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matchpointfaist · 3 months

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it will come back - art donaldson

;; dark and obsessive art donaldson

cw; aggressive art, rough sexual content, drinking, manipulation, stalking??, obsessive behavior, gaslighting, kinda icky behavior??

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

than to smile at me, smile at me like that

you know better, babe, you know better, babe

than to hold me just, hold me just like that

things with art started off with a simple, well intentioned smile across the court. you were warming up, stretching your shoulders when you caught his eyes stuck on you, drinking in the tight tennis dress clinging to your skin. his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, his gaze pin sharp and hair-raisingly intense. you had seen art before, at his matches or just around the court warming up.

you weren’t nearly as well known, or competitive, as art. you weren’t even on the official team, you really only played as a hobby and as an excuse to get out of studying constantly. it seemed, to you, that his entire being revolved around tennis. if you saw him, it was typically on the court, or just leaving it. he always had his tennis bag slumped over his shoulder, his name ever-present like a brand.

you brushed off his stare, trying your best to push it from your mind and continue your stretches. you were only able to relax when you saw him headed for the gate, following after his coach. your breathing calmed, and you turned to one of the other girls, gesturing to the net. “wanna hit with me? you asked her, “i only have half an hour.” she nodded, walking over to her side of the court. art’s stare was still at the forefront of your mind by the end of your 30 minutes.

after you showered off the sweat from your practice, you headed to the library, hoping to cram in some last minute studying before your biology exam. you claimed your table, spreading out your books and walking to the vending machine in search of a red bull.

when you returned, you were surprised, and unnerved, to see art donaldson himself seated at your table, your notebook open in front of him. “hey, uh, that’s my stuff,” you said awkwardly. his head snapped up, those blue eyes landing on you once again, “yeah, i know. sorry, shoulda asked first, i just needed the notes for bio.” his voice was confident and smooth, like he hadn’t at all been invading your privacy. “oh, didn’t know you had that class. well, i’d love to help out but i kinda need to study, so..” you trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint. “oh, no problem,” he smiled, standing up quickly, “see you around.”

you went back to your studying, but couldn’t shake the feeling of confusion finding art with your notes. you knew for a fact he was not in your class, which was only held once a week, when you knew he was more than likely practicing. you tried, and once again failed, to the push the thought from your mind. you told yourself there was no reason for him to lie, he could have just transferred into the class for an extra credit, and went on with your reading.

sure enough, as your bio professor handed out forms for the exam, art was nowhere to be found. you leaned to the boy on your right, your voice barely a whisper, “hey, is art donaldson in this class? i could’ve sworn he told me he was,” “nah, don’t think so. i’ve never seen him, anyway.” you nodded, going back to your own paper, mind a million miles away.

after your exam, you went to the dining hall, hoping to enjoy a quick snack between classes. you saw him before he saw you, this time, and found yourself admiring the fluidity of his movement, the ease of his posture as he talked to one of the other boys you saw him with frequently. you felt crazy for ever thinking anything was off about him reading your notes. he probably took the class privately, considering his insane schedule. a few moments passed, with you continuing to watch him, and finally his eyes met yours, catching you. you smiled shyly, going back to your salad and scolding yourself for staring.

you saw his bright white nikes from your peripheral vision, just at the edge of your table. “hey, i just wanted to say sorry for stealing your notes like that,” he said lightly, “i’m in molecular bio lab, i thought you were too. just got confused,” “oh, it’s okay! no big deal,” you replied, feeling silly for not thinking of that before. “alright, cool. hey, while i’m over here, you play, don’t you?” “what, tennis?” he nodded, taking a bite of his apple.

your breath faltered slightly as you watched the juice drip down his chin, entranced as he licked it off his bottom lip. “uh, yeah, i do,” you stammered, “not super well, i just play for fun mostly. why?” “to be honest, i need a hitter that’s not gonna scream at me about precision,” he laughed, “love my coach, but he’s intense, and sometimes i just need to let off some steam.” “oh, i get that. i could ask around for you!” you smiled. “oh, i was wondering if you’d be interested? it’d be nice to hit with someone who’s not super competitive, and i’ve seen you play. you’re good,” he said, leaning slightly closer, “if you have time, i mean.” “oh, yeah, that would be fun! i’m really only free in the afternoons, my last class is out by six everyday,” you tried not to let your confusion show in your voice or on your face. “cool, works for me,” he said, “i could meet you at the west court tomorrow at six thirty? it’s a little more secluded so you won’t have to worry about people critiquing or anything.” “yeah, sounds good to me, i’ll be there,” you smiled.

on your walk back to your dorm, you ran over the conversation in your mind, examining every sentence for any deeper meaning. what would art donaldson possibly want to do with you? sure, you were fine at tennis, but you weren’t a pro by any means. you told yourself he was right, he needed someone less intense, less competitive. you were ideal for that, considering you weren’t in a position of power, or a threat, to him.

your classes went by quickly the next day, and by six you were ready to be on the court, to see if art was genuine with his intentions. you changed into a tank top and shorts, grabbing your racket bag and jogging to the west court. you stopped yourself from entering when you laid your eyes on him. he was shirtless, back muscles flexing as he stretched his arms above his head. he bent down, touching his toes, and you watched as his toned legs flexed along with his back and arms. you could’ve stood there all night, dumb look on your face and blush across your cheeks, until your footing slipped and you stepped on a stray branch. he stilled, turning to look at you slowly, and it struck you how much he looked like a predator stalking their prey in that moment. “well don’t just stand there,” he called, a smug grin on his face. you blushed darker, embarrassed of being caught, and entered the gate. “sorry, i was just making sure it was you before i came in,” you explained, knowing he could probably see through your lie. “oh, no problem,” he reassured, “you all stretched?” you nodded, though you hadn’t stretched, but too aware of how tight your outfit truly was to stretch in front of him, “did you just want me to hit it back? or did you want like a match?” “we can just hit for now, let you get comfortable,” he said. you nodded again, heading to your side of the net and grabbing a tube of balls. “ready?” he called over the net, racket already in his position. “ready!”

you weren’t ready for the sheer speed of art’s serve, of the way he grunted slightly when the ball left his racket, the way his muscles visibly rippled with the impact of the hit. you just barely managed to hit it back, having to jump slightly to reach the ball, and felt a sense of accomplishment watching it fly back over the net. he looked like an entirely different person than the boy you’d seen in the dining hall the day prior. before, he was all easy, fluid movement, smooth words and lazy grins. now, he was rigid, hard lines, his light eyes set with a determination you had never seen in yourself. you wondered if he forgot who he was playing, forgot that he wasn’t in the french open he had won the year before.

art was always intense like this, it was the only time he could be himself. he could be as aggressive, as loud, as he needed to be. he could let go, not having to pretend to be polite and easygoing any longer. people asked him frequently, if he felt the pressure to perform, and he wanted to tell them he felt more pressure to perform in a basic conversation than he ever had while playing tennis. until he met you, that is. talking to you came as easily to art as swinging a racket, and that was when he knew you were both in trouble.

i know who I am when i’m alone

i’m something else when i see you

you don't understand, you should never know

how easy you are to need

your little practices with art continued for three weeks, with you meeting him at the west court every other day at six thirty pm. you slowly began to look forward to them, and by the fourth week, you were desperate to get out of your last class each day. so desperate, really, that you texted art at four oclock, asking him if he’d want to meet you earlier. you emailed your professor, telling him that you’d come down with a migraine and you’d have to make up any notes next week, and went up to your dorm to wait on art. thirty minutes went by, and you hadn’t heard from him, so you went to change into your tennis skirt and brush your hair up into a ponytail. a knock on your door interrupted you, and you hesitantly opened it, not expecting anyone. art stood in the hallway, racket bag over his shoulder and disheveled hair.

“hey, sorry i came as soon as i saw your text. sorry, i fell asleep after my match,” he said, and you took in his full appearance. his eyes were still hazy, and he had slight creases on his cheek from his pillow. you couldn’t help but think what a beautiful sight it must be to wake up next to him. “oh, you didn’t have to do that, i just got out of my last class and didn’t have anything else to do,” you said, attempting to downplay your desperation. “well we can go down to the court now, here i’ll carry your bag,” he smiled, and you reluctantly passed him your pink racket bag. “let’s go then,”

the walk to the court was oddly quiet, with art seeming to be in a bad mood and you not wanting to speak up and irritate him farther. once on the court, as always, he seemed to transform. his hits were much more aggressive than usual, his typical quiet grunts turning into full on groans as he served. you noticed how tense he looked, almost uncomfortable, and after half an hour you dropped your racket. “what’s going on, art?” you asked him, approaching the net. “nothing,” he said dismissively, serving another ball just to send it flying against the fence. “i can tell something’s up, you can talk to me,” you said, tilting your head up at him. you weren’t used to this side of him, so short and borderline angry. “i said i’m fine, do you want to play fucking tennis or not?” he snapped, and your eyes teared up in shock. “i guess not,” you snapped back, picking up your racket and rushing off the court, “i was just trying to be nice.”

you made it halfway back to your dorm before you heard art calling after you, his tone pleading even from a yard away. “please wait, i’m sorry,” he called, and you heard his steps bounding up to you. you kept walking, desperate to be back in the comfort of your bed, and felt his fingers circle around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. “i don’t want to talk about it, art. just don’t worry about it, i’ll see you around,” you said, your tone clipped. “i am worried about it, i want to apologize. i shouldn’t have snapped, you didn’t do anything wrong. i’m just really stressed out and i shouldn’t have taken that out on you. will i still see you tomorrow?” he rushed out, looking at you intently. “it’s fine, seriously. i get it, i know you’re stretched really thin. we don’t have to do this anymore, i’m sure you get more than enough hitting practice with your coach and in your matches. thank you for the experience, though,” you said, turning away from him once again. “you can’t just blow me off,” he said, his rough tone from earlier creeping back, “i’m trying to apologize, not cancel our practices. if that’s what you want, then fine, but don’t blame it on me.”

you walked away quickly, ashamed at the tears now slowly rolling down your face from the confrontation. you didn’t want to call off your practices, but you also didn’t want to become his verbal punching bag because he was exhausted. he didn’t come after you this time, and you felt more hurt than relieved. your tears kept coming, even after you reached your dorm room. you were so upset, you never even stopped to wonder how art knew which dorm was yours.

three days passed, and you didn’t hear from him at all. it took almost all of your self control not to send him a text, or stop by one of his matches, but you held yourself back. on day four, there were flowers outside of your door. you rolled your eyes, squatting down to read the attached note. ‘west court, six thirty. art.’ you opened your door, placing the bouquet on your desk and throwing yourself onto your bed. your mind raced, debating if you should meet him or not, wondering what he would possibly have to say. you felt completely out of control as you changed into your tennis dress from that very first day you saw him, grabbing your racket and locking up your dorm.

you walked onto the court at six thirty on the dot, with no art in sight. you sighed, sitting on the cold pavement and stretching your legs. ten minutes went by, then twenty, no art. at seven, you rolled your eyes and left the court, pulling out your phone to text him. ‘really nice, art. thanks for the flowers.’ you sent it, turning off your ringer and going back to your dorm, wanting the day to be over. you showered, changing into your pajamas, when you noticed your top drawer was open. you knitted your eyebrows, sorting through the drawer, but not noticing anything missing. you told yourself you just left it open, and put on a movie on your small tv before going to sleep.

the next morning, you woke up to a text from art. ‘i’m so sorry, i meant to come but got caught up in one of my classes. can i make it up to you?’ you ignored it, going about your morning routine and turning your phone off once you got to your literature class. when you exited, someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of the door frame. you gasped, your heart rate spiking, but immediately relaxed when you saw his familiar head of blonde curls. “what the hell, art? scared me to death,” you scolded, putting your hand on your chest. “you didn’t reply to my text, i just wanted to see you,” he said softly, rubbing your wrist where he had grabbed you, “did you like the flowers?” “would’ve liked seeing you more, but yeah, they were pretty. what’s going on with you? you’re acting so weird,” “i told you, i’ve just been stressed out. do you wanna get dinner or something? i feel like we’ve spent all this time together and we barely talk,” your eyes softened, and you nodded, “yeah, i’d like that. don’t stand me up this time,” “i’m not, promise. i can pick you up at seven?” “what should i wear?” “i’ll have something sent up to your dorm. see you at seven,” he said, and left you standing dumbfounded in the crowded hallway.

at six, you climbed the stairs to your room once again, this time finding a department store garment bag hung over your doorknob. you blushed to yourself, taking it off the knob and entering your room. art had sent you a beautiful dark red dress, a silver necklace hung around the neckline to pair with it. your face reddened even more, your mind going to how much money he must have spent on this. as you pulled the dress from the bag, you saw a small note tied to the hanger. ‘you’re gonna look gorgeous. art’ you giggled to yourself, feeling like a high schooler giddy in love, and held the dress up to your body. he had somehow picked your perfect size, and only after looking in the mirror did you recognize the signature stanford color.

you quickly straightened your hair, putting on the new dress and digging into your closet for shoes to pair it with. you sighed loudly when you came up empty handed, pacing around the room barefoot, unsure of what to do. you heard a knock on your door and ran your hair through your hair anxiously as you went to answer it. art stood in the hall once again, this time in a white button down and pressed black dress pants. your breath caught in your throat, all thoughts of your shoes gone as you took in the way he filled out the thin white shirt. “i realized i forgot shoes, and i had some time to kill so i hope these are alright,” he said, holding out a black shoebox. “oh, thank you so much. i was just thinking i didn’t have any wear,” you breathed a sigh of relief, moving back to hold your door open, “you can come in, i’ll just put these on and be ready.” he nodded, his eyes darting all around your room as he entered. you sat on the edge of your bed, leaning over to open the box. your breath faltered once again as you saw the gorgeous black heels. “these are beautiful, art. thank you,” you said, taking them out carefully. you slid one on, fumbling with the clasp. “do you mind helping? sorry, i can’t get the clasp with my nails,” you said, blushing slightly. he shot up from his seat, nodding, “yeah, here,”

he kneeled in front of you, taking your calf into his hands gently and clasping the shoe with ease. he gently took your other foot into his hands, his thumb rubbing circles on your ankle as he slid your foot into the heel. you could feel your pulse all through your body, heart racing at the simple feeling of his gentle hands on your legs. “hey, how’d you know what size to get me?” you asked suddenly, realizing you hadn’t thought of it before. his face reddened just barely, and he said, “oh, i must’ve just noticed when you were stretching or something. i probably just guessed.” you nodded, still questioning it in your mind but not pushing it further. you closed your eyes in pleasure as he ran his hand up your calf, before standing up and holding the same hand out for you. “shall we?”

he took you to a dimly lit, obviously expensive italian restaurant just off campus. “this is beautiful, i’ve never been here,” you said, in awe of the detailing on the walls and the subtle beauty of the design. “i’ve been once, with my parents when they were in town for a match. it’s pretty nice, nice wine selection,” he said, pulling out your chair for you. you thanked him, smoothing your dress down and sitting down. he took his seat across from you, immediately opening the drink menu, his eyes raking over the options. “do you have a preference?” he asked, peering at you over the menu. “no, i’m not much of a drinker so whatever you recommend is great,” you told him. the server came over, and you noticed how he instinctively turned toward art first, like he commanded all the attention in the room. “what wine would you like, mr. donaldson?” the server asked, and the realization struck you that art wasn’t just famous on campus, but more than likely all throughout the country. “we’ll do the 2005 pinot noir, thank you,” art replied, handing him the menu, “and you can just leave the bottle.” “perfect, i’ll be back shortly with that,” you smiled at art across the table, your eyebrows raised, “so, mr. donaldson,” you giggled. “yeah, unfortunately. nineteen years old and getting called mr. just because i won a few games,” he laughed, but you could see the tension underlying his laughter. “well, i think its cool. you’re a big deal,” you said reassuringly.

