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tinytennisskirt · 4 months ago

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From Pain to Promise

Summary: based on a dialogue request- Art has been in love with you since he met you at twelve. He's been pining for six years, so it kills him when you get a boyfriend over the summer. He's your friend, he's supposed to be happy for you. Instead, he's just hurt. And jealous. Too blinded by it to see the way your boyfriend is really treating you. After a climactic event outside of a party, you're freed from it all. And Art is right there, waiting, the way he's always been.

MAJOR WARNINGS: violence, abusive relationships, mentions of unwanted sex/attempts at unwanted sex. a fight. mentions of injuries, nothing too graphic, just bruises.

Warnings: pining, yearning, angst, jealousy, mentions of drinking, a kiss. badly edited.

Kat Zimmerman had nothing on you, that was for sure. Only a few nights after his little learning experience with Patrick, you came into the boy’s lives and their worlds were forever changed. Art’s more so. It was that one fateful day when you were picking out a tennis racket, the new girl at MRTA, and those two little boys knew they had to befriend you before Jake Dalton did. Both little boys, stumbling over each other, made their way over to the rackets and said hi, overlapping pre-pubescent voices telling you their names. And you smiled, hair braided, cheeks pink and rosy, exchanging their names for yours.

And you were friends. That’s how it was. You were friends. You, Patrick, and Art. But more so you and Art because Patrick didn’t know how he felt about being friends with girls. Especially when you were such a girl. Patrick didn’t have a painful little boy crush on you the way Art did. You told Art his hair would be perfect for pigtails and he’d let you do what you wanted, clips and bows and all, just so you’d touch him. He bragged to Patrick later that night. Patrick just laughed at him. “She put bows in your hair, dude. That doesn’t count as touching.” He was humbled.

Patrick did feel a little different when fourteen rolled around and you had boobs, but Art was the same, if not deeper in it for you. You remained their friend. You were always around, playing with Art’s hair on the bleachers or studying with them, making sure they actually paid attention. You went to all of Art’s games and maybe, for a few split seconds, he thought maybe you liked him back. But it’s a tale as old as time. He couldn’t ever be sure, so why would he tell you and potentially ruin everything? If he told you and it wasn’t reciprocated, he could say goodbye to all the casual touching and the things you granted him somewhat platonically.

Patrick was one of the only people who knew how bad Art had it because even after their first little incident, Patrick had once or twice heard or walked in on Art masturbating and it was a little obvious who he was thinking about. It was fine, it was nothing new.

One thing was so very clear and that this was all just pining. Pining after you, pulling strings to be closer to you, to hang out with you. Cancelling plans, switching partners, everything. He’d go insane when your hand brushed his, he was there for you every time you needed him. And by twelfth grade, he could say he loved you. It’d been six years of pining, he knew it to be true. So when you called him over the summer to say you had a boyfriend, it just about killed him.

“He’s really nice and he’s a tennis enjoyer, but not a player. It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t know every single term and I get to be the smart one for once,” you gushed to him. He was your best friend after all. You’d been friends, best friends, for six years. Art was glad you managed six years without any real crushes for more than a day and he could handle those because they weren’t real, but this was very real. Or you said so. “God, I can’t believe it, he just asked for my number two weeks ago and now we’ve been together a week. It’s so surreal.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” Art said through clenched teeth. Six years of wanting you and this guy asked for your number and had you as his girlfriend in under a week. He wondered if you’d kissed him. He remembered when you had your first kiss just after his. Just about killed him though he’d just kissed Amy White two days before and bragged about it. He hoped it would make you jealous, but you had your own beau. This was worse than that. You were going to Stanford with him in a month or two, he thought if there was any time to make that change and tell you, it would be when he saw you next. And there wouldn’t be any college dating scandals and maybe he could live happily and find some girl to forget you with, though he knew he couldn’t.

“So it’s serious?”

“Very. I’m excited.” Just about took him out.

He didn’t eat for maybe two days. Would have been longer if Patrick didn’t come over and force-feed him nachos. Art told him the whole situation and Patrick, who had, of course, been rooting for you and Art since finding out Art liked you, was pretty pissed off about it. The two went back and forth just emphasizing ‘six years’. Six years of what? Six years of you hugging him and playing with his hair, going to movies with him, helping him study, spending time with him alone for you to just go and find some guy on a whim? And start dating him? You were all Art had wanted and it was then that he confessed that he was probably in love with you to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t surprised, then went and stole some beers from a friend, saying they needed to drink about it.

You still called as you usually did and Art never got to really feel himself heal when every phone call was an update and a fresh wound. The poor boy was yours and you weren’t his. There was nothing he could say to change that, he was a good friend. And he wanted you to be happy, so he kept his mouth shut. You talked about dates and how good of a kisser he was though you wished he used less tongue sometimes and every word was a papercut that added up to a bigger hurt. He had never wanted anyone the same way he wanted you and he was so sure he couldn’t. He buried his face in his pillow and got so frustrated it drove him to tears. His stomach hurt constantly and he felt like his heart was being pulled down to his stomach.

He was a little scared of how he’d act when you talked to him in person. He just finished settling into campus, his dorm room. You’d done the same with the agreement to meet him for coffee at the campus diner. You were still you, he noted, still painfully beautiful. And you were two months into dating this guy Greg. He sounded like a dick. You said he liked country music and he wasn’t going to post-secondary, he was older and going to a trade school. An asshole. Art did his best to change the topic.

“Mmm, so they have campus events all the time, they’re showing E.T. this Friday if you want to go.” You said. “We should.”

“We should talk them into playing Mac and Me after. A real movie.”

“Shut up, oh my god.” You laughed. Your laugh was one of his favourite things. He found it just a little painful to be here with you, knowing you couldn’t be the way you used to be now that you had a boyfriend. “Do you want to come with me to E.T. or not though, I’m terrified of new people.”

“No, yeah, I’ll go,” he nodded.

Your boyfriend visited on Thursday, so he didn’t see you then. Usually, you called him regardless of being on the same campus, but you didn’t. And then when you said you’d meet Art on Friday, you didn’t show up until the movie was half over. Art sat there, watching the movie on a stupid lawn chair with stupid Reece's Pieces and you came and joined him, apologetic. Said you were with Greg and Art could only imagine what that meant. It was too dark for him to notice how red your wrist was.

It was Art’s first step to breaking. The movie finished and he walked you back to your dorm. “Just saying, if you have plans with your boyfriend, don’t make plans with me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he reasoned, heading up the stairs with you. He tried not to sound bitter. He was only half-bitter anyway, he was mostly genuine.

You sighed, rubbing your left eye just a little. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Does he know about me?” You were quiet. Too quiet. “Y/N?”

You bite your lip, “He knows we’re friends. He doesn’t know the full extent and he doesn’t need to! There’s nothing to worry about, but I just don’t want to worry him. He knows you’re my friend, he doesn’t know… everything.”

Art pressed his hand to his forehead, “I’m a secret, that’s crazy, that’s… fine, I guess. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.”

“You couldn’t.” You told him. “He’s secure. He’s good. And I’m sorry again for being late, I’ll make it up to you with coffee tomorrow if you’ll let me.”

Art nodded in response. How could he not forgive you? How could you stand here and be so beautiful and so apologetic and have him not forgive you? So he swallowed all his words for the thousandth time. “Coffee sounds good. Bring doughnuts. Campus library?”

“Campus library…”

“3 pm?”

“Perfect. See you then.” You kept your sleeve over your wrist which was still pinkened. “I really am sorry, Art.”

He smiled just a little, forced, “It’s okay. I promise. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.”

You said goodnight back and slipped into your dorm room again. Greg had gone out to the local bar, he didn’t come back until 2am when he said he’d be back at 12. Came back drunk and wanting to kiss you quite badly, smelling awfully of whiskey and weed.

Art wanted to forgive you for it all, but he felt like he couldn’t. Maybe he was bitter. He was bitter that you found someone and he didn’t, he was bitter that you had someone who wasn’t him. He’d yet to meet Greg, but he wondered if you smiled at him with your eyes... or when something funny was said if you'd lean into his shoulder while laughing. He wondered if you were the same, or if it felt the same when you were alone with him- like you could say anything and be unjudged. And that any darkness could be made a joke and made better just by talking for hours. He wondered if Greg had any of that the way he had. But Greg probably had that and more and Art would have to deal with that. He felt his heart physically slow its beating as it slowly, but surely, was beginning to crack.

You met Art the next day and of course, he noticed the hickey on your neck. It made his stomach do flips and tie itself in knots and he wanted to get up and leave, but you had the doughnuts and coffee. And he was supposed to be happy for you. He had to remind himself of that. He looked at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and laughed and engaged with what he had said and you were still the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Nothing could or ever would change that. He was still head over heels and he couldn’t help it. He would call himself pathetic, he would degrade himself for still wanting you, but after six years, he couldn’t get away from it.

Greg was over quite a bit. You never called when he was around. You said you’d come hang out when Patrick was in town but you were late again, said you tripped down the stairs and the boys thought it was some excuse for sex with Greg, but you had the injuries to prove it, so neither of them could really be mad. “It hurts like a bitch,” you huffed, sitting down with them. “But it’s fine. We should drink tonight.”

“Your dorm room or mine?” Art replied, a smile on his face. He was happy about an excuse to drink, he was happy you weren’t late because of Greg, and he was happy you were here.

Your eyes widened and you answered much too quickly. “Yours.”

The three of you headed back to Art’s dorm. You lay on his bed, checking your phone every minute or so. It looked like you were getting an abundance of messages, but you were never texting back. Your phone rang twice before you silenced it. The boys chalked it up to Greg and the obsessions of an early relationship, but it wasn’t that early. At one point you tossed your phone off the end of his bed and on top of Art’s laundry. “Please, please, please, pass the vodka,” you enthused. Art and Patrick chuckled, watching you take a pretty large swig.

“Might want to slow down,” Patrick said, looking at Art, then back at you. You were out of the three of you, the person who hardly ever drank. And here you were chugging it like water. “Don’t want to return you to your boyfriend off your ass.”

“It’s fine,” you replied. “He’s fine, it’s all fine.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Patrick replied, taking the vodka back from you. Art grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig equal to yours, trying to drown out the way he was feeling. You were in his bed, talking about your boyfriend. It was fucked. And it felt awful. He looked at you, clouded by alcohol and god, he wished he kissed you in high school. He wished he told you how he felt. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t be so far out of reach. It took him all his strength not to tell you that while drunk. Instead he just laid on the bed next to you, laughing with you about some stupid shit Patrick said.

“This is why you’re not in college, Pat,” you laughed, out of breath. You had turned on your side, your hand was resting on Art’s upper arm. Patrick just groaned, laughing as he turned his head down to the floor. Art was too aware of your hand on his arm. The way it moved up and down almost the way a person would soothe another, but it was you. And this never meant anything, so why should Art let himself believe it did now?

“You’re so smart, tell us how good you are with context clues, go-” Patrick teased. But your eyes met the clock on Art’s desk. Your eyes widened a little. You’d lost track of time.

“Oh my god,” you said, a little bit of panic in your voice. “It’s almost midnight, fuck, I have to go.” You jolted upright and literally climbed over Art to get off his bed. “I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll see you tomorrow, please text me.” You grabbed your phone and your bag and in seconds you were gone.

Art just shut his eyes and sighed. “I feel that,” Patrick nodded. “What the fuck was that?”

“Greg beckons,” Art replied bitingly. “Can’t be late to see Greg!”

“Fucking Greg,” Patrick grunted. “You want the vodka back?”

“Yes please,” Art groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

You returned a little tipsy to Greg, who was tipsier. You used to think he was really great. He was funny and nice and he helped you drown out your feelings for Art. It felt like a step forward, progressive, real. Like a real relationship. One you knew you needed so maybe liking Art with no proof he liked you back would be easier. It was for a moment, but bliss is temporary.

“You’re back, doll,” Greg said, greeting you on messed up bedsheets, not even bothering to meet you halfway. “I’ve had a night. C’mere, I missed you.” You’re afraid to say you’re tired and you just want to sleep. You slink into bed with him. He smells like whiskey again. It’s stronger, more potent, and he needs a shower. The second you’re in bed with him, he’s on top of you. “So why don’t you tell me why you didn’t answer my fucking texts, huh? Or when I called you four fucking times. You know how embarrassing to call your girl and she doesn’t pick up, huh? Had to do that four fucking times in front of my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?” His hand is tight on your arm, leaving bruises, the other hand is on your hair as he keeps himself propped up. It’s pulling and you feel the headache starting.

“N-no, I’m sorry,” you manage. “Greg, you’re hurting me, you’re pulling my hair.”

“Thought you liked that?” He smirked. Not once had you ever liked having your hair pulled. Not once had you ever said that to him in any context.

“You’re hurting me!” You repeated. His hand eased out of your hair but his grip on your arm turned into a grip on your shoulder, just as hard. It hurt. You could feel it bruised already. “Greg, off, please.”

He made a noise sort of like a whine, his breath horrible. “But I missed you, thought we could have some fun when you came back.” He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. You didn’t want to kiss him, you wanted air, you didn’t want his hand down your waistband. “Don’t fight, pretty, come on. I know you want this.”

No, you didn’t. You didn’t let it get so far without a fight. You were left to sleep alone as he stormed out. You tended to the injuries from earlier, the ‘stairs’ incident, plus the new injuries you’d have to make stories for because you’d be hanging out with Art and Patrick again. But the bruise that was already forming on your cheekbone looked bad enough that you texted Art saying you couldn’t make it tomorrow and you cried into your knees.

Makeup didn’t do a very good job, especially when every time something healed, there was something new. You did see Art a few days later when Greg had gone ‘fishing’ with a friend. The bruise on your cheek had faded, but not enough. Makeup hardly fixed it either. “Ball to the face,” you sighed, pressing your lips into a straight line when Art noticed it. He grimaced. “I mean at least my partner has upped her miles per hour but it’s…”

“Ouch,”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, walking next to him. “So I was thinking maybe we could hang out Tuesday night.”

He looked at you, “You have something in mind?” As if he could say no.

“Yes, actually. It’s like an improv show thing, it’ll probably be awful. We can get candy and make fun of them behind their backs.” You smiled just a little.

He grinned, bowing his head just a little, “Sounds perfect.”

“Thought so,” you laughed, nudging him a little so he walked off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He tried to nudge you back, but you dodged him and he nearly tripped down the hill you were walking next to. You laughed, but it only laughed so long as his expression turned into the determination to get you back for it. He chased you down the hill until it became a rolling matter, both of you falling into the lush grass and rolling down the last bit of it. He rolled into you, turning it into a chaotic tumble that slowed to a halt with him on top of you. Art breathed out hard, eyes meeting yours, his breath smelling like the mint gum he was chewing. You smiled first with your eyes and then the grin spread up your face. “Ouch,” you mumbled, almost a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours, his face hovering just above you.

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and his brain told him to move, but he didn’t want to. But he had to. You were taken. It would be wrong. But you didn’t move either. You were both breathing hard, smiling at your compromising position until Art did move. Though maybe you didn’t want him to. “You’re okay?”

