#i was really tired when i did it TO BE FAIR
Text
the pro
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
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#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
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Bon Appétit~
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Alastor x Female!Reader
| Warnings: 18+ content. MDNI!! ooc Alastor, established relationship(kinda), quick smut with no plot, biting, blood, cunnilingus, fingering, hair tugging etc |
Hello, I’m Nym! This is my first time posting my writing ever!
This horny little community has me so inspired I couldn’t help but write something small. (4,666 words to be exact ;3 tried to get the funny devil number).
Also fair warning I wrote this a bit intoxicated so I apologize if it’s poorly written. But I hope you heathens enjoy it nonetheless <3
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Alastor retired to his tower as soon as the sky turned to a dark burgundy. He sat on his bench in front of his radio equipment. Fountain pen in hand and eagerly doodling away with a calm smile. Coat retired to its stand and his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Finding these late nights to be rare moments when he could allow himself to relax.
Though both his pen and music paused as he heard the trap door rustle behind him. “Hm?” Amused, he set his pen down and sits up from the bench. Coming around to the hatch he stood right beside it. A deep inhale taken as his grin grew recognizing the familiar smell of you. Bending at his hips as one hand swiftly opened the door. The other hand held out to offer assistance to his surprise guest.
The sudden opening of the hatch earned a gasp from you. Nearly losing your grip on the metal bars that you climbed up. You blinked at the hand offered to you before smiling and accepting the help eagerly.
“Now what do I owe this pleasure?” His usual cheery showman tone buzzed in your ears. With ease, he helped pull you up through the trap door, kicking it closed after. His eyes curiously noted the wicker basket you held in your other arm. “Well no wonder you had difficulty coming in!”
You chuckled nervously as he immediately points out the basket you brought. But what else did you expect? It’s Alastor, perceptive as ever. “The climb wasn’t so hard but by the time I had reached the door I was pretty tired…” you admitted with a glance running up his unusually relaxed form. His grin somehow managed to only make your own smile increase. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important. I couldn't sleep and thought I could just drop in and say hello!" You watched as one of his brows rose, earning an audible swallow from you. "Well, actually, I haven’t seen much of you today... or this week really. So I was honestly getting a bit curious about what you've been up to.” You wiggled the basket to him before setting it down on a small side table. “This is my apology for bargin’ on in.”
“Like always I appreciate your honesty, dear.” He folded his arms behind his back as he followed you to the table. With your back turned to him he took the time to slowly look you up and down. Noting the sweet white nightgown you wore that ended right above your knees. Your hair was tied back in a loose bun and you were wearing your slippers. All of this told him you really were in bed before deciding to come to him. His thoughts hesitated when he watched you open the basket. Pulling out a glass decanter of whisky and two matching cups to go with it.
You turned to face him, jumping slightly when you realized he had moved so close to you. With a laugh you waved him off. “Why don’t you put on some tunes for us, yeah?”
A staticky hum left him as he watched you for a few more seconds. He’d nod softly before spinning on his heels to do as you requested. One hand manually turning the music back on while the other subtly snapped behind his back. The music loud enough to just barely cover the sound of the hatch door locking.
He leaned against the desk of his radio station and watched you again. His grin soft as he couldn’t help but relax even more with the jazz on. “So! You really don’t have anything you wanted to talk about? Truly just stopping by to see what I’m doing ?” He pushed, teasingly.
You poured each other a glass before approaching him with his. He nodded in thanks as he took it from you. “Ha ha! No...” You stood in front of him with both hands nervously around your cup. His pointed questioning had you avoiding eye contact as you downed the small drink in one gulp. Fighting to not contort your face from the bitter taste.
He couldn’t help but laugh into his glass as he brought it up to his lips. “Really?” You caught his piercing gaze that was sent over the cup, before you watched him take a sip. “Because a nice glass of rye, jazz and sweet company.” He stares into his glass before flicking his gaze down to you again. “I really can’t help but feel like you’re trying to sweeten me up~”
The look he sent down had heat quickly washing over your body. Feeling the warmth settle on your cheeks and between your hips. He was teasing you but he didn’t seem upset by your presence. That thought seemed to encourage you, though you definitely needed another drink before you spilled your guts.
A nervous smile being sent to him as you put your finger up. “One- one moment.” You quickly approached the decanter where you left it on the side table. Your cup was filled with just a shot as you quickly knocked it back.
He finished his own drink before mindlessly setting the empty cup on the desk behind him. His smile stretched into a wide grin as he watched you desperately try to gain some liquid courage. He could easily help you right now, as he had an assumption on what this was about. There was no denying the odd connection the two of you had developed during your time here. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm and he was a very patient man when it came to torture.
Which is exactly what this felt like to you, torture. Staring into the empty cup for only a moment longer before leaving it on the table with the basket. You took rushed steps back up to Alastor as you shot your gaze up to meet his.
“Go on, darling, speak your mind.” He encouraged you with a shit eating grin. Your embarrassment and nervousness began to twist and settle in your stomach.
“I…” you slowly started, watching him tilt his head. Your gaze quickly shot to the side as the rest of your words came out rushed. “I would like to touch you-“
His brows shot to his hairline as he stiffened. He knew your intentions were along these lines. However, the sudden bluntness still caught him off guard.
A nauseating silence settled between the two of you, save for the jazz that still played in the background. You began regretting saying anything as your mouth opened to try and form words. You wanted to take it back with every fiber of your being. Eyes still glued to anywhere that wasn’t him. “I-uh wait no. I don’t mean like that- well I wouldn’t mind but- what I mean is- look you don’t have to say anything I know it’s a strong no and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but I just needed to be honest-“
Alastors eyes never left you as he watched your reactions carefully. You never could lie to him and when you did it was never for long and never done well. So he knew your intentions were pure and your words were genuine. Usually, he wouldn’t even bother thinking it over. It never seemed of any interest to him in all his prior years of living and death. However, with you? He found himself weighing his options. Because he also wanted to touch you. He wanted to invade your personal space more than he would usually. You were different to him, it was apparent since day one.