the waiter returned quickly with your wine, pouring you both glasses and asking art what you’d both like for your main course. “i’ll do the eight ounce wagyu with a caesar salad,” he replied, then nodded to you, “and she’ll have whatever she wants,” “oh, i’ll just have the ricotta ravioli, thank you so much,” the server nodded, heading to put your orders in, and art grinned at you. “you’re so polite, it’s endearing,” he said, his eyes gleaming. you blushed slightly, “i was just raised that way,” you said. “tell me more about how you were raised, i wanna hear all of it,”

there was not a quiet moment the entire evening. you talked all about your life, growing up in the south, while art told you all about his busy upbringing in palo alto. his life was all tennis lessons, private school and flashy cars, something you were not accustomed to. you found yourself wishing you could have known him when you were both young, before the world had shaped him into the hardened version of himself he was now. he seemed calmer through dinner, like you could see the tension melting from his body with every laugh that left your lips, or every brush of your hand against his over the table.

with all your talking, you didn’t notice his one glass of wine to your four, didn’t notice how his jokes started to get much, much funnier, how the touch of his hand started to feel almost euphoric. when he said it was time for him to get you home, you protested, telling him he couldn’t drive yet. “oh, i’m alright,” he assured you, “i had one glass before our meal even came, i promise i’m fine to drive,” you pouted your lips, confused why he had stopped but let you keep downing glass after glass. a slight pang of anxiety formed in your chest at the thought that maybe it had been intentional, but you quickly pushed it away, telling yourself that art wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, or make you uncomfortable.

the drive home was full of laughs and his hand was on your thigh, rubbing small circular motions. you sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “tonight was really fun, art. thank you again, for the dress and the shoes and everything,” you said sweetly, adoration in your eyes as you watched his skilled hands around the steering wheel. “of course, it was my pleasure,” he said, glancing over at you. the streetlights made his blonde hair look like a halo. “we should do it again,” you said. “yeah, absolutely. whenever you want,” he smiled, “i’d love that.”

he walked you up to your dorm, holding onto your arm the whole way to keep you steady. “i think i’m a little drunk,” you finally admitted, halfway up the stairs. “yeah, i can tell,” he said, grinning down at you, “you gonna be alright in here alone?” “oh, yeah, i should be fine. you could stay for a little, if you wanted,” you said, focusing your eyes on his lips as his grin widened. “oh, i don’t know if that’s a good idea tonight,” he said, “but next time, of course,” you pouted slightly, but nodded, agreeing. “well here’s your door,” he said, gesturing to the doorway, “do you want me to unlock it for you?” you nodded again, handing him your keys, watching as his fingers wrapped around the key and twisted the lock. “thank you, art,” you giggled, “thank you for the whole night. no one’s ever taken me to dinner before. not a boy, anyway.” “i find that hard to believe, but i’m glad i could be the first,” he smiled, pushing a stray curl from your face, “you should get some rest. goodnight, love,” he leaned down, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your cheek, and he was gone before the warmth of it had time to fade.

you woke up the next day, head pounding, dress still on. you smiled to yourself as you remembered the events of the night, trailing your fingertips across your cheek where art had kissed you. you got dressed for classes with a skip in your step, unable to wipe the giddy smile off your face all the way through the day. you didn’t have practice with art that evening, so the thought to surprise him popped into your head.

you approached one of his tennis friends, michael, in the dining hall. “hey, sorry if this sounds weird, but do you know art’s dorm number? i had something to give him, and-” he cut you off, smirking. “yeah, it’s 38. second floor, third door on your right. knock yourself out,” he said. you blushed, thanking him quickly and leaving. the embarrassment of his presumption stunted your confidence in your actions, but you proceeded to his dorm anyway, sure that he’d want to see you.

when you approached room 38, you hesitated to knock, questioning yourself once again on if this was right or not. as you stepped closer to the door, you heard quiet moaning, so faint it was barely noticeable. it was definitely a man, all breathy grunts, but you couldn’t tell if it was art for sure. you told yourself he must have a roommate, surely he didn’t have a girl in his room, surely he wouldn’t do that to you. your mind raced, until all thoughts were halted by the clear moan of your name through the door. your heart skipped, and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip, confusion clouding your thoughts. you should just leave, you thought, just go and never speak a word of this to him. but curiosity got the best of you, and suddenly you were knocking on his door, cheeks red and eyebrows furrowed.

you heard some clambering inside, before moments later, a sweat sheened, pink cheeked art opened the door. “jesus, what are you doing here? you scared me,” he said, and you took note of how breathless he was. “oh, i just wanted to say hi, since we didn’t have any practice today,” you said, “can i come in?” “yeah, of course, come on in,” he said, quickly recovering his face and smiling down at you. you entered his room, taking in the tennis posters covering the walls, the dark comforter on the twin size bed. it was clean, cleaner than you’d expect a male dorm room to be, but smelled distinctly of art. “this is cozy,” you complimented. “it’s alright, about as good as one of these shitty dorms can be. i’m just waiting for my sophomore year so i can live off campus,” he said, shrugging, “i like yours much more. here, you can sit anywhere.” you sat on the corner of his bed, not wanting to make yourself too comfortable, “so, were you busy when i came? i’m sorry if it was a bad time,” you could’ve sworn his face reddened, but he quickly recovered, insisting that he hadn’t been busy at all. “did you want to do something? or were you just saying hello?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “just saying hello. i need to get home, i have a seven am lecture. i’ll see you at six thirty tomorrow?” you confirmed. “yeah, of course. i’ll see you then,” he smiled, and you gave the room one last scan before heading for the door. “well, goodnight art,” you smiled, walking out into the hallway. you couldn’t shake the feeling that the light pink panties shoved just under his bedframe had been yours.

two hours later, you were laying in bed, unable to sleep. all you could think about was what you had clearly seen in art’s floor hours prior, and your mind raced with the possibility that they were yours. he could’ve snagged them when he came in to give you your shoes, but you couldn’t understand why he would possibly do that. your imagination ran wild, filthy images of your panties wrapped around his cock, the sound of him groaning out your name as he fucked into fist, his cum all over the pink fabric. your thighs squeezed together, hot tension building between them. you wondered what it would feel like for him to touch you, for those long, skilled fingers to work their way into your core, to make you fall apart for him. you wondered if the sounds he made during tennis were anywhere near as alluring as the sounds he’d make while he fucked your throat. you couldn’t ignore the burning, intense desire anymore, and slipped your hands into your pajama shorts. you tried your hardest to suppress your moans as you circled your fingers around your clit, thinking about art, about his toned arms, his long fingers, his plush pink lips. how good it would feel to have those lips wrapped around your clit instead of your fingers, how beautiful he’d look pumping you full of his cum. you came quickly, art’s name shamelessly tumbling from your lips as you bucked your hips to meet your own hand. you fell asleep thinking of him holding you.

don't let me in with no intention to keep me

jesus christ, don't be kind to me

honey, don't feed me, i will come back

the next day, you went to your classes, trying your best not to let art completely consume your thoughts. hot shame burned the forefront of your mind from what you’d done, the things you’d thought about him. part of you was worried from the intensity, the suddenness of your closeness and attraction to art. part of you wondered if you should end things before they got to be too much. you weren’t used to this, to this all consuming need for another person. you told yourself this wasn’t like you, touching yourself to the thought of a man you’d only been on one date with. and you worried about why, and how, art had your things in his room. you were ashamed at how hot you’d found it, now acutely aware of how dangerous it could be, a man being that interested in you that he would stoop to stealing your panties from your room, to moaning your name behind closed doors. most of all, you were ashamed of how you didn’t care, how you wanted to fall into whatever this was with art, how you’d let him do whatever he wanted with you.

at six thirty, you entered the court you’d become all too familiar with. art was serving to the fence again, beads of sweat already rolling off his back. “how long have you been out here?” you called, smiling when he turned to face you. “not too long, got bored waiting on you to get out of class,” he replied, crossing the court to stand before you, “maybe we could do something else, instead of practicing. i’ve worn myself out,” you found this hard to believe, but didn’t protest. “like what?” “whatever you want, we could go to dinner or see a movie or you could come to my room. whatever sounds best to you,” he said, already putting away his racket. “maybe we could go for a walk? if you’re not too tired, of course. i’ve been cooped up in classrooms all day,” “yeah, of course. a walk sounds great,”

the two of you walked all around campus, talking about your days and how exhausted you both were. “i don’t know how i’ve never asked you this, but are you staying off campus next year too?” he asked you suddenly. “uh, no,” you said honestly, “i can’t really afford to move out of the dorms, to be honest. i’ve got my tuition and housing covered, and i really don’t mind the dorms, they’re comfy,” “you could always stay with me,” he said, and you stopped in your tracks. “i actually wanted to talk to you about that, well something like that,” you said, your anxiety almost tripping up your words, “do you think maybe we’re, well whatever we’re doing, is moving a little fast? i know we were practicing together for a while, but we’ve only just started really talking, and i’m just not used to this kind of thing,” his expression hardened quickly, his eyes darting everywhere but you. “yeah, that’s fine, it’s not really a big deal to me,” he said dismissively, “i was just being nice.” “oh, yeah of course. i feel silly now,” you rambled, laughing awkwardly, “it’s just, you know the date was really lovely and i’d love to do it again, but i didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” “and what idea would that be, specifically?” “just, y’know, didn’t want us to get ahead of ourselves. didn’t want you to get the idea that it was more than it was or anything,” “and what is it exactly?” “oh, i don’t know. we’re friends, and i really like you, and i like getting to know you-” he cut you off, his jaw tight, “friends? that’s what you think we are? friends?”

your brows furrowed, confused, “well yeah, i thought we were friends. are we not friends?” “i didn’t know that’s all this was, no. but that’s fine, if that’s what you want,” he backed away from you slowly, looking like he had the night he yelled at you. “art, wait, i didn’t mean-” “no, i get it completely. i’ll see you in a couple days, yeah? have a good night,” “wait, don’t go,” you protested, but he was already quickly walking away from you. you tried to ignore the irony in your position, how you had left him standing there in your previous fight. you tried to ignore the flashes of pain in his eyes when you said you were friends, the look of betrayal across his face. you focused on coming up with a plan to make it up to him, as he had with you, and this occupied your mind your entire walk home.

art spent the next few days miserable, throwing rackets during matches, snapping at his coaches, straining his muscles to the point that he spent each afternoon with the team’s physical therapist. he couldn’t believe the audacity, the stupidity of you to say you were just friends. you had to have known, had to have felt the intensity in his feelings for you. he told himself you didn’t mean it, but each time he pictured the certainty on your face, his anger made his concern for your feelings on the situation dissolve entirely. it was like you did it on purpose, talking to him so sweetly on your date, showing up at his fucking dorm, just to claim you were friends. friends didn’t touch themselves to the thought of the other, didn’t moan friends names as they came, alone in their dorm room. granted, you didn’t know that he had seen, didn’t know that he had almost came at the high pitched moans you let out. he was sure, now, that he’d never get to hear them for himself.

a week after your fight, you worked up the courage to send art a text. ‘hey, miss you. i’ve been trying to plan some grand gesture, but they all feel wrong after the date you planned. meet me at the court tonight? we can talk, or we can play. whatever you want, just come please,’ you sent it, biting your lip with anxiety awaiting his response.

it can't be unlearned

i’ve known the warmth of your doorways

through the cold, i'll find my way back to you

oh, please, give me mercy no more

that's a kindness you can't afford

i warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born

you'll hear me howling outside your door

he responded to your text an hour later, a simple, ‘i’ll be there,’ but it was good enough for you. you once again put on the tennis dress you’d worn the first time art had noticed you, putting your hair into a neat ponytail and lacing up your nikes. at six thirty, you waited anxiously for his arrival, reapplying your chapstick to busy your hands. he walked in, a careless, lazy expression on his face, but you could see the squareness of his shoulders, the hardness of his jaw. “thank you for coming,” you said, your voice timid. “of course i came,” he said, his voice as tense as his muscles. “i thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me, after what i said. i need to apologize, i don’t think we’re just friends, i just didn’t know what else to say. i don’t know what this is, but i really like you, and it scares me,” you rambled, your face hot. he quickly crossed the distance between you, his gaze intense. “and?” he bit out. “and what? and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, art. i don’t want to just be your friend, i never wanted that. it’s just, you make me feel all these things so strongly and it really is scary-”

“you don’t think it’s scary for me? all my life, i’ve only been good at tennis, at shutting the fuck up and playing the game, and that was fine with me. i didn’t care about having a fucking girlfriend, didn’t need real friends, didn’t want to spend my time hearing someone else tell me their bullshit problems, nothing. i just played the fucking game, minded my business, if i needed to get off i’d fuck some randmon fan, i didn’t care. and then i saw you, and fuck, you’re just so pretty, and you looked so oblivious, so fucking sweet. i just had to have you. do you know how that felt? all my fucking thoughts, everything, just you. i waited, i was so good and i waited but then i had you, right on the tips of my fucking fingers i had you. then you look me in my face and tell me we’re just friends? fuck that, i’m not your fucking friend. i have sat by and been patient and i’ve kept it to myself but i won’t wait anymore, i won’t fucking do it. i need you, goddamn it, i think about it all the fucking time,”

before you could say anything, he tilted your jaw up to face him roughly, crashing his lips into yours. you were taken back by the force, your feet stumbling slightly, but his hand on your low back righted your posture. the kiss was rough, teeth clashing and his tongue searching desperately for yours. you moaned into the kiss as he sank his teeth into your bottom lip, the taste of your blood filling both of your mouths. he pulled away, his bloody lips kissing down your neck, biting roughly as you just gasped above him. his hand held your jaw still, his thumb digging into your pulse point, choking you slightly. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this,” he growled, kissing back up to the shell of your ear. he raked his teeth over the sensitive skin, his breath echoing in your eardrum, “wanted to fucking bruise you and bite you and make you cry for me.” he pulled away from you suddenly, pulling you over to the edge of the court, right against the fence. “art, wait,” you protested weakly, your hands coming to his chest.

“i’m done fucking waiting,” he snarled, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, “not gonna wait anymore. gonna make you all mine, see if you ever try that friends shit again. if you don’t want this, you tell me to stop,” his fingers came between your thighs, pressing into your cunt through your dress, “but i don’t believe you want me to stop, i can feel you through your slutty little dress.” you moaned as his fingers curled against you, grinding your hips into his hand desperately. he turned you around suddenly, your face pressed against the chain link of the fence. the cold air surprised you as he flipped the skirt of your dress over your ass, yanking your panties to the side. “we can’t do this here,” you protested, trying to straighten out your back, “someone will see.” “why do you think i always bring you here, baby? nobody’s gonna see a fucking thing,” he said, his tone smug, “nobody’s gonna hear you moaning under me, hear you cumming on my cock. we’re all alone out here.”

you gasped loudly as he kneeled beneath you, his tongue sliding between the folds of your pussy. your legs immediately began to shake, your knees nearly buckling. his tongue slid inside of you, fucking you with the tip of it as his fingers came around to rub at your clit. “art, fuck, please,” you moaned, grinding against his face roughly. he pulled away, his fingers continuing their motions, “please what? you want me to fuck you against this fence like the fucking whore you are, hm? is that you want?” when you just moaned in response, his free hand smacked your ass roughly, digging his nails into the sensitive skin, “fucking answer me.” “yes, please, want you to fuck me so bad, i’m sorry just please,” you begged, your voice nearly breaking into a sob. he was behind you in an instant, his clothed hips rubbing against you, his breath on your neck. “gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget why you ever told me we’re just friends,” he said, biting down on your neck roughly. you knew you’d have marks the next day, could feel blood bubbling to the surface of your barely broken skin.

his joggers came down, and your breath hissed as he teased your entrance, rubbing his cock between your folds teasingly. “tell me again you want me to fuck you,” he spat, gripping your hip with one hand. “need you to fuck me, art, please,” you pleaded, trying your hardest to rub your hips against him, gain some friction. without warning, he slid into you, both hands on your hips roughly now. “fuck, oh my god,” you all but screamed, hands clinging to the chain link desperately. he fucked into you at a vicious pace, one hand on your hip, one underneath your stomach holding up. “you look so fucking pretty taking my cock,” he groaned, leaning over to you to press hasty kisses down your back, “feel so fucking good,” “feels so good, thank you,” you moaned, near tears from the intense pleasure. “thought about this for so long, you have no idea what i’ve done, what i’ll do to you if you ever try to leave me,” he growled, his thrusts getting even rougher. his balls slapped against your clit, the added stimulation sending you even closer to the edge. “want you to cum on my dick and fucking suck it off,” he moaned, and you could tell from the stutter of his hips he was close too. he changed his position, fucking into you faster, and you nearly screamed at the new sensation. “art, gonna cum, fuck,” you moaned out, your walls constricting around him tightly. his hand came down to your clit, rubbing harshly, desperately, and you let go.

your orgasm hit you roughly, crying out and your knees giving way completely. he fucked you through it, holding back his own orgasm until he was sure you were through. when the spasms around him slowed, he pulled out of you roughly, forcing you to your knees in front of him. “open your fucking mouth,” he moaned, holding your jaw tightly. you opened for him, sticking your tongue out as far as you could manage, and he slid his cock into your mouth, groaning loudly as he did. you could’ve cum again just from the taste of you and him, all mixed together, a filthy reminder of what you’d just done. he fucked into your mouth roughly, hands holding your ponytail tightly. “gonna cum down your throat,” he moaned, his hips stuttering once again, “so fucking close, you’re doing so good,” as soon as you cast your eyes up to make contact with his beautiful blue ones, he lost it. he came straight down your throat, hips bucking wildly and profanities flying from his mouth. you swallowed as it came, and his hips slowed eventually, until he pulled out of your mouth entirely. “did so fucking good,” he panted, pulling you to your feet, “kiss me,” and you did, your mouth still tasting of his cum. he groaned into the kiss, his hand going to your hair once again.

you pulled away to catch your breath, leaning your forehead against his chin. “that was so good, baby. are you okay?” he asked you, his voice softer than you’d heard it in days. you nodded, still catching your breath, and he tilted your chin up to face him. “don’t ever do that again, okay? don’t want you to ever question what we have. you’re all mine, and i’m all yours, and nothing else matters, yeah? isn’t that right?” “mhm, you’re right. i’m sorry again, art, didn’t mean it,” you said, resigned to anything but him in this moment. “it’s alright now, baby. you know better now,”

he had you right where he wanted you.