“I will be,” you replied. He helped you up and once again, your faces were just inches apart. It was dangerous, wanting you.

Greg threatened obscene things in the face of if you ever were to leave him. He’d tell your secrets, said he’d end his life, said he’d hurt you. You cried. A lot. For hours, later. He was terrifying. You cried so hard your eyes were completely bloodshot the next day. Your girlfriends were concerned, but you played it off as allergies.

You saw Art another day and it was good to talk to him about everything and nothing. He was a good distraction from the throbbing pain in your ribs from Greg’s reaction to you mentioning a celebrity crush. He had been drunk. Too drunk. And you couldn’t get away fast enough.

Tuesday rolled around. You kept your hair down to hide the bruise on your temple. It still ached, along with where your hair was pulled once again when you refused to have sex with Greg again. He was sitting bitter on your bed, angry still. You put on your jean shorts and a t-shirt. “Where you going dressed like that?”

You looked up, “Like what?”

“Why the fuck do you instantly talk back? What’s your fucking problem. I’m asking you where you think you’re going dressed like a slut?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Just getting dessert with Bea from my tennis program. She’s got this-”

“Go change.”

You weren’t looking for a fight. You put on jeans and a sweater. It made you five minutes late to meet Art and you hated it. You looked at Art with sadness in your eyes and he recognized it but didn’t know what it was. “Are you okay?” He knew you.

“Yeah, can we just… go make fun of bad improv?”

“I brought the gummy worms,” he nodded. You leaned slightly against him as you walked down to the outdoor theatre. You were glad to be out for the evening. Glad to be away from Greg and his anger and his hurtful words and the way he treated you. Art was the calm. He was the safety. He didn’t even know it, but he was what kept you going. If you ever got away from Greg, maybe you’d tell Art how you felt. As the feelings for Greg dissipated, your feelings for Art resurfaced.

“The clown bit was actually so good,” you laughed, walking back up the steps of the campus theatre. ”Reminded me of what Patrick said the first time we got high.”

His eyes widened and he swallowed the gummy worm he was eating, “Mm- I was thinking the same thing. It was him for sure.”

“You think I’d be a good clown?”

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head. “Your feet aren’t big enough.”

“And yours are?”

“One, who said anything about me being a clown and two, big feet are supposed to mean something, right?”

You laughed, “Shut up, so boyish.”

His hand brushed your upper arm, just slightly, and you were all too aware of it. In fact, you were all-too aware of how close you walked to him. It was always an unconscious thing. A forever type thing, always walking close, always leaning against each other in the cafeteria lines, always near each other- never near enough. He then nudged your arm again, this time on purpose, so you opened your hand so that he could dump a few more gummy worms in it and you just smiled. It had never, not once, been more apparent that finding someone to replace your feelings for Art was a mistake. Not when this boy, blonde curls and crooked grin was putting a pile of gummy worms in your hand. Wordlessly. Seamlessly. He just got you and the feeling to kiss him right there, right then was overwhelming. And wrong.

It was wrong. You pressed your lips together for a moment before eating a gummy worm. If your boyfriend was around he’d smack them right out of your hand saying you don’t need more sugar. Maybe that’s why he was so bitter, you thought. Lack of sugar. You tried not to think too hard about the urges Art brought with him. He was so lovely, he was such an escape, and he was only your best friend. It was all he could be. You had no idea he was fighting the very same urge, paying extra attention to the fact he didn’t even have to ask you to open your hand, you just knew. But it was wrong. You had a boyfriend.

You said goodbye to Art at the entrance to your building, rather than your dorm. If Greg heard you talking out there, you’d be in for something for sure. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight-” you started. “I needed it.”

Art’s hands slunk into his pocket and he tilted his head just a little, “Yeah, about that. You’re doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah, my mood lately has been down, it’s nothing big. I’m just extra appreciative of anything that brings it back up.”

His eyes were understanding and a little apologetic. “If you want we can do something tomorrow? See a movie or play Scrabble or something stupid. We can get takeout? Takeout and going through Patrick’s Facebook and making fun of him.”

That made you grin. You scrunched your nose just a little, “That sounds good! Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll let you know. I have to check with Greg.” Of course you did. Greg. Fuck. “But I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded. His gaze lingered on your lips. He wished they wouldn’t. He wished his mind wasn’t on who you were going back to after he said goodbye. He walked back to his dorm room in this perpetual state of angst and longing. There was no pain like it. Ever. In any part of his life he’d never known a greater emotional turmoil. You weren’t his. And he loved you, he didn’t even like you, he loved you and he knew it and you didn’t and there was nothing he could do.

He went back to his dorm and got into bed in his jeans and his shoes, not bothering to turn the light off, not bothering to pull the covers over himself. He just hugged his pillow and thought about you and it and everything until he fell asleep. You didn’t have that luxury.

“You’re late,” Greg said, sitting on your bed. He’d been smoking in your room, you could smell it. Potent and cheap, assaulting your nose. You’d give anything to walk out and not return, but this room was yours. If you left now, he’d have you back in your room with some threat or worse. “Care to tell me why?”

“I thought I was home early?” You set your bag down on the chair. “You said 11.”

“I said 10:30,” he replied.

“Did you?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No. Look, I’m tired, can we just go to bed?”

“Of course we can, doll,” he smirked a little bit evilly. You sighed, running your hand over the back of your neck. He wanted to fuck you. And you wanted to go to bed. “Come over here.”

“Greg, I’m tired,”

“Too tired?”

“Yes. I’m too tired. I’m just going to wash my face and go to bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Greg, that’s uncalled for.” You said, standing your ground, just a little. “I’m just tired.”

He shook his head, “Yeah? You go out for hours and come back and don’t even want to fuck. Sounds an awful lot like you’re getting your fill somewhere else. Hm?”

You pressed your hand to your temple, “It means I’m tired, god, Greg, I’m not cheating.” And some voice in your head told you that you wished you were. “Please.” You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door, just in case. You washed your face and changed into your pajamas before getting in bed next to his heavy scent. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you thought maybe you could tune him out, but his hand slipped over your chest, coming to rest with your breast in his hand. You couldn’t pretend anything. He was himself. Even if you wished it was someone else, it wasn’t.

The next morning, he was gone. Where to? You had no idea. You were just glad. You spent the morning with windows open, cleaning your things, wiping down surfaces and sorting laundry, spraying air freshener. And it dawned on you to call Art. Greg wasn’t around. You hadn’t asked him, but you would make some excuse, maybe.

“Hey!” You greeted him, laying back on your bed, fresh sheets beneath you. “You still want to get takeout and make fun of Patrick’s facebook?”

Art walked to the side of the tennis court, his partner yelling at him to make it quick. He smiled, sitting on the bleachers. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. My dorm, around seven? Does that work?” His smile grew to a grin.

“That works,” you replied, smiling too. “Who is yelling at you right now?”

“My partner for singles today,” he answered with a chuckle. “He’s telling me to get back on the court.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re super busy making super important plans?”

He looked at his partner, frustrated in waiting on the court. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Right?” You rolled onto your stomach. “I’ll let you get back to him, I’ll see you later, Art.”

“See you later, Y/N,” he said. You wished he didn’t have to go. You had nothing to do, Greg wasn’t around. Patrick was touring for another week before he came back around here. You decided to go out and meet up with some girlfriends for the afternoon. It was nice to be out and unbothered by having a set time to be home. There was no pressure. Greg didn’t call or text, not once, and it was a strange sort of peace. You talked to your friends about tennis and classes and their current crushes and it was fun and it was good. You retired back to your dorm around six thirty, showered, and did a little makeup. You were just about to leave to meet Art when Greg walked in.

It was like the light was sucked out of the room along with all the air. Or the fresh air. He smelled gross. He tasted worse, kissing you disgustingly. “Hey baby, I missed you,” he slurred. He needed to shave. “Where you headed?”

“Bea’s,” you replied. “She’s having a movie night.”

“Stay,” he breathed. “Missed you all day. Need to feel you.” He disgusted you. Hands on your chest with the door not even closed yet from his entry. “Come on, doll. Said no yesterday, can’t say no today.”

“No.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, come on. I’m being nice.”

“Greg, I have plans, I’m going to be late,” you tried to laugh it off nervously, but his hand was around your wrist in seconds. “Greg, please. Come on.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying. Bea can fucking wait. Don’t your little friends know that I’m more important than them? Jesus christ, the company you keep.”

You avoided his gaze. His hand slipped down to undo his belt. You debated running. He’d catch you, he was fast. You debated an argument. You didn’t want to fuck him, you didn’t want to have sex with him. He was expecting it more than wanting it. Like all you were was some object, some toy, some possession. His eyes were dark with lust and his words laced with alcohol. You were afraid of him. “Greg, I have to go. I’ll be back around eleven.”

“You’re not fucking going,” Greg made it known. Flat out. He shut the door behind him.

“I am. I made the plans, I can’t bail.”

“For me, yes you fucking can.” He said, pushing you back onto the bed. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll like it soon enough.”

“No. Greg. I’m serious. I have to go.”

“You know better than to talk back to me,” he warned. As if you were a dog. Or a child. “You don’t fucking listen? You’re not going out. Cut the attitude before you regret it.”

“Greg.”

“What did I fucking say?” He yelled, then dropped his voice. It was nasty, his breath, his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna like it.”

“No-” his blow came like lightning through your body. A shock. A volt. And then the sting. “Greg, please-” another. And more. And then he left again. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, it hurt. Your ribs ached, your head pulsed. Your lip was bleeding. What could you do but cry and cry and cry? You wanted to call Art, you really did, but you knew if you cried on the phone he’d come over here and with Greg on the loose, it wasn’t a good idea. So you curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep.

Art sat in his dorm room waiting all night for you. Until about 2 am, when he gave up calling and texting and went to bed. You called him the next morning and he didn’t pick up.

You couldn’t reschedule for any day nearby because of your fat lip and new bruises. Greg came back and apologized like usual, dismissing the purple and blue on your face. His doing. His work. When he was in the bathroom, you called Art again, leaving a quiet voicemail.

“Art, I’m so sorry about my no-show last night. Something came up and I couldn’t make it and I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I feel like such an asshole. But next week, for sure. We’ll do whatever you want, my treat. I want to make it up to you, I feel terrible about this. Please call or text me when you get this. I’m sorry.”

Art gazed over his screen. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Loving you was choking him out and these no-shows and being late and canceling, it was just… too much. You were you and you were everything he could ever want, but you had other priorities, it seemed. He could want you all he wanted, wish for you as often as he could, but you didn’t wish the same. That was all he knew, not knowing the whole truth. Not calling him that night was one of the hardest things to do, but it was for safety.

You couldn’t even see Art if you wanted to for a few days. Not until the bruises faded enough to be covered by clever concealer. You wanted so desperately to go over to his dorm. You wanted to see your friends. Anything to feel better. Anything to get out of this fucking room, but you called in sick to your classes and worked on the material in your room, completely unable to really exist in the outside world. It was just you and Greg in this tiny little room. And he didn’t stop the aggression. You couldn’t escape it.

You called Art again when he left for an hour or two to go to the bar. You had stifled your crying, feeling so completely alone, needing to hear his voice. Maybe he’d save you for even a moment. He was the light, he made things better.

He picked up this time. “Hey.” It was singular, a little quiet.

“Art, hi,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were so overwhelmed with emotion at his simple greeting. “Did you get my messages? I left a voicemail, god, I’m so sorry for the other night. We made plans and I made a commitment but I got tangled up. I wanted to call, I’m so sorry I didn’t.” You gushed. “I understand if you’re angry. I know I promised you I wouldn’t do what I did, but you have to believe I didn’t mean to. And I’m really sorry.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He wasn’t sure what to say. What you did wasn’t okay, but it was you, so he’d always forgive. “I get it.” But he didn’t. “You have a boyfriend, I can’t expect you to be free all the time. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t.

“Art, really, I-”

“I forgive you. Just call me next time? Please.” His words were so easy, it hurt you. “I heard your voicemail, if you still want to make it up to me, I’m free Friday night. There’s a party, Patrick wants to go. You should come with us.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A party would be hard to lie about. But it was Art and he was asking and you so desperately wanted to see him that you agreed. You agreed. And the conversation mellowed into something normal. Your usual conversation and banter, slight teases, and warm words. And it felt better. You had plans for Friday and that was that. You wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop you this time.

Getting ready for the party with Greg around sucked. You did your makeup modestly, you couldn’t look too nice or he’d stop you from leaving. The concealer didn't quite cover the bruise, but your lip had healed over pretty nicely. The dim lighting would be your friend for sure. You put on a long skirt over a mid-length one. You couldn’t be too careful, he once called a skirt slightly above the knee slutty. And you wore a dollar store t-shirt over your black tank top.

“Where are you going?” Greg asked.

“Sleepover at Bea’s, remember?” You said. You loved lying to him. It was the best you could get away with. “You said I could go.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Talk to you later.” He didn’t make you stay or make you kiss him goodbye, which was a relief. You walked over to Art’s dorm with what felt like pep in your step. You didn’t have to be home at any certain time, you were free to roam, to have fun. Greg wouldn’t know. Greg couldn’t know. Patrick let you into Art’s room. He’d been debriefed on the stunt you pulled, but he couldn’t hold it against you.

“You look like you’re going to church,” he remarked, looking over your outfit.

Art peered over from where he sat, “Amish?”

You chuckled, pulling the shirt off over your head. Both boys were a little taken aback as you tossed the shirt to Art’s laundry. “Not quite.” You undid the button on the side of your skirt and took that off as well, revealing the shorter skirt underneath. You were beautiful, Art thought. He always thought it. But that was because you always were. Wanting you was hard and disruptive and wrong, he reminded himself. But you stood there and everything reminded him of just how fucked he was. Head over heels for a taken girl. Both of them were too distracted to pay attention to the covered-up bruise on your outer thighs. They didn’t pay close enough attention to the multitude of bracelets that covered the bruised fingerprints on your wrist. Your face was another story. Another lie.

Art’s mouth was just a little open, watching you shed the outer layer of clothes. Patrick tossed you a shooter. “So what’s with the coverup?”

You thought he meant your makeup over the bruise on your face and you held your breath for a half-second. He meant the clothes. “Oh, Greg wouldn’t like me out in a skirt and tank top.” You tried not to cringe at the words. Were they telling?

“Why does Greg have a say in that?” Patrick replied, leaning forward in his chair just a little. Art looked away, he had to. His face would say something he didn’t want you to know. Patrick was overstepping, he couldn’t bear that either.

You unscrewed the cap of the shooter, “He’s not… I don’t know. But I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out anyway,” you said, trying to ignore that line of questioning. “I’m in the skirt and the shirt. Thoughts?” You did a little spin. Art couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so perfect it hurt. It hurt.