“Alright.” he watched you snap your gaze up to him so suddenly he could’ve sworn he heard your neck crack. Shock written over your features as he pushed himself off from leaning against the desk.
“Wait, what?” You asked stunned as your eyes followed his movements. His body shifted slightly to the bench right beside him, smoothly lowering to sit.
“I’m giving you permission, my dear.” After making himself comfortable he motioned you to come closer. Obediently, you shuffled slowly up to him as he spoke again. “Although we will need to discuss terms first.”
You stopped a foot from his seated form. “Terms?” You questioned half listening. You were more focused on greedily taking in his relaxed state. Shamelessly appreciating the sight of him, no doubt thanks to the two drinks. Your eyes were on his lap, scanning down his exposed forearms and stopping on his large hands that ended with sharp red tips.
“Yes, darling, terms.” He noticed your eyes on other parts of him. Slightly bothered you weren't focused on what he was saying. His hand you were staring at quickly snapped at you and gestured to look up at him. “You didn’t think I’d give you such an honor without getting something in return, did you?” His words were laced with venomous mockery.
With your eyes now held with his you hesitated to speak. Feeling your cheeks start to burn more. “I didn’t.. expect to get to at all, so…” your words were so quiet and uncertain. His ears flicked atop his head as he tried to hear you clearly over the music.
“Speak up, dear, you must use your words properly if we are going to do this.” He leaned back into the bench as he glanced you up and down. Allowing you to deliciously simmer in your own embarrassment. “My terms are rather simple. If I allow you to touch me-“ he placed a hand against his chest. “Then it’s only fair I get to touch you too, right my dear?” Dramatically his hand flicked from his chest to gesture to you. Palm being held out for you to accept. “Deal?”
You swallowed dryly as you stared at his large hand. “You want to touch me?” Eyes flicking between his black palm and his red half-lidded gaze. “And we get like.. free roam? Touch.. anywhere?” The mere thought of having his hands on you had you pressing your thighs together. In this moment, you would let him do anything he wanted to you without hesitation. What you were really worried about was his comfort. If you were to upset him by making him uncomfortable, you’d want to die, again.
A static heavy chuckle was forced from him. The fingers on his outstretched hand flexed impatiently. “I wouldn’t say it’s a want from me.” He lied. “Rather so, curiosity? Yes, let's call it curiosity.” Even now he was going to ensure he had the upper hand. “But if you don't want me touching you and you’d rather just chinning*..” his offered hand curled his fingers in and then withdrew to his lap. “No skin off my nose, dear.”
Physically witnessing his hand draw back had panic rising in you. Like this rare opportunity was about to be lost forever. He watched amused as your eyes widened and you stumbled forward slightly with the force in which you spoke. “NO-“ you both cringed at the sudden rise in volume. “No- I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to- it’s quite the opposite actually..”
He watched you shuffle closer until your knees hit his. Again, he noticed your gaze lingered on other parts of him rather than his eyes. “Then spill. What do you want?”
You chewed nervously on your bottom lip. “I.. I want your touch on me, Alastor. More than my want to touch you. You’d turn Hell into Heaven if I could only have your attention on me..” His smile widened when you finally raised your eyes to meet his again. “But I’m worried about upsetting you, Alastor. Having permission to freely touch you seems…too good to be true? And to hear you intend to touch me as well? Whether it’s a want or just curiosity I could care less. Fuck, Al, I’ll feed that curiosity however you want.”
A genuine and loud laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh ho! what a desperate and pathetic display you are giving me.” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on you. “What can I say? I suppose I’m feeling rather charitable tonight.” Slowly he leaned forward, his hands sliding down his thighs. His fingers gently wrap around your wrists. Watching carefully for any resistance to his touch. “And I promise, Mon Cher, I’ll let you know if I don’t like something. So you needn’t worry about upsetting me.” Truthfully, he’d be quick to wrench your hands away from any area he didn’t like. “You’ll do the same for me, right?”
With a sneaky smirk he brought your hands to his face. Gently grazing his lips across your knuckles. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine as you watched him breathlessly. To his surprise though you shook your head no. “I won’t need to.”
A sadistic glint shined in his ruby eyes as he smirked against your hands. The gentle kindness he planned on showing you began to slip. “Oh? Is that so?” A sudden yank of your wrists had you falling into his chest. His warm hands glided down from your wrists to help guide your knees on either side of him. He fussed with your positioning until he was satisfied with your thighs straddling his lap. Taking a gleeful glance at your flustered expression and rigid body. “You sound so certain. What if I wanted to eat you whole? What would you say then?”
He leaned back into the bench as he observed you intently. Heat settled over your entire body as you stiffly fidgeted on top of him. Embarrassed, you didn’t want to rest your full weight on him. But his hands had a firm grip on your hips, pressing you down ever so slightly to keep you in place.
Sweaty hands hesitantly came to rest on his chest, fingers gently crawling up to the top of his shoulders. “What would I say?” your words slipped from your lips like a whisper. Your desire and need for him outweighed your nerves drastically. His hands squeezed the flesh at your hips when he felt you finally relax into him. Entranced, he watched a soft smile settle on your face before you spoke. “Bon Appétit.”
Chest heaving, nostrils flaring and eyes like a hungry animal. With those words, something snapped in him. It quite literally took everything in him in that moment to not simply swallow you whole right then and there.
His jaw clenched as a loud static began to swarm around the two of you. He felt his mouth water as he swallowed, having to clear the excess saliva that pooled around his tongue. Savor her, he repeated in his head, you must savor your meal. The buzzing static overtook the music completely until it disappeared with a loud pop, earning a flinch from you. His mouth opened with a purr “Merci.”.
Your breath hitched as he leaned down to close the space between you two. His warm lips ghosted across your own, so close yet so far. Every coherent thought you once had was muddled and drowned. The unexpected intimacy that Alastor was giving you had your heart hammering against your ribs. In that moment you decided firmly, you’d completely give in to him and this desire.
One hand of his shifted from your hip and up your side. Talons trailing up until his fingers laced in your hair, pulling the tie that held it up. As you felt your hair fall freely you tried to close the space between you completely. Lips hungrily wanting to capture his.