#artdonaldson #art x reader #challengers #challengers 2024 #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art smut #art x reader smut #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #Spotify

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elcpsstuff · 9 months

Note

Angsty? Okay.

How about some right person, wrong time stuff? Maybe reader feel first, like 8, but he just think of you like that, so you kept it to yourself. Then one year, since you love the idea of love, reader constantly gets into relationships, whether is good or bad, a serial dater. Finally, Conrad develops feelings, but also sees your dating history and is like “damn no chance”. Then more right person, wrong time trope. He gets a gf, reader pins, vice versa. 💕

The Right One // Conrad Fisher

synopsis: in which Conrad Fisher was the right one who never came at the right time.

a/n: i’m sorry guys.. it’s angst.. part 2? I’m planning it cuz this is sad. also sorry for being so inactive lmfao more coming soon! i’ve been working on my writing :) also lana del rey (specifically how to disappear) was the mood for this :0

warnings: in this fic, y/n is very traumatized. not only is she insecure and feels her love will always be unreciprocated, she is dealing with loss and her mind is scrambling. It will get much better as the story and part 2 comes. :)

—

There was many things in my life I knew, one of them being I had only loved one boy. Conrad Fisher. He was everything and nothing I could ever have at the same time.

Every year I would go to cousins beach, and right next door the Conklins and Fishers lived beside me. That was something I knew would never change.

Until everything did.

“Are you even listening to me?” Belly’s voice rang through my ears, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes were focused on the boy in the pool with Steven and Jeremiah.

“hm?” I looked at Belly who was anything but pleased with me, “oh, yeah.. sorry bells, what’s up?”

Belly’s mouth formed a sad smile, “You never told him.” I knew what she was saying but played the dumb and oblivious role. “Don’t look at me like that, yn. you know what I mean.”

I shrugged, “There was nothing to ever tell.”

There was. I just never did.

Falling for Conrad Fisher at eight years old was never the plan. But the heart wants what it wants.

I had been sitting on one of my mom’s new fancy pool chairs outside that she got for the house when a football bounced down on my pavement.

Immediately following, a boy peaked his head above the fence. He had a smirky type of mouth, one that made you want to kiss him. I had read enough romance novels to pin point that.

“Hey..” He sounded awkward and far off, and I could tell he was embarrassed. “My brother has a really bad throw.. could you maybe toss it over?”

I nodded, too afraid to speak. He was so… pretty.

I picked up the ball and attempted to toss it over, but the farthest it went was the bottom of the fence, and then to the ground. Crimson red took over my face immediately.

“Sorry.. i’m not really a football person.”

He laughed, and something about it seemed genuine. “How come i’ve never seen you around before?”

“We just bought the house. First summer here..” I awkwardly swung my foot back and forth, mentally cursing my social anxiety for being so bad.

“Nice.” He nodded, and there was a quick moment of silence before he added, “Well, maybe you could come over? I’m sure Belly and the boys would love you.”

And that was the beginning of something so wonderful and hideous at the same time. If only I knew.

“Anyways, are you bringing Matt to the party tonight?”

Matt.

Matt was another one of my soon to be failed hook ups. I wanted something real, but everything seemed to be a fail. Could that be because they weren’t Conrad? Maybe.

I loved the idea of love. Hell, I’d read so many romance books and listened to countless music albums and hyped it up. Yet, when the one I wanted didn’t want be back, I plummeted.

It’s not that I didn’t like any of my hookups. They were good, in that way. But as a connection? No.

“Yeah, he’ll be there.” My voice could tell Belly a million things.

“yn.”

“Yes?”

“I’m worried about you.” Belly shuffled into the seat next to me and grabbed my hands. “You say you’re fine, but I know you. It’s killing you inside, I know it is.”

It is. I’m dying inside. “I’m okay. Really. Tonight we’re gonna have some fun, okay?” I squeezed her hands to reassure her, and she nodded with hesitation.

“If you say so.”

—

“How about we get out of here?” Matt’s hand snaked around my waist and I grimaced. I needed more alcohol.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” I lied, running through the crowd before anyone could say anything. Particularly, judgy Conrad who hadn’t liked any of my hookups.

Fate wasn’t on my side today.

“Hey!”

I turned around to see Conrad walking over to me. He looked so innocent and pretty; I wanted to smack him. I had loved the boy all these years and him being oblivious had turned to me resorting to hook ups. I was no better than my mother.

“You here with me?” Conrad waved his hand in my face and I faked a smile. My thoughts didn’t matter.

“Sorry, I was just grabbing a drink.”

Conrad sighed, “where’s Matty?”

I rolled my eyes, “His names Matt. And we’re about to get out of here.” I regretted the words right away because it would only push Conrad farther from me.

“y/n/n, why are you with guys like him? They’ll only ever prove to be bad for you.” He touched my arm softly, burned. I wanted to say you, idiot!

“What’s it to you? I saw nicole around here somewhere.”

Conrad rubbed his forehead, clearly running out of patience. “Nicole is my friend.”

“You didn’t look like friends.”

“Screw off, okay? It’s not my fault you’re bitter about how much you’ve changed. Everybody can see it.” His words hurt because they were true. I was different, but that was only because everything around me changed.

My mom couldn’t care less about me and my dad is somewhere in the world traveling with his new twenty year old girlfriend. My brother is gone. Gone.

The color drained from Conrad’s face, “I didn’t mean—”

“Excuse me, I have to get back to my classless hook up.”

With that, I walked away, but I didn’t go back to Matt. The tears burned as I locked myself into the bathroom upstairs, away from everybody.

I knew I had changed, I hated it even more than they did. Flashes of the car that killed my brother strayed in my mind and kept me up at night. My brother. Only two years older than me but my everything. Tate. I missed you. I miss you. Come back—

“yn, please open the door.” Conrad’s voice swept through my anatomy like sweet honey. Except I remembered what I wanted from him would never be possible.

No, instead, I would be forced to tolerate it. Tolerate what could never be mine.

“Go away Conrad.” My cheeks were littered with tears.

“Come on, y/n/n.. I didn’t mean it. You know I love you.”

But not like I want you to.

“I just miss you, what we had. We all used to be so close and after— I know. Okay? I miss him too. I know everything fell apart when he died and I fucking miss him too. But this isn’t the answer, just— let me love you.”

You can’t love me like I want you to.

I heard a sigh, and then footsteps faded. Then, and only then, the tears continued and didn’t stop until I couldn’t anymore.

—

I loved her. Her sweet angelic voice and her beautiful laugh. A laugh I could recognize anywhere. Even in a crowded room of hundreds. It was hard to miss.

Would she ever love me the way I wanted her to? Maybe not. But I still wanted her, in any way I could. Hearing her racked sobs at the party last night hurt. I wanted to hug her and tell her it was okay.

I knew I was harsh. Everybody knew it. I hated the boys she went home with though, who never treated her like she deserved. My sweet, sweet y/n/n. If only she saw herself the way I did.

That morning, I went to the guest room, where I know she had stayed. Nights like that resulted in Belly inviting her over instead of letting her go to her own house, in far of what might happen.

I knocked on the door slowly, “Yn? It’s me. I’m not here to fight— I just want to talk.”

Nothing.

“yn?”

Nothing.

I sighed, loosing patience. I wouldn’t play this game anymore. I opened the door quickly and my mouth dropped to see a guy in her bed. He had shorts on, thank gosh, but his chest was bare.

“What the fuck?”

I could hear disheveled noises coming from both of them and once she realized what was happening, she looked scared. mortified.

“Conrad—”

“I apologize and this is what you do? Really? Get with some fucker?”

“Conrad.” She said, more stern but with hurt. I stepped back, knowing my fucking jealousy had gotten in the way once again. It always did.

“Ah— fuck, my head.” The guy slurred, clearly half drunk. I didn’t want to hear it. Any of it. I was sick of loving someone who could never be mine.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Conrad—” She cried, but she would never be mine.

I left before she could say anything else.

—

I fucked up, again.

Joshua— (I think that’s his name?) left shortly after Conrad’s uproar. I hated that he saw, mainly because I was in bed with somebody who wasn’t even Matt, the guy I was talking to.

I went downstairs with the intention to apologize, and heard something else.

“Don’t say that, you know she’s going through things.” It was Belly’s voice.

“It’s just hard, Belly. We’re all going through it, but that doesn’t mean she can just go around with other guys who want to try it on her.”

My heart broke. Not only did he not like me, but he thought low of me.

“Connie, you know she wouldn’t be doing this if you were there for her. She’s always loved you.”

I winced.

“Bullshit, Belly. She doesn’t care about anybody but herself. I thought— that maybe we could— it doesn’t matter. She already has a terrible reputation so i’m not getting involved.”

Oh.

There was no way he loved me, but that didn’t mean he had to humiliate me.

I took the next train out of cousins that day.

—

IM SORRYYYYYY- there will be a part 2 and possible part 3? lmk what you guys want! :))

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #belly conklin #conrad x reader #team jeremiah #tsitp #love #summer love #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fanfic #tsitp conrad

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miasmal-sweetness · 5 months

Text

Eye Level

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

My brain is currently refusing to cooperate and work on any other writing until I spit out my dumb little one-shot with my favorite trope (size differences) with one of my favorite demons. So here ya go. Hopefully I’ll be back to writing out my planned Cloud fics afterwards.

Eye Level

Summary: Alastor x reader. 4.1k. You're short. You know it, everyone at the hotel knows it. You've assumed that it's some sort of divine punishment for whatever sins you committed while alive, but it's really not so bad, as long as no one hides your step-stool. Today, you've found a new problem with it, though, when you try to get a little closer to your favorite 7-foot-tall demon.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, size difference (reader reaches Alastor’s hips), smut, reader is gender-neutral with reference to having a vagina, reader wears a dress and bloomers, Alastor being sadistic, reader being a masochist, Alastor calls you “good girl” because I’m a sucker for it

The red light of the sky outside is bleeding in to the hotel, burning your eyes and causing an ache in your head. You want to shut it out, but Niffty is busy cleaning all the windows. Rubbing your right temple, you shift on the couch in an attempt to angle yourself away from the worst of the light as you continue to read your book. The words on the page seem harsher than before against the rough, yellowed pages. In addition to Earth’s actual sunlight, you also find yourself missing the convenience of heading out to the pharmacy to pickup some painkillers that weren’t illicit substances.

“Something the matter, dearest?”

You lift your head at the sound of Alastor’s voice. He’s blocking the light as he stands in front of you, his long shadow easing the pain in your head. You have to crane your neck to look at his smiling face, but you’re used to it at this point.

“Oh, I just have a headache,” you say with a light shrug. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

“Wonderful as always, darling,” he assures. “Why don’t you join me for a cup of coffee upstairs? I’ve found it works like a charm for a headache.”

You perk up at the thought. It’s a little late in the day to have coffee, but you’re not one to turn down a drink and a snack with Alastor. You take care of most of the cooking for the hotel, since Niffty took over your old job of cleaning, so having something made by another person is a nice treat. Plus, he’s good company—he’s the most polite person you think you’ll ever meet in Hell.

“I’d love to,” you say, sliding off of the couch. You smooth out your dress and tuck your book under your arm; you can finish it another time. Your certain that if you were taller, Alastor would do the gentlemanly thing you see him do with others and link arms with you, but that’s not really possible at your height. Instead, he leads the way by engulfing your little hand with his.

You’re barely focused on the small-talk he makes with you as he guides you up the stairs. His gloves are smooth, and you can feel his claws tickling the skin on your wrist and hand. You know that, as much as Alastor enjoys invading other people’s personal space, he does not enjoy allowing others in to his personal space. Despite this, he has been rather open to your presence; picking you up, holding your hand, ruffling your hair. It feels nice. It makes you feel special—like he’s bestowing an honor on you just by patting you on the head, one that the others don’t get.

You nearly trip over a step, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Alastor stops you from hitting the ground by extending his arm, letting you put your weight on him for balance.

“Careful, dearest,” he chides, “I’m not always here to catch you.”

Your headache is back, caused by the heat rushing to your face and chest. “Right, thank you,” you mumble, ducking your head. “I-I was just thinking.”

“About what?” You should have seen that coming.

Your eyes dart around as he guides you towards his room. “Uh, j-just—the book you lent me,” you spit out. “I’m almost finished with it. It’s really good.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he says, holding open the door for you. “It’s not often I meet another down here that enjoys a good book.”

You smile and step in to his room—immediately, you’re hit by the scent of paper, candles, wood that is well-cared for, and decaying leaves and other plant matter. You know his room changes. You know that what you see is different from what the others see when they enter. You’ve heard them mention the swamp that makes up half of the room, often complete with a decaying deer. Every time he has invited you in, however, it has been nothing other than a lovely room that looks like it belongs in some fancy townhome from the 1920s.

Just another thing that makes you feel special.

“If you have a favorite book, I’d love to read it,” you suggest as you slip out of your shoes.

Alastor’s grin grows even wider than usual. “Really? Well, I’ll have to think about it; I have quite a few in my collection that I favor.” It’s a lie, an excuse to put this off for later. There’s something he doesn’t want you to see. You can sense it, deep down in your gut, but you ignore it. He’s always shielded your eyes from the bad—from the gore of Hell, from those that would try to take advantage of you, even from some of the arguments among the others. This is no different.

Moving on from the topic, Alastor snaps his fingers, and a tray of coffee and small snacks appear on his dining table. He’s added cream and sugar for you; he doesn’t understand your sweet-tooth, but he does indulge it.

“Oh, and a treat for you, little one.”

He snaps his fingers again, and when you next blink your eyes, you find that a dish has appeared on the tray. It’s a slice of cake—the same you remember ogling outside the bakery window the last time you went outside the hotel. The hotel doesn’t offer payment for your services, so your measly pocket change was not enough to get it. He must have noticed your longing for that delicious, soft piece of cake. You don’t even remember the last time you had the luxury of cake. The last time was probably when you were alive, and you have the feeling it was one of those store-bought cakes that are dry and covered in thick, sickeningly sweet icing.

This cake is fancy. This cake is fluffy and standing tall, covered in berries and whipped cream with just the right amount of sweetness. And most of all—it means that Alastor paid that much attention to you on a silly outing that he didn’t need to be a part of.

