general still, if possible…"
you melt again at his soft demeanor. harry's such a sweetheart it's heartbreaking. all you want is to kiss him again. it's all you've wanted since he stopped.
"of course."
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it's the end of the semester, and you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand you're dying for a break from classes. you've done the best you have in years this semester, and it's exhausted you. but you're incredibly grateful, for a lot of things. your new friends, your rediscovered love for hogwarts and magic in general, your overall improved attitude and mentality.
with special thanks to a certain substitute professor…
harry. this semester was definitely a rollercoaster for you when it came to harry. though, towards the end, things fell into place a bit more as you both accepted and embraced your odd, yet effective routine. professional student-professor relationship in public; smitten, teasingly love-sick old classmates in the comfort of his office walls. nothing further than lingering hands, loving stares, and the occasional compliment towing the line of what's inappropriate and what isn't.
though the dynamic wasn't ideal, you grew to love it for what it was. a simple, longing love that wasn't exactly unspoken anymore, but sure felt like it each passing day as you both pretended that kiss never happened.
that kiss. you swear you think about it every day. you long for harry to grab you like that again, to slip his tongue past your lips again…sometimes, late at night, it's all you can think about. sometimes just the thought of it makes you need to touch yourself, remembering how desperate he was for you, the feeling of his lips on yours, sitting on his desk in his office, just the image of it from outside of your own perspective could bring you to your orgasm alone in your room.
to say you were anxiously counting down the days until classes were over and harry technically wasn't employed with hogwarts anymore was an understatement. though you hadn't spoken about it with him, you felt it was okay to maybe consider that he would want to continue things further with you once his substitution was over. you kept your guard up as you knew he could still be uncomfortable with it while you were a student in general. but a large portion of you was practically praying that wasn't the case. you physically couldn't resist him much longer.
you were staying on campus for christmas this year, mostly just to savor your last holiday here, but also to continue seeing harry if possible.
it was the last day of classes, and you learned you passed all your exams with flying colors. you showed up to dark arts class early to inform harry excitedly, and he congratulated you with the same level of excitement.
"i knew you could do it! i told you you were smart." he beams. "i am so, so proud of you, [y/n]."
you want to hug him so badly, he's helped you so much this semester, you wouldn't have cared enough to try and get these kinds of grades without his guidance. but it's too public, and the risk is too high, so you just settle on an awkward high five and laugh emptily.
as other students walk in, you both pretend the moment never happened, and you sit in your seat without looking up from the floor.
the class is simple and rather uneventful as it's mostly everyone's last class of the semester. harry actually hands out christmas cookies hagrid made for everyone, and they're mediocre in taste, but the designs are so adorable you can't resist finishing it.
harry gives you all a speech thanking the class for trusting him to teach this semester, and for being respectful of him and professor weasley's lessons. he talks about how he's always thought about being a professor, but actually ended up despising the paperwork, and just missed his old job, which caused the class to chuckle with him.
he dismissed everyone with a happy christmas, specifically towards you, of course.
your heart aches a little as you leave the classroom and head to your room. you're going to miss harry as a professor, even if it caused complications in other aspects, it was inspiring to see him be so intelligent, helpful, and supportive in class. of course you were biased, you always found him to be amazing, but something about watching him teach a young wizard how to do a spell correctly for the first time just made you admire him so deeply.
you decided to rest for the night, knowing harry would be here for at least another day to collect all his items and clean the classroom up for professor weasley. you could talk to him then, what exactly about you weren't sure just yet, but you knew you had to tie up these loose ends before they drove you mad.
the next afternoon, you're practically one of the only students roaming the halls. most everyone leaves the first day of break to go home, and by christmas there's only a handful of students left.
arriving at harry's office door, you admire it one last time. your little sanctuary away from the world.
you knock, but to your dismay, there's no answer.
you knock again, a bit louder, but still, nothing. you decide to peak in, and notice how barren the desk looks from afar.
fuck. there's no way harry's left without speaking to you first.
you quickly walk to the dark arts classroom just down the hall, hoping he's cleaning and organizing it, but find it empty and dark. your heart sinks. he's gone.
you slowly walk back to your room, deciding you'll grab your coat and visit hagrid to see if harry's with him there. you try not to let your disappointment overcome you, there's still a chance you could talk to him…
entering your room, you immediately head for your coat rack by the window. you start to slip it on when you hear your door close, knowing you left it open on purpose to quickly leave.
you turn around, and it's harry.
you gasp, immediately dropping the coat and running to him, jumping into a hug. he laughs at your reaction, but embraces you nonetheless.