He was quick, however, as the hand that remained at the back of your head tightened its grip. Fingers firmly tugging at the roots to guide your head back. A desperate whine leaving you as he forced your lips away from his. “What happened to both of us getting to touch? Or is kissing off limits?” You asked half joking as he dipped his head to place a soft kiss under your jaw. His lips settled comfortably on your now exposed throat as he inhaled deeply.
“You are touching, mon cher. A lot more than anyone else has.” He reminded you with a smirk against your flesh. You felt his lips part as warm breath ghosted the vulnerable skin of your throat. Your fingers trailed further up from his shoulders and up the back of his neck. You shuddered against him as his warm tongue licked a wet strip up. “I wonder, do you taste as delicious as you smell?”
“Al-“ you let out a sharp yelp as you feel a hot stinging pain begin to bloom on your shoulder. Instinctively, with your fingers in his hair, you tried to yank his head away much like he did to you. But he refused to be removed from his tasty meal. He let a low growl out with his lips still suctioned to you, a warning. You hadn’t expected him to literally taste you but it was foolish of you to expect anything less from a cannibal.
Your thoughts began to fog as you felt him suck the blood from your wound. His cock twitched beneath you as if the blood he drank from you went straight to his groin. Any previous intentions on partaking on your end of the deal was long gone. You couldn’t care less about where your hands were. The only thing that mattered now was that his hands remained on you.
You bit your lip trying to hold in the small yelps in pain as he attacked the wound he made. Prodding and poking trying to coerce as much blood as he could without literally tearing a chunk from you.
Desperately, needing more than just his feasting mouth, you rolled your hips against his. You stuttered your movements as he sunk his teeth deeper into you in response. Another whimper left your parted lips as his name tumbled out like a prayer. “Alastor-“
He sighed through his nose, having to will himself to release your tasty flesh. Slowly blinking his eyes open as he lifted up with a suctioned pop. Leaning back to take in the beautiful sight of your bloody and bruised shoulder. He watches closely as beads of red quickly begin to pool and drip over your collar bone. Bleeding into the pure white of your nightgown.
“Beautiful, Mon Cher, absolutely beautiful.” His lips parted to show a bloody grin. His eyes were glazed over as if the taste of you was more intoxicating than the drink he had a moment ago. “You did so good.” You felt his grip in your hair loosen as his fingers brushed through. With his now free hand he began to smear the blood on your shoulder, earning a wince from you. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” His hand cupped your cheek and you could feel your blood sticking your flesh to his, like glue. He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb as he brought his face close to yours again. “Do you want a taste?”
Before you could even begin frantically nodding, he already captured your lips in his. Pulling back just enough to use his thumb to wrench your mouth open. You gave him no resistance as he dove back in. His tongue eagerly exploring the entirety of your mouth. Spreading the taste of your own blood.
He swallowed a muffled moan as both hands slipped to your hips. Fingers digging into clothed flesh as he grinded you into him. “See?” His lips parted from yours with a pink tinged dribble of saliva connecting you to him. “Delicious, aren’t you?”
Quickly, you licked the bloody spittle on his lips. “If I say yes will you-“ a moan interrupted your sentence as his hands continued to grind you against his hardened cock. “-f-fuck please just fucking touch me-“
“I am touching you, mon cher.” His hands slowed to grind on him at an agonizing pace. The friction slick as you fully drenched your panties and began to seep into the front of his pants. “Remember, use your words.”
“Alastor, p-please-“ your words trembled as you tried to retain some sense of composure. But the teasing feeling of him beneath his pants was going to drive you insane. With a shaky breath you leaned away from him. One hand grasping the hem of your nightgown and yanking it up to your chest. Your other hand sliding fingers under the hem of your underwear to pull them down ever so slightly. His gaze shooting down immediately to take in the erotic sight of your pubic hair barely poking out. “Please just eat me already.”
“How could I say no when you’re pleading so sweetly?” In a blink of an eye he had his hands holding you against him. With a chuckle he stood from the bench, his hands cupping your ass to carry you with him. Your own hands quickly grab his shoulders to keep yourself from falling.
You’re swung around as you hear crashing behind you. Alastors shadow-y tendrils quickly swiping his desk clear in order to make space for you. A gasp leaving you as your back is dropped onto the hard surface with a thud. His hands holding your legs at his hips by the pits of your knees. His taller frame towering over you as you lay sprawled under him.
The grin that spread across his face had you squirming. His warm hands pull you by your legs until your ass is completely off the desk. With only your upper half resting against the hardwood, your stomach does flips, feeling like you’ll fall. But his hold on you is firm as he lowers to his knees. Effortlessly, your legs are settled over his shoulders. You’re practically panting in anticipation as you feel him chuckle against your inner thighs. “Nervous, dear? You’re shaking.”
“Shut up-“ A groan is ripped through clenched teeth as he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your right thigh. Hissing, you latch your hand into his hair. He gave no reaction to your grip as he enjoys lapping at the new wound. One of his hands sliding up to give your ass a good squeeze.
You hadn’t realized you were clenching your eyes closed until they flew open. Your back arching off the desk as your breathing hitched. The feeling of his warm tongue running up your clothed slit had you feeling sparks. The blood on his tongue seeped into the already damp fabric, adding another stain to you. “F-Fuck- Jesus Christ-“ he ran his tongue up again slowly, ending with a nice flick to your clit.
“Careful, if you moan other men’s names I’ll become rather jealous.” He hummed against your left thigh as he weaseled a hand between your legs. Sharp talons grabbing hold of the fabric of your underwear and tearing it enough to freely expose his meal.
It was a struggle keeping your eyes opened as you leaned your head forward. Freezing, as you were met with Alastors gaze sent over your exposed sex. He was watching you intently as he brought his face closer to your aching core. “I-I think I’d like to see you jealous.”
“I’m sure you would, you naughty thing.” Finally, without anything blocking his touch, you felt him lap his wet muscle up between your folds. A wispy moan leaves your lips as you remove your hand from his hair. Fingers reaching back to ground yourself against whatever you could on his desk.