“Hot.” Patrick nodded. He unscrewed his own shooter, standing and grabbing one to pass to Art. Art pushed past his thoughts and the three of you did a little ‘cheers’, downing the small bottles. You would take hot. Hot was good. Hot was the opposite of how you were feeling. Greg made you feel so gross, it was hard to be anything else. And with staying cooped up in your room, bruised and marinating in the feeling of being ugly- so hot was good. He said what Art was thinking. It was a little less than he thought, but it was a good summary.

The three of you headed out soon after, drinking on the way. You were leaning on Art as you walked, the three of you laughing at some inside joke. Your laugh was beautiful and rang out in the street. With the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, on his skin, you were an angel. You were always an angel, bathed in streetlight. And your hand was around his bare forearm and boundaries with you were always blurry but this felt odd. He was enjoying it, it was wrong, but he was letting it pass with the excuse of the alcohol. Your hand was so soft on his skin, the perfect temperature, perfect everything. When were you not perfect?

“Okay so Patrick is set on bringing a girl back- but bringing a girl back where?” You laughed, turning onto one of the little pathways between the rented residencies.

“I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Art chuckled, nudging Patrick just a little. Patrick raised his hands in surrender, both hands filled with shooters. His pockets were also full. “You were going to say my dorm room, weren’t you?”

“Nasty,” you teased. “Poor Art. He sleeps in that bed, you know.”

“Uh-huh. You’re one to talk, you’ve always got some form of hickey on your neck, you don’t even try to hide it. Me, nasty? You.” Your hand immediately flew to the side of your neck. “Sit with that one.”

Art’s heart always fell at the mention of it. Every time, without fail. You moved away from him just slightly at the mention. You would usually have a retort to something like that. But you didn’t. Your hand just stayed on the side of your neck, covering the fingerprint bruises you didn’t know were visible. You pulled your hair over it. “Pass me another shooter, please.”

Art, sweet, feeling pretty shitty over the way he was viewing you, stayed quiet. Mostly. Until you were just outside the party. Patrick pat him on the shoulder, heading in right away. Art, sweet, stopped you with the extension of his arm. “You’re quiet.” He said.

“So were you,” you replied.

“Just wondering if you’re okay?” He said. Posing it as a question. “You’ve seemed upset since we were at mine, I just wanted to know before we go in there and it’s too loud and I get too drunk to ask.”

“You’ve never been too drunk you ask,” you smiled. You were standing a little bit close to him, your toes inches from touching. “You got soooo drunk at the Miller’s party last year and you still asked me if I was having fun. I wasn’t and we left and you threw up, remember?”

“I don’t,” he chuckled, eyes soft. But he nodded, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need more to drink and I want to find Bea and dance. My plans. Your plans?”

“Drink and save women from Patrick,” he nodded, his grin coming back.

You, just a little clouded from alcohol, pressed your palm to the side of his face just for a second. “You’re a saint, Art Donaldson.” He felt his skin flush. Your hand slipped away and went down his forearm once again, pulling him into the party. It was natural you let go of him, Art made a beeline for Patrick who was already talking to some girl. She was weird, flirted with Art too once he showed up.

You needed to lie to Greg more often, you thought, taking a shot from some girl you shared a 3pm class with. Bea’s hands on your hips, dancing together, hands raised over your heads. This was living, this was uncontrolled, unbridled by any abuse, any threat. You could have fun and not feel guilty about it after. Greg had too much trust in a girl he hit. You felt- though you weren’t- free. Just a little bit.

Art watched you with Bea, watched the way you moved. He was out of it. Just a little. Not too drunk at all. But enough. Numb, watching you. Hard, watching you. He hid a little behind Patrick to hide it, watching your hips sway, watching how close you and your best friend were. He couldn’t have cared less about Bea. Just you.

He should have told you he liked you in high school. Not saying anything had to be one of the biggest regrets of his entire life. You were perfect for him in every way and you were warm and inviting and you were witty and fun and you knew each other like the backs of your hands and it would have been worth it to tell you. He knew that, looking at you, that it would have been easiest to tell you when he still could. He was bitter about it. A missed chance. Patrick told him he’d regret it and watching you under purple lights, he knew Patrick had been right. It was all bullshit.

Patrick suddenly grabbed Art’s arm pretty hard, yanking him closer, “That guy over there. That’s Greg, right?” He said, voice low even in the loudness of the party. He gestured over to the guy in the weird sweater and jeans, leaned up against the wall, arm hanging above a short hardly-dressed girl. Faces close. So close. Noses touching kind of close.

“Oh, fuck,” Art breathed, eyes locked on them, watching Greg’s hand touch just under this girl’s chin. You didn’t know Greg was there, that was apparent. But of course, the dirtbag was. Art’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He looked back at Patrick, whose expression was filled with hatred. As it should be because what the fuck? Regardless of how much he was rooting for Art, always rooting for Art, Greg was still the guy you were with. Your boyfriend. And he was with someone else.

“I need a reason not to fuck him up right now,” Patrick said. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Art answered truthfully. “She doesn’t know he’s here, he doesn’t know she’s here.”

Patrick shook his head, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, visibly pissed off. At least Patrick could be pissed off, Art’s stomach was just in knots. It was almost nonsensical. No way he would cheat on you. You? You were everything, you were gorgeous in all ways and you had a personality. How could he cheat? He looked back over at Greg in a liplock with this other girl and the anger did rise, but his eyes fell back on you and it eased. This was fucked all around. Every bit of this was fucked up. “We have to tell her, we can’t keep it to ourselves.”

“I agree but how are we going to say it? We’re in a crowd of people, it’s not exactly fun news.”

“Fucking asshole. I’m pissed. He’s slobbering all over that girl like a fucking dog. You know, I should…”

Art couldn’t keep listening to Patrick’s rant. He didn’t even want to look back at Greg. But Greg was very obviously invested in his cheating schemes. Art wondered how long he’d been doing it to you. How long had this guy been cheating? Did you not satisfy him? How could you not satisfy him, you sported hickeys so often and you were late to meet up and it was all sickening, but it didn’t add up. This guy was the world's most unsatisfied, apparently. It, he, was disgusting. Art felt his face crinkle up just thinking about it, but he had to now. Your feelings were in the balance here.

“- in the face. Knock his goatee right off. Art. Art, I’m telling her.”

“Patrick, give me a fucking second,” Art said, holding a hand up. He looked back at you, Bea pouring a shot in your mouth. You were smiling. Grinning. And you were beautiful and he hated the idea that you’d stop soon. Fuck. Neither of you deserved this. Not you, not Art. “We’ll tell her it’s time to go and then we’ll tell her outside, no bullshit.”

Patrick nodded, “This is bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so fucking angry.”

“I know.” Art’s heart was leaping out of his chest. He held his hand out and Patrick dug in his pocket for a stronger shooter. Art drank it all quickly, letting it burn his throat. His heart didn’t slow even a bit. “Fuck.”

Patrick leaned over to the girl who he’d just been talking to, saying something about having to leave. Art watched her roll her eyes and walk away. It was fair, she’d been standing there for a bit listening to him trash talk your boyfriend. Art rubbed his eyes, trying to sober up just a little, but after that shooter, it was a little bit pointless. Regret seemed to be a theme around here. “He’s gone.” Patrick said. Art let the fuzz from rubbing his eyes melt and sure enough, Greg wasn’t where he was before. Just a little panicked, he set his eyes on you. There he was, towering over you, rage in his eyes. It was clear to Art what was going through your head, he knew you too well, you were cowering. Patrick was still scanning the crowd for Greg, but Art watched as Greg’s fingers locked onto your upper arm and he yanked you so hard that your shoulder went funny for a second.

Art, a little shocked, watching him drag you out of sight. And he launched into action. He started into the sea of people dancing, drinking, leaving Patrick behind. Patrick was faced the other way, by the time Art was absorbed into the crowd, it was a little late to find even him. Art pushed through people, trying to keep his sight on you, but he lost you in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. He’d never seen anyone grab anyone the way Greg just grabbed you. It was violent and harsh and the way it happened, it couldn’t have been good in any way. He pushed through people, accidentally pushing a guy as he passed him, the guy went to push back but Art just darted out of the way. He made his way to the door, you weren’t around it, so you had to have left.

“Art Donaldson, my man,” one of his tennis buddies greeted him, stepped in front of him and Art just stepped around him, trying to find you. You, where were you? His heart rate was raised higher than he’d ever felt it. Rapid, as if he’d run a mile. He ran out onto the street, looking around, but there wasn’t any sight of you. What he would do when he found you, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to find you. Nobody just grabbed someone like that with good intentions.

Greg wasn’t a good guy and he knew that, he just thought it was his bias. That maybe he was overreacting, but it didn’t look so much that way now. “Greg, please!” You yelled from his left. Art turned his head to see two figures head into one of the thin alleyways between buildings. He could hear a man speaking back to you, Greg, obviously, but his voice was too much of a growl to understand. Art started jogging toward the sound, cautiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied,” you cried out.

“Little fucking whore. Lie to me to go party with your friends? Dance on some fucking guy, cheat one me? That’s what you wanted?” Art’s heart was about to break his ribs. He ran just a little faster.

“No, fuck, Greg, stop! I was with Bea, I was with Bea!”

“At a fucking party. If you wanted to be a slut you could have said so. Fucking lying to me, you’re disgusting. Fucking bitch.”

“Greg!”

“Don’t even start talking back to me now! You’re a lying, cheating whore who deserves to be treated like one!”

Art was almost there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Greg, don’t fucking touch me. I’m dead serious, I’ll scream. Get off me, get off me you asshole!”

The sound of the blow made Art’s entire body go cold. He felt himself drain of colour, he felt his heart stop for just a second. It was a sickening noise. The entirety of him tensed up to a point he felt like a coiled spring, his chest tight, ribs pressing in. He hit you, that was the sound of him hitting you, he hit you. Art made it over and came at Greg with a surprising force, shoving him off of you and onto the ground. He was drunk, it was easy to do. Your hand grabbed Art’s upper arm, but missed as Art’s body followed through with the movement.

“What the fuck?!” Greg exclaimed. You moved behind Art, backward, away. Tears streamed down your face, you were choking on sobs, cradling the side of your face with one hand and your upper arm with the other. Art stepped back with you. He was so angry he himself couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at you, he kept his eyes on Greg, breathing hard. Shoving was tame, shoving him off of you was going to have to be enough, Art wasn’t violent. The shock of all this hadn’t settled, it wouldn’t settle. “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?” Greg advanced on Art who was nimble, but between anti-car poles, stuck. Shoved against the wall, he just avoided having his head hit the wall by putting his hand up.

“Art!” You yelled. “Greg, stop! GREG!” You screamed, you hoped someone would come. You hoped someone would call the cops.

“Art fucking Donaldson, huh?” Greg smirked, face close to Art’s. “You been fucking my girlfriend? Hm? This the one, Y/N, really? Just friends my ass, you probably came here with him.”

“Fuck you,” Art seethed. Greg was bigger than him.

“Get off of him, Greg, I’m begging you, don’t hurt him!”

Greg fumed, “Used me to get over him, huh? Big-eared, fuckass, twinkie little pretty boy, here?”

“Shut up!” You yelled. Your head pounded, your skin stung. “Stop. Now. I’ll call the police, I’ll get someone to call the police, Greg, get off of him!”

Art shoved Greg backward again, but he just walked right back. “I don’t want to fight you.” Art said, his eyes dark. “Fuck off. Leave her alone, fuck off.”

“He’s playing prince charming, Y/N. You’ve been fucking him on the side. Yeah, that’s why you never put out, you slut. Getting his pathetic skinny boy dick on the side.” Art kneed Greg in the groin, pushing him off again and stepping over to you. “Oh, you’re fucking dead.” His eyes burned with rage and he came at Art with a pouncing force, grabbing him and bringing him down to the ground. You screamed, watching Greg tackle Art to the pavement. The brawl began, Greg holding Art down, trying to punch him but being blocked. Art wasn’t violent, he was avoiding hurting Greg. For you. For your sake. You had no choice, you had to intervene. What was a few more bruises? You tried to push Greg off, but he kept at it, trying to hurt Art.

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” It was Patrick and he dragged you out of this with too much ease, putting you to the side and going right back to push Greg off of Art and onto his back. A bystander behind Patrick had their phone out, calling 911, thank god. You watched in pure shock, Art get punched in the shoulder rather than the head and in a swift blow, Patrick punched Greg in the jaw. And he went limp. You grabbed Art, you grabbed whatever you could on him, his shirt, his opposite shoulder, on your knees. He looked at you with eyes sadder than you’d ever seen them. You moved closer.

His hand reached up to your face desperately but also gently, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re okay? You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded a little too much, looking him over just as he looked you over, noting the way your cheekbone was bleeding. He really hit you. “God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Art, I’m so sorry.” You were crying a steady stream of tears, lip trembling, and you were still so beautiful.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry,” he said, trying to wipe your tears a little more desperately than he had just done. “He hit you, he hurt you, how-”

“I wanted to tell you. I was scared. I was so scared he’d do something awful. I don’t love him, I don’t want him, I want you. I want you, I’ve wanted you.” You blurted, sobbing just a little more. Art messily moved your hair out of your face. “Art, I-” You were crying so hard, it was hard to breathe. “I couldn’t leave him.” You looked over at Patrick shaking his hand out, at Greg’s unconscious self. Hands gentle, he turned your head away from it.

Art’s lips were just a little parted, eyes looking over the damage to your face. “How long has he been?”

“A long time,” you swallowed hard. “Three months in, maybe two- two and a half.” You said, biting your lip trying to stop crying. “I wanted to leave him. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. He’s- he’s why I didn’t show up those times, I wanted to be there, but he’d… he was… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, bracing you with soft hands. “It’s okay. He’s not getting close to you ever again, Patrick is making sure of that.”

“He was right about the using him part, I was using him to get over you and it was- wrong. It was wrong and he started hurting me and then it was too late to get out.”

In the heat of the moment, your ‘I want you’s had slipped past him. He wanted to make sure you were okay, he wasn’t focused on that. You were blurting things out, he’d missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, he lowered his head just a bit, “Over me? What do you mean?” His judgment also wasn’t the best. But it didn’t matter. You sat up just a little, still clinging onto his clothes, hands shaking. With Greg out, going to be out of the picture the words just spilled from your mouth. Rolling off your tongue in light of what was soon to be true freedom.

“I’ve wanted you forever, god, it kills me that I never said anything. It’s you, it’s been you, I don’t know why I thought I could ever try and be with anyone to forget that. It’s just, you’ve never…”

“What? No, no. I’ve liked you since I met you, we were twelve, it was bad and it’s been you. You never said anything either-” the sound of a cop car approaching interrupted. “You liked me?”

“Yes! So much. Too much, sometimes. God, I’m so stupid.” You were crying still, even more now. “You just… you never said anything, so I never said anything and then I got stuck, but it never stopped. It’s bad, it’s so bad, I probably love you, it’s awful.” The alcohol was still running the conversation.

“That is awful,” Art chuckled just a little bit. On the pavement with you, cop car approaching, lights flashing. This conversation would be over in a minute. Your eyes met his, sad, angry, mutual thoughts and mutual expressions.