“Thank you, Alastor!”

You throw out your arms and wrap them around him. It’s a chance as good as any. The closest you have come to hugging him is when he’s picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Surely a gift like this means he would be okay with it—although, the second you touch him, you realize you’re probably reading a little too much in to a slice of cake, and maybe it’s because you forgot to eat lunch.

Your arms wrapped around his legs, your feet in between his. And now you remember just how short you are compared to him. Normally, you’re either staring at the ground or you’re turning your head all the way up to look at his face, which makes it easy to forget that your head reaches an… unfortunate location that you have just unknowingly pushed yourself against.

Your face is burning again. Your head is throbbing. If you weren’t already condemned to Hell, this would probably have gotten you in. Your cheek is right against his groin. You fear looking up at his face for a reaction, but you do it anyway and see that, despite his smile, he looks to be just as shocked as you, if not more. And then it changes. The shock is fading. His eyes are getting darker, and that strange look in his eyes—one that you’ve never seen on him—is directed at you.

You force your body in to action. “I-I’m sorry!” you squawk, stumbling away from him. “Um! I-I just—I was excited; I didn’t mean to—uh, s-sorry, sorry!” You’re clumsily making your way back towards the door, nearly slipping from the lack of friction your socks have on the polished floor.

Alastor takes a step closer to you, and you bristle, picking up the pace. “Ma cher, don’t—”

“Sorry!” you cry one last time, slipping out the door and in to the safety of the hallway. You dash to the end of it and around a corner, where you wait to hear any signs of him following. Nothing. The only thing you hear is your own racing heart and the blood rushing through your body. You feel hot, shaky, and a little sweaty—your feet are sweating through your socks.

Your socks.

You forgot your fucking shoes in his room.

Groaning, you sink down to the floor and peel off your socks, freeing your overheated feet. You replay the event in your mind as you stare emptily at your toes, wiggling them all one by one. You just had to go and try to hug him—you couldn’t just be patient and wait for him to one day, just maybe, initiate it himself. At the very least, you could have been more careful. You think it might have been a nice hug otherwise. You can still feel the crisp fabric of his pants and the warmth he radiates; you can smell the light scent of smoke and cologne on his clothes. The button of his pants had been against your cheek, and you have no control against the intrusive thought of how the bulge in his pants had felt.

Smacking your cheeks with your palms, you shake your head, as though it would toss the thought out. You need to stop being a little creep and get your shoes. You have one pair of shoes, and you are not willing to walk barefoot anywhere in Pentagram City. The longer you leave them there, the more likely you are to abandon them entirely in hopes of never having a confrontation with Alastor. Well… maybe you could ask Charlie to get you a new pair of shoes? You groan at yourself; you’re already trying to get out of it.

You push yourself to your feet and dust off the skirt of your dress. You take quiet, slow steps towards his room. You can do this. Just don’t think about it. Did he like it? No, stop it. Did it excite him, like it excited you? Stop that! You’re wet—maybe from fear, maybe from arousal. Your hands are shaking as you reach for the doorknob. You contemplate whether it would be best to knock or simply crack the door open and grab your shoes without entering. Alastor is polite, though; you know he’d much rather you be decent and knock.

Heart racing, chest heaving with tiny and anxious breaths, you tap your knuckles against the door. It opens almost immediately.

“Yes, dearest? Have you calmed down now?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at his face; instead, you resort to looking at your bare feet. “I—um, I realized I forgot my shoes here,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

He laughs at this—it makes you shiver, and you hope he doesn’t notice. “You were in quite the hurry,” he teases. “What scared you so badly, darling?”

You mean to simply snatch your shoes and flee, but the moment you cross the threshold, he’s closed the door behind you. Your heart is pounding, as though it thinks you’re sprinting down a hallway from a monster. But it’s just Alastor! He’s never harmed you, only kept you safe—and yet, you feel like you’re caught in a trap. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating from behind you; he’s close, and for once, you wish he’d be less comfortable with you in his personal space. Despite this, you can’t bring your dumb feet to move. You are caught like a deer in headlights.

“What’s wrong, pet?” He’s never called you that before. It’s new and exciting, even though you internally scold yourself for the warm feeling building up in the depths of your gut. “Why have you gone quiet? You’re not ignoring me, are you?”

His fingers ghost over your hair as he speaks, his hand finally coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s not as though you’re hiding your discomfort well, but that doesn’t stop him. Alastor’s left hand comes from behind you and cups your chin, slowly drawing you back until your spine touches his leg. You shut your eyes. You won’t look at him; it makes you feel at least a little less exposed, even if you know he can see the red in your face all the same.

“I don’t appreciate the silent treatment, dearest,” he warns, giving your cheeks a squeeze. “I guess I’ll have to find a way to snap you out of it.”

You’re lifted off of your feet; the sudden feeling of instability makes you open your eyes, even though you try to resist. Before you can register it, Alastor has dropped you on his bed—a bed that seems rarely used—and is now kneeling before you.

“You’ve been terribly rude, pet,” he chides, resting his hand on your knee. “First you get so close to me, then you run off and leave me wanting? Now you come back and refuse to say a word to me.” He clicks his tongue in disdain; its the feeling of his claws digging in to your skin that truly express his displeasure. You shift in place, but keep your mouth sealed. Your mind is blank, anyhow.

When his claws pierce your skin, you move out of reflex, jerking your leg away from his hand. Alastor’s grip is iron-clad and holds you in place so tightly that you can’t even move it a millimeter. Your skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and goosebumps are running up and down your arms. Your mind is getting hazy, to the point that your vision blurs as his other hand creeps up the skirt of your dress.

You try to control your breaths, try to look anywhere other than him. He’s relishing the sight of you as his fingers curl around the waistband of your frilly bloomers. He grips your hip harshly—you know it will leave a reminder in the form of a bruise later. His thumb lightly brushes over your clit, and your toes curl in response. It’s like he’s fascinated by the response your body has to it; he’s watching every twitch, shiver, and shake as he toys with you. Finally, a mewl escapes your lips. Something about the noise draws him out of whatever it is that he’s thinking, and he looks you in the eyes.

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman, darling,” he says, relaxing his grip on you. “So… yes or no?”

This is closer to the Alastor you’re familiar and comfortable with. He looks so calm and pleased that it’s like it’s just another day for him, one where he does not have his hand in your underwear and he’s just making you feel special by gracing you with a pat on your head. The familiarity is reassuring, and you’re such a sucker for how special he makes you feel, so surely there’s no harm in this…

“Yes,” you finally eke out.

Alastor’s grin widens; his thumb immediately resumes teasing you. His other hand strokes up and down your thigh, his claws tickling you and leaving red streaks in their wake. You moan again and are met with the reminder of his watchful gaze; unable to take the feeling of scrutiny anymore, you grab the lapel of his coat and tug on it.

You hear him chuckle and crack your eyes open again. He’s released you—for now—to shrug off his coat and set it aside.

“An eye for an eye, pet?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to agree to this suggestion; he pops open the buttons on the back of your dress in one quick motion. Your dress is pulled from your body, leaving you and your bloomers entirely exposed. You instinctively cover your chest with your forearm. This is hardly an eye for an eye—and you know, deep down, that he knows that and enjoys every bit of imbalance between you two. And you do, too, even if you don’t want to admit it.

His hands are on you again, this time running up and down your waist, back, thighs, and chest. He’s parting your legs and moving in between them, leaning down to press his lips to your throat. You whimper, now suffocated by the dizzying smell of tobacco. Alastor gives you a gentle peck, before his teeth graze your delicate skin and earn a moan from you. You instinctively bristle from the delightful pain, and he pushes your legs apart again.

“Relax, sha,” he murmurs against your neck. “Relax. Would I let you get hurt?”

Yes. He absolutely would. You know that, and you stuff it down. Who cares? Who cares if you get a little hurt? If he lets it happen? If he’s the one to do it, if he’s the one watching and enjoying it, that’s all that really matters.

So you relax for him and melt in to his touch, letting him guide you down to the soft bed. You don’t resist when your bloomers come off. You’re completely exposed to him, and he’s simply standing over you, grinning at the sight. The one sacrifice he does make is his gloves, shedding them to feel your skin in its full glory. His hands are much warmer without his gloves on; the feeling of them rubbing your legs is soothing.

“Alastor,” you mewl—for a moment, you realize just how pathetic and weak you sound, but decide that it’s fine to be pathetic and weak for him and slip back in to your haze. For every inch of fog clouding your mind, Alastor seems to gain a new degree of focus. You can’t tell exactly what it is he’s so focused on, so hungry for, but you enjoy it all the same.

“You sound so lovely when you say my name.” His voice sounds so different now—animalistic, growling. Your heart rate spikes again, but you’re not about to back out now, so you enjoy the adrenaline rush as you gaze up at the ceiling. You hear a shift of fabric, feel him moving between your legs as he looms over you. He slips one hand underneath you to feel the small of your back, and you finally realize what he’s about to—

“Ahh!” you hiss, curling your spine as you reflexively try to escape the source of the pain. You’re brought back to the reality of your situation for a brief moment; Alastor is over seven feet tall, you are definitely not, and he is definitely entirely proportionate for his height. It hurts, worse than anything you think you’ve felt before. You feel like you’re splitting open, despite how wet you are and the fact that he’s barely inside of you.

Alastor’s hands hold you in place by your hip and your arm. You can feel his own excitement and agitation from the tightness of his grip—so tight he’s trembling in the slightest—and the hint of sweat on his palms. “Behave, sha,” he orders through his teeth. He’s trying to suppress your squirming as much as possible, but you can still wriggle in his grip, and every movement of your hips sends a wave of pleasure through him. “Relax and behave.”

Your body is slowly adjusting to the pain, and his voice is bringing you back to that lovely, pleasurable haze. You force yourself to stay still and breathe through it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs with a sigh. “Good girl.” You shudder at the words, and he pushes himself further inside of you. You don’t struggle this time; you simply yelp in pain and squeeze your eyes shut to bear it. He releases your arm to grab you by your chin, forcing your head up. You open your eyes, your face contorted in pain; he’s smiling, of course. It’s a feral, sadistic smile, but it’s not quite the same one you’ve seen before he rips apart some idiot trying to wreck the hotel. This one is different, and you hope it’s one he’s reserved only for you. No matter how frightening it is, you’ll still delight in the honor.

You manage to relax a little more, having adjusted to the feeling of being torn in two. Alastor sighs at the feeling and once again pushes further inside of you. Every effort of yours to behave will be rewarded like this—with more pain, blood, and tears that prick your eyes. You had your chance to say no. You still could. But you don’t. You’re special. He wants you. And you want him—you want him to degrade you, too.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, sha?” he coos in a tone of faux concern. Still, you whimper and nod, curling your fingers in to the linens beneath you. “I know, pet, I know. It must hurt terribly.” Another inch inside of you, another swallowed scream.

“P-please,” you beg. You barely even realize the words are spilling out of your mouth. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

“You can,” he assures, his hand moving down to your throat. No matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t squeeze. Not yet. He’ll save that for another time, another day. There’s nothing wrong with denying a bit of pleasure now to make it sweeter later. “You can and you will. I will make you.”

You try to scream when you feel the sensation of a burning, sharp pain pierce further inside of you, but he clamps his hand over your mouth.

“No,” he breathes. “You won’t make a sound unless you’re quiet about it. I am the only one who can hear you. This is just for me.”

You swallow back the scream; it feels like it’s still stuck in your chest, making it ache as it tries to beat its way out through your sternum. It’s too painful to breathe. Every single movement is painful. This is as far as he can go without really hurting you—without you truly breaking apart. You can smell blood. You feel like you can maybe taste it, too. The sight of it only spurs him on, and he pounds in to you without any concern for the pain it will cause you.

You can’t even scream; it’s too sudden. Once the waves of pain truly set in, you let out a weak cry and grab on to his arms in an effort to steady yourself. Spots of all colors are appearing in your vision as the sounds of the room—skin against skin, muffled groans that he’s trying to hold back, your own crying—get further and further away. Your grip on him loosens, and he notices.

“I can’t keep going if you’re sleeping, pet,” Alastor taunts, grabbing you by your chin and squeezing. When your pupils only dilate further, he takes a handful of your hair and pulls, giving your head a shake. That does it; you’re awake enough, for now. “There you are.”

You can’t escape the pain. You just have to live with it. Any time he sees you slipping out of consciousness, you’re awakened with a sharp jolt of pain. And now his movements are too fast, too harsh to even begin to pass out. Tears freely flow down your face at this point, as freely as the blood pooling beneath your thighs.

“A-Alastor,” you sob, one hand reaching up for him. “Please.”

The pathetic sight of you stupidly reaching for him is what sends him over the edge. His claws curl in to your skin, and blood drips on to the linens beneath you. He’s looming over you as you feel warmth replace the feeling of an icy knife in your belly, spilling out of you and on to your legs. His eyes are closed, he’s panting, and his brow is furrowed. You like the sight of it, but you can’t fully enjoy it when he’s still causing you so much pain.

Finally, his eyes open, and he pulls away from you without warning, sending another ripple of pain through you. You’re throbbing. You feel like you’ve been impaled and suffocated. You definitely did not cum. And yet, when the look on his face softens, the pain lessens. He’s back to the gentleman you know and adore.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, resting his cheek against his hand—a hand covered in your blood. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

As he helps you bathe and feeds you a potion to help heal some of your wounds, you let that haze settle in permanently in a part of your brain. As long as he makes you feel special, as long as he calls you sweetheart and pet and sha, you’ll take whatever pain he throws at you.

#dead dove #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #yandere!alastor x reader #mdni #miasmal writes #size difference

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 months

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All The Things I Did (3): Don't Leave Me Alone

chronology: chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2

a/n: well well well. here i am again. not as sad as interlude 2 i promise. i put them in chronologic order up top for all the new fans of this fic. focusing on gale and cass this chapter. i've appreciated all the screams in my ask box (i will explain anything about spook x bucky i've got going on in my head whenever you want, shoot me a dm) and will work on more interludes this weekend. keep the prompts coming! good a good mix of current & post war bucky x spook. love you guys and enjoy this longer one in celly of the finale.

Of all the places for them to bump into each other, no one should have been surprised it was in the base library. It was small and quiet and didn’t have the nicest lighting. But it had plenty of books on plenty of topics and very few people ever frequented it. Normally, it was her place to unwind and seek solace. Breathe in the scent of the worn bindings and get lost for a few hours. Cass wasn’t sure if John even knew it existed so it only made sense that this is where Gale would find her first.

Gale Cleven had been in communication with John Egan since their first day of basic training. Had watch him fly and crash on occasion. Watched him flirt and dance and take girls home. Only a few times had watched him give a piece of his heart and never once had he watched it go anywhere. When he had sent him the unicorn to pass along as an apology to a bar owner in Greenland, John had written one line at the end that made him more confused than the figurine had. A little note at the bottom: P.S. I think I’ve found my girl.

Gale hadn’t known then, wouldn’t know for awhile, that Bucky had only seen her across the airfield when he had written that. Hadn’t even spoken a word to her. Had taken one look at the way every man on that base stopped and parted for her. One look at the way she navigated herself around the airfield while never looking up from the paper in front of her. John Egan had been gone like a freight train.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Cooper?” She was in an armchair in the back of the library, curled up as much as her uniform would allow, thumbing through a book on Prussian history with two others opened and balancing precariously on either side of her and a stack of yet-to-be-read books piled on the floor. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just thought I’d introduce myself. Gale Cleven, friends call me Buck.”

“My friends call me Cass.” She shook his hand as firmly as she could, her right arm in a sling. “You know, John has a whole thing planned for us to meet. He’ll be heartbroken.” Him and Cass had spent the night on a blanket in the flowers, just like she had wanted upon her return. He told her all about his best friend Buck and that introducing her to him was almost like her meeting his sisters or mother. Joked that she needed Buck’s approval before he could take her on another date.

“We can work on our story. Let him still have his moment.” Cass smiled and motioned for Gale to take the chair next to her. She placed a notecard between the pages to keep her place before giving him her full attention.