The taste of you saturated over his taste buds as a pleased groan rumbled in his chest. His hands wrap around your upper thighs in order to hold you in place. His eyes flicked up trying to see what he could of your reactions. He gave up rather quickly though, losing himself to you fully now.
The juxtaposition of his agonizing teasing now being replaced with determined hunger was almost overstimulating. You couldn’t stop the shake in your legs as he twisted his tongue inside of you. The unnatural length of it reached further than you expected.
His name tumbled from your lips so sweetly it only made him crave your taste more. Fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his face deeper into you. Suffocating himself on your scent as his tongue twisted and flicked inside. When his nose pressed against your clit he felt your walls clench. A cheeky smirk forming against your lower lips. A shudder ran down your spine when you felt his tongue slip out from you. But you didn’t feel empty for long as he easily slipped a finger into you, a second quickly following. You felt yourself forgetting how to breathe as he ruthlessly pumped his fingers into your heat. Erotic squelching filled the small space of his radio room. You hadn’t realized until now that the music was off, ensuring he could hear every sound your body offered him.
His tongue lazily licked your juice from his lips as his eyes flickered between wanting to peer at your face and wanting to watch your sweet pussy taking his fingers so well. “Good girl. Such a good girl, my dear.” You were a moaning mess, unable to respond any other way to his praises.
Your entire body tensed as he brought his lips back to your needy cunt. His mouth suctioned around your sensitive clit. Tongue swiping and flicking, assaulting the bundle of nerves. His fingers stopped their pumping as he pressed as deep into you as he could, fingers bending and focusing on a specific spot. He hummed casually as if he wasn’t making you see stars.
Your body lurched forward as both hands flew to grip his hair. “F-FUCK- A-Ah fuck.” He felt your walls clench around his fingers, cock twitching knowing he had you on that cliff. “So close- please p-please-“
“Hm? Wanting to cum already?” His tone was patronizing as he lifted his mouth from you. A whiny sound coming from you as that build up dimmed slightly, keeping you just before that edge. “I’ll allow it. Only if you’re a good girl and say my name as you cum, understand?”
“Y-Yes- just please-please please-“ Another pleased hum rumbled from him as he lowered back to your sopping heat. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, continuing to stimulate both spots. It only took a moment longer and you finally reached your peak. “ALASTOR-“ A pathetic mewl ripped from your throat as it crashed over you in waves. Every muscle in your body tensed, walls clenching and twitching around his fingers as he helped you through your orgasm. His mouth popping off of you as he wore a wide smirk, lips and chin glistening from the mixture of you and his own saliva.
His fingers didn’t stop massaging your walls until he felt your body relax. Only then did he slip his digits out to greedily lick them clean. His tongue finds its way back to the bite on your thigh. Lapping at the wound while it was still weeping blood. “Thank you for such a delicious meal, my dear.” He would purr as you were still trying to catch your breath. Shifting he moved your legs off from his shoulders in order to stand back up. His warm hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward leaning into you. He helps lift you up just enough to scooch you fully on the desk once more. Your eyes lazily watch him loom back over you as you try to sit up on your elbows. His smile devious as he slips his red talons under his suspenders, slowly slinking them off of his shoulders as he purred down to you. “What do you say, darling, are you ready for dessert?”
And you then knew that your night was far from over…
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*Chinning: 20s slang meaning ‘talking’.
#alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor smut#alastor x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader smut
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loml
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“i love you, i love you, you’re the fucking love of my life baby, you’re perfect, wanna be with you forever,” paige says to me, kissing my neck while we lay naked in her bed. she never really says this stuff, only after we’ve fucked and she’s itching to go another round. i always cave. “mhmmm, paigey, i love you, please touch me,” she touches me, does what i want, then holds me close to her naked body and falls asleep, mumbling how she’ll never leave. I fall asleep, because she’s a warm body and i love her. she’s the love of my life.
I jolt up from a dream. a dream of a baby with two moms, one blond and one with my face. it wasn’t real, it never is, but after dreams like this it makes me hurt on the inside. i turn over to muffle the silent sniffs that always come from the empty feeling dreams like this leave behind. the body next to me moves, and a cool hand comes up to brush my cheek.
“baby.”
“paige.”
“what’s wrong? did i do something? can i help?”
i sniff, then curl against her, expressing, “i need a baby.”
she looks at me for a moment, perplexed, then kisses my forehead.
“you’re so tired darling, go back to bed”
hm.
paige gets back from practice at normal time, but she isn’t acting as normal as she usually does. normally she’s excitable and tells me all about the shots she made, the plays she set, everything. today she’s just here. my phone lights up, with a text from ashlynn shade of all people. i rarely talk to her. i go to the bathroom to open it, because maybe paige shouldn’t read it.
i read the first message and sink to the floor, back pressed to the wall.
ash shade
hey. i think you should know that paige keeps saying…things about you.
what kind of things???
ash shade
well, she talks about how you’re always going on about wanting to settle down, get married, have kids. and she said that “you’re the love of her life. she just doesn’t want that. not now, not ever”
paige gets over her mood later, and we do our usual dance around the obvious issues. she pretends not to notice my faked enthusiasm, and i pretend not to notice the fact that she never once tells me i’m the love of her life. when she falls asleep, i don’t. i wonder when she’ll break up with me. it has to happen soon, there’s no chance it won’t. i’m taken back to the first conversation we had, where she told me that if sex with me was half as good as talking to me was, then soon enough we’d be pushing strollers. but i guess that’s over.
“cmon bro, don’t fucking be like that,” paige taunts me, rolling her eyes at my words.
“don’t you dare bro me, paige. i have a right to be fucking mad, you’re shit talking me to your teammates then coming home and banging me like i’m some one night stand! how about you stop being like this,” i scoff, spitting venom at her words.
“well bro, if you need to know because you’re so insecure that you can’t stand someone saying anything about you, the team asked how we were doing and i told them we wanted different things. fair enough.”
“if we want different things, there’s no point in staying together when we both know where this is going to end.”
“Fine. fuck you and fuck your rings and your cradles.”