“It’s bad?” You smiled just a little through your tears.

He grinned just a little, “I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what being in love feels like”

Art’s thumb wiped your tears with a little less desperation now. His heart and yours were still beating hard. “That’s so bad, that’s six years,”

“I know.” He said, grinning his wide crooked grin. The conversation had strayed from the real problem, but it was a good distraction. A welcomed one, in fact. Proof that things could and would be better. “It’s okay. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be okay,” you nodded. The policemen, two of them walked over and began their spiel, asking about what happened and Art helped you to your feet. The night was still young, the persecution was easy to figure and a diary you kept detailing his abuse was a great help to the case. You, Patrick, and Art all spent the night at the police station with forms and questions and people trying to get a grasp on the situation. A blurry security camera was also a great amount of help. Greg was charged properly, put away. It was easy to see who was the real problem. You sat with ice to your face in one of the police chairs, being offered therapy and counseling and numbers to call for trauma and crisis. Everyone was so sweet, one of the policewomen held your hand for a good while until it stopped shaking.

You still cried a lot. Sorry that everyone had to go through this just because you couldn’t leave a guy. Just because you had tried to forget your feelings for Art in someone else. But the words, ‘it’s not your fault’ were thrown around a lot. And that you’d be safe. And it felt good to know. You’d sobered back up, obviously. So did the boys. You had the most extensive questioning, the boys waited in the main room.

“All the excuses, the ball to the face, the stairs…” Patrick sighed heavily, staring forward into a void.

“It was him.” Art nodded. “I feel like such an idiot, how the fuck did I not know? I know her better than myself, she hid it and I didn’t want to think about her and Greg. It was… it hurt.” He admit. Patrick looked over at Art.

“He’s gone. He won’t hurt her again. If he tries, best believe I’m doing more than knocking his ass out. I can’t fucking believe this shit. I’m glad I got off, but jesus fucking christ, I wish I’d done enough to be behind those bars.”

“No you don’t,” Art sighed, leaning forward into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t even fight back.”

“You’re not that kind of guy,” Patrick reasoned. “Which is fine. You got him off her, that was all you needed to do.”

“I guess, but… fuck.”

“She told you she wanted you,” He reminded Art with a slight sly smile on his lips. He gave Art a gentle little push off the shoulder. As if Art had been able to stop thinking about it. He’d sobered up just the same and the confession might have been badly timed, but at least it happened. He meant it, he hoped you did too. He was trying not to let it eat him alive alongside the fact your now-ex hit you and he hadn’t known. Maybe he missed the other clues? How did he not know? “She likes you too. It’s all you’ve wanted.”

“I know,” Art sighed. “After that, though?”

“Means she’s yours.”

Art looked up and met Patrick’s eyes, trying to verify if he meant it. As if Patrick was the dictator. But Patrick was only the reality. The gravity of the situation hung above him, but you were in front of him, free from the questioning. Your cheeks were pink and tear-stained still and your eyelashes were still wet. Patrick tipped his head toward you to gesture to Art and the second Art saw you, he was on his feet. His eyes were wide like a doe’s, hands in his pockets.

He met you halfway down the blue-painted precinct hallways. Your eyes said more than words did as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in the rest of the way into a hug that had more sincerity and life than the walls had ever seen. His arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt on your sides, holding you tight and close. He kissed your shoulder, his chin resting in your hair. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled. You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing him to envelop you in his arms. He held you so tight, it felt like he was keeping you from falling to pieces. It would take you a while to get over all of this, but right now, it felt like you’d be okay.

He was refreshingly cold, the precinct was warm and you’d been upset, so of course you were warm. He held you for a minute or maybe five. Nobody had to use the hallway and anyone who did just went back around. Patrick didn’t watch, instead, he went to the counter to ask about getting a ride back to campus.

Eventually, you pulled away from the hug. Not entirely, just almost. His arms slid over your back, his grip just loosening, not leaving. In fact you didn’t get very far in pulling away. Your heart beat fast in your chest. Even in the upset, even after the fact, Art was still your peace. He was quiet and he held you as long as you needed him to. He was always there and you knew he would be. With everything that happened just then, with that confession… Your forehead pressed against his. Gentle. Safe. You were safe. You felt safer here, like this, than you did in that room with the officers who asked you so many things.

You looked at him through your eyelashes. He must have read your mind, he must have known you too well. With a tilt of your heads, your lips met. There was the slightest, softest bit of hesitation, but it was soothed over in seconds, your hand sliding to cup Art’s cheek. He pulled you back in with slow, easy hands that didn’t grab too hard. The kiss was patient, calculated, and warm. It sent what felt like tiny sparks through all of your veins leaving goosebumps in their wake. It felt like completion, like a satisfying end to a movie, like putting a book back on the shelf after reading it. It was easy to kiss him, your heart slowed for the first time as his pace matched yours. However, out of understanding, the kiss wasn’t too long. Maybe a minute, nothing more.

You’d been through something. He couldn’t be the one to fix all of that, but he’d be there for you until it felt better. Stepping in now felt wrong, felt like it was one thing to another. You needed the time to yourself. Art didn’t kiss you again for another five months. All of which were spent the way they usually were, aside from being a little closer than usual and hanging out so much more. You were free to do as you pleased. Free to see him. Free to stay home- and you spent a good amount of your time alone healing. Physically and mentally.

Patrick was often around to help you laugh it off, but when you needed to cry, Art was always right there. After some time, you were feeling like yourself again. And you were laughing too much, smiling all the time again, spinning in a new skirt and crashing into Art. Who you then kissed, after so much time thinking about it, replaying it, wanting it again. It was finally okay to do so. After seven years, it was only fitting that he welcomed it, fully, and entirely. You were giggling, your lips pressed to his, and he knew it was okay. There was no bruise on your cheekbone to be cautious of, both of his hands held your face, your head tilted back just a little as he kissed you the way you were meant to be kissed. The way Greg couldn’t. It would never mean so much.

Greg was in your past, but Art was your past. And your future, now. Because now that you had each other, neither of you was going to let go. He promised you that between kisses. You promised it back.

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @ke4s @ellzbellz18

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tinytennisskirt #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fic #art donaldson angst #art donaldson imagine #challengers fanfic

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rebelumbrella46 · 5 months ago

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Let’s just be honest—The Umbrella Academy was essentially cancelled after Season 3, but given the massive fandom, Netflix gave them the chance to wrap up the story with a final season. It’s similar to what happened with Shadowhunters—it was cancelled, but after the outcry from fans, they were given two more episodes to tie things up.

For me, the first two seasons were masterpieces. They truly became my comfort show and introduced me to my comfort characters. This might sound cheesy, but it’s true—when the first season aired, I was going through a rough time in my life, and I held on to this show like my life depended on it. Season 2 arrived amidst the pandemic, and it was a light in the darkness for me as well. Even with the massive success of Season 2, I think Netflix hesitated to greenlight another season. I remember waiting for an announcement, and it felt like it took forever.

Season 3 was filmed during the pandemic, and if I recall correctly, Netflix cut the budget for visual effects. So, the season didn’t quite live up to the expectations set by Season 2. Regardless of its flaws, I enjoyed it, but I would have enjoyed it more if the writing hadn’t been so sloppy and, at times, cheesy.

But this last season? It feels like fanservice—and not even good fanservice. For example, the Lila and Five thing? The enhanced powers? The Jennifer Incident? All of it fell flat. Klaus’s storyline this season was basically what I wanted to see in Season 3, but it was delivered too late and added nothing meaningful to the plot.

But was the main plot really supposed to be about Jennifer? Who cares about introducing a new character in the final season instead of focusing on saying goodbye to the beloved main characters?

The subplots were boring. Klaus’s storyline was fanservice, but it felt like they just threw us a bone to appease years of fans asking for Klaus to get his comic powers. And it was insulting. Ben and Jennifer in love? Unrealistic and boring. The train station? Who came up with that cheap idea? I thought it would be a place built by Reggie, but there was no explanation at all.

The apocalypse no longer feels exciting or even important. There’s no sense of urgency anymore.

The family dynamics—the strongest part of this show—felt odd and weak. Pairing Viktor with Reginald was boring. Lila and Diego’s drama? Nonsense. And what was the point of Claire? I thought she would be the main conflict of the season, with everyone banding together to save a character we’ve known since Season 1, who has emotional ties to every Umbrella.

And where were the villains? To make it as interesting as Seasons 1 and 2, you need a great antagonist. Like Hazel and Cha-Cha, The Handler, Reginald, or even an antihero like the Sparrows, Harlan, or the Commission. Why not make Abigail the greatest threat? Or bring back some of the former villains?

What about resolving old family drama, so that if the show’s end was going to be the family sacrificing themselves, they could all go in peace?

Instead, they didn’t address Allison’s betrayal at all. They created a huge rift between Five and Diego. Nothing for Klaus and Ben. No Umbrella Ben. No Sloane. Why is Lila even here anymore? Why didn’t she just ditch out like Ray and leave Diego with the kids to be a single dad? That would’ve made more sense coming from Lila than from Ray, to be honest.

For me, the writers, producers, and directors knew this show was cancelled, so they didn’t even try anymore. For me, the ending of season 3 was meant to be the ending of the show.

I watched Game of Thrones after it ended, so I didn’t experience the same level of rage, disappointment, and betrayal that fans felt. But now, I do.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #tua #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #diego hargreeves

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

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Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother and going nuts

Pairing: Geto's little sister x husband!Gojo

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Warnings: this is a emotional rollercoaster, (y/n) is a bad bitch but damn that just hurts, drama over drama, cursing over cursing, I worked so hard to get this fic out tonight so please show some love 😭not proofread yet, will do that tomorrow!

„I’ll leave now.“

You look up from your magazine, furrowing your eyebrows at your oh so precious husband.

“Weren’t you suppose to leave…Like two hours ago?”, you question innocently.

“I wasn’t done in the bathroom.”

“You’re so vain that it hurts.”

“Watch your mouth, Geto”, he warns you by your former last name.

With a swift motion he lands on top of you, large figure almost swallowing you whole while you grin at him triumphally. Were you just teasing Satoru for him to grab you by the throat ever so slightly, for him to stare at you with his dirty blue eyes?

Definitely.

“Or what, Gojo?”, you bite back, emphasizing every syllable of his last name with so much provocation that it takes all his strength to stop himself from fucking you until you can’t stand anymore.

He never imagined you to lay under him this way. You, the sister of his best friend. You, who always seemed so threatful unbothered by him. Just before Suguru decided to leave all of you behind, just before he massacred both of your parents, you decided to give him a chance. And you didn’t even change your mind when he was forced to kill your big brother.

“You want me to stay here and leave our students out there alone?”, he hushes against your lips.

Because if you would, he’d definitely stay here all night.

“You know I’m always up for you, but not tonight. They actually called me as well when you were busy doing your pretty hair in the bathroom. Something serious is going on there. I’ll join as soon as I’m ready here.”

Since your brother decided to kill everyone apart from jujutsu sorcerers, you were always keen to do the exact opposite by saving as many people as possible. As much as you love him still, as much as you do in fact somehow understand him, he went down a path you couldn’t follow. He was like your older twin. Not only by looks, but also your cursed techniques were the same, made you a powerful weapon against these fucking curses.

Well, now you’re your own weapon as it seems. Your eyes stare up at your now husband who still looks at you with the same affection in his eyes like more than 10 years ago.

No, you aren’t alone. After all, you’ll always have Satoru by your side.

“Get your pretty ass moving then. We’ve got some work to do.”

-later in Shibuya-

You desperately try to ignore the way your guts turn, yanking down the busted streets as if you’re haunted.

He’s sealed.

Satoru Gojo, your newly husband, the one and only who stuck to you all these damn years, the love of your fucking life.

Sealed, gone in the wind, trapped in a tiny box.

But as if that wasn’t enough, rumours reached your ear. Rumours about none other than your big brother being responsible for this. Your big, dead brother.

Your feet clash against the hard ground underneath, body sprinting towards what looks like a new battlefield. Whoever this fucker is will pay for what he’s done. Not only to your husband, but to your brother as well.

And what about your students? You didn’t arrive on time, not a single update reached your ear when you entered the curtain, eyes wide open in disbelief by all the death surrounding you. If that thing hurt a single one of them, if a single jujutsu sorcerer lost their life here…

You’ll lose it completely.

The second a wave of what looks like ice begins to dart towards the recognizable outlines of people you waste no time, shooting a bunch of grade one curses their way while using one as a curtain to hold back the ice.

“(y/n)…Is…Is that you?”

Yuji. A few other students from Kyoto, Utahime, Panda, Kusakabe. They’re injured, but alive. What about the rest? Where are Mei Mei, Toge, Nanami and that old Zenin fart? You give yourself a little shake, eyes focused on your curse and the wave of ice in front of you. Now is not the right time to think about all of that. Your priority is to finally catch that fucker who uses your brother’s appearance and saving who’s here at the moment.

And the most important, get your sealed husband back.

“You have some fucking nerve, showing up and making such a mess. And now you’re even dumb enough to attack other jujutsu sorcerers. Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

Your heart is almost beating out of your chest, eyes focused in front of you. Maybe that person just looks like him, Suguru. You found peace with the fact that he’s gone a long time ago, it’s simply not possible to see his gentle eyes ever again. You accepted the fact that he won’t trade his pokemon cards with you, that the time of getting on his nerves while secretly loving him dearly is over. No one can copy him, no one can-

“You are pretty late, (y/n).”

No one can sound like him. You shake your head in utter disbelief, mind desperately trying to process the fact that this sounded exactly like Suguru Geto, that the frame behind the falling curtain of ice and purple is…

Him.

You can’t move an inch. Instead, you just stand there in silence, staring him up and down. This looks just like him, this sounds like him. Fuck, this even smells like him, radiates the same energy as him.

But no.

The way he said your name wasn’t the same. It missed the soft tone in his voice, how it always lightened up by his small smile when seeing you.

“And you’re in big trouble.”

Is it an hallucination, some type of strange technique? No, it has to be his body, it is his body. Somebody else seems to control it.

And that someone will pay for using him, for tarnishing his memory.

“Is my own little sister not able to recognize me? I guess that’s not as bad as getting betrayed by her, though.”

“Spare me with that bullshit. It seems like you really know nothing about me and my big brother. What do you want me to do, huh? Break down in tears and cry, believe that you’re actually him? I will wipe your ass from this earth without even blinking. But before that, I want my husband back”, you his through gritted teeth.

“What betrayed me, little (y/n)? How did you know it wasn’t him?”

His figure comes closer, makes you urge to touch him just once. This is still his body, a body that reminds you of all the things you’ve been through. The serious business of trading pokemon cards that you did until he left, your shared training sessions, him introducing you to Satoru, him holding you in his arms when you’ve got your first heartbreak only for him to hold you back when you tried to set that poor boy on fire. This body still holds all of those memories.

But it doesn’t hold him anymore.

Your husband lives, though. He might be sealed, but he’s still somewhere. And that fucker has him, you just know it.