“I’m sorry your first impression of me was when I got off that plane yesterday. I promise I’m not always that dramatic.” Gale laughed. The swelling in her eye had gone down slightly and there was color back to her cheeks. Maybe a couple of new bruises on her neck but he assumed his friend was more likely the culprit of those than the secret police.

“I barely noticed over the commotion of Bucky.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she noted shyly. All of a sudden her fingernails were much easier to look at than Buck’s gaze.

“I’ve known Bucky, John, a long time. You’ve enraptured him, Lieutenant.” Gale hadn’t expected such a reaction either. Bucky had always been somewhat impulsive, sure, but always with a personal gain in mind. Win the bet. Win the girl. Win the game. But yesterday had been near primal. A base instinct to protect. To put himself in between her and those who would do her harm. It had come as natural as breathing.

“Your word choice is inspiring, Major Cleven.” Her eyes twinkled. She knew.

“Has he serenaded you yet? Then you’ll really be inspired.”

“I don’t know if that is what I would call it. I haven’t worked my way to that level of affection yet.” He thought back to the desperation in John’s voice when he called Cass’ name yesterday. Thought back to the venom that replaced it when someone got in the way of him reaching her.

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.” She ducked away from his gaze again.

“Don’t tell him I’m telling you this, but I’m pretty enraptured by him, too.” Gale reached over and squeezed her hand, locking the secret between them, and stood up to let her get back to her reading and to find the book he had come here looking for in the first place. “Cass? I’ve got a favor to ask. It’s kind of a big one.”

“Something wrong, Buck?”

“No. Just something that’s been on my mind since he left.” He mulled over the words for a moment. “He’s got a big heart. Does a good job at hiding it. I’ve been doing my best to protect it since the day I met him but if something happens to me up there…”

“You don’t even need to ask, Gale.” She would be his armor. Protect John Egan the way her soul had told her she should from the second she laid eyes on him. Had recognized the purity within him and felt the need to protect it. Cassandra Ann Cooper had been gone for John Egan the moment he stepped foot in England.

Gale nodded in appreciation. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He walked to a shelf out of her sightline and Cass sighed deeply. She had faced down some scary people. But that interaction had her stomach in more knots than any of them. She had met, and talked to, and hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of, Major Gale Cleven. Cass smiled. John was going to be so happy when he found out.

----

The man in question was having a bit of a devious streak. Decided he was going to be early to pick up Cass instead of simply on time. Decided, after five minutes of waiting, that it had been too long since he last kissed her. Mary rolled her eyes when he came strolling in, thinking better of it when she opened her mouth to ask what he was up to.

“Mary, I swear if Major Egan is early, tell him I’m not ready.” He smiled as he heard Cass answer his knock.

“Too late, Spook. Let me in so I can see whatever potions you're brewing to look so goddamn beautiful.”

“Are you calling me a witch?” Her voice was closer this time. John pressed his palm to the door where he imagined hers was.

“I miss your face,” he provided simply.

“I have curlers in my hair.” Her mother had never let her father see her with her curlers in. Even after thirty or so years of marriage. Told Cass it took away the allure of femininity.

“Good. I’ve been imagining what you might look like in my bed in the morning-” He almost fell through the door when she opened it, her fist around his tie and all confidence choking off in his throat.

“No remarks like that in the hallway where anyone can hear you.” Cass sat back down at her vanity for the finishing touches of mascara and powder.

“Afraid they won’t find you so spooky anymore?” There weren’t too many artifacts of her life for him to look at. Photos of what she presumed were her parents and her siblings. A pile of letters with a return address in South Carolina. A jewelry box on top of her dresser.

“I don’t mind the nickname. I never had one growing up.” John stopped to admire her in the mirror as she pulled the curlers from her hair. He swallowed. It did look like he imagined she would be waking up next to him. How she would be after spending the night letting him worship her.

“Hey, wait on that for a second.” Cass put the tube of lipstick down and looked at him with a question across her brow. “Don’t want to mess it up when I kiss you.” She smiled and crooked her finger to beckon him forward, standing on her vanity chair as he got closer.

“So handsome,” she sighed as she took the opportunity of her newfound height to really take him in. She knows he would disagree but Cass found something ethereally beautiful about John Egan. The slope of his nose and the angles of his cheeks. The soft hair on his upper lip that she had found such joy in kissing.

“I’m glad you think so.” He started with just a quick peck, enjoying the look of annoyance on her face.

“That’s not worth holding up my lipstick application for.” John took that as a challenge. He felt guilty for only a second as he tangled his fingers into the curls at the back of her head and held her steady. John was trying to be mindful of the healing cut on her lip but she was pushing herself closer and closer and he had no choice but to give her more and more. It wasn’t slow. It was a spark spinning itself into a fire. An ember catching fire on all the things around it. He was a man starved for her oasis. She was a girl all too eager to tantalize him in the desert.

John slid his arms to wrap tightly around her waist, lifting her against his body and turning so her back was against the wall. Instinctually, she wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped into his mouth at the sensation. “Fuck, Cass.”

“John, we have to slow down.” She was enjoying his lips that had moved to her throat all much. Was so flushed with desire for him that beads of sweat were collecting in her collarbone. Cass unwrapped her legs from around his waist and John smiled with pride when her knees buckled ever so slightly.

“You’re right. Do this the right way. The slow way.” He straightened his tie and bent down when Cass reached up to fix his hair.

“Doesn’t have to be slow forever. Sir.” She knew exactly what she was doing when she said it. Relished in the way it made his eyes darken with lust again immediately. “We’re going to be late to dinner. And I already made a literally bloody first impression with Gale.”

“Come to think of it,” he noted as she expertly coated the red pigment around her lips, “it might’ve been more fun to try and kiss it off of you, Lieutenant.”

“There’s always later.”

He watched her hips sway to the Jeep, held her hand while he drove and smiled so wide it hurt when she slid across the bench and kissed his cheek. It all felt so normal. Felt like he was back home taking a girl to a movie and milkshakes on a Friday night. Felt like being with her was exactly where he was meant to be.

“Before you ask, no, we are not going back to the pub tonight.”

“Oh?” she asked as they drove right past. “Our memories from the other night incapable of being topped?”

“Just thought we would meet him somewhere nicer. This little bistro up the way a little bit.”

“John Egan, are you nervous?”

“Maybe.” She laughed but snuggled into his side.

“It’s very sweet that you love Gale so much.”

“Don’t tell him. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Cass thought back to her conversation with Gale in the library. About the mushy heart right behind the very ribcage her cheek was resting against.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m good at keeping secrets.”

----

Gale watched from the window by the table as John’s Jeep pulled into view, smiling to himself as Cass held his friend’s and kissed him. Stayed close to whisper reassuring words and knock his nose against hers to seal the promise.

“Bucky you lucky son of a bitch,” he muttered. They held hands as they walked in and when she let go to shake Gale’s hand, firmer this time as the sling hadn’t gone with her dress, John had kept his hand on the small of her back. Looking back on it, Gale doesn’t think there was a moment the whole night they weren’t touching.

“Cass, this is the best man I’ve ever met, Major Gale Cleven. But I call him Buck.”

“Gave everyone else no choice but to call me Buck, too.” John pulled her chair out for her and pushed it in, sitting straight as a rod in his own until her arm locked around his comfortably. He visibly relaxed and kissed her forehead when she offered it.

The conversation flowed smoothly, John none the wiser the two of them had already met. Buck had her giggled over stories of a younger Bucky, taking her back to their days when they were first learning to fly. She asked about Marge and John noticed the way her chin dropped into her hand and she watched Gale with adoration as he spoke about the woman he had loved since he was a child. And would love until the day they died.

“She sounds absolutely lovely, Gale.” Cass reached across the table and squeezed his hand when his gaze turned melancholy for a moment.

“If you’re crazy enough to see it through with this one,” his chin jutted towards John, “I’m sure you and Marge will be thick as thieves.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad of a guy,” he spoke around bites of his dinner.

“John, you’ve got a little…” Cass motioned to the corner of her mouth to signal a bit of sauce was lingering on his. Without even really thinking about it, she used the corner of her own cloth napkin to dab away the offense.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” Gale could lose his stomach with the sweetness. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me to the powder room.” John stood as she left, watching her with a dazed smile on his face until Buck coughed.

“She’s something, Bucky. A real class act. Whip smart. Has you wrapped around her finger many times over.” John hummed around his sip of whiskey.

“I’ll keep wrapping myself around it as long as she’ll have me.”

“Yeah? I should tell you she’s too good for you.”

“You’d be right. I don’t deserve someone like her.” He swirled his glass pensively. “You know I love you and I love Marge and I love the little world you two build whenever you're together. I’ve always wanted that but kept getting in my own way. Chasing the immediate instead of being patient. Cass and I, it’s going fast because of this fucked world we live in. And I’m not getting in my own way because I’ve found a girl who won’t let me.”

“Watching you two, I think it’s real, John.”

“I think it is too,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “We’ve got to make it through this thing, Buck. I came here with nothing to lose but now I’ve got something I couldn’t stand to.” There was something desperate in his eyes. The same look Gale had seen yesterday when he was fighting the officer to reach Cass.

“Feels nice to have someone to live for, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“Nice, scary, like I’m being mauled by Meatball.” They both laughed in spite of the truth. “You think she’s smitten with me?” Gale rolled his eyes.

“I do.” Bucky nodded.

“Good.” Cause he thinks he might love her.

“Sorry for the prolonged departure.” She came back with a smile, John standing and kissing her gently. “Major, I just reapplied that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Didn’t want to.

He watched her and Gale banter back and forth the rest of the night with a smile on his face. Cass was the first girl he was introducing to his best friend, wished it was under better circumstances. Wished he had met her somewhere the threat of not making it to tomorrow didn’t exist. That he could court her properly and take her to the drive in and canoeing on the lake by his parents house and listen to a ballgame on the radio in the summer. Wished he had the courage to tell her and Buck that he was scared of losing them both. That he had been up there once and would back up a hundred times more if it meant they could live in a safer world.

And one day, after all three of them had done their part to end this war, John will mention this dinner at Buck’s wedding. And Buck will mention it when John asks him to be their child’s Godfather. But they didn’t know what they would have to go through to get there. That John’s fear of losing them both will come true. And that he would almost lose himself in the process of getting them back.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic

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notti-stellate · 1 year

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Fated Mates pt.2

a/n: here's part two, I really like this so I hope you do too!

pt.1

Your pov

“Jasper’s gonna be here soon, I better go finish cleaning up before he gets here” I sighed to my friend. She demanded that we facetime before he came over so I could tell her all about him.

“Okay just remember to get his favorite color, I have to start planning the wedding.” She smiled. I was about to yell at her when I heard Jasper’s truck pull up. Checking the mirror one last time I ran down stairs to open the door.

He smiled at me when I opened the door, “Hi”

“Hey, come on in” I chirped

Jasper’s pov

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified walking to her door. I was absolutely petrified but according to Alice that was normal. The second she opened the door with that beautiful smile on her face all of my nervousness was replaced with something else, something I often felt radiating off of Edward when Bella entered a room.

If anything could make my cold heart beat again it’d be her, I’m sure of it. My attempts to stop the “butterflies” as Alice called them, were all failing as she led me into her living room.

“So what book should we do for our project” I asked as we sat on the couch

“What about The Vampire Diaries?” She replied fairly quickly, “Have you read them?”

“Yes I have” I laughed, I actually read them not long after they started gaining popularity. I like to keep up with what people think about vampires, and Alice loves reading romances so I get forced to read them anyways.

As we started working I found myself watching her more than focusing on the actual work. I watch as she glides the scissors through the black sheet of paper, the way she cocks her head ever so slightly when she focuses on getting the edges perfect. Everything about her made me fall more in love. I wasn’t sure it was real when Alice talked endlessly about falling in love, but watching her was enough to make me believe everything Alice had rambled about in the past few decades.

Hours passed by with occasional conversation here and there, but mostly we filled it with a comfortable silence. It wasn’t awkward to be around her like when I had first saw her in class, it was easy, almost like we had known each other all our lives.

By the time the sun had set completely, we had almost finished the project completely. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that I no longer had an excuse to see her more.

“Would you wanna hang out again soon? Like Friday?” She blurted as we walked to the door.

“I’d love to,” I said, a little quicker than I would’ve liked, “It’s a date”

“A date” She beamed up at me, opening the front door.

I couldn’t hide my smile as I started the drive back home.

Your pov

“Oh my god” I squealed, facetime my friend again, “we’re going on a date. Emmy, a real date!”

“What?” She yelled, clapping her hands in excitement, “when?”

“Friday”

“No way”

“I’m serious”

“I want all the gory details”

I spent the next three hours on the phone with her, going over every detail of the night up until the moment I called her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited” She laughed

“Me too, god I can’t believe he actually said yes. I was fully expecting a hard no.” I sighed, my cheeks were starting to hurt from how much I’ve been smiling. I can’t stop this feeling in my chest, screaming to be near him again.

“Is it possible for me to be in love already?” I asked, my eyes widening as I fully processed what I had actually said.

“Absolutely, and from the way you were talking about him I’d be surprised if you weren’t” She smiled, “My best friend, finally in love.”

Oh my god, I’m in love with Jasper

#jasper hale x reader #edward cullen #jasper hale #jasper cullen #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x fem!reader #jasper hale x you #jasper hale x y/n #jasper whitlock x fem!reader #jasper whitlock imagine #jasper whitlock hale #jasper whitlock #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight

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hypnoneghoul · 9 months

Text

Christmas Ghouls 8/10

WC: 1040

Relationship: Phantom & Rain

Tags: Fluff, gift giving

Notes: For Brit <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

“Hey, has anyone seen Phantom?” Rain asked after looking around the common room and not finding the young quintessence ghoul there.

“As far as I know he’s playing Santa,” Aurora giggled, “and being anxious about it.”

“I’d check his room,” Swiss shrugged from under the little ghoulette.

“Wow, why didn’t I think about that?” Rain deadpanned at Swiss’ helpful advice. “He wasn't there the last time I checked.”

“Try again.”

The water ghoul scoffed and turned on his heel, leaving his packmates to continue hunting for Phantom. He could wait, sure, it wasn’t such a pressing matter, but he just… didn’t want to.

Rain, after all taking Swiss’ advice, stopped at Phantom’s door again. He knocked softly, “Phantom?”

“Wh- Rain!? What?” the ghoul called out from inside, so loud Rain jumped.

“Lucifer, baby bat, are you okay in there?” he chuckled, trying the handle. The door was locked. “Phantom?”

“Uhm… yeah,” it sounded like a question. “Yeah, gimme a second.”

A bit anxiously, but Rain waited. Soon enough the lock clicked and the door opened, revealing a blushing — but otherwise perfectly fine — Phantom. “Hi, Rainy.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just had to… do something real quick.”

“If you say so,” Rain shook his head at the cloud of chaos seemingly always floating over Phantom. “Can I sit?”

The water ghoul turned to the bed — made, for once — but Phantom suddenly threw himself in front of him. “No! I mean– uhm, yeah, but not on the bed.”

“Okay…” Rain furrowed his brows in suspicion but obliged and sat down at a chair by the desk.

“Uhm… what did ya need, Rainy?”

“Actually,” he nearly forgot why he was looking for Phantom in the first place. Rain shoved a hand into the pocket of his hoodie and fished out a bundle of colorful wrapping paper. “I’ve got you something. For Christmas.”

“Oh… isn’t it later?”

Rain laughed, “It doesn’t really work like that. I wanted to give it to you now, so I am. Come here.”

The quintessence ghoul obliged, carefully padding over to Rain and taking the gift from his hands. He swallowed thickly, cleared his throat and pulled at a ribbon holding the paper in place. As it unfolded, Phantom’s grin only grew. By the time he was actually holding the item in his hands he was nearly vibrating, smiling as big as ever.

“What do you think?” Rain asked, smiling himself at the younger ghoul’s contagious happiness.

“It’s so beautiful,” Phantom whispered, running his fingers over intricate carvings in the leather. The gift was a beautiful leather bound Dracula book, with gilded edges. The quintessence ghoul’s eyes were nearly glowing in his awe. “Rainy, it’s– it’s just… woah.”