“Fuck you,” i say, finalizing what had been brewing since we turned on the fire.
paige leaves, slamming the door and shouting profanities. i lock the door, turn around, and stand in our my bedroom. her hoodie is on the floor. her hoodie is in my arms. she’s the loss of my life.
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zuko x fem!reader, angst, 1.6k wc (whoopsi)
supposed to be a gn reader but i put that they went to the royal fire academy for girls ; also timeline makes no sense LMFAO sorry ab that
summary : he says he loves you. that’s not fair, that’s not something best friends should say to each other. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.
"zuko" you breathe out, "you’re back."
he furrows his brows when he hears you approach. he notices the hint of surprise in your voice, and somehow, he doesn’t know if it’s a good thing.
a mumbled "yeah" in response leaves his lips, and you smile. you quirk your lips upward as if he had never left. as if the last time he saw you wasn’t three years ago.
you want to ask him more, hold his hand and drag him through the gardens or sneak out into the city buying things you would never even need. but he turns away, leaving you to stand there in the middle of a palace that isn’t yours. zuko did not return with the avatar. zuko returned with blood on his hands, the price to pay for the victory of your kingdom. but that doesn’t feel right. that is not the zuko you know. then again, they really aren’t that different, three year gap or not, as they soak in the glory of what they have done.
why does he think it’s an honourable thing to have caused the demise of a city ? all that for what, the privilege of bathing in warm water and gold again ?
he ignores you throughout the month that he is here. you thought you were best friends, but apparently his stay at sea made him forget. one could say you’re not on the same footing anymore, since he is promised to the throne.
and it’s fine, you are fine, you can deal with whatever temper tantrum he is having, or the fact that he doesn’t have time for you. you don’t know what he went through, so you try to be fair. but then mai comes into the picture, and all of a sudden you’re fourteen crying on the floor of your dorm at the royal fire academy for girls because word is out that prince zuko has lost his agni kai. and you didn’t even have the time to say goodbye.
it’s not like you were dating. but he can’t just do whatever he’s doing. you waited for him to come back. every day. you still referred to him as your best friend and fed the turtle ducks in his absence. and he just waltzs back into your life and breaks your heart again.
mai is a sweet girl. she’s only a year younger than you. you know she’s a good student. but she doesn’t deserve to replace you. she doesn’t know his favourite colour and why it’s his favourite. she doesn’t know half of the things about him that complete your personality.
maybe that’s how you find yourself thumping on zuko’s door. it’s probably three in the morning, and you’re tired with red rims under yours eyes. he opens the door after some time, with messy hair and his room lit with candlelight. when was the last time you saw him ? he looks so real, so close and you are so, so grateful that he is here and that he is him, that you break down. what was once fury is replaced with desolation as he looks at you funny in front of the door that leads to his quarters.
"i uhm, thought you were at the academy." he mumbles awkwardly. the opening is only wide enough for you to see his face. why is he hiding ? what is this conversation topic ? when have you become such a stranger ? his favourite colour is blue. so is yours.
you sniffle. "it’s the middle of summer."
"oh."
he nods and moves to shut you off again. your tears run thicker against your cheeks.
"you can’t close the door zuko. you told me you loved me. you can’t keep on turning your back on the problems that require something else than military attention."
you don’t even know how you manage to speak the words correctly, considering the hiccups and the sniffles and the ugly crocodile tears. you don’t know how you manage to speak so correctly considering the state of your heart.
he scoffs. "you’re the one that left me."
"i did not leave you, zuko. i chose to stay." you laugh and croak out.
"that’s the same fucking thing." he whispers under his breath, his eyes rolling every time you blink water from your eyes.
it’s okay. you know he still loves you, somewhere inside. deep deep down, you know he does. it’s not wishful thinking, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours. blue like the waves back in ember island, blue like the water the turtle ducks swim in, blue like the sky in which he wishes he could soar. blue like the flames he never got.
"you can leave now, y’know ? " he speaks again, every single drop of formality run dry on his lips when he sees you. is that a good thing ?
and yellow used to be your favourite colour. not his, yours. yellow like the sun, yellow like the small buttercups, yellow like the jewellery your mother would wear. yellow like his eyes. and then all of a sudden, zuko came along, and yellow morphed into blue. what he liked, you liked. what he did, you did. what he said, you said. somewhere along the way you forgot yourself in the name of love. and all that for what ?
"i-i don’t understand, zuko." you hiccup. you try to remember the warmth of the yellow sun but all you can focus on is the harsh yellow in his eyes. it looks much less appealing than blue.
"god, what more is there to understand ? people move on, (name). maybe it’s time you do the same. grow up a bit, and maybe you’ll get a real personality."
you gasp.
"oh and, it’s prince zuko to you."
this horrible feeling settles in your stomach. like needles, piercing over and over again. or a dam being broken by a tidal wave. you do not feel good. and he is dressed in red, like his curtains, like his door, like the walls and floors and windows and carpets and when you finally reach the gardens you have never felt so nauseous watching the fountain blue.
when you glance up, you realise the sky is red too.
your tears are all dried up now. you should go home, probably. but the sun is rising and the last thing you want to do is let your parents know you snuck out, that you’re not at all at the friend’s house you were supposed to be at. you’re seventeen, yet you are still so reliant on your parents. you should take control of your life, you think, but you still have a favourite colour and you still like the same guy than when you were a child. maybe zuko is right, you should grow up.
best friends should never be able to love each other. it ruins lives, love. you think it would have been best if zuko had never loved you at all. but his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours, because your personality is completely attached to his. maybe you loved him too before you even knew it.
you watch people get up and about from the tower you’re in. you don’t know which one it is, just that it is high off ground. when a bird squeaks, you bang your head against the wall. messenger hawks scare you.
something falls besides you, and it sounds light. a key, sitting still and yellow on the middle of the paved floor. it’s an ordinary key, yet it looks too unused to be one leading to the bird cages. you nervously look around, with puffy eyes and dried cheeks, because you should not be doing this but god, do you need something to get your mind off zuko.