You shake them off, those feelings of melancholy. Time to focus on reality. And reality is that Satoru killed your big brother a year ago, that this thing in front of you has nothing in common with him except his appearance.

“No one will ever by as charming as he was. Now, will you give me my husband back without a fight and let me kill you? I’m not in the mood for a talk with you, y’know.”

It’s impossible and you know it. There is no way in hell this thing will give up its plan and just hand Satoru over. But at least this will buy you some time.

“You should know best that you don’t stand a chance against his body, don’t you think?”

A disregarding huff escapes your lips while you straighten your shoulders and stare right into the eyes of the big brother you’ve lost a year ago. God knows you really tried to stay cool, that you were desperate to keep your composure. But the second it grins at you with his charming face, it’s over and out.

“You should know that I wasn’t only better at pokemon trading, moron.”

“Stand behind me, I’ve got this.”

“But (y/n)-“

You don’t waste another minute. With a blast of another wave of different curses, you hit him with full force. Over the last few years, you absorbed every curse you stumbled upon. Especially the night parade was the perfect opportunity for you to steal your big brother’s precious curses. And even though you swore you yourself that you’ll never lose them, that they will remain in loving memory by your side, this seems like the perfect time to release them.

For a brief moment, you feel like crying, the way it just laughs at you with his voice, wearing his yukata, even wearing his hairstyle. How did it even come so far? How did this thing end up in your big brother’s body?

He would have wanted this, right? That you destroy his body in order to stop this madness. Despite all the horrible things he’s done, Suguru would have never wanted jujutsu sorcerers to get hurt, especially not Satoru. No, he would have never allowed your husband to get sealed, he wouldn’t let anyone attack you this roughly.

Your husband…How is he doing? Is he still alive? You feel like throwing up, just the minor thought of him potentially dying in this seal…No one was ever able to get out, some of the strongest sorcerers ended up in that cube.

No.

This needs to stop.

“Get yourself together”, you hiss to yourself, shaking off your stinging thoughts immediately.

This is not the time for sadness or grief.

This is the time for pure rage.

“I will make you pay for every sin you committed with his body”, you shout towards him while attacking him from underneath.

This thing is so fucking fast, using Suguru’s powers so efficiently that you’re almost not able to follow its movements.

You clench your hands into fists, eyes narrowed while thick fury pumps through your veins. Get yourself together, this isn’t only about taking revenge.

This is about getting your husband back.

“What would he think about you, seeing you this way? I know how disappointed he was when you left him to die, leaving him for his former best friend. And I thought I am cruel”, it spits at you, shooting another wave of curses your way.

“You know absolutely nothing about him, let alone me. You’re nothing but a parasite in his body, a bug I’ll crush underneath my heel.”

You draw yourself closer, keeping him busy in hand to hand combat. You were always better than Suguru when it came to fighting without any curses around. Where the hell does he keep that damned cube?

“You and me, we’re both parasites, (y/n). But unlike you, I can still look into the mirror without being disgusted of the way I turned out.”

“That’s because you’re looking into his gorgeous face, idiot”, you bite back, landing a full-on hit against his ribcage.

“Is that Satoru Gojo’s wife?”, Noritoshi Kamo mutters in sheer disbelief, eyes not even able to follow your rapid movements.

“Yep, the one and only”, Panda confirms dryly.

“Take a few steps back. She’ll definitely freak out-“

“RUN!”, Yuji cries on top of his lungs.

Countless courses roam around you and your big brothers’ corpse, fighting each other for dear life. He can’t help but admire you, the spark that gleams in your eyes, the way you don’t even try to hold back despite the stinging fact that you’re fighting against your brothers’ body. You look so threatful that it almost takes his breath away.

If it wasn’t for the last weapon he has in store.

“You’re not giving it everything, you’re holding back!”, he screams over the deafening noise around you both, making your veins stand out even more.

You see nothing but red, nothing but the shell of the brother you used to love, nothing but a monster that trapped your husband. That thing…That fucking thing straight out of hell.

“Uzumaki.”

The word leaves your mouths at the same time. Like in trance you stand there, watch as a giant wave of condensed cursed energy builds up behind Suguru’s frame, watch as it shoots towards you like an arrow.

You aren’t a fool, fully aware of the fact that you might get killed right here on the spot. This is your only chance to win this fight, to leave your brother’s body where it belongs, to free your husband out of that things’ grasp. But…are you strong enough?

“I can’t believe you’re already stronger than me. Look at you, (y/n).”

You kneeled down in front of him, took his hand into yours gently while desperately trying to supress a sob. This was it, the time you had to say your final goodbye to your best friend.

“Well, I just stole a whole bunch of your curses at that parade. They did taste like shit though.”

His kind smile radiated through the dark alley, right through your heavy heart. This…this couldn’t be the end. You weren’t even able to spend one last evening with him, to show him the pokemon cards you stole some kid.

“I don’t want you to go”, you finally gave in.

Faster than he was able to react, you wrapped your desperate arms around him, rested your head against his bloody chest. This couldn’t be the end, Suguru couldn’t leave you like that.

“I fear I have to, (y/n). You still got Satoru-“

“Satoru is not you”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Satoru is not my big brother. Satoru will never be you.”

“I’m so proud of the person you have become, (y/n). You are far more than a normal jujutsu sorcerer, way better than all those monkeys. You are my special, my everything. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You’ll always stay (y/n) Geto to me. And I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Your eyes widen. Suguru, he firmly believed in you, never even second-guessed your abilities.

“You…just beat me.”

Your heavy breath hung in the air between both of you, body collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. What did Satoru just say? What did even happen the last few seconds?

“Babe, you…You were actually able to beat me.”

You…beat none other than Satoru Gojo?

“Impossible”, you murmured to yourself, staring at your bloody hands in sheer disbelief.

“You became so damn strong. My god, I’m so proud of you, (y/n)! You just have to work your ass off even more. Come on, get up, attack me again.”

And Satoru, the love of your life, your precious husband, the strongest…You were able to beat him.

You take a deep breath in, whole body being on fire. This is your moment. And you won’t let a cheap copy of your brother defeat you like that.

Like in trance, you dash forward along with your thick cursed energy, hands stretched out for him. One last look into his chocolate brown eyes, one last glance at his usually so soft features before you hit him with your fest shoot, a toe-curling scream of agony and rage escaping your lips while slamming him into the ground. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Back to where he belongs: six feet under.

“Give me my husband back”, you spit at him, grabbing his throat so harshly that you can feel his windpipe struggle against your palm.

Instead of replying, he just plainly laughs at you, bloodshot eyes almost piercing through you. That’s enough.

“Is this how you let it end, Suguru? Are you really letting this moron take control over your body like that! Come on, defend yourself, give Satoru back to me!”, you cry on top of your lungs, staring into the brown orbs you used to know so well.

“Pathetic. I am the one who’s in control of this body now, stupid girl!”

“I still have the shiny flareon you gifted me when I was 6, I’m always carrying it with me. I’m still sleeping in the shirt I stole from you when you were 16. You’ve done many things wrong in your way too short life, please do this one last thing right! Please give Satoru back to me.”

Your heart almost stops when his trembling arms yanks into the air, uncontrollably roaming around his Yukata.

Until he stretches it right in front of your face. The prison realm. Your husband.

“This…this can’t be possible! I am the one who is in control over this body!”

Your body goes numb, widen eyes staring at his arm while your heart skips a beat. This is really him, your Suguru. He really is strong enough to even outstand death.

His fingertips brush over your cheek ever so gently. Fuck, you feel like breaking down and crying. This right in front of you is your big brother, the person you thought you lost a year ago, the man who slipped through your fingers when he was 16 without you even noticing. You weren’t there for him the way you should have been, weren’t able to drag him back onto your side, weren’t able to save him from his unnecessary death.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I will always love you with all my heart.”

But you know you have to go.

Now.

With one last glimpse you yank yourself into the air, hand holding onto that little cube for dear life.

Focus on the mission.

“We need to go, now”, you yell towards your students, sending a curse in the form of a dragon their way.

You straighten your shoulders, chase away the memories that threaten to destroy you completely.

“Hey hot thing, long time no see. Guess you were just as surprised as me when you saw him again, huh?”, you mutter towards the cube in your hands that has its bright blue eyes set on you.

“I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I’ll get you out of there, Satoru. After all, we’re the strongest…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @tachiharazsstuff @kawaiiakamaru @lilacsinjuly @nazeeraswife @eva-616 @revrse @thel0v3hashira143 @arehzhera @circe143 @mitsuristoleme @sugaremedy @sugurulefttesticle @sweetchildcloud @invmakitoge @a-daydreamers-day @rhinara-vy

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turcott3 · 8 months ago

Text

unwritten

ethan edwards x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, fluff, kisses

masterlist

you hopped off your bed to the light taps on your door. you opened the door expecting to see your mom but instead are met with the presence of your long time close friend.

“ethan?” you question, scanning the look on his face. to you, he was never hard to read and you could tell something was wrong.

“can i come in?” he asks.

“yeah yeah of course.” you say back up and letting the boy into your room. you sit back in your spot on the bed as he stands in silence after putting his bag down, typing something on his phone.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask, noting his unbreakable frown.

“huh?”

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” you ask.

“yeah i just-“ he starts and pauses, trying to think of what to say. you could tell he was holding back.

“just spill, you know i wouldn’t judge you.” you say, hoping to soothe the boy, something you’d figured out years ago.

“well, you know it was my last day of classes and i’d been talking to one of my classmates, in class of course, and we were kinda like getting close and flirting whatever. like an in class crush type of deal and i was gonna ask for her number today but then. fuck.” he pauses, pressing his lips to a thin line.

“and then?” you urge him to continue.

“she fucking asked me if luca was single.” he sighs out.

“well that’s just rude of her.” you say, seeing how he would react.

“i gave her his snap and stuff but like, i don’t know. it made me feel really terrible.”

“i mean that’s fair, but why?”

“because y/n. this shit always happens to me. every single time i think i have a shot at a girl, she wants one of my friends. like am i not good enough? not attractive? like what’s so wrong with me that i can’t be wanted.” he breathes out.

“oh eddy.” you frown, beckoning him to sit on your bed.

“i’m sorry, that was a lot you probably didn’t wanna hear.”

“no no, keep talking, i know there’s more. it’ll make you feel better.” you say placing a sympathetic hand on his arm.

“i just want someone to love me and to want me. i’m 21 for christs sake. all of my teammates and my friends have girlfriends. i just feel left out and it sucks. i’m happy for them of course but i just want someone for me to love and they love me back. i really don’t feel like im asking that much.” he says, trying to hide the tears that fell as he spoke from his heart.

“no one will sit and listen to how i feel, ever. the feeling of being unwanted is like this endless fucking void that can’t just be filled by hookups, i just feel myself slipping deeper everyday.” he continues, less shy about his tears now. you lean up and wrap your arms around him in his fragile state, causing him to release the damn that threatened to break. you lean back, holding the brunette to your chest. the two of you were never very physical but at this moment it was the only thing you could think of to help him.

“i’ll listen ethan, i’ll always listen to you. i’ll always be here for you. it’s gonna be okay.” you say, hugging onto him tighter. you hated seeing him this upset, you’d never seen him like this before and it broke your heart. you found yourself shedding a few tears yourself. he sits up from your grip and observes your state, tears dampening your cheeks.

“why are you crying y/n?” he perks up, wiping the tears that fell.

“because ed, i can’t stand hearing you say this. i can’t believe YOU feel unwanted and unloved. people are stupid to not see who you are. ethan, you’re so lovable and everyone is a fucking dumbass for not wanting you. you’re the sweetest guy i’ve ever met, and i know we’ve been friends since forever ago but i feel awful. i feel like i could do more to make you feel better.” you say remaining strong on your statement, the urge to cry fading away.

“how about this, you stay the night with me. we have a movie night and stay up and talk and then tomorrow we have a lake day. just me and you.” you offer as he nuzzles back to your chest. an unfamiliar feeling.

“your dad will let us take the boat?” he asks.

“i mean he won’t let anyone else drive it except you so.” you giggle.

“for real?” he says sitting up.

“yes.”

“sick.” he replies, getting comfortable on his side of the bed for the night. the two of you sat in a soothing silence as a movie played on your tv. as the a/c kicked in you grew cold, goosebumps littering your skin. you buried yourself under your comforter, trying to avoid making your discomfort being obvious.

“you good?” he asks.

“yeah, just really fucking freezing.”

“come here.” he says pulling the covers over him, pulling you to his side. you drape your arm over his toned and shirtless abdomen, you heart rate spiking at the contact. you didn’t know why you felt so nervous. well you did, but you weren’t going to admit it.

“thank you eddy.”

“of course y/n/n.” he smiles, placing his chin on top of your head. you could get used to the feeling of being in his warm embrace. as the night continued, you hardly lost contact with each other. talking and laughing in the comfort of his arms.

“you think we should go to sleep?” you sit up checking the time on your phone.

“probably, we got a busy day tomorrow.” he giggles, shutting your tv off and laying down getting comfortable.

“g’night ethan.”

“night y/n, sleep good.” he says quietly as the two of you drifted off to sleep with the thought of each other on your minds.

“you ready?” you ask standing on your back deck.

“as i’ll ever be.” he smiles, taking the bag from you and walking down the deck. he steps onto the bought tossing the back to the ground before reaching out a hand to help you onto the boat.

“thank you kind sir.”

“of course madam.” he replies and a smile spreads widely across your cheeks.

“alright let’s get this shit show on the road.” he says turning the key, the engine kicking on.

“please don’t get me beat up this time.” you say grabbing onto his shoulders.

“i’ll try.” he smiles as you sit in the co pilot seat.

“good.” you reply, relaxing as he cruised off smoothly. you loved watching him drive as he smiled, bringing the two of you to corners of the lake you hadn’t seen before, your heart fluttering as he talked about all the good memories he had with his buddies there, but the feeling of sadness oozing its way in. he hasn’t been with them much outside of hockey in months, let alone here on the lake.

he slowed the boat to a stop, shutting off the engine and tossing the anchor off the edge. you were in a quiet area, no other boats anywhere to be found. he sat back in his seat without a word. you stretched your arms out as you got comfortable in your seat, ethan taking your hand in his from across the walkway. your face slowly turning pink as he adjusted his grip on your hand as he sat on his phone. his thumb brushing back and forth on your knuckles gently.

“hey eddy.” you say and he looks up not letting go.

“i’m glad you’re here with me.” you smile, squeezing his hand.

“me too.”

“i’ve never seen these parts of the lake before, they’re gorgeous.” you say, taking in the territory around you.

“i was hoping i could make some new memories here.” he smiles turning his head to look at you.

“well i hope im doing an okay job.”

“you’re doing more than okay y/n.” he giggles, a blush spreading across his face. you stand up out of your chair, sadly letting go of his hand.

“shall we?” you ask, holding up your life jackets.

“we shall.” he smiles. moments later, the two of you jumping into the water.

“jesus it’s cold.” you say re-emerging from the water.