“Well, I’m very glad you like it,” Rain chuckled, getting up to offer the other a hug. Phantom took the invitation and squeezed him way too hard for the sake of Rain’s ribs. He’d endure it, though. Anything, as long as Phantom was happy. He leaned down to place a kiss between his horns. “Merry Christmas, baby bat.”

“I love it, Rainy, thank you. I love you.” Phantom turned to burrow his face in Rain’s chest — instead of being glued to his side — with his arms wrapped tightly around the water ghoul’s waist. He stroked down the younger ghoul’s back, waiting for him to get his fill of the closeness.

Soon enough, he pulled away, still sporting that wide toothy grin that could challenge Swiss’ signature one. “If we’re doing this now, I can give you your present too!”

“Your choice,” Rain chuckled, “you can still do it later if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“No, I want you to have it now.” Phantom uncurled himself from around Rain and turned to his little bookcase first. He’d need a bigger one soon, if it continued like that, Rain thought. The quintessence ghoul seemed to be thinking something over for a moment, before taking the book currently placed on a honorary shelf in the middle and replacing it with his newly acquired treasure.

Phantom then ran to his bed, throwing up the top blanket.

“Ah, that explains it,” Rain noted, in regards to Phantom’s earlier near frantic behavior.

“Oh, shush,” the quintessence ghoul giggled and gestured for Rain to come closer. “I didn’t have the time to pack it, that’s why I was running like crazy to hide it when you knocked on the door.”

Rain hummed, trying to take a peak on what the gift was. It was a canvas, for sure, but with it laying on the bed upside down there was nothing he could actually see before Phantom would deem him ready.

“It’s not much and I don’t know if it’s personal enough but I–”

“Hey,” the water ghoul interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter. I know it’s your first Christmas and that you weren’t sure how it all works, but let me tell you one thing. You don’t owe anyone anything, and if you decide to give someone something, it’s your choice what it’ll be. There’s no criteria for a right gift, there is no right or wrong. What matters is the thought, and I’m sure you’ve put a lot of that into whatever you prepared.”

“Well… yeah.” Phantom blushed, looking down at his feet. “I just hope you like it…”

“You know what Dew usually gives me?”

“No…”

“Rocks.”

There were a few moments of silence before Phantom burst out giggling. “Why?”

“That’s just how he is. But I love them, because every one of those damn rocks is carefully picked by him. You get it?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I think I do… alright.” The quintessence ghoul picked the canvas up and turned it so that Rain could get a good look. It was dark blues and purples with stars and the moon painted over it. After a quick scan Rain knew the stars weren’t random — Phantom painted specific constellations.

“Phantom, this is…” He took a step closer. “It’s amazing. I love it.”

“R– really?”

“Of course I do!” Rain beamed. He really did love it, he was already planning where he’d put it. “You’re an amazing artist.”

Phantom only blushed deeper, “Uhm… thank you. Merry Christmas?”

“I love you, baby bat.”

“I love you, too, Rainy.”

#hypnone writes #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #phantomrain #the band ghost #nameless ghouls

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 1 month

Text

Over The Rainbow (4/4) - Janus

<- Previous |

----

Notes:

Sorry this has taken me so long!! I lost motivation to work on this for a while, especially with so many other projects going on in the background :(.

I know that I origonally marked this as five chapters, but I honestly don't remember what I planned for the fifth chapter to be and have no ideas for it, so I've marked it as complete after this one - if I ever do write another chapter I'll add it, but right now it's complete as is.

----

“Hey fuckers listen up,” Remus yelled, banging open the door of Roman and his shared room, making just about everyone who had been in there jump.

“What the fuck was that for?” Virgil hissed, rubbing the back of their head where they’d bumped it on the headboard of Roman’s bed.

“Language!” Patton chastised from his spot in Roman’s lap at the other end of the bed - he’d been braiding Roman’s hair idly. Logan just sighed from where he sat at the desk.

“Whatever, there’s this huge party the Pride Society is putting on over the weekend and you guys are going,” Remus said, slamming a flyer down in front of Logan, who picked it up tentatively.

“Why would we go?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow, “I don’t believe any of us are really ‘party people’”

“It’s not just about the party, book-germ, it’s about gay shit! And you guys are like! The gayest shit around,” Remus rolled his eyes, “Not only are you all super gay, Virgil and Pat are non-binary and Roro is the most gender non-conforming bitchass hoe I’ve ever seen, so like, you guys should totally go to the pride party, besides, I’m going with a friend and I want you idiots to meet.”

“...oookay?” Roman said, frowning, “I don’t mind going to a cool pride party if you guys don't?”

“Oh sure!” Patton grinned, “It sounds like fun!”

“Here is the flyer, if you would all like to read it,” Logan said, leaning over to pass the piece of paper to Patton, “I’m not interested in drinking, but attending the party itself will not hurt anyone, though it is black tie, does everyone have suitable outfits?”

Virgil groaned dramatically, “Fine if the rest of you are all so interested in going, I guess I’ll tag along, I’ve… got something.”

“Translation for those who don’t speak introvert, ‘I really want to go but didn’t want to be by myself so I’d love to go with you all’,” Remus crowed, giggling as Virgil shot him a dirty look from across the room, “Now I just gotta convince my friend to go with me! C’y’all at the party!”

With that, Remus ran from the room. Logan sighed.

“My goodness, what have we just signed ourselves up for?”

—

“How do I look, everyone?” Roman asked, twirling around in his sparkly red knee-length dress, sparkling similarly to his matching red stilettos.

“Roman, those shoes do not look safe.” Logan sighed from where he stood near the door in a pristine navy blue button down shirt - adorned with a rainbow tie.

“I’ll be fine,” Roman rolled his eyes, the puffy sleeves of the dress floating around his wrists as he gestured, “I’ve worn them plenty of times before - Oh! Patton! You look simply dashing!”

Patton giggled, ducking their head to hide their blush as they stepped out from behind the door wearing pale blue suspenders over a white blouse - the plaid blue skirt they had hesitantly chosen looked adorable on them.

“Thanks Roman! I love your dress!” Patton gasped, “You look so pretty! You too Logan!”

Now it was Roman’s turn to blush, “Wny thank you!”

“Have either of you heard from Virgil?” Logan asked, once they’d finished gushing over each other’s outfits, Roman couldn’t help but frown.

Patton shook their head, “Oh- I actually haven’t, that’s… worrying.”

“Do you think they chickened out?” Roman asked.

“That’s not a nice way to phrase it,” Logan chastised gently, “But I do worry that they got anxious.”

Just as they started to thorise on what they could do to get Virgil to come, there was a knock on Roman’s door. Roman rushed to open it and then gasped as he stepped back to reveal Virgil at the door. Their white hair was done up and secured with a silver pin, they wore a dark purple suit jacket and dress pants with a white blouse underneath and they even carried a different cane than the one they normally had. Not to mention the makeup they wore was immaculate.

“Oh darling, you look beautiful!” Roman said, rushing forward to kiss Virgil, who grinned as they used the red lipstick Roman had left on their lips to colour them - and just that moment Roman realised they’d not been wearing lipstick before, he gasped, “You! You fiend! Using my kisses like that!”

Virgil smirked at him and stepped past Roman into the room. Patton rushed forwards next and wrapped their arms around Virgil carefully, “You look lovely! We were starting to think you weren’t coming!”

“Sorry,” Virgil chuckled, looking a little bashful, “I was struggling to shrug off my roommate.”

“Well I daresay you look wonderful,” Logan said, patting Virgil’s shoulder, “Would this make us ready to head out?”

—-

The party wasn’t a big collage party like the ones hosted by students. It was hosted by the Pride Society, which meant it was hosted on campus with slightly less alcohol and deafening music involved. Which, honestly, might be a little better with their little group - with Logan and Virgil who got overwhelmed with loud noises and tight environments and Patton, who wasn’t a fan of drinking. It was more ‘chill’ - said Logan, pulling a flashcard out of his shirt pocket - and Roman was fine with that.

The music was decent and they had a buffet and everyone here was either queer or an ally - many people had come along with their soulmates like their little group though they had ended up a little in the spotlight. A group of four soulmates was fairly rare, after all.

“I wonder where Remus is?” Patton said as they guided their group towards an empty table near the buffet.

“Who knows, honestly,” Roman rolls his eyes.

“I do not see him, it is likely he hasn’t arrived yet.” Logan pointed out.

“Maybe he’s having trouble with that friend?” Virgil suggested, leaning their cane up against the table before looking around at the others.

“Oh yeah, maybe,” Roman said, looking around the room - they had gotten here just a short while after the start time - so the room hadn’t really filled up yet anyway, “He said he had to convince them, right?”

“Mhm - they’re likely not here yet, we should give it time,” Logan told them, “Meanwhile, shall we gather food from the buffet?”

“Oh sure, I’m kinda hungry,” Roman nodded, the others nodded.

“I’ll look after the table,” Virgil said, “Um - you know what kind of stuff I like, Ro, just grab me a plate.”

“I’ll stay here with Virge!” Patton smiled, clearing not wanting to leave their fourth soulmate alone, Logan nodded.

“In that case, Roman and I shall grab food for the both of you as well.” Logan said, leaning over to kiss Patton’s cheek before getting up and heading over to the buffet with Roman.

The two at the table were quickly joined by Remus, though Roman noted that his friend did not seem to be present. He paid that no mind, however, working on collecting plates of food for himself and Virgil. That was until he bumped into someone.

“Oh - sorry, I-” Roman said, looking up to meet the person’s eyes only to stop short, “...yellow,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” The person said, one of their eyes was a misty yellow, the other was green, which must have been cancelled out by Logan’s, they seemed to look him over, his expression unreadable, “You - Oh- oh wow.”

“You’re yellow,” Roman said. If his hands weren’t full with the plates he was holding, “The others will be so excited! Oh my goodness, come on-”

“Will you let me grab some food first,” The person said, raising an eyebrow - the smile on his face suggested a tease, though, Roman couldn’t help but blush.

“Right, of course - sorry, sorry - just got excited,” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Your dress is gorgeous,” The person said, to make conversation.

Once more smiling, Roman looked them over, “So is yours, yellow is such a beautiful colour.”

“What’s your name?” he asked with interest in his tone. Roman had to tear his eyes away from the knee length yellow dress the person was wearing with a black turtleneck underneath - they looked beautiful. Their face was half taken up by a large birthmark and his blond hair was tied back elegantly under a hat tied with a yellow ribbon.

“Oh- I- Uh- Roman,” he said, now he was definitely blushing, “It’s Roman, what about you?”

“My name is Janus,” He said with a smile and slight tilt of his head that made Roman feel just a little weak in the knees, “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Lovely to- lovely to meet you too!” Roman practically squeaked, “Um - the others, uh, everyone else is over there,”

He pointed to their table, where Logan had returned and joined the conversation, “With my brother.”

“Remus, I know,” Janus smiled, “He brought me here - said he had a surprise for me, I suppose that was you, hm?”

“I- I guess?” Roman said, every ounce of verbal ability leaving him in the face of such a tone.

“Well then what a lovely surprise it was,” Janus hummed, “Here, let me help you with that.”

Janus took the drink Roman had poured for Virgil in their free hand and let him lead the way back to their table. He was glad they had grabbed one of the bigger ones in the room now.

“Heya Roman! Who’s this?” Patton asked, looking up when Roman returned to the table with Janus in tow, they seemed to have switched mid sentence from where they had been talking to Logan, leaving him looking confused.

“This is Janus, and uh- I’m pretty sure he’s our last soulmate,” Roman said, returning to his seat next to Virgil and letting Janus take the one at the head of the table next to him.

Janus sat and looked around at everyone, earning a range of gasps and ‘oh’s from all three of them as their eyes met.

“See?” Remus said, grinning from the other end of the table, “Told you this party was worth going to.”

Yeah, Roman thought as he looked around the table - seeing Janus start up a conversation with Logan and Patton whilst Virgil watched with interest. He was glad they had come to this party. Roman was so happy to have all of his soulmates with him at last.

That didn’t mean that Remus wasn’t going to get an earful from him for hiding this from them for however long he and Janus had been friends, though.

For now, he really just wanted to enjoy this party and get to know his new soulmate. Maybe afterwards they could all go back to Logan’s dorm and cuddle, or hang out at his if they wanted to deal with Remus. Roman just wanted to spend time with them - all of them, now that he could finally see the full rainbow.

He could finally finish the painting he had been working on this whole time.

The painting of all five of them, dressed up in their colour, the painting that represented his soul and all of theirs, a painting for them all to share and be part of. The painting of Roman’s life.

It would be perfect.

---

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts dlamp #dlamp #rowans writings

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lidiasloca · 24 hours

Text

time travelling to harry

PART TWO

harry potter x reader

summary: you use a malfunctioning time-turner that takes you to Harry Potter’s fifth year, and you find it very difficult to not fall in love with the Hogwarts’ legend.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

"Yes."

Harry gives you a dazzling smile in answer. “Great!”

It is then that you realize the weight of your decision. What if this changes something? Well – if you change something in your past, meaning this present, then you’d see it already in your present, meaning this future, right?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh. Nothing. Nothing.” You try to smile, but it comes out nervously, paired with your flushed face. “Mmmm… where do we start?”

Before he can answer, Ron’s yell cuts through the bubble you've created with Harry. “Guys, it’s getting late. We’ve decided to leave it here for today.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters in surprise. You hadn’t realized it was this late either. “Alright, then. See you all tomorrow.”

He waves Ron and Hermione goodbye, and the rest of the students follow them to leave. At last, Harry turns back to you. “We should leave as well. Do you have class now?”

You definitely don’t have class now, nor in about fifty years or more.

“I don’t,” you shyly say under your breath.

He will not find out. He will not find out. Calm down.

“Oh. Alright. Great!” He chuckles nervously, which makes you more nervous. Does he know your secret? “And would you like to – well, I am going to visit Hagrid, maybe… do you want to come?”

Oh my. Hagrid.

“Hagrid?”

“Hagrid. Yes.”

Hagrid. You were going to meet yet another Hogwarts legend.

Your friends always mocked you when you confessed it made you cry that you never got to meet the unique keeper of keys. But now you are, and Harry can read the joy it brings you by your beam.

“Is that a yes?”

You nod with carefree elation. Maybe this wasn’t too bad? Maybe it was the greatest thing that has ever happened to you. This was all you never knew you wanted – meeting your school heroes. Maybe befriending them… Maybe…

Your delight doesn’t falter one bit as you wander with Harry through the castle. Somehow, magic is more alive now than in the future. As if Harry’s magic spreads through the air. Perhaps the saying was right, Harry Potter really was the light of Hogwarts.

“What?” he asks with a laugh as he finds you watching him.

No embarrassment shows on your face, just an easy smile that creates a new complicity between you two. It has been fun talking to him during your walk. You’ve found out he truly is a sweetheart; it was relieving that the hero isn’t intimidating at all, but just a kind boy with a good heart. He is even quite timid, which makes him even more endearing.

“Nothing.”

He chuckles, and shaking his head, remarks, “I have to ban you from using that word anymore.”

You match his playful chuckle. “I’d be left with nothing.”

“Oh, shut up!” he laughs even deeper, hitting you playfully with some books he had picked up for Hagrid.

“Ouch!”

“No, but really – you have to stop saying nothing and start explaining who you are. Or why I’ve never seen you at Hogwarts.” There’s a suspicion in his tone that makes you alert. But he laughs it off.

“Mmmm,” you start, unsure of what to say. “Well, I’m Y/N.”

“I know that,” he says plainly.

“I told you it’s difficult to explain.”

“Try.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But… You inspect the hallway, watching for any signs of someone being around. You're alone, but you still don’t feel safe enough.

“Hey – What?” he exclaims as you swiftly take him by his uniform and pull him through a door. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t risk being heard,” is all you explain.

His confusion only grows, and he takes a step toward you, as if the closer he gets, the closer the answer is to him. “So you are going to tell me?”

“I am.” You sigh, already regretting your decision. “But you have to promise me you will tell no one.”

He nods. “I promise.”

You don’t know why, but you believe his words utterly, just like you would Nathaniel, your most trusted friend. You try to tell your heart you shouldn’t trust this boy you’ve just met so blindly, no matter how kind and good he is.