"hi, love," he says softly, resting his head on top of yours. you could hardly contain yourself at the pet name. it communicated so much to you with so little effort.
you look up at him, barely able to believe what's happening. harry looks at you knowingly. this unspoken tension. it was going to be the death of you.
as harry begins leaning in, you crash your lips together with his, immediately engulfing him into a heated, wanting, needing kiss.
harry's more than happy to give in to you. it's clear he's thought about this just as much as you have. he finished all his professor duties as soon as he could so he could officially, finally, be yours.
you guide harry to your bed, pushing him onto it as he gives you an impressed look, clearly intrigued by your repressed desperation.
you crawl onto his lap, immediately pulling him back into the kiss. harry's hands are all over you, finally, after fantasizing about it every night in this very same bed for months.
the kiss is desperate, full of moaning and getting sloppier by the minute. harry's squeezing and slapping your ass so hard you whimper in his arms, your hands gripping his button up tightly.
"fuck, [y/n], need you so bad, please," harry moans into your kiss, his hands sliding up your back. you reach to take your shirt off, left in just a bra and tiny skirt, as you start untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
harry's staring at you with hunger in his eyes. "do you even understand how badly i've wanted you? you and these fucking skirts, you must think i'm stupid." he growls, pulling at the hem of your skirt. you blush and stifle a giggle, overwhelmed with how insanely hot you found this to be.
"think that's funny? you think it was funny when i had to stand in class all day and not stare at your perfect legs through your robe? anytime i gave a lecture and just looking at you turned you into a needy slut," harry grabs your hair, turning your attention to him as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt with his other hand. "was that fun for you, hm? did you enjoy teasing me all semester?"
you can't say anything. all you can do is nod. you were so turned on you could hardly think straight.
"i bet it was," he says, examining your desperate expression, his words dripping with desire.
he pulls you in for another kiss, and you help him take off his shirt. his skin was warm, soft, and his shoulders were broad. you moved your lips to his neck, leaving an obvious bite just below his collar to finally mark what was yours.
harry groans, his hands reaching behind your back to swiftly undo your bra. he helps pull it off of you, marveling at your chest. "beautiful," he tells you before attaching his lips to your skin. you hold his head against you, savoring the feeling and sight of harry leaving hickeys along the soft skin of your boobs.
his hand cups one softly as his tongue circles your nipple, watching you through his glasses as you melt into his hands. "harry…" you moan, your hand running through his soft hair.
he continues, starting to suck on your nipple softly with closed eyes, his other hand pulling up your skirt to feel your wetness through your panties.
you immediately whimper and lean into harry's touch, desperate for this for so long. "f-fuck," you stutter breathlessly.
harry smiles, taking his lips off of you to look up at your blushing face. "so wet already," he smirks.
you cover his face with your hands, embarrassed, giggling, continuing to further lean into his hand for pleasure.
he laughs and removes your hands, his eyes full of lust just looking at you in his lap.
"i need you, now," he insists, pushing you further onto his growing erection through his slacks. you let out a breathy moan feeling just how hard he is already. he's just as desperate as you've been for him.
"is that okay?" he asks carefully, watching for your reaction. you laugh a bit. "please. i've waited long enough." you joke.
you help harry take his pants and boxers off, as well as your skirt and panties, leaving you both naked in your room.
he sat back down on the bed, and invited you into his lap again. "just like this is perfect," he says, guiding your hips and admiring your body as you sit with his cock between you two, your eyes barely able to look away from it.
harry pulls you in for a kiss, his hands traveling over your body and stopping at your pussy again, his hand feeling just how wet you are. he moans into your kiss along with you and begins to slip his fingers inside of you, slowly, letting you react to him.
harry pushes further and further into you until you're practically riding his hand, your kiss barely kept together with you bouncing, desperate for more. "please," you insist, your hand gently grasping for his precum soaked cock.
harry smiles, gently pulling his fingers away before letting you guide yourself onto him. slowly at first, you enjoy the feeling of harry's cock stretching you open, whimpering as he watches you intently, his hands supporting your hips. eventually you feel yourself take him completely, your hips flush with his as you start to slowly grind your hips up and down.
harry's a mess, barely able to hold himself together just watching you adjust to his cock. your face twisting in pleasure, your soft whimpers, the tight feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, it was almost too much already.