“a little yeah.” ethan giggles, shaking the water out of his hair. you swim over to him, wrapping your arms gently around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder from behind.

“i think that’s a little better.” he says quietly.

“yeah.” you sigh. the two of you remained in the water for a while longer swimming and talking, laughing. it felt nice to be out on the lake alone with your best friend, who you soon hoped would be more than that.

“should we go find a new spot?” ethan asks, helping you back onto the boat.

“yeah we should.” you reply, wrapping yourself in a towel and sitting on the bench seat, ethan plopping down right next to you.

“today has been really fun y/n.” he smiles at you.

“yeah it has.” you reply.

“for the first time in a while i’m not worried about anything else. i haven’t felt this content in so long.”

“me either ed. i’m so happy to be here with you right now.” you smile, taking his hand back into yours. you say in a comfortable silence for a brief moment before he takes your cheeks into his hands, bringing your lips to his for a moment. he pulls away as your face burns red. you were scared he would regret it.

“i’m sorry that was-“ he starts and you interrupt him by pulling him back to your lips, melting into the kiss instantly, his hands placed delicately on your waist as your hands rest comfortably on his cheeks. you pull away giggling as he’s forehead lands on your collar bone. you kiss him on the temple as he sits up.

“let’s go to a new spot yeah?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his face.

“okay.” he smiles softly, the two of you taking your place back in your seats.

you say freshly showered on your bed as ethan returns, brushing his hair dry with his towel. he tosses the towel in your hamper and hops back onto your bed, finding his way cuddled to your side.

“hey ethan.” you say, twisting his damp locks between your fingers.

“yeah?” he asks leaning up a bit.

“seeing you so fragile yesterday was honestly really hard for me, i wasn’t really sure why but, i know now.”

“what was it?”

“because all this time i wanted you.”

“what do you mean?”

“i want you ed. i want to hold you, kiss you, love you. it broke my heart hearing how unwanted you felt. but it hurt me because i had gone so long feeling this way and ignored my feelings.“ you admit and he smiles.

“i’ve liked you for years, i was just scared you’d never feel the same way. i just wanted female attention to replace how i felt about you. i didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

“i love you ethan. so much. please let me love you, the way you deserve it.” you say as he pulls you into his chest.

“thank you y/n. god, i love you so fucking much.” he replies lifting your chin with two fingers and bringing your lips back to his, the two of you now more inseparable than before.

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards fluff #ethan edwards x reader #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich boys #turcs’ talk

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lady-ashfade · 3 months ago

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Hi! Can I ask for modern!Lucerys x Reader where he takes her for their first date 🫶🏼

They’re both shy and at first it’s awkward but then they bond

Awkward Dorks

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Lucerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

Fictober Fic 1

WARNINGS: Cute, Young Love, First Dates, Awkward Moments.

GENRE: Imagine

WORDS: 0.5k

A/N: I got a job- that I didn’t plan on started until it just happened so my schedule has been taken over by that. Sorry for starting so late everyone!!

Had your body always been this sweaty? The bottoms of your palms were covered in slick of the sweat coming from your skin, the nerves you felt were unimaginable until now. No matter how many times you wiped them on your clothing behind your dates eyes, it kept coming back. Butterflies swirled around in your stomach making it harder to keep a level head right now.

The sound of birds chirping, people in the crowds chatting and the smell of delicious foods of all sorts filled your senses. Yet the smell was sweet of the piers food, and it was a lovely sunshine day. Nothing could stop you from worrying about every single thing about yourself.

Luke was think the exact same, if not worse. You both always couldn’t stop talking and laughing, never once shied away from the others touch of attention. Until today, as you walk side by side as if you’d never met before.

This was uncharted territory for the both of you. Friends are all you ever were, even if feelings were mutual for years, only recently the other became aware of them. Luke was nervous of messing up something, could he push you away easily now? What if this date goes horribly and somehow — he’s never see you again?

“How’s your candy apple?” Luke glanced over beside him, to find you in the middle of taking a small bite from the fruit you cleaned off the hard candy. He saw your eyes widen as if caught doing something wrong, this also made him embarrassed.

You cleaned your throat and whip your lips of the mess you had made. “Wonderful, thanks,” you chirp. Silence creeped up once again as quickly as it ended, the pair of you looking anywhere but each other.

Soon, after finishing your apple and throw what’s left in the bin you find yourself becoming comfortable by his side. He was perfect. His brown hair that twisted into curls to match his fathers, his pale skin made it easy to spot his flushed cheeks, and most of all the smile that rested on the side of his lips. Why must it be so hard too connect with him?

“I had dreamed of this moment forever,” his voice softened while his eyes trailed along the waves below. “used to think about how much you’d love to go out with me, never ended conversations, and endless laughter.” his tone laced with disappointment that made you second guess yourself.

“Sorry about this, I know I’m not what you expected.” your body covered itself in shame. You had ruined his night, this was the worst date ever and you blew it with your dream guy.

He rushed to deny everything, every doubt you had. “No — No, nothing like that. I am just afraid to mess anything up and I wanted to apologize for this. You’re everything I want, I promise.” his hand graced yours with a soft, golden touch that sent shivering through your skin.

“We should be better at this?” you laugh softly, your eyes finally meeting his in comfort, “We’ve done this before. It’s nothing new, just that I fancy you.”

“I fancy you too — as if that wasn’t clear.” he stuttered out.

The sun was still shining down on you, so there happened to be a few hours still left in the day. You both decided to make the best out of it, you could be awkward dorks together.

Taglist: @madame-fear because that’s her husband.

#house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #prince lucerys #lucerys velaryon x reader #modern au #lucaerys velaryon #fictober #fluff #imagine

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felassan · 4 months ago

Text

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "PC has been a priority for us! It’s heartening to see so many PC champions on the team working hard to make this a great experience" [source]

Corinne: "Enjoy shield-bashing and drop-kicking hurlocks off the ramparts! Don’t forget to toss that shield around too" [source]

User: "I love that they chose a no mage party to showcase. 😂 The two companions thing had me a little worried that I’d have to take a warrior and a mage into battle with my Rook rogue all the time." / Corinne: "We know players get attached to certain characters, so while there are benefits to having one of each class, it’s completely viable and intended that you can find synergies with a variety of party comps" [source]

Each Background has a specific last name, very much inspired by the approach in Origins [source]

Corinne: "We’ve put a lot of effort into ensuring our gameplay and customized difficulty options allow players to find something comfortable and engaging for themselves. I’m sure you’ll do great! It was one of the biggest challenges in designing the combat system, as we know the Dragon Age player-base has a wide range of motivations and expectations." [source]

Corinne mentioned to a user who said that they prefer a warrior/mage experience but without all the slash and spin of rogue attacks that they might enjoy the Warrior Reaper spec [source]

Hrungr noticed that it looks like you can hide your armor as well as your helmet [source]

Mary: "True fact: For the longest time, in the DA writers' pit, we had "It has been __ (usually 0) days since someone mentioned cannibalism" on the whiteboard." [source]

Gabe, posting the release date reveal trailer: "My friends, I have made an effort to avoid shilling too much here so that when I do, it'll be worth it. I love this game and the team that brought it to life so much." [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

The ray-tracing NVIDIA video from earlier this week that showed mage combat was showing early-on mage combat [source]

Blair: "the achievement names include some personal career highlights for me." [source]

Trick on the podcast: "The [DA:TV game] writers were pretty tapped with other stuff at the time, sadly, but I think it came together great." [source]

Though neither option is wrong or evil, making Cole more human in DA:I leaves him sadder [source]

John: "honestly it’s a very strange feeling to go from a half decade of ‘dragon age? maaaaybe we’re making a new one? tee hee’ to actually being able to talk about it" [source]

John: "been busy all day so I just got to read some of the reactions to the DATV combat showcase. I am incredibly proud of this team and I’m thrilled to see people excited about it. even after spending every day with it for the last 5 years I still love playing it." [source]

John: "being creative director means i work with pretty much every single department and team on the project. everyone brings creativity and innovation to their roles and the project would be nothing without them (and it)" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #longpost #long post #dragon age: vows & vengeance #cole #spirit boy

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disasterousduo · 6 months ago

Text

Incorrect Quote Generator

I might draw some of these later/tomorrow

——————————————————————— Sun: Croissants: dropped Solar: Road: works ahead Moon: BBQ sauce: on my titties Lunar: Shavacado: fre Earth: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead Eclipse: Eclipse, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

———————————————————————

'Can I copy the homework?' Sun: I can help you with it! Solar: Yeah, sure. Moon: Bold of you to assume I did the homework. Ruin: lol nope. Earth: Wait, we had homework?!?!?! Bloodmoon: *Read 5:55pm*

———————————————————————

Solar: Is something burning? N!Moon: Just my love for you. Solar: Moon, the toaster is on fire.

———————————————————————

Ruin: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Bloodmoon: You need to stop.

———————————————————————

Ruin: I made tea. Eclipse: I don’t want tea. Ruin: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea. Eclipse: Then why are you telling me? Ruin: It is a conversation starter. Eclipse: That’s a lousy conversation starter. Ruin: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

———————————————————————

Earth: What time is it? Eclipse: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out Eclipse: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune* Moon: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING Eclipse: It’s 2 am

———————————————————————

Sun: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Moon: How am I supposed to know? Lunar: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Moon: *sighs* Moon: You wouldn't be trapped.

———————————————————————

Lunar, texting Solar: Solar! Help I’m being kidnapped Solar: Where are you? Lunar: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help. Solar: I’ll call Earth. Earth, answering their cell: Y’ello? Solar: Where’s Lunar? They texted me that they were being kidnapped. Earth: Lunar? Whaddya mean, they're right next to me- Earth: Earth: I’ll call you back. *hangs up* Earth: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD! Lunar: WHO ARE YOU?!

———————————————————————

Earth, talking to Sun on the phone: Did you preheat the oven like I told you to? Sun : You bet! Earth: At what temperature? Sun : 535. Earth: That's the clock. Sun: Earth: Sun : 536.

———————————————————————

Sun: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Solar : Oh, I’m always running Solar : The question is from what

———————————————————————

Ruin: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much. Solar : Oh, you’ve been? Ruin: Once. In Monopoly.

———————————————————————

Sun: Favorite horror movie? Solar : It Lunar: Saw Moon: Annabelle Earth: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

———————————————————————

Sun: Nothing in life is free. Solar : Love is free! Lunar: Adventure is free. Moon: Knowledge is free. Jack: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

———————————————————————

Sun: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Bloodmoon will and will not eat. Solar : Grass? Yes! Sun: Moss? Yes!! Solar : Leaves? Ohh, yes! Sun: Shoelaces? Strange but true! Solar : Worms? Sometimes! Sun: Rocks? Usually nah. Solar : Twigs? Usually! Sun: Ruin's cooking? Inconclusive! Moon: How did you… test this? Sun: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it. Moon: ... I don’t know how to feel about this. Ruin: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

———————————————————————

Sun: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Moon : ... Your what? Sun: My friends. Solar: Are they saying “friends”? Moon: I think they're being sarcastic. Lunar: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Sun! All of your friends are in this room. Sun: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

———————————————————————

Sun: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need! Moon: To the city? Sun: Yeah, no matter what! Earth: Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly? Sun: I... I don't know! Solar : Oh come off it, be serious! Sun: I am serious! Solar : You're insane! Lunar: Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved! Everyone: Sun: What??? Lunar: Or maybe it was a basset hound! Solar , panicked: YOU'RE ALLINSANE!

———————————————————————

Sun: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous. Chica : What if it bites me and it dies!? Moon: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Chica , learn to listen. Freddy: What if it bites itself and I die? Monty: That’s voodoo. Bloodmoon: What if it bites me and someone else dies? Chica: That’s correlation, not causation. Freddy: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die? Monty: That’s kinky. Sun: Oh my God.

———————————————————————

Sun: Hewwo. Jack : Hihiiiiii! Moon: Greetings, Humans. Solar: Three kinds of people. Lunar: I want pudding. Sun: Four kinds of people. Bloodmoon: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS? Solar: Five kinds of people.

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feral-ballad · 1 year ago

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true love is the small stuff that isn’t small. and being silly. always being silly. i never remember the disagreements we have after we’ve talked them through, but i remember all the times we’ve gotten stoned & danced together in our underwear before the shower. i remember all the times he’s pulled me back into his arms to keep me from walking into a spider web. (this has happened like 4 times somehow, i think spiders just love the guy.) i think about all the times we’ve washed each others hair & done each others nails. the time we spend doing day to day stuff together- cleaning, cooking, moving hay, planning for the future, how nothing ever seems hard when i’m with him. and all the fun stuff too, going on walks looking for bones & going out to eat or to parties or concerts or camping with our friends. the nights that we get drunk & giggly & cuddle in bed telling each other secrets & stories about how things used to be. how much better i sleep with him crammed into my twin bed, or listening to him snore on the phone. the long car rides listening to music & talking & sharing cigarettes. i think about the time that i was inconsolably upset & he read me alice in wonderland (his favorite book) until i stopped crying & fell asleep. how natural it is. how safe it is. my first relationship was when i was really young & it was very abusive, so love was always fucked up for me. i was with people that i cared about, that i loved in some way, but it never felt the way people described, it never made my heart pound or my skin feel electric, i could barely be touched, i never felt safe or at home, i never felt like i could be myself, i was never sure, there was always a level of doubt & uncertainty & discomfort. i thought that was just how it was. it’s different with him, in a way i thought i’d never get. there’s never been a moment of doubt with him. i never really believed in love at first sight but i swear the moment i met him everything in me screamed that he was the one, that if i didn’t stop being so scared & go in headfirst i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i fall in love with him more every single day, ive never felt like this before. and the truly crazy part to me is that i know he loves me too. i believe it. even when i’m triggered or having an episode i never doubt that he loves me, he shows me in so many different ways every day that he loves me & that i can trust him. sometimes i just get so overwhelmed with love that i have to kiss every single inch of his face. i want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with him, but even if we don’t get that, if we only get a few years, a few more months, or even if it were to end tomorrow, i will never regret meeting him, falling in love with him, letting myself trust him like this. he changed me & my perception of love for the better in so many ways & also brought back a lot of things about myself that i abandoned a long time ago. i’ll love him forever, and i’ll always be grateful to him for showing me what love is actually supposed to be. (sorry this got so long haha, i just lovee talking about him & i get a lil weepy when i think about how different my life is now)

oh god… tears in my eyes….

#this particularly hurts bec it speaks to me #you’re so lovely anon #i hope you end up together in every lifetime #on love

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absolutebl · 2 years ago

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Leaving GMMTV aside, what were youre favorite shows this year so far? I'll have more free time coming up and im way behind and out of the loop, so some recs would be appriacted, wise sage. Especially for those shows that didnt get the attention they deserved in your opinion! Thanks a lot!

Top 10 BLs of 2023 So Far

Our Dating Sim

(Korea) 10/10 Viki

If you haven't watched this, it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent. Full review here.