“Alright. Well… the thing is… I may have come here from – well – from the future.” It almost sounds like a question, the way you say it. A question Harry most definitely doesn’t have the answer to.

“What.”

You nod.

“What do you mean you come from the future?”

You owe him a longer explanation. “I found an old time-turner. I turned it, and now I’m here.” You go to show him the collar, but you don’t find it on your neck, where it should be. Oh no. You must have dropped it somewhere, right? If not, how would you ever return?

Or maybe – just maybe, this was your perfect excuse to never return. To stay here.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” you reply, looking down at your feet. You’ll look for the time-turner after this. “I didn’t know what I was doing, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“You mean you don’t know how to go back?” he asks, still taken aback.

“No, that I know. I would just have to turn the ring five times, or so. It’s just that… Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s not that I don’t know how to go back, it’s just that I don’t know if I want to.”

“You don’t want to go back?” he questions, surprised.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“But… Why?”

He’s really making this hard for you. You hope your answer is clear enough as you look into his eyes.

You. This Hogwarts. It feels like home. “I like it here, I guess,” you mutter at last.

He nods, registering your words thoughtfully.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, as a soft blush creeps up his cheeks.

“You are?”

“Yes. I like you… being here.”

You can't help the smile that grows on your face as you avoid his eyes. “I like that you’re here, too.”

He returns your smile, and you simply can't move your eyes away from the sweetness of it.

But your tender moment lasts only so long. “Do you hear that?” he asks, walking outside the door.

“What?” But then your answer comes in the form of a yell.

“Y/N?!” It’s Nathaniel’s voice. “Y/N? Where are you?”

How on earth–

“Nathaniel?” you ask as you face him outside of the room. Harry follows you immediately. “Nathaniel, how did you–”

But your words fade as he collides with you in a worried hug. His uneven breath warms your neck intermittently. “Y/N,” he whispers. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“How – How did you get here?”

“I took the time-turner I assume you used.”

“It was there? It stayed in that room?” So that’s why you didn’t have it anymore. But then – “Do you have it?”

He finally lets go of you, shaking his head no.

Oh my. This complicates things.

“But we will find a time-turner here. I promise. And then we will return home.”

Home.

You turn to the boy behind you. Harry’s face is nearly unreadable, but his eyes tell you he doesn’t want you to go.

You don’t want to go either.

But how would you tell Nathaniel? How could you abandon your real life?

“But we can’t waste much more time,” Nathaniel continues, and you spare a final sorrowful glance at Harry before turning to your friend. “We have to find one now.” He looks behind you and adds, “Does he know where we could find one?”

Even though you love your friend, it still hurts that he sometimes acts this way – that he treats Harry like no more than furniture, not even acknowledging he’s here. Not even speaking directly to him. It was his most Slytherin trait.

And it’s your most Slytherin trait when you tell him sharply, “I don’t need one.”

“What?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“I’m staying.”

-Characters by J K Rowling

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juniperhillpatient · 2 months

Note

talk to me about bojack horseman! Specifically your most unpopular opinions. I was on the Diane Defender Team for a long time and I remember a lot of men hated me for that lol. Luckily tumblr was cool.

Oh god how I love Bojack Horseman! It’s one of those very few shows that I would just….highly highly recommend to anyone & everyone to watch from start to finish & that I have very very few criticisms of like. It just had a perfect arc & every character was explored so thoughtfully & the ending hit every note I could’ve ever wanted. One of my top favorite shows of all time.

It’s SO hard to know what opinions I have that are unpopular given the lack of “fandom” the show has - which makes sense, it’s not really the type of show I’d read fanfic or “ship” characters in so like. I GET it but I also don’t know what opinions I have that are unpopular because I’m not familiar with the fandom opinions lol!

Like. People hate my best friend Diane??? I’ve heard it said that she’s hated before & I’ve watched a LOT of “in defense of Diane Nguyen” type video essays but I’ve also (thankfully) not seen people hating on her. I’m sorry I hate to be that person because subjective taste is a thing but I’m sorry if you hate Diane you’ve entirely missed the point? She’s so integral! Diane’s arc is so important!

Diane is the kind of character that a lesser show would make the “good kind feminist counterpart to BJ” but that Bojack Horseman (the show not necessarily always the character) recognized as a real messy flawed three dimensional human who YES calls Bojack on his shit but is often accidentally awful to both Bojack & everyone else in her mission to be a “good” person.

Diane is the picture of what idealism in a cynical world can lead to in a negative way. She wants to be this bold feminist with strong beliefs that will fight for what’s right but she often forgets the people around her in the frenzy of her fight to do what she perceives as “good.” And her arc!!!! I get so emotional thinking about Diane’s arc - about her relationship with Princess Carolyne & how Carolyn advised her to just write the schlocky detective books that made her happy because it’s the kind of stuff she’d want her daughter to get to read & about how she realizes that she doesn’t have to make her trauma beautiful she doesn’t have to make it her whole personality she can just write & have fun! And like. We see her give up on some of her ambitions & gain weight & accept that she needs to let go of her incredibly toxic friendship with Bojack & that’s okay & doesn’t have to mean she hates him or that either of them are evil - her arc is so incredibly real & relatable & unlike anything we typically see on TV & I love it.

Okay that wasn’t an unpopular opinion(or maybe it was? I hope not) it was just me rambling about how much I love Diane Nguyen but like. I really really do.

Bojack Horseman depicts so many things - generational trauma & toxic friendships & romantic & familial relationships & the way we traumatize other people because of our own trauma & the ability of ANYONE to grow & change even the most toxic horrible person you can imagine even if it takes decades to get there - that you just don’t see on regular tv. And it does it through funny talking cartoon animals so it’s not boring & it never feels pretentious just like it’s telling a story. And while it CAN be depressing it knows how to perfectly balance the vibe of comedy & absurdity so it’s not just painful to watch like it would be in live action or with human characters without the absurdist comedy aspect & it just perfectly balances entertainment with hard hitting themes.

Anyway. I don’t know what the popular & unpopular opinions are this just turned into me rambling about my love for the show. Thank you for coming to my ted talk & thank you for sending an ask 🫶🫶🫶

#bojack horseman #tv tag #fave shows #mutuals #asks #answered #ty for the ask <3

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eddiesgorlie · 1 year

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Solider, Poet, Queen Part One

AUknight!Austin Butler x princess!reader

I’m so obsessed with Soldier, Poet, King so I thought I’d do a twist on it! This is part one, I’m expecting one or two more parts! I’m so in love with this fic and it’s definitely the longest I’ve written. I decided to split it into multiple parts since I don’t have a long enough attention span to read long fics! I hope you love it! I’m working on the next part now, things are about to get intense! Smut will be in the coming chapters.

Summary: The princess Y/n begins falling for the knight assigned to protect her as her world crumbles around her.

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood and throwing up, emotionally abusive and controlling parent. (I think thats everything for this chapter.)

Word count: 2.8k

Mother had always hated father and always told me of the man she fell in love with back home in Ireland. He was a knight which meant he wasn’t good enough for her family so she did what her father said and married my father. He was the worst kind of person. My mother was beautiful, my father was what many would describe as a toad. I thankfully took after my mother. I had turned 20 and it was time for my parents to find me my husband. I didn’t want them to pick my husband, I knew mother would have no say in it and I would end up just like her, depressed and angry, longing for another.

I would end up just like my mother and what they didn’t realize was that I already was. I had found my love. And he was a knight. He was a commander, the best commander I had ever seen. I loved watching him from my window as I read. The problem was, neither of us knew my feelings for him. I couldn’t understand the butterflies in my stomach or the torturous feeling between my legs as I watched him training or riding away on his horse.

Here I was again, watching him from my window as he pulled his shirt over his sweaty torso after training for the pat hour in the hot summer sun. My door was pushed open and my book fell to the floor as I jumped up in shock. “I’m sorry I startled you.” Mother said. “It’s alright.” I said, sitting back down on the window seat. She sat down next to me and held my hands. “I see you have your eyes on Commander Butler.” She smiled looking out the window as he mounted and rode off on his horse. “I find him handsome.” I said. “Please don’t become too attached.” She said. “I know, mother. He’s just nice to look at as a distraction from my studies.” I said.

“His grandfather was one of the knights that protected my family in Ireland. He was on the ship to bring me here, he lost his life protecting me from pirates. His wife and teenage son stayed safe in one of the cabins and they started their life here. The son found a wife and had a child, commander Butler. When the war broke out the commanders father was killed and his mother died of a broken heart, leaving the poor child on his own.” She said. “I don’t remember any of the war.” I said. “You were just a baby. I still remember watching him when he was learning to sword fight with the knights. If I were ever outside with you, he’d always come say hello.” She smiled. I smiled. My smile quickly faded as I saw the serious look on mothers face.

“Your father has let me know that Denmark’s Prince Fredrick is on a ship to come meet you for marriage.” She sighed. I turned pale. “I’m so sorry.” She said. “It makes sense. Prince Fredrick is just like father, a toad faced snake.” I said. She nodded and stood up. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. If you need anything, just come and find me.” She smiled before walking out and shutting the door. I set my book aside and walked to my vanity, brushing my long hair out and added a light pink color to my lips. I adjusted my pink day dress that hung off of my shoulders and left my room. The sounds of my heels echoed around the palace as I went to the front door. It was a hot, steamy day outside and I knew I wouldn’t be out here long.

I smiled and nodded to all of the palace help as I walked towards the stables. I hadn’t been allowed outside much and hadn’t seen my horse in a few weeks. The stables came into view and I saw my beautiful HoneySuckle, she was a very gentle blonde horse. I ran my fingers through her mane and pressed a light kiss to her nose. “Hi sweet girl.” I said. She grunted and I continued to make up for all of the missed love from the past few weeks.

“State your business here.” A loud voice said. I jumped and my back hit the door of HoneySuckles stall as I turned to face the voice. Commander Butler’s voice. “Your highness. I apologize for startling you.” He said, dismounting from his horse. “It’s quite all right, I startle very easily.” I laughed. “It’s very nice to see you out here. It’s been quite a while I believe.” He said. “43 days.” I said a blush creeping on my cheeks. “Are you not an outdoors type person?” He asked. “I enjoy the outdoors. I have just been forbidden from being out here.” I said. “Well then you better not be out here long.” He said. “I would go inside, but I have the fear of getting lost.” I said. “So a guide is what you need?” He asked. “That sounds about right to me.” I smiled he nodded and started towards the palace, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

There were knights posted at what seemed every door as we walked in. Commander Butler nodded to all of them and they nodded back. “There are so many more than before I left.” I said. “That is because of the Prince. Since we have someone coming from a different kingdom we have to up security to avoid another war.” He said. “Is that what happened to start the war?” I asked. “In a way. A peace treaty was to be signed with Brazil and it ended with the assassination of the late Queen.” He said. “Oh thats terrible.” I gasped. “It was a very dark time. We all feared that you, the beloved princess would be next.” He said. I nodded. “I’m especially glad you were and are safe.” He smiled once we made it to my room and stood outside the door. “Thank you Commander.” I said, grabbing the door knob. “Austin, you can call me Austin, you highness.” He said. “Ok Austin, you can call me, Y/n.” I said. “I will see you later, Y/n.” He said. He nodded and walked away. There it was again, that feeling I couldn’t put my finger on.

I closed the door and sighed as I rested my head against the door. I collected myself and walked back over to my window seat, picking up my book again. An hour later I had only progressed one page in my book because there he was again, directing the other knights and preparing the palace for the arrival of the prince. I was again removed from my book and thoughts as my assistants, Mary-Ann and Jane, came in. “The Prince will be here soon, we have to get you ready.” Mary-Ann said. I nodded and walked over to my vanity. Jane brushed my hair and began braiding it into a braided crown as Mary-Ann went into my closet to find my dress.

“Are you excited to meet him?” Jane asked. “Not exactly.” I sighed. She gave me a strange looked and continued on my hair. I had missed my old assistant, Ruby. She was around my age and always related with me and gave me advice. Father didn’t like that very much and dismissed her. I haven’t seen her in a few months and I had no idea what had happened to her. Now she was replaced by Mary-Ann and Jane, they were about 10 years older than me and honestly were idiots.

“Here’s your dress, Madam.” Mary-Ann said. “Mary-Ann, thats a ball gown, I need a tea length gown.” I sighed. “Oh, tea length.” She said, retreating back to my closet. Jane had finished my hair and was done with my makeup by the time Mary-Ann found a dress. It was a royal blue dress with a satin strapless top and tulle skirt. “Will this one work, your highness?” She asked. “Yes, thank you Mary-Ann. You girl can call me Y/n if you’d like.” I said. “Ok, Madam.” Jane said. I sighed and they left to room so I could dress.

The dress fit perfect and I knew father would be happy with Mary-Ann’s choice as it was our kingdoms color. I heard cheering from outside my window and I knew that meant he had arrived. I slipped my white heels on and my tiara and closed my bedroom door as I left, heading to the front steps where I knew mother and father would be. I stood next to mother and she gave my hand three light squeezes saying, “I love you.”

There he was descending from the steps on the ship. He looked even more disgusting in person. I wanted to cry, I knew I’d be stuck marrying this man. He tossed gold coins from his pockets to the people cheering below him. Just like father, he’s giving and wonderful when he’s a stranger, and cruel when you become close to him.

I felt myself become sick as he stood in front of me and I curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to be in your presence, Prince Fredrick.” I said. “Well, yes.” He said before turning to speak to my father about dowry and when the wedding will be. I again felt sick. Mother squeezed my hand again reassuring me. “I think we should allow the Prince to rest after his long journey and let the Princess prepare for the dinner this evening.” Mother said. “Yes, of course. I will let the help know to prepare a ball for tomorrow evening to announce the royal marriage.” Father said.

“You’re room has been prepared for you. Follow her and she will show you and make sure everything is correct for you.” Mother said, directing him to the head maid. He nodded and began following her as his help followed him with armfuls of his luggage. “Get some rest before you have to get ready, sweetie.” Mother whispered to me. I nodded and walked to my bedroom where I was immediately caught off guard. There was Commander Butler posted outside my door. “What are you doing, Coman- I mean, Austin?” I asked. “This will be my post until the guests leave due to the threat of the guests. And as we have a young man and a beautiful young woman set to be married, we have to make sure things stay pure until the marriage.” He said. I blushed. “Well, thank you commander. I am going to rest until the dinner.” I said. “If you need something, you know where to find me.” He smiled. I nodded and walked into my room, quietly shutting the door behind me. I walked to my bed and snuggled under my blankets, shoes and all, too tired to care.

I opened my eyes to see the clock on my nightstand read 6:00. I groaned as I realized dinner was in 30 minutes. I sat up and felt something pulling my hair so I walked over to my mirror to find my tiara was tangled in my hair. I whimpered as I tried to get it out but quickly failed. I was confused of why my assistants hadn’t come in yet, they normally came to help ready me 30-45 minutes before an event. I stood up and walked to my door, barely opening it just so I could see the commander. “Commander.” I whispered. “Yes, Madam?” He asked, turning to face me. “Where are Mary-Ann and Jane?” I asked. “We called for them not too long ago, we haven’t heard a response.” He said. “Ok, well dinner is in 30 minutes and I’m in a bit of a pickle. Could you help me?” I asked. “What do you need help with?” He asked, pushing the door open a little further. He saw the mess of tangles in my hair and nodded before following me to my vanity.

“You didn’t think to take your tiara off before resting?” He asked, his fingers getting to work. “Exhaustion took over.” I winced as he pulled on a knot. “Sorry.” He said. “It’s alright.” I said. After lots of tugging and loosening, finally my tiara was out of my hair and set on my vanity. Now he had the task of untangling my hair. I intently watched him as he removed the pins from my hair and set them in front of me. His eyes were squinted in concentration. I felt a chill go down my spine as I felt his breath against my neck.