"fuck, baby," harry's moaning, his hands gripping your hips for sanity. you can't help but giggle, you just love seeing him like this for you after dreaming about it for so long. he's so lost in pleasure already, his jaw slack and eyes dropping.
"i-i'm already, fuck [y/n], you're just so," harry can barely get the words out. hearing him moan your name so filthily motivated you to move your hips quicker, letting your tits bounce in his face as you continued to pick up speed.
"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's panicking, you can tell he's already trying to hold back his orgasm. you find it extremely hot just how quickly you can bring him to this point. so hot it brings you closer to your orgasm with him, putting your hands on his face to look up at you.
"you feel so fucking good, harry," you tell him, your head rolling back in pleasure. he's in awe of you, his eyes memorizing every single inch of you as you continue to ride him.
"please, please, can you, um…" he takes a second between his words to moan. "please, can you call me professor potter…" he asks, clearly embarrassed by the request.
you rub his blushing cheeks between your hands, his question only making you more turned on. you loved knowing he was just as into the teacher/student dynamic as you had been.
"your cock feels so…so fucking good inside of me, professor potter," you moan, resting your forehead against harry's as you slow your pace, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of him.
harry's eyes roll back, sinful moans escaping his lips as his head falls forward, watching you ride him slowly as he begins slightly thrusting up into you. he looks back up at your eyes, exasperated. "i'm gonna cum if you don't stop," he quietly warns you, clearly feeling a bit guilty at his eagerness.
you smile. "please, please cum for me professor. i've been such a good girl for you this semester, haven't i?" you tease him. 
harry groans pathetically. "so, so good," his eyes are closed, his face twisting with each thrust. "then cum for me, please, give it to me," you beg him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel your stomach tensing from your own orgasm.
harry's eyes pop open, his gaze on you softening as his hands find your waist, gripping onto you desperately. "[y/n]..." he moans your name again, and you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. your pace becomes a bit slower as your legs start shaking.
harry moans as he starts to spill inside of you, the warm sensation fueling your orgasm as you both hold onto each other tightly, riding out your highs together.
after a few moments of slow grinding and weak kissing, you carefully stand up from your position on harry's lap. you guide him to your bathroom, where you help each other clean up, with a few more inevitable kisses and longing hugs along the way.
you get dressed into different clothes, and offer harry some as well. he declines, instead putting his clothes back on as he tells you he has to bring all his supplies back to his house.
you help him button his shirt back up and tie his tie before pushing yourself to ask the dreaded question you didn't want to know the answer to.
"so," you say softly. "what now?"
harry looks down at you lovingly, but he isn't quite smiling. "well, i'm no longer employed here," he states. you nod your head slowly, allowing him to continue.
"so, while it's not technically wrong, i'd still like to try and take this off campus, if possible," harry chuckles.
you give him a surprised look. "you want to see me again?" you ask quietly. harry can't help but laugh at you, kissing your forehead as he holds your cheek.
"you have no idea," is all he says before he leans in for another kiss, holding you close, knowing you're finally his.
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disteal · 2 months
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Me: man it’s kind of terrifying to live in the frontier of AI generated media. Like as if it wasn’t hard enough to navigate a hypernormalised late capitalism, already so full of misinformation it’s basically pure noise. Now there’s hundreds of cheap, dubiously sourced generators for everything from art to nudes to eerily accurate replicated voices. It’s not hard to imagine the worst case scenarios for any one of these, as it just makes existing fraud/scalping ludicrously easier, faster and more accessible, but on this scale? It seems inevitable that ai generated images overwhelm us to the point not trusting any images or videos you see of war, or a country, or a classical painting, or a historical event is a future that is rapidly approaching. And I especially don’t like how many of these data libraries are being managed and owned by nazis.