fuck him and his little girlfriend. fuck him and his petty ways, fuck him and his fancy baths, fuck him and his golden eyes. he should have told you if he hated you. if he didn’t wish to be best friends anymore. you would have taken it easier than now. but he just vanished, and when he came back, he wasn’t himself anymore. maybe he lost himself like the people of ba sing se lost their lives because of him.
you spot some sort of square locker imbedded in the wall. it looks quite private but the key fits when you insert it, and when you turn it the door silently opens. then something falls on your face. it’s small and not very heavy. looks like a messy envelope when you pick it up. you open it subconsciously, like it was meant to find you somehow. maybe it was, because your heart drops when you read who it is addressed to. you skip the contents only for what you thought were your dry eyes pour again.
inside the box, is a year worth of letters. they’re all from zuko. and they’re all sealed with blue wax.
you don’t speak with zuko the following week, but rumours spread fast and all of a sudden the whole country knows he’s gone. it’s alright. you didn’t get to say goodbye the first time, so why would you now ? when you go back to your dorm at the academy the next day, pretty petunia flowers sit on your bed, sealed with a blue ribbon. you clench your jaw.
it is quite a feeble gift, but it is better than nothing at all. you keep them in a vase on the windowsill, even when you learn they mean resentment, because his favourite colour is blue, and so is yours.
it always will be.
i like read iver this once to make sure some sentences made sense that is it
this was supposed to b fluff but uh,,,,,
#anime x reader#atla zuko#atla#atla x reader#atla x you#atla x y/n#zuko x y/n#zuko x you#zuko x reader#avatar zuko#fire lord zuko#prince zuko#zuko#avatar the last airbender#avatar the last airbenber netflix#avatar 2009#avatar live action
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Truth or Dare
♡ pairing: johnnie x fem reader
♡ Summary: Tara knows you have a crush on Johnnie so she dared you to be handcuffed to Johnnie for the whole night.
♡ Classification: fluff and very very light smut
𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ ༘˚⋆ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡
You were crossing your arms over your chest sitting at the passenger seat beside your roommate Tara Yummy. Both of you just pulled up infront of Jake’s house for a quick get together amongst all of their close youtuber friends. You never agreed to be apart of this ever since Tara told you about it. infact, you’re not even a youtuber, you’re just Tara’s close friend that pops up in her youtube videos every once in awhile cause her content needs a partner.
“Oh come on y/n! Please! You’re so going to enjoy tonight just trust me i’ll be there with you the whole time. its not like you don’t know them! We’ve hung out with them before” Tara whines as you roll your eyes at her. You knew she was just saying that so you would get up and follow her get drunk so that someone would accompany her home when shes hammered. Tara kept whining and whining while tugging onto your mini skirt. As much as you hate socialising you just know you hate it when Tara starts being annoying.
“GOSH FINE! Lets get inside. Only cause i love you” you groaned in frustration causing Tara to giggle and peck your cheek before leaving the car. Jake welcomes the both of you and offers us some alcohol thats available in the fridge. The whole night we all had fun, played games, shared stories, shared experiences, talk about life and hobbies. You hate to admit this but Tara was right, you actually did have fun. But throughout the whole night, only one person really catches your attention and has never failed to do so for months.
His beautiful blue eyes that reminded you of the sky. His style is like one of those guys you would stumble across on Myspace. His cute smile that really compliments his piercings. You just couldn’t get enough of him, your eyes were on him the whole night, you tried your best to not be obvious about it but Tara was not going to let it slide when she caughts you admiring him from afar
“You like what you see huh??” Tara giggles as she wiggles her eyebrows towards you and johnny. “Oh shut up” you whine as your cheeks turns slightly pink at her comment. You don’t only like what you see, you love what you see, hearing him talk gives you butterflies. His croaky crunchy voice made your stomach churn in excitement. Tara smirks as an idea comes up in her head “GUYS! LETS PLAY TRUTH OR DARE!!” Tara yells as she pulls you to the centre of the living room. Your eyes widened knowing what your cheeky best friend is up to. Tara winks at your flushed face and sets down on the floor followed by the rest that is interested in playing as well and surprisingly Johnnie was one of them. Tara takes an empty bottle of beer from Jake’s hand and set it in the middle of the circle “lets get this game started” Tara smirks as she spin the empty glass bottle at this point you were just praying hard that the night would end faster.
-
The game has been going on for awhile and it was a mess. Tara was dared to make out with Jake as an ex. Jake had to tell a truth on what he hates the most about Tara during their relationship, Sam was dared to lick whipping cream off Colby’s belly button and many more crazy shit. Meanwhile Tara was frustrated how the bottle has not landed on you or johnnie this whole time which made you more than blessed cause the party is about to end soon since everyone was really hammered. You gave Tara and innocent smile as she squints her tired eyes at you giving you the “we are not leaving until i say so” look. Tara spins the bottle one more time just for it to land at her
“WTF?? This is not fair! Y/n and johnnie hasn’t even gotten their turn yet” tara whines as everyone agrees with her
“Yeah Johnnie! You’re missing out all the fun! Lets just pick them to do the next truth or dare” Jake says as he nudged johnnie with his elbow. “Yeah whatever i don’t care” johnnie chuckled as he takes another swig of his Dr Pepper. Tara giggles and looks at your now pale face and your big round eyes that is filled with fear.
“ok Y/N truth or dare?” Tara smirks
“Truth” you manage to choke out. You were so nervous your throat felt tight, you feel like you were about to faint
“Do you like anyone in this room? Truth only my love” Tara giggles as your face turns red. You did not expect her to ask you that, you expected her to ask you about an embarrassing memory that happened when you were a teenager or maybe what kind of kink you’re into but you never expected Tara to be so straightforward.
“Uh uhh dare, i choose dare please” you stuttered out as everyone around you groan at your sudden change of mind
“Alright alright, i dare you to be handcuffed to johnnie throughout the whole night. Its 12am now but at 7am sharp, then you’ll be free” you felt the whole world was crashing down on you. You swallowed your saliva as the room sounded muffled, your vision was getting blurry and your palms are sweating as if you just finished rock climbing or something. Tara comes back from Jake’s room with pink fluffy handcuffs that is usually used during sex which made you and johnnie turn red even more.