“Your hair looks pretty when it’s down.” He said, starting to take out the braids. “I didn’t know you had curly hair.” He said. “Its not, its just from the braids.” I laughed. “Well, as you can see I don’t have much experience in the hair category.” He said. “You have hair down to your shoulders!” I laughed. “Yes I do, but it’s not nice like yours.” He said. I laughed but was quickly cut off by the door being slammed open and the General bursting through it. “Sir!” Austin yelled, standing at attention. I slowly stood up from my chair. “Commander, were the orders to guard the Princesses room not clear enough for you?” The General said. “Yes, Sir. They w-” “I asked him to come in my room. I needed help untangling my hair before dinner and no one including myself and Commander Butler could find my assistants.” I said. The general nodded. “Do you need his help any longer?” He asked. “No, he helped me.” I said. “Follow me, Commander.” He said. Austin nodded to me and smiled as he followed the General. “Second strike, Butler.” I heard the general say before my door shut.

I dug my shoes out that were trapped in my comforter and slipped them on. “I’m glad you’re still here.” I smiled at the commander as I closed my bedroom door. “I am too. You better hurry, I saw them leading the Prince to the dining room.” He said. “Thank you.” I said before walking down the hall to the dining room. Mother and Father were already sitting at the table with the prince as I sat down. “A haircut is the first thing that needs to be done before the wedding, sir.” Fredrick said to my father, referring to my long hair. “We can have that arranged.” Father said. I felt like my corset was suffocating me, everything was foggy around me and I just wanted to scream and cry.

The entire rest of the night I didn’t hear anything. Just small, blurry voices talking about wedding dates, dowry and how to transport me to Denmark after the wedding. I took three bites of the roast that was in front of me but couldn’t choke down anymore. I curtsied to the prince and told Mother and Father goodnight before retreating to my room. I slid off my heels and ran to my room as I felt myself becoming sick. “Did the dinner go well, princess?” I heard the commander say as I ran past him and slammed the door to my room.

I leaned over the toilet, losing the contents of my stomach. It was all too real now. They picked a wedding date a week from tomorrow. I was scared and didn’t want to live like that. I stood up, brushed my teeth and walked back to my room. I untied my corset, taking what felt like my first breath of the night and put on my long white nightgown. I sat at my vanity to brush my hair but my hand grabbed my dagger instead of my brush. I ran my fingers over the gold unicorn head on the handle. I slowly slid the blade out of the cover and ran my finger across it, drawing a small amount of blood. I held the blade with both hands and moved it about a foot away from my body. I took a deep breath and moved it towards me about to stab it into my stomach before my door opened. The blade clattered to the floor and my eyes shot up meeting his wide eyes. His eyes moved down to my finger that was bleeding and he rushed into the room.

“Princess.” He said shakily as he kneeled in front of me. He picked the dagger up from the floor and slid it back into the cover. “Did you hurt yourself?” He asked. “No.” I sobbed. He wrapped a tissue around my bleeding finger and pulled me into a hug as I cried. “The prince had been wanting to see you and I had turned him away 3 times, that’s why I came in.” He said. “T-thank you.” I said. “Come here, you need to get some rest.” He said, pulling me up into his chest. I let out a shaky breath as he pulled my blankets over me. “Have you found Mary-Ann and Jane?” I asked. “We haven’t.” He said. I nodded. “I’ll tell him you’ve gone to sleep.” He said and turned the lights off. “Thank you.” I said, barely above a whisper.

Taglist:

@Purejasmine

@violetdaze25

@maddiemunson333

@Shelbygeek

@ABloversblog

@kiankiwi

@18lkpeters

@pennyroyalcreep

@denised916

@galaxygirl453

@daisiesfor-mylove

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telltaleangelina · 6 months

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TC tag game Thank you for the questions and for tagging me @renaultphile Rules: Answer the questions and tag other TC fans

"He would not fucking say that" only they did and it's canon. When/who?

I don’t think I’ve read it enough to have a sense of something like this. I really disliked Laurie’s scenes with Adrian though. So it’s not so much ‘he wouldn’t say that’ as ‘I would prefer to ignore the fact that he said/did that.'

2. Did they kiss in the study? Yes/no + why you are 100% correct about this.

I think they did. The first time I read it, I didn't really wonder if something had happened, only what had happened: I didn’t know if they’d only kissed or done anything more. Later, it seemed to be confirmed by Ralph’s letter that they’d not done ‘anything more,’ I just assumed it was a kiss, and I don’t really think the dialogue following the ellipses makes much sense without anything having happened. “Now you see what I mean, Spud. It would never have done, would it? Well, goodbye.” What could Laurie have seen if there was nothing besides a hug or handshake or something? What would never have done? Why ask him to ‘come here’ at all?

3. Mandatory question about Ralph's alleged tattoos.

I really don’t think he’d have any, but if he did I think it'd probably be something nautical.

4. 53 vs 59 edition: quote a line or paragraph that is better in the edition you like the least.

I don’t know which of them I read and I definitely haven’t read another addition, so I can’t answer this. Apparently, the earlier one had more detail and dialogue, so if I haven’t I’d love to read it

5. Which TC character would feel right at home here on tumblr dot com?

Sandy, I think he'd be great on here.

6. Tag yourself at Alec's birthday party.

Laurie reading a book or Laurie just at the beginning, sitting around awkwardly, listening to people’s conversations and wondering how on earth he ended up there.

7. Post a TC meme

The first I ever saw (on the Mary Renault tag) and still the funniest to me, I think because I understand it perfectly

8. Easy to talk about who deserved better. Who deserved worse?

Straike, I hate him with a fiery passion. The man had a dog put down, not because he was sick or anything but simply because he couldn’t be bothered to care for him. Vicar? Ridiculous.

9. You can break the fourth wall (at any point in the novel) and say a single sentence to our protagonist, Laurie Odell. What do you say?

'This is not Ancient Greece, stop being weird,' at the exact moment Andrew is telling him his traumatic life-story and Laurie is preoccupied worrying about Dave. Also related to the question, but not really asked for: if I could I’d also tell Andrew he doesn’t have to feel ashamed of how he feels about Laurie. Well, more accurately, I’d give him a modern copy of ‘Quaker Faith & Practice’ and have the relevant passages highlighted, so I know he won’t miss them. It makes me very sad for both Andrew and Dave that their whole lives could've been very different (and much happier) if they were born four or five generations later.

9. What's a question you have about TC? One you haven't found an answer for yet.

I can't think of any, besides wondering how Mary Renault could've written it because it's so good. I love the use of subtext, the way she describes emotions you've felt before but never would've been able to put into words on your own. In terms of characters and story, I do have a random question about Bunny: was it supposed to be implied that he was a perpetrator of sexual assault? I got that idea when I was reading the car scene between him and Laurie but I was unsure.

I don't know who to tag! I think all of the Charioteer accounts I know have already been tagged, but if anyone hasn't and wants to, I'd love to read your response!

#mary renault #the charioteer #tag game!

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sl-newsie · 10 months

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Merry And Bright (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC) *Christmas Special* 🎄

(Summary: A coworker is stuck working over the holidays, so Spencer takes them to look at Christmas lights to cheer them up… and maybe confess his feelings?)

Christmas is supposed to be ‘the most wonderful time of the year,’ as the song goes. But how can it be so wonderful when I can’t even visit my family? It’s been a week since my boss scheduled me to work over the holidays, due to the office being “overstaffed.” Basically nobody else wants to work and I’m too soft to say no. Now… Christmas seems so much darker.

“You feeling ok, Darlene?” Spencer asks from behind.

I shake away my sad thoughts and offer a weak smile. “As good as I can.”

Thank God for Spencer Reid. The smartest person I know, my favorite coworker, and a small- er, kinda big, crush of mine. I’ve been working as a secretary for half a year now, and in the short time we’ve known each other Spencer has proven time and time again to be the most supportive and caring person I’ve ever met.

“I wish I worked for the BAU instead. That way I might actually get a break for the holidays.”

Spencer chuckles and hands me a candy cane. “Crime doesn’t take a holiday. You still wouldn’t get a guaranteed break. We’ll all be on call over the holidays.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Spencer.” I take the candy cane and give it a lick. “Thanks. You remember how much I love candy. Before you go, I got a gift for you!”

“Aw you didn’t have to-” Spencer starts to object but then goes quiet when I hand him a small package. “What on Earth…?” He tears off the wrapping and immediately gets a giddy smile. “Oh my God! Is this- is it-?!”

“An autographed photo of Doctor Who! I got it during my work trip to Britain last spring! Merry Christmas-!”

I barely get to finish before Reid suddenly sweeps me in for a hug. “Thank you so much, Darlene!”

“O- Oh! I didn’t think you were one for hugs- only handshakes-” I sputter.

Reid pulls away, almost looking as awkward as I must, and grabs my hand for a handshake.

“Right, right… Um, say if you aren’t doing anything after work tonight I was wondering… if maybe you’d like to go look at Christmas lights?”

Did I- did I hear that right? “Reid, did you say 'look at Christmas lights?'” A smile spreads onto my face.

Spencer mistakes this as mockery. “I- I’m sorry if it seems weird, it’s just I remember you said you usually go out looking at Christmas lights with your family. And since you can’t go home for Christmas I thought I’d take you around.”

He… he remembered! “Spencer, I’d love to! But I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’ve probably already got plans. Heck, today’s Christmas Eve!”

But Reid shakes his head. “Actually, I don’t have plans. My mom’s been too busy for me to visit, and the rest of the team’s off doing their own traditions. Usually during Christmas I just stay home and read a few book series, but thought you might like some company. That is… if you don’t mind…?”

My smile grows wider. “Spencer, I’d absolutely love that!” I swivel around and start sorting my paperwork away, then grab my purse. “I was just about to clock out, and I can’t think of anything else I'd love more than to go see Christmas lights! I can’t believe you remembered!”

Reid keeps trying to think of what to say but instead stands there with his mouth hanging open, so I save him the trouble and squeeze his hand.

“I’ll go bring my car around! I’m guessing you know all the best spots to look?”

“Y-Yeah- yeah!” Spencer gets a hold on what’s happening and starts following me to the coat closet. “I know a very big house Rossi always talks about that always decorates for Christmas. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it! I’ll meet you out front!” I give a quick wave and dash off towards the parking lot door.

20 minutes later of laughing and listening to classic Christmas carols, Spencer directs me to drive down a street that, quite frankly, has some of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen!

“Jeez, Spencer. This is the richy-rich-rich neighborhood! This place has got to have some nice decorations!”

Sure enough, the farther we drive down the street the more exquisite and extreme the decoration displays become. Gorgeous nativity scenes, cute reindeer, and so many lights that the entire street is lit up! Once we get towards the end, I start to see the cream of the crop.

“Oh my…” My jaw drops and I have to re-grip the steering wheel. “Spencer…”

The cute nerd chuckles. “I thought you’d like it. We can park right over here!”

I park to the side and we both step out to walk over to the giant display in front of us. By now it’s gotten colder and starting to snow.

“How cliché, a white Christmas,” Reid comments as he joins me on the sidewalk. “Be careful, there might be-”

“Oh God-!” I feel my feet slide out from underneath me and I start to slip-!

I feel lanky arms wrap around my waist and pull me up before I face-plant into the snow, bringing me almost face-to-face with Spencer.

“...there might be ice,” he finishes in a whisper.

“Right. Thanks…” I catch my breath and fight to not keep looking into his chocolate eyes.

He blinks, then seems to get his thoughts together. “Right, um-” He helps steady me and shuffles away to give me space.

“Do they put this up every year?” I try to ignore the itching awkwardness draping the atmosphere and look back at the magnificent decorations.

“I think so. Rossi says they add something every year.”

We take a few minutes to walk the edge of the fence and take in everything, then Spencer speaks up again.

“Darlene, do you still feel sad about missing out on Christmas?”

After a few seconds of thinking, I have to shake my head. “Actually, no. I’m not missing out on Christmas. I’m spending it differently, that’s all. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad I got to spend it with you.” I discreetly see a small blush grow on Reid’s face. “Still, I do miss my family. But there’s always Easter.”

Spencer nods in agreement. “When it comes to society, family is like the way of life that binds us all together. We all have our own routines and morals that can make each family similar but also individually unique.”

I smile at his philosophical words. “Especially when times are rough, it's assuring to turn to a comforting religion without having to worry about the corruption of humanity.”

“Society is the unavoidable way of life that binds us all together.”

I can tell Reid’s about to start ranting, but I don’t mind. If anything, I like hearing him talk.

“Americans are subconsciously members of multiple social classes and in doing so they build invisible barriers towards members from different classes, hinting at social prejudice. We all have our own routines and morals that fit us into different social classes. As a society, we are each brought up to have a social role, like the stereotypes we think of.”

“Like the quiet one, the weird one, the loud one, the funny one…?”

He points at me. “Exactly! And if we wish to have a different social role, it’s difficult to change them because we are going against society’s expectations and therefore causing more pressure on ourselves. But if we are unhappy with our current roles, our mental health will still be affected.”

“Like a never-ending roundabout,” I think out loud.

“Huh?” Reid looks confused.

“You know, when you’re stuck in a roundabout and don’t know where to exit. Driving 'round and 'round and 'round. Um, as much as this is entertaining to talk about, what exactly is your point?”

Spencer’s face flushes again and he starts fidgeting with his hands, avoiding my gaze by looking back and forth from the house and the ground.

“Darlene, um… I didn’t just ask you to look at lights just to pass the time.”

I shrug and give him a small smile. “I know. You just feel sorry that I couldn’t go home and want to make sure I’m not alone on Christmas. And I thank you for that.”

But Spencer shakes his head and keeps avoiding my gaze. “No, that’s not it, it’s that- I- You- ugh.”

He brings a hand to his forehead and tries to piece his thoughts together. I never thought I’d see the great Dr Spencer Reid so flustered.

“Darling, I wanted to-”

My hand flies to my mouth and my eyes go wide. “Wait. What did you just say?”

Spencer tilts his head and rethinks his statement, then gasps. “Oh God- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-! Well, I…”

I hope he’s thinking what I think he is…

I harness my courage and, slightly trembling, grab Reid’s hand. “Spencer… Did you mean to say that? I didn’t even think you knew what pet names are.”

Reid’s just as tense as I am and finally lifts his head to meet my eyes. “This seems wrong. I was hoping to talk to you after the holidays. I’m not so smart with relationship rituals-”

“Spencer.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you trying to explain how your feelings for me have grown differently from a workplace colleague?”

“Actually I’d phrase it more like- Oh. Um… yes.” Spencer looks down at our intertwined hands. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I know some women aren’t fond of pet names, it’s just that your name is Darlene and, well, darling just comes to mind-”

“I love it,” I reply with a smile.

Reid’s eyes widen. “You do? You’re not just trying to be nice? I’ll stop if you want-”

“Spencer, I love hearing you lecture but for once can you please let me talk?” I can’t keep the joy from spreading on my face. “I feel the same! I love seeing your different vests at work, how you always bring a different book to talk about. I love all your random facts, your mismatched socks! I love how you’re always so thoughtful to ask how I’m doing every day and actually care to listen!”

With every complement Spencer’s eyes go wider and his jaw drops, almost making me believe he’s about to start mocking me-

“D- Do you love… me?” He asks almost too softly for me to hear.

God, what have I gotten myself into? The cliché crush on a coworker? That’s either embarrassing or pathetic!

I struggle to find the right words. “I- You- We- It’s… Yes? Now before you start lecturing about how immature that is-”

“I love you too, darling.”

Before I can utter another syllable Spencer grips my hand tighter and pulls me in to press a soft kiss on my parted lips. For once in my life all logic flies out the window and all I want is him. I use my free hand to grab Reid’s scarf to pull in for a deeper kiss, and I feel him moan against my lips. After what seems like only milliseconds, we both have to pull away to breathe.

“Should have brought some mistletoe,” I pant. “You mean to tell me you wanted to take me here to ask me on a date?”

Reid groans but still doesn’t seem to regret the kiss. “Yes. I’d call that immature. But I’ve been waiting for over a month now, and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

I lean in to press a kiss on his warm cheek. “It’s the best Christmas present I could ever ask for, Spencer. Does this mean I’m yours now?”

Reid smirks and rests his head on top of mine, staring right at me. “I’m yours, Darlene.”

I smile and hug him closer, oblivious to the fluffy snow covering us as the bright Christmas lights illuminate this magical moment. “Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

“Merry Christmas darling.”

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