My School President

(Thai) 9/10 YouTube

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

(you said no GMMTV but I have to include it)

The Eighth Sense

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us and (like Blueming) it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and tons angst drives the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

The New Employee

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever! Directed by queer activist Kim Jho Gwang Soo (Just Friends?) partly set in the same neighbourhood as the To My Star house. Gotta love WATCHA (Semantic Error, Light on Me).

Unintentional Love Story

(Korea) 9/10 iQIYI

A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). I’m not sure on rewatchability, and it didn’t whip me into a verbal frenzy the way some KBLs do, but it still gets a solid 9/10 for those damn eyes alone.

Destiny Seeker

(Thai) 8/10 grey

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likeable tsundere/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. Full review here.

Make a Wish

(Thai) 8/10

PNR (from Sammon - Manner of Death & Triage) about a doctor who can see the dead and strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love. Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who cares bc Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but v. satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay af, fag hag bestie and everything. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are too overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

All the Liquors

(Korea) 8/10 Viki & Gaga

A pretty classic foodie set KBL that managed to distinguish itself from others in this category by having a particularly satisfying final episode centered around found family. Sunshine sweetie soju rep gets involved with a shy introvert chef who doesn’t drink. This has a somewhat uneven plot and ridiculous central conceit (much in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut), but if you are looking for a restaurant BL with Korea’s signature softness, then this is a great option. FYI I may identify with our baby party boy hedonist more than any other BL lead ever presented.

Love Mate

(Korea) 8/10 Viki

Features a very much openly gay older uke with commitment issues and a romantic (if arrogant) younger seme with no respect for boundaries (hyung romance). Workplace harassment much? That’s BL for ya. (Also a nonBL Kdrama specialty.) So yeah it’s questionable, but so is my taste. The ultimate premise that someone badly hurt shuts themself off to romance is very similar to Happy Merry Ending or 8th Sense but this version was more about fear than abuse or trauma. For me, this made Love Mate more relatable. However, because the denouement was driven by a late addition faen fatal, the conclusion felt rushed and forced. I can, however, see myself rewatching this one, so it falls into the general rank of 2023′s KBL aka solid high standard and eminently watchable.

Bed Friend

(Thai YouTube, Gaga, iQIYI)

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS). NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked. Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down. Full review here. (Triggers include: child abuse, attempted rape, family abuse)

(3x! 3x Tumblr ate this post. They HAVE to de bug their new editor. This never happens with the old one. Biggest bug is with the "undo" function, DO something about it!)

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mumms-the-word · 17 days ago

Text

Love Letters from Wyll Ravengard

to the love of his life, no matter the universe

Just a little gift for the amazing, the talented, the beautiful, the stunning @callmethebrightness on her birthday <3 Happy Birthday friend!!

Transcripts under the cut!

A Letter in the Hells

My darling Bennie,

You would laugh at me, trying to write a letter to you in the bare scraps of time we have between battles, when you are no more than an arm’s length away from me at all hours of these hellish days. I can hear you now, your laughter like a lark’s song as you remind me that whatever I have to say, I can just say.

But there is something romantic about a love letter, even one written while one’s partner lays asleep at their side. Letters are light, easy to carry. They don’t weigh you down, and whenever you find yourself needing a little spark of joy, you can reread them at your leisure. Perfect for the Hells, if anything can be perfect in the Hells.

Ah, but there is one perfect thing in the Hells and that, my love, is you. You would protest if I said it out loud, but it’s in writing now. That makes it true.

But how does one praise or describe perfection in so brief a letter? I could spend pages lauding your beauty, your strength, your cheerfulness, your battle prowess, and more. Shall I tell you, again, how I love the spun gold of your hair, like golden fields of wheat? How your eyes call to mind the blue of the sky and the sea, calling me home time and again? Shall I once more extol the constellations I find in the freckles on your cheek, the hidden galaxies on your shoulders and your back? Or shall I write another sonnet to your damask rose lips, sweeter than anything found in all the realms? And all that, just for your beauty.

As for your skill, your bravery, your kindness, everything that makes you the brilliantly shining Bennie I love so much, well…we would be here for a while. I could write whole sagas about the beasts you’ve felled in the Hells alone, how you burn brighter than the sun when you raise your sword to strike down another devil. However much I may pride myself for playing a hero, I know that the woman at my side has me beat in every single category.

One day I will find the time to write it all down. Every love letter, every poem, every song, every tale of adventure, all stitched together in a beautiful leather-bound volume, my gift to you when we’re old and gray. And even then, it would still only show a fraction of the love I feel for you. I will never truly understand how or why the hand of Fate saw fit to bring us together, but I thank my lucky stars every morning for another day at your side.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, every day for the rest of my life—I love you, Benjamina Grey. You are my yesterday, my today, and my tomorrow. My lover, my legend, my love for life. These Hells will not be our home forever. But wherever you are, I’m home.

Yours forever,

Wyll

~*~*~*~*~*~

A Letter on the Grand Duke’s Desk

My darling Bennie,

I can hardly believe that tomorrow will be our first wedding anniversary. It seems like only yesterday we stumbled across each other in that wilderness outside the druids’ grove, illithid tadpoles squirming around in our skulls. Now, we lay in comfort in a palatial suite in Baldur’s Gate, husband and wife, doing what we can to rebuild the city we both love so much. It’s hardly the fairy tale we envisioned that night I proposed beside the Wilden Oak, and yet, if our time together were an hourglass, I wouldn’t trade away a single grain of sand.

Of all the happy memories we’ve made together over the last year and a half, the night we married will always be my favorite. That night, the sky lit up with fireworks in every color, glittering like a million extra stars in the sky. Whenever I look at you, I’m brought back to that night once more. Gazing at you, it’s as though I’m showered again in glitter and gold, the passionate thrum of music in my ears, swelling within my chest until I could burst out in song in praise of you, my beautiful wife. Don’t worry, I will refrain from writing yet another poem about you, my love…at least for tonight.

But what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t sing your praises just a little? I should try to find new words, something I haven’t already said before, but there aren’t enough words in any language to fully capture the beauty, strength, kindness, and bravery I see in you. You tackle the trials of this city with the same cheerfulness, passion, and determination you possess when fighting off bandits and mind flayers. There’s nothing in this world that can bring you down, my love, and Baldur’s Gate is a better city simply for having you in it.

As for me, I know that I’m a better man because of you, and I strive to become better still.

Courage, justice, insight, strategy, these are the tenants my father taught me. But love, compassion, joy, mercy, these are the virtues you instill in me every day, simply by living them out yourself. I have never met a woman quite like you, my darling, and I will never meet your equal. You are more precious to me than one hundred Baldur’s Gates. If I said this past year with you has been the best of my life, even with all the ups and downs, it would be a woefully sorry understatement. This past year with you has been more than I could ever dream. You promised me today, tomorrow, and forever. With your hand always in mine, I know that tomorrow and forever will be brighter and brighter still.

I love you, Benjamina Ravengard. Happy anniversary! Here’s to one year together, and a hundred more in our future.

Always yours forever,

Wyll

#i love birthdayssss #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #other tavs #bennie grey

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hearts4hughes · 2 years ago

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Trevor Zegras Fic "I promised to love you forever, and that is a promise I intend to keep." and "We've been by each other's sides for years, you think I'm gonna leave now?"

nora’s 500 celly !!

you had never once been insecure about yours and trevor’s relationship. of course there were people who were obsessed with him and gorgeous girls who showed up to his games just to grab his attention, but none of that really phased you. you were confident in the fact that trevor loved you, and only you, and that was the truth. trevor had been infatuated with you from day one, so the mere thought of him with someone else was absolutely insane.

then stagecoach happened. you had to spend the entire weekend watching crowds of girls flirt with trevor. he never showed any of them interest, but the more girls who tried to get his number, the more insecure you got. there were so many people out in the world who wanted trevor just as much as you.

is it really that crazy to think he wouldn’t want someone prettier or more athletic than you? it absolutely was, but you didn’t understand that.

“babe?” trevor called, noticing your distressed expressions. “is everything ok?” he places his phone down, taking seat next to you on the couch.

it takes a few moments to realize he was talking to you. “hm sorry, what’s wrong?” you smile, hoping to mask your sudden daze.

his brows furrow as he looks at you with worry. “i asked what’s wrong?” he repeats, clearly concerned at what’s happening.

“what- nothing is- i mean nothing is wrong.” you stutter, your mask beginning to fall.

he scoots closer to you, locking his hand with yours. “baby, what’s going on?” his voice is calm and soft, and it becomes harder for you to blink back tears.

“do you still love me?” you sob as tears flood out of your eyes. trevor’s mouth falls agape in complete surprise.

from everything you could’ve said, he never would’ve ever guessed that. did he not show you enough love? had you been getting hate from his fans? what could have happened to make you think he didn’t love you?

“what?” he huffs out, hoping he misheard you. “what are you talking about, y/n? of course i love you. i love you more than anything in the entire world. where is this all coming from?”

he raises his hand to cup your face. you melt into his touch as he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. “there were so many beautiful girls who flirted with you a stagecoach. i was half as pretty as them, and it just made me think. why would you settle for someone like me when you could have anyone in the world?”

he winces at your harsh words. he never knew you felt like this. he had seen you insecure before, but it had never been about your relationship. it hurt his heart hearing and seeing you cry.

“i promised to love you forever, and that is a promise i intend to keep.” his features soften and he pulls you into his chest. you wail and cry into the comfort of trevor’s chest. “we’ve been by each other’s sides for years, you think i’m going to leave now?”

you could hear the pain in his voice. this hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“you’re absolutely perfect, y/n. every single inch of you.” tears begin to slip from his eyes. “you’re my dream girl. we are perfect together, baby. there is not one other girl in the world who i want. i only want you.”

you sniffle, pulling away from his chest and gazing into his eyes. “you promise?”

“promise.” he reassures, lips starting to form a wide grin.

you blink the remaining tears out of your eyes, using your sweater paw to wipe them off. “you’re the perfect boyfriend and i love you so, so much.” you smile, resting your forehead against his and staring into his eyes.

“not more than i love you.” he challenges, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you roll your eyes earning a wheezy laugh out of him. and just like that, all the remaining insecurities washed away.

#hearts4hughes #nora’s 500 celly!!#anaheim ducks #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #nora's writings 💐

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sugaredrhubarb · 5 months ago

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In honour of her second book, Lancelot in November, coming out later this month, I want to talk about one of my favourite books of the last year and one of my favourite romances ever.

King of Cups

By @woodswit / @phoebe-woods

available here

Hockey, love, tarot, mystery—this book is so up my alley that I was almost scared to read it. After putting it off for most of the fall, I finally dove in this winter while in the middle of a depressive slump. When I say this book made me laugh and cry, it feels almost diminishing—it made me feel, and anyone who experiences similar slumps of numbness knows what a feat that can be.

King of Cups follows Eloise, a mess of a private investigator, as she gets drawn into the world of the Boston Bruins and the world of Jacques Lavesque, a hockey star and a man finally cracking under the weight of perfection. If you don’t want to read me wax on about this book for ages, give it a look. If you'll stick around, let me tell you why I love it.

Eloise & Jacques

“She was never comfortable at all – not in her own skin and not in anyone else’s. After all, underneath it all, there she was – a trespasser no matter where she went, an interloper who had never learned to root in any soil, a witch forever in exile.”

Oh, how I was so seen by Eloise. She is a little lost and a little lonely. She is awkward, and sometimes she’s accidentally cruel, but she is good, and she is learning. Sometimes, a character changes in a book simply because the author says so; that is not the case here. Eloise grows and evolves, and we get to see every step forward and backward and every bump along the way.

“Was this what it was like to be in Jaques’s head — to see the vulnerability in everyone, even when they were challenging, and have your heart broken for it?”

I have never related so much to a male character, even in all his big athletic manliness. Jacques is tired. He has given so much of himself to his team, to his family, to everyone but himself. He has so much love and so much anger, and they twist, grow, and burn bright within each other. The story of Jaques is just as compelling as the story of Eloise, and they amplify each other in every way.

“He was in love with the world and at times in love with every single person in it.”

Hockey

“She was thinking of church again as she heard the announcer yell, “...BOSTON BRUINS!” Or maybe not church — maybe something older, something rooted in pagan ritual and wolf-gods and dented armour.”

So yes, this is a hockey story, but you don’t need to be a hockey fan to enjoy it. For those of us who are, however, and have been burnt by hockey books before, this is what we’ve been looking for. The author is a hockey fan, and it shows in how she examines the fanaticism of sports culture, the paradox between the inherent violence of hockey with the perfect family man image it demands, and the bigotry endemic to the whole thing. None of it feels forced; all of it feels real, and you can tell it’s done by someone who both loves the sport and sees its flaws.

Everybody else

“[...] at the end of the day all that matters to me is how I loved other people.”

Every character in this book is a whole person. No side character is there just to serve a purpose, even only for a scene. From the other players on the team to Eloise’s family to the big “villains” and the side conflict starters, every single one has wants and needs and flaws, and I fell a little in love with them all. You will relate to them, you will feel for them, you will love them too.

Love

“Love was the Wheel of Fortune, cyclical and never static.”

The word love has already appeared 11 times in this post (12 now) and is circled frequently in my copy of the book. This is a romance (as I usually talk about very smutty things, I would be remiss not to mention that this is not that), and the love built between our main characters is so strong, even when it is scared or angry. Eloise and Jacques are magnetic to each other and the reader, and every moment they are in each other’s vicinity feels charged and electric. But romantic love is not what makes this book special. Love is woven through every aspect of the story, and it is the familial love, the platonic love, that shines brightest. Love is hard; sometimes love ends, sometimes it refuses to, and sometimes it is new and barges its way in when you least expect or want it. This book depicts it all beautifully.

I don’t even know how to fit in here just how well it’s written. The world is detailed and real. The characters are relatable and full. The mystery is gripping and engrossing. I could talk about the dialogue for ages. It is so incredibly human, funny and aching and awkward and revealing.

If you read this book, you will want to treat the world as kindly, empathetically, and lovingly as the author treats her story.

The author is a mutual of mine on here so I do want to say thank you to her for giving the world such a special piece of work, I’m so looking forward to reading the next addition.

And thank you anna ( @winterrose527 ) for putting it in my path in the first place.

#this got so long but i adore it so much #reading with ru #hockey #book recs #book rec #hockey romance #book review #books #reading

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fandomtherapy44 · 1 year ago

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Klaus x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Marshall the younger sister of Hayley Marshall. Side note I love Hayley one of my favorite characters. Basically Y/n will be pregnant instead of Hayley and I will be changing some things up but then that it should stay pretty close to the series. I hope you enjoy the story! Also, if you like I have a Castiel x reader.

Paring: Klaus x reader

Word count: 3,341

Warnings: Some language, Typical the Originals violence, Spoilers for season one of The Originals, Pregnancy,

I got the divder from

saradika

Chapter 1: Always and forever

POV: Y/n

New Orleans is the heart of Louisiana known for its live music, food, and apparently family history, well at least for my older sister and me. We came here to learn more about our parents but the few weeks we've been here nothing zilch but some tasty gumbo that lately I have had a strong hunger for. “Third time in here this week.” Jane-Anne said, placing down a steamy bowl of gumbo in front of me.“I'm obsessed with the gumbo, Jane-Anne.” I said to her grabbing my spoon and lifting a huge scoop into my mouth while my sister Haley was nursing a bourbon.