“Don’t worry its clean. Jake and i got this in our Fan Mail, we never used them but now it serves a different purpose” Tara exclaims as she handcuffs you and Johnnie together. You were in shock and lost of words, your face was heating up as if its about to explode but you’re more than surprised that Johnnie had no comments or refusal throughout the whole situation. He just stood still and let Tara handcuffed him to you.
“Tara come on this is ridiculous! How are we supposed to wash up tonight? I reek of alcohol right now! How am i supposed to shower” Tara only giggled at your annoyance and kept the keys in her back pocket. She walks away from you and grabbed the car keys on the kitchen island.
“And that is for you to figure it out yourself. COME ON GUYS PARTY IS OVER. LETS LEAVE THIS LOVEBIRDS ALONE” Tara blows a kiss to you before holding Jake’s hand and heads out just like everyone else is doing. You were left dumbfounded with a hot emo boy handcuffed to you.
-
12:45AM
it has been 45 minutes of dead silence between you and Johnnie. After everyone left you tried to tidy the place up but Johnnie suggest that you two just sit on the couch since there is no point of cleaning when the two of you are handcuffed to eachother. After that tiny interaction with Johnnie the both of you just sat on the couch in silence while being on your phones. It was so silent you could literally hear your own heartbeat and breathing. Johnnie was scrolling through Tiktok and meanwhile on your side you were spamming Tara with middle finger emojis and cussing her out. Tara only replied with a kissing emoji and disappeared afterwards. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, the alcohol was starting to drain out your energy and all you want to do now was sleep, but you know too well that you can’t sleep without a shower and a new set of fresh clothes.
“wanna head to bed?” johnnie turns to you noticing your eyes getting tired every minute. You lightly shook your head trying to stay awake for another few more hours. “Come on. You look like you’re about to pass out. Lets just head to bed and we’ll be free the moment we wake up” Johnnie insists, you shook your head again and sit up against the couch “I don’t feel comfortable sleeping like this.. especially not showering after a long day” you commented causing Johnnie to chuckle. He stood up forcing you to follow him to his room where he has a sleeping mask by his bedside. He hands you his T-shirt, pair of black boxers and a new towel. “The bathroom is opposite my room, you can take a shower there while I’m blindfolded” johnnie shakes the blindfold in his hand assuring you that he won’t be seeing you shower, at this point you can only sigh and agree since there are literally no other choices left.
Johnnie drags you to the bathroom and immediately wore the blindfold the moment he stepped foot into the bathroom. You slipped out of your croptop and mini skirt. You were grateful that your outfits were easy to take off since you clearly did not planned to be handcuffed to a boy tonight. As you were about to hop into the shower you noticed that you were wearing a strapless bra with a clasp. You always ask Tara to undo it for you since it is something that you are not used too yet. You sighed at the problem your facing knowing that you only have one option left.
“johnnie.. can you help me take my bra off..” you sighed
“Wait what-“ “JUST DO IT JOHNNIE” you cut him off as your face turns bright red, you swore to yourself when you meet Tara in a few hours you’re going to kill her. Johnnie took off his blindfolds to see you in your undergarments, he swallowed his salive before undoing your bra then wearing back his blindfold. You shook your head and hop in the shower after taking your panties off.
-
1:30AM
The both of you are now sitting up against Johnnies headboard. You are currently drowning in guilt, after showering you noticed that Johnnie was only in his Jeans. He ripped his shirt off and you could only guess he did it due to the humidity of the long steaming shower you were having. You insisted johnnie to shower too but he said he was too tired to shower so you end up getting dressed and dragged him to bed after taking his blindfold off. So now here you are, a duo that is muted and awkward like a married couple that just finished their heated argument. You wanted the floor to just swallow you so bad of how awkward this is, you’re trying to distract yourself by being on your phone but you literally have nothing else to search or look through.
“want to continue the game?” Johnnie ask looking up from his phone. You tilted ur head at him not knowing what he meant. He puts his phone down and stares at you with his bright blue eyes.
“The truth or dare game. Want to continue that?” Johnnie ask again.
“What why? We’re technically still undergoing the game” you asked back while sitting up
“Well… you’re clearly not sleeping and im guessing its because you’re uncomfortable to sleep on your roomate’s friend’s bed. So lets just waste time since the night is still young” johnnie reshifts himself on the bed so that he is facing you.
You just nodded to him suddenly feeling your heart beating out of your chest
-
3:00AM
The both of you spent what felt like hours on the game. It started off as the both of you picking truths for the longest time ever until Johnnie decides to break the pattern by saying dare and you dared him to take a shot of tabasco sauce. After that incident the both of you just had your own fun playing truth or dare, answering saucy questions and doing dumb dares.
“Omg i can’t believe you just prank called your mom saying you got a girl pregnant” you laugh out loud holding onto your stomach
“Yeah can’t wait for her to nag at me in the morning you idiot” Johnnie laughs with you as the both of you sat back down on his bed “alright truth or dare” Johnnie ask
“Truth”
“Is it true that you like me?” Johnnie smirks at you as your face turns red. “I uhh i don’t- well.. yeah” you confessed blankly. You did not expect Johnnie to ask you that, you were really embarrassed you just hid your face in your hands. Johnnie smiles removing your hands from your face “hey.. i like you too..actually i like you alot. Jake caught me so many times watching Tara videos that has you in it, I’m actually surprised that idiot did not blurt out anything to you.” You giggled at his confession, it was cute of him to come forward like that, you never really thought Johnnie actually has a crush on you since he never really shows it whenever the both of you meet. You cup his face and gently place your lips against his, feeling his cold lips touching yours made your heart melt the both of you stayed like that for a few more seconds before pulling away.
“gosh im so sorry i should’ve asked fuck i’m so-“ you got cut off by Johnnie’s lips crashing into yours. You kissed him back but this time more passionately than before. Both of your tongues meet and danced in eachothers mouth, Johnnie lifts you up and place you on his lap not breaking the kiss. The both of you made out for awhile, Johnnie’s hands wanted to be all over you but the handcuffs were too restrictive.