Some booger on tumblr: omfg the misinformation I can’t. Actually if you knew anything about ai you’d know the sprinkl.io and grimble engines are ethically trained and this is pure fearmongering. God it’s sad to see how much female hysteria exists on this website 🙄 hope you don’t wrap everyone else up in your period meltdown
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sylasthegrim · 4 months
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Since Nothing is Forever Yours
Dark!Aegon x Targaryen!reader (daughter of Rhaenyra)
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Tags: arranged marriage, angst, violence, dub con, lovers to enemies
Wordcount: 2,330
Summary: Married to each other in an attempt to unite the family, Aegon and Rhaenyra's oldest daughter find a precarious balance. Yet their marriage shatters when Aegon ascends the throne, despite the promises he had made to her.
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“Fortune makes promises to many, keeps them to none. Live for each day, live for the hours, since nothing is forever yours.” ― Douglas Preston
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"We are one house, and long before that, we were friends," Princess Rhaenyra once said to her queen, Alicent Hightower. It was a long time ago, when the war hadn't started yet, and quarrels were fought between children in the Dragonpit.
"My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me. I propose we betroth him to your daughter, Helaena," she had offered, along with a dragon egg for the neglected second son that would soon lose an eye to her second son, in another strife based on legitimacy and the delicate art of dragon claiming.
"Ally ourselves, once and for all," the dragon princess had pleaded, and while the proposal had been refused, the King had clung to this idea like a lifeline, as though it could keep him from the grave.
"How sweetly the fox speaks when it’s been cornered by hounds," the queen had argued.
"She feels the earth washing away beneath her feet and now she expects us to ignore her transgressions and for me to marry my only daughter to one of her plain-featured sons," the answer to the outrageous proposal had been, but in the end the King's voice had been louder than hers, and she had lost the argument against the order of things.
"The proposal is a good one," King Viserys had concluded, and in those bursts of unexpected anger, him desperately clinging to the authority he knew he didn't naturally possess, he had declared a betrothal. "We’re a family. Let us put aside these childish quarrels. Join hands and be stronger for it."
As so, on the edge of her seventeenth birthday, as her blood had come late for a girl of her health, as though her body had wanted to delay the inevitable, Princess Rhaenyra's eldest daughter had been wed to Prince Aegon, sparing Helaena as the Queen had wished.
She had hair as dark as Aegon's was light, long and kept in a thick curtain that grazed the small of her back and swayed as she moved. Her eyes were of a rich brown and her features similar to that of her mother; she was of a stormy disposition, prone to what her husband called bouts of hysteria and she called waves of righteous anger.
Their marriage was a tumultuous one, and the quarrels were often resolved in the marital bed. Two hot-blooded people with dragon fire in their veins were naturally inclined to resolve their issues carnally, and while they did not always agree on matters of intrafamilial politics, they always found their way back to one another.
Overtime, a tenderness grew as they both realized what triggered the other's anger—fear, the weight of scrutiny, of duty, and of the gaze of their respective families, as well as the feeling of being cornered.
"We must make a promise to one another," she had once told him as they lay together after one of their heated embraces. She knew reason had to lead them, if this union was to be successful.
"I thought our marriage vows were promise enough," Aegon had mused, but part of him knew she was correct, and the tension in their family would not be tamed even by vows made to the Gods.
"If the circumstances were different, they would be," she had said, tucking her face in the hollow of his throat. "But the king is growing sicker by the day."
"I have no wish to rule," Aegon had told her as he had many times in the past, and she had nodded in acknowledgement.
"Promise me you won't stand in the way of my mother's accession to the throne."
"You have my word," he had murmured in the privacy of their chambers, a promise done out of love and fear alike. "No part of me wants the Iron Throne."
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And yet as King Viserys died, the Iron Throne passed to his first born son, and the Prince who had proclaimed high and loud that he was not suited for duty had become King in his turn.
A tear rolled on his porcelain cheek as he walked under the parade of swords, another following as the Conqueror's Crown was placed upon his head and he was made king against his will and his promise to his wife.
As King Aegon II turned, facing the crowd and hearing them calling his name, a wave of heat rose through him and he marveled at what an experience it was.