“You know, ladies in the 9th ward say my sister, Sophie, bleeds a piece of her soul into every dish.” She said referring to her sister who was cooking in the kitchen. “We’ve asked around the Quarter about my family......” Haley started to say. “And?” Jane-Anne questioned. “Nothing. Zero. we can't find a single person who remembers them.” I finished throwing my spoon back into the bowl. “Because Hayley, Y/n people like you were run out of here years ago.”

“What do you mean, people like us?” Jane-Anne walked around the bar to the other side to stand beside us. While Sophie watched us. Jane-Anne stetted a map on the bar. “In the bayou, they call the werewolves "Roux-Ga-Roux"”. She circled a point on the map. “You head out there, you'll find what you're looking for. Be careful. It's the last place you'd ever want to go.” Haley and I smile in hope that maybe we will finally find something. I order my gumbo to go, and we thank Jane-Anne and leave.

Haley and I are driving down the road and I'm giving directions while she drives. “Okay now take a left...” I said while looking down at the map not sounding very confident. “Y/n the map is upside down.” “Oh, he he I mean right.” She sighs as she hard turns right. “It’s like the mountains all over again.” “Hey, it was not my fault that the map was outdated.” “It was GPS N/n” “Well still the phone was-” As I started to talk, I suddenly started to feel sick. “Haley pull over now.” She pulled the car over and I jumped out puking out all my lunch. “Uhh what the Hell-” And there goes breakfast. “Maybe it’s all the gumbo that you ate when it’s been sitting in the car for two hours.” “Maybe it’s the gumbo y/n shut it, Haley. I was hungry… again.”

We finally arrive at the bayou and look at the map to figure out where we are. “So, we are here and-” As I held the map the paper got hot, and it became on fire. “What the-” I threw it out the window. Haley and I looked at each other like what the fuck. We start to reverse the car, but the engine starts to smoke, and it stops. “Are you kidding me?” We get out and I take out my phone. “Hey, I'm looking for a tow service?” I didn't even get a response before a loud ringing came from the phone and I threw it down and Haley heard it too and she smashed it with her boot. I didn’t even notice people around us. Haley and I start to get back-to-back. My vision starts to become blurry, and I passed out.“Y/n!”

I wake up gasping. “Y/n N/n you're okay.” “Hayley, where the Hell are we?” I said looking around the room and the walls were made of stone and there were lots of candles around. “In a tomb.” “Why are we in a tomb?” “Because the witches kidnapped us.” “Why would they kidnap us!?” I'm getting angry and I stand up. Sophie devereaux walks in with a bottle of water and a bowl of gumbo and places it in front of me. “If you think I'm eating anything you give me, you witches are crazier than I give you credit for!” I said as I kicked the bowl back.

“Please Y/n all this anger is not good for the baby.” “You are going to let my sister and I go or-” Hayley stopped. “Did you just say baby?” “Yes, I did, Y/n’s baby.” Wait what? “That’s impossible, I can't be pregnant.” “Well, congrats you are, with Klaus Mikaelson’s.” Fuck “So eat up your baby needs it.” With that she walked away. “Hey, you still haven't told us why we’re here!” Haley yelled at her behind the bars. She looked down at me, who was still in shock. “Klaus Mikealson what were you thinking N/n?” “I don’t know Hayley, I was drunk, and he looked really cute and we talked and one bottle of whiskey later I woke up in his bed.” “Now I'm pregnant and absolutely terrified.” I said as I started to cry. “Shh It’s okay It’s okay.” Hayley said while hugging and rocking me.

Sophie walks in. “Get up It’s time to meet your baby’s uncle.” Hayley and I look at each with confusion and follow her. We walk out to see a man standing there in a press suit and tie.” Who the hell are you?” I asked him. “Give us a moment, please.” The man asked Sophie. “Whoever you are, you aren't going to talk to my sister alone.” Hayley said with a fierceness that I hadn't seen since I was younger. “Hayley I'll be okay.” I said as the man, and I walked into the other room.

“So, have they been holding you here against your will?” Elijah asked me. “They lured my sister and I out to the bayou and grabbed me. And they did all these... weird witchy tests. Not that I understand how this could happen. I mean, vampires are dead. They can't have children!” He turns to me and holds his hands. “Perhaps if you knew my brother's story, it might explain how this is possible. Here, if I may.” “If you open your mind to me, I can show you.” I lean down my head and Elijah shows me.

“In the beginning, our family was human... A thousand years ago, now.” I started to see them as kids. “Although our mother dabbled in the dark arts, we were actually just a family trying to survive in a time when it was quite difficult to do so. And, for better or worse, we were happy.” “That is, however, until one night, our youngest brother was killed by our village's greatest threat.” I then saw Klaus carrying their youngest brother and he was dead. “Men that could transform themselves into wolves during the full moon. Our family was devastated, none more than Niklaus. Desperate to protect the rest of us, our father forced our mother to call upon her black magic in order to make us stronger.” I now see that their father was forcing them to drink the blood to turn them.

"Thus, the first vampires were born. But with this speed, this strength, this immortality, came a terrible hunger. No one felt this hunger more than Niklaus.” The scene was now Klaus killing a human for the first time and with that he was changing into a wolf. He didn’t know of his descent. His father chained him up as Elijah tried to help but he wouldn't allow it and kept on saying horrible things about Klaus. “He wasn't just a vampire.” “He was also a werewolf. That's how the werewolf curse works. It isn't activated until you take a life.” I concluded. “Niklaus was the result of an indiscretion our mother had hidden from us all. An affair with a werewolf like yourself.” I see another thing I did not want to, Klaus was being forced to bury his werewolf side. “Your dad was a massive dick.” I said and we kind of laughed about it.

“I'm Y/n Marshall, by the way. You should probably know my name if you're gonna tell me your whole life story. I mean, I know yours. Your family is legendary. Your brother is a notorious psycho... who I slept with.” “I cannot excuse his behavior, but you must understand, when our father hunted him – hunted us – for centuries, every time we found a moment of happiness, we were forced to flee. Even here, in New Orleans, where we were happiest of all. Not long after Niklaus broke the spell which prevented him from becoming a hybrid, he defeated our father. I thought this would make him happy. He was angrier than ever. I wonder if perhaps this baby might be a way for my brother to find happiness. A way to save him from himself.” When he finished, I grabbed at my stomach for the first time knowing that I was pregnant.

“I'm glad you feel that way, because we need your help.” It was Sophie. “What, precisely, is it that you want and what does it have to do with this young woman?” Elijah questioned and I wanted to know too. “We want to run Marcel and his vampires out of town. Klaus is the key. Everything Marcel knows about being a vampire, he learned from Klaus. Marcel trusts him, looks up to him, and he won't see the betrayal coming.”

“Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware, my brother Niklaus doesn't like to be told what to do.” “That's why I brought you here. Marcel drove the werewolves out of town decades ago. Do you really think he's going to welcome a hybrid baby to the neighborhood? Convince Klaus to help us, and no one has to know about the newest member of the Original family.” “That sounds remarkably like blackmail.” “Like I said, I'm desperate.” “Well, then, I have my work cut out for me, don't I?” “I will be back with my brother.” And with that he walks away.

Hayley walked into the room a little worried. “Oh my gosh are you okay did he hurt you?” I smile at her. “I'm fine Hayley. I just feel a little bad.” “Do you need a bucket?” “No no I mean I just learned more about Klaus than I bargained for.”

We get called back into the front of the tomb and there standing is Klaus and he looks handsome as the morning I left his bed. “No. It's impossible.” He said pointing at me and its funny cause I said the same thing. “I said the same thing myself.” Elijah said. “This is a lie. You are all lying. Vampires cannot procreate.” I kind of wish it was a lie. “But werewolves can. Magic made you a vampire, but you were born a werewolf. You're the Original hybrid, the first of your kind. And this pregnancy is one of nature's loopholes.” Sophie explained.

“You've been with someone else, admit it!” Klaus yelled at me. “Hey, guess what buddy it’s impossible on my side too since I was a teen, I've been told I can’t get pregnant, so it is a hundred percent yours also my sister and I have spent days held captive in a freaking alligator bayou because they think that I'm carrying some magical miracle baby. Don't you think I would've fessed up if it wasn't yours?” I said getting closer, almost getting in his face because if anything I was not going to stand here and be accused of being with other guys when I know my own body. We stare at each other for second before Hayley pulls me back.

“My sister gave her life to perform the spell she needed to confirm this pregnancy. Because of Jane-Anne's sacrifice, the lives of this girl and her baby are now controlled by us. We can keep them safe. Or we can kill them. If you don't help us, take down Marcel, so help me, Y/n won't live long enough to see her first maternity dress.” “Excuse me what?” I said getting worried about what Sophie just said. “Enough of this. If you want Marcel dead, he's dead. I'll do it myself.” Elijah said, stepping up and I saw Hayley looking at him with a bit of admiration. “No. We can't, not yet. We have a clear plan that we need to follow, and there are rules.” Sophie said stopping Elijah. We looked at Klaus waiting for his response.

“How dare you command me, threaten me, with what you wrongfully perceive to be my weaknesses. This is a pathetic deception. I won't hear any more lies.” I forgot how egoistic he was. I guess that night was just a side of him that was a one-time thing. “Niklaus!... Listen.” Elijah yells at him and Klaus looks at me and then my stomach listening to our baby’s heartbeat I wonder what it was like. “Kill her and the baby. What do I care?” Klaus walked away with that sentence, and I almost lunged at him. “OH, HELL NO get back here you son of a bitch!” I get held back by Elijah gently this time. “No one touches the girl. I'll fix this.”

Sophie and this older witch, Agnes, are talking again about this Vampire Marcel and whoever he is, they don’t like him that much. “Marcel and his vampires are out of control. Something had to be done.” “And the solution is to bring in more vampires?” “What makes you think you can control the hybrid?” That’s a good question. It seems like to me Klaus won’t just sit down. “She can't. I'm not entirely certain that I can, either. But now that your coven has drawn his ire, I have a question: What prevents my brother from murdering you instead of cooperating?”

Elijah said, surprising as all. Then I'm surprised personally because Sophie takes out a needle and pricks herself, but I feel it too. “Ow! What the fu-” I said looking at my hand and it was bleeding in the same place that was bleeding on Sophie's hand. Hayley grabs my hand to look at it. “The spell my sister performed, the one that got her killed? It didn't just confirm the pregnancy. It linked me to Y/n. So, anything that happens to me, happens to her, which means her life is in my hands. Klaus may not care about his own child, but it's very clear what it already means to you. If I have to hurt Y/n – or worse – to ensure that I have your attention, I will.” What the hell so the witches are cool to kill people good to know. “You would dare threaten an Original?” “I have nothing to lose.” “Well, I do!” I said feeling like they were talking about me like I wasn't there. “You have until midnight to get Klaus to change his mind.”

“His time is up. What're you gonna do now, Sophie?” Agnes asked Sophie and I was very scared for her answer. “I'm gonna do what I said was gonna do” Shit “What, kill the girl? Kill yourself?” Sabine this other witch asked. “Klaus does not care about the child.” Agnes added in and it was making me pissed off that they were barning with our baby like this. “I do” It was Elijah, at least one brother of this crazy family cared. He came in carrying the body of Jane-Anne. “And I bring proof of my intent to help you: the body of your fallen friend, which I procured from Marcel himself.” “Jane-Anne. “

“May she be granted peace. Klaus will agree to your terms. I just need a little more time.” Elijah I could tell was a smart man and thank God for that. “You had your time. It's passed.” Agnes said to him, and I wanted to wolf out on her for that. “Shut up, Agnes.” Sabine added in which kind of surprised me I mean I wanted to say it, but I had a baby to look out for. “For now, accept the deal. The girl and the child and her sister remain unharmed, or Klaus will kill you all.” He went to go walk away again but turned back. “And I will help him.”

Elijah came back to collect us and brought us to a grand old white house that felt like it hadn't been inhabited in years, probably so. Hayley was exploring another part of the house while Elijah was showing me the nursery. I went to the crib and pulled off the sheet and about a hundred years of dust came off. Cough' cough. “Are you alright?” Elijah asked me. “Oh fine, there are a lot worse places to stay in then here.” “Yes, it should serve our purposes. It's a sanctuary from our business in the Quarter. Right now, you are the most important person in this family. You need a good home. So, I'm curious... in all this time, has anyone asked you how you feel? “Like usually about how I could have a one-night stand with someone who doesn't usually do that?” “About being a mother.”

“Hayley and I were abandoned when we were born and for the most part of our lives we were in different parts of the system and I-I when I activated my werewolf side I was kicked out and thought of as a monster. And I didn’t find Hayley until I was eighteen so I really don’t know how to feel about that because I never really had a mom to rely on.” I looked back at him and he looked like he had sympathy behind his eyes. “I will always protect you and your sister. You have my word on that.”

“And noble Elijah always keeps his word.” It was Klaus. “Is it done?” "As a matter of fact, yes. Your underhanded deal worked quite well. Marcel was only too happy to accept my blood even as he accepted my heartfelt apologies. His man, Thierry, yet lives and I remain a welcome guest in the French Quarter. My only concern now is this coven of impudent witches. "Great that’s just great “I believe them to be honorable. They did release Hayley and Y/n to me. Although, they haven't been entirely forthcoming. Marcel obviously has something that they need. They don't want him dead. There must be a reason why” I leave the brothers and go to talk to Hayley.

“Hey, how was talking to Elijah?” She asked me. “It was actually not that bad, it seems like he actually cares about us.” “Really?” “Really, which is good because it seems like you were checking him out.” “Yeah, well look at us both looking at the vampire brothers, we must really be sisters.” She finished with a smile and we both laughed.

I walked back into the nursery and just stood over the crib staring at it when I felt a presence behind me. It was Klaus. “Oh hey.” “Hello” He responded back. The thing was I didn’t know how to go beyond hellos. “Look I know this is super weird you probably didn't think you would ever see me again or think about me after our… time together I just wanted to say that I will stay out of your way.” I finished awkwardly. He walked closer to me. “Is it really mine?” “One hundred percent” We stare at each other for a second. But he backs away. “Right well If you just stay out of my way there won’t be a problem.” “Right.” He goes to walk out.

Hey Yall, I really hope you liked this new fanfiction I'm trying out. I love the Vampire Diaries universe, especially the Originals. And of course, Klaus, I can't wait to develop the relationship between Y/n and him. If you want to be tagged for this series, comment nicely and I'll put you down. And if you like supernatural, I have a Castiel x reader series too.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus x y/n #klaus x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvd klaus #elijah mikaelson #marcel gerard #hayley marshall #rebekah mikaelson #hope mikaelson #tvd universe #the originals #Y/n marshall

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