For the first time in his life, he felt he belonged, he felt he was accepted and acclaimed, and upon seeing the pride on the Hand's stern face, his fears faded into the background.
A small celebration was held, an unexpected banquet where the court cheered their new king—but at Aegon's side, the new queen was tense and almost feverish. Trembling with restrained emotions, her eyes rimmed with red at all the tears she had shed, terror and betrayal were coursing through her veins.
As the men cheered and sang she contemplated the fate of her family, as he knew the Hand would order for them to be put to the sword. She thought of her brothers, those she shared all her blood with and those that had come from Daemon, and her heart shattered at the image of their bodies put to the sword.
She was now queen but she felt powerless; powerless to save those she loved, and to protect the innocent that would surely suffer from the war Otto Hightower had started.
She stifled a gasp that was meant to be a sob, her fingers gripping the fabric of her dress, and Aegon reached to her lap to cover one of her hands with his.
As though the touch snapped the string of her control, she suddenly rose and without a word to excuse her departure, hurried out of the ballroom as quickly as she could without running.
It was only when she made her way out the door and out of sight that her hurried strides broke into a run and she picked up her skirts as she heard a voice call her name behind her.
Tears clouding her eyes, she made her way to her chambers and collapsed on the bed as the door slammed shut behind her. As she broke into desperate, furious sobs, she heard the voice of her Sworn Shield bar the door to whoever had followed her, and her fright abated as silence then fell over the hallway.
As her wails resonated in the hall, Aegon slowly backed away, unwilling to face his wife's heartbreak.
Instead he lost himself in the drink, floating somewhere between guilt and elation—all the criticism, the insults, the self-loathing were swimming in his head and for once they weren't dragging him down but spurring him on. He could taste revenge on his tongue, feel it heavy in the palm of his hand.
For once in his miserable life, he had the opportunity to come out the victor, to be the one in control, to be the one with the power, the influence and the admiration.
She would see, he kept telling himself. She had to see.
She had set eyes on him with the crown and it had sent her crying instead of her standing at his side with pride. She was the wife of a king and yet she longed for her mother, for her bastard brothers, and instead of clinging to him for mercy, she was fleeing his company.
Fury and heartbreak curled in his chest like a wounded dragon, and as the wine clouded his senses more and more, another fire brewed lower in his abdomen.
If she couldn't see then he had to show her. Perhaps if he gave her a son, a prince, a legitimate heir to continue her tainted bloodline, she would finally recognize him as the rightful king, the rightful heir he had been from birth.
He was stumbling back to his rooms as the feast was slowly dying down, a goblet still in hand and a vicious hunger thundering in his stomach when he noticed some commotion at the end of the corridor leading to his chambers.
"What is the meaning of this?" he called, elated by the fact that the guards immediately stepped back, forming a straight line as their kings approached.
But what Aegon saw made his pleasure sour—one last guard hadn't fallen back into position, but instead stood struggling, holding a woman by the arms as she thrashed against him. Sitting in a corner, a battered servant was crying, blood and tears alike flowing on her face.
"The queen and her maid were trying to escape the Red Keep," the guard informed him, and Aegon froze as he realized the woman the man was holding was indeed his wife. She was dressed in commoner's clothes, her hair in disarray and the dull brown gown she was wearing was teared at the shoulder.
"Throw that girl in the cells," Aegon gestured to the crying maid, then titled his head, silently commanding the guard to lead his treacherous queen to his chambers.
As the door closed behind them, Aegon paced, finishing his wine while he searched for the right words. Pressed against the wall of the doorway, holding a sore arm to her chest, the young queen had silent tears running down her cheeks.
"This is how you repay me for all I've done for you, wife?" he spat out, slamming his goblet on a nearby table. As he turned to his wife, he noticed who defeated and frightful she looked. "By betraying me?"
"Betraying you?" she scoffed, her voice raw with sorrow and no small amount of apprehension. Aegon's drunken outbursts could be phenomenal, but she found she had no energy to counter him. "You betrayed me! You broke the promise you made to me!"
"I had no choice!" Aegon defended himself, shaking. "You heard my mother and the Hand. The realm would have fallen to war."
"The King had twenty years to name you heir and he never did," she reminded him desperately, even though she knew this argument held no weight anymore—the damage was already done, the crown already on the wrong head, the throne usurped. "My mother was named heir, the realm bowed to her!"
The high of Aegon’s coronation still hadn’t left his blood, and as he was forced to admit that he didn’t possess his own queen’s allegiance, since she truly believed her mother to be the true sovereign, he gave in to the bitterness of anger.
"She lost that position the day she bore bastards," he accused, and his wife recoiled like he had struck her across the face, her lower lip trembling. Desperation clogged his throat and he yearned to make her understand how great he could become, with her guidance and support, how worthy he could be, if only he was given a chance.
"Those are not your words, Aegon," his sweet wife pleaded, tears pearling at the corners of her eyes, and he was caught between his own hurt and anger, and the primal desire to soothe and protect what was his.
He took a step toward her, foolishly hoping she would return the gesture and that they would meet each other halfway, compromise, as they had always done. Instead, fury overtook her.
It was easier to scream until her throat was raw than to cry and crumble, easier for her body to endure and for her honor to bear.
"You are no king!" she screeched, and this time it was Aegon who felt her words like a sharp slap across the face.
"I am king! I was crowned, they cheered me. You were there!" 
"You are not my king!" his wife continued, furious tears running down her face, and rage took over Aegon’s senses.
In a few long strides, he rushed to her side and backed her against the wall, curling his hand around her throat—she choked, her pupils dilating in shock and her hands coming up to his wrists, pulling at him desperately. "Aegon," she whimpered breathlessly, but he was not hearing her.
The power he had over her was heady—he was King, undisputed at court and acclaimed by the people of his city, crowned before the masses and before the Gods. He felt himself grow hard, some sort of giddy satisfaction making his blood sing.
He stared into her eyes as her earlier anger morphed into fear, genuine and almost primal, then pressed a graceless kiss to her white cheek, tasting the salt of her pain. She collapsed against the wall as he released her, her hand coming to her throat as she coughed, her face turning red as her breath returned to her in choking gasps.
"What has this crown done to you," she gasped, a broken cry that rattled her chest.
He knelt in front of her, tears rising to his own eyes. He pressed desperate kisses to her face, sliding his hands on either side of her neck, his thumbs soothing the burn he had inflicted on her seconds ago. She sobbed into his mouth as he slanted his lips across hers, her body trembling against him, her hands clutching at his arms.
"I need you," he whispered, and in his desperation, convinced himself he heard his words repeated back to him in the whimpers he drank from her lips. 
He drowned himself in the softness of her body and the warmth of her mouth, the scent and touch of her making his head spin as much as the drink—and while the castle was asleep and the guards assured the reluctant queen had been tamed by her husband, Aegon fell into slumber, and she remained wide awake.
In the night as King Aegon slept, sprawled under the sheets that their embrace had warmed and tainted merely a few hours ago, she slipped into the passage she knew was hidden behind a tapestry and vanished into the darkness.
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Dividers by @saradika
Not beta read.
Aegon taglist: @f4ll-for-you @arcielee @annikin-im-panicin @leptitlu @levis-butterfingers @merovingianprincess @ainandra @flrboyd @fan-goddess @aphroditeisamilf @darylandbethfanforever9 @valleyof-goldenlilies @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @apollonshootafar @helaenaluvr @neenieweenie @heavenly1927 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @apollonshootafar @sunphyre @girlwith-thepearlearring @alanadetigy @travelingmypassion @targaryenmoony @burninggracesandbridges @amiraisgoingthruit @maidmerrymint @ipostwhtifeel @vixemi @xitsemm @fullmoonworshipper
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the-far-bright-center · 4 months
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'Ill-Starred Love / The Good in Him' by Zoltan Simon (from Star Wars Celebration: Chicago Art)
“Star Wars has so many strong motifs and archetypes, I always find inspiration in them. The idea of this image came into my mind when I was standing in a beautiful garden at Lake Como last September, at the shooting location of the wedding scene from Attack of the Clones. The picture catches the dark and inevitable future in a beautiful and happy moment: Darth Vader’s mask building up like a cracked glass coffin around Padmé’s face. From the opposite point of view, if we try to see through Vader’s mask, we can see the love and the good in him — the good that never left him.” 
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