“Gosh i want to touch you so bad” Johnnie sighs before kissing you again. You hummed into the kiss agreeing with him, as you were about to slip your hand into Johnnie’s Jeans the both of you were shocked by a sudden flash coming from the door of his room
“Sup lovebirds! Say cheeeeese” Tara takes another shot from her Digicam with Jake standing right behind her waving at the both of you like a child at a playground.
“Tara uncuff me now so i can love my girlfriend easily” Johnnie groans as you turned your head towards him “Girlfriend?” You giggle “what you don’t want too?” johnnie smirks as he leaves kisses down your neck “Of course i want too” you peck his lips and felt a key dropped beside your thigh.
“Urgh this is nasty go unlock it yourself. Lets go jake” Tara exclaims sarcastically before closing the door. She is actually more than happy to see her two close friends get together since she has been planning this for so long. johnnie immediately took the keys and uncuff the both of you. You sighed at the feeling of relief when the cuffs were finally off, it felt good to feel your hands again. johnnie jiggles the handcuffs infront of your face while smirking
“Want to give these a try in a different way?”
-
Anon note: GUYS THIS IS SOOO LONG IM SO SORRY IF THERE ARE ANG TYPOS MY HANDS ARE CRAMPING ARGH. Its been a while since i posted so i gotta comback with a long one ya know what i mean? Hehe hope u guys enjoy! Love you guysss ❤️
#jake and johnnie#johnnie guilbert#johnnie fanfiction#johnnie guilbert fanfic#johnnie guilbert fanfiction#johnnie guilbert fluff#johnnie guilbert smut#johnnie guilbert smut fanfic#johnnie smut#johnnie x reader#johnnie fluff#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie guilbert x femreader#johnnie guilbert and jake webber#johnnie and jake#jake webber and Johnnie Guilbert
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Me when I fucked up my T-shot last week and accidentally used the thick needle instead of the little one when injecting myself so now I gotta get my mom to carefully read me instructions when I’m giving myself my T injection
#tw needles#tw needle#cw needles#cw needle#testosterone#hormones#transmasc#trans man#transgender#heres your lesson baby transmascs who want T#DONT USE THE THICK PINK CAP NEEDLE TO INJECT YOURSELF YOU WILL BLEED#It like. doesnt hurt you its just annoying and it hurts#i also accidentally gave myself a lower dose#gonna keep telling this story in 10 years when im a teacher educating my transmasc students#idk how estrogen works but if it works like this you too transfems#i was really tired when i did it TO BE FAIR#also so tempted to learn how to make sims 4 cc to give my sims t scars because like most people dont scar from needles but i always have#like i still have red dots on my arms from my depo shots and i still have my t shot dots
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i'm well aware there are single parents out there working full time but i think working full time and living alone with my dog is about to put me in a psychward
#why cant i handle what other people seem to handle effortlessly lmao#im so fucking exhausted and burnt-out i need demonic possession to save me or smth#like please @ random demon you will do a better job for sure#idk its like. my dog is now spending so much time alone when im at home that i feel really guilty#if i wanna go out or do anything that doesnt involve her#i have no damn time and energy#i might spend half a free day cleaning but its all a mess anyway#and then i will come back home like today just exhausted after 5 days of work in a row#and i just wanna take her for a walk and get myself smth to eat and chill a little#and i find! is poop all over the damn floor i finally managed to wash like a day ago#and it stinks so fucking bad i nearly throw up cleaning up#and then have a breakdown in the bathroom. as you do.#HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS I AM SO FUCKING EXHAUSTED#its also not fair to my dog idk this sucks so much#i doubt anyone read all this bht if you did hi and sorry#needed to vent unfortunately#wah im TIRED
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yall mfers need to stop
#gay characters written with a straight audience in mind are a thing im not denying that#like 95% of one-off queer storylines in the early 2000s were just#''hello i am a gay. i have just enough personality to pass as human in the eyes of the audience.#now let me explain why you should treat me like a person''#but my god have people taken this phrase and run all the way into hell with it#if i see one more person saying heartstopper is for straight people im gonna start biting throats out#it was created by a queer person first of all#and second of all they did not write an entire subplot about there being no age limit on discovering who you are#for STRAIGHT PEOPLE#that wasn't for them!! it was for all the people in their 30s who watched the first season#and cried their eyes out because they were seeing all the things they never got to have#im so tired yall#i stg any queer media that's even remotely lighthearted or optimistic#is immediately called ''sanitized'' or rejected as some fantasy aimed at straight ppl who dont want to deal with harsh realities#when that just isnt fair at all#also side note the post i saw that prompted me to make this also put ''pretty much all queer media made in asia'' on the list#of queer media for straights#which. feels racist.#i really dont have much of a frame of reference for queer anime/kdramas/cdramas etc. but the generalization feels sketchy#idk man i feel like there's a certain segment of the community who will just say anything they dont like is not For Us#like just because it isn't for YOU doesnt meant no one in the community can relate to/enjoy it ffs
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Being an OC rp blog is flipping trifficult ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ
#out of office (ooc)#i mean i'm very proud of the work i've done#both theme wise#and art wise#not to be self centered#but like it's really hard finding a footing when like alot of people are kind of wary on us#or like gleam over alot#and like yeah it's fair cause not everoyne likes tacos#and nobody's entitled to attention#but it's just a lil demoralizing staying confident on your place in the community and where you fit in#like eeeek#i mean i'm not giving up or anything and this isn't vauging so pls#don't take it as that#i'm just kinda tired and wanted to vent my thoughts#on valentines day ofc PFFFS#i never did oc rp so like this is a new experience tbh
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silly little vent in the tags
#i really miss him and it's not fair how much i gave to him every day when i had to beg for attention back#i don't get why this always happens#it's every single person every single time#and they always tell me i was the best person they ever dated and i made them realize what being loved feels like or whatever#but i always end up more damaged#it feels like people think the way i love is like an apology from the universe that they can just take all of without reciprocating#instead of another traumatized person with feelings also trying to get what they give#it's so exhausting and frustrating i just want to love someone that loves me back#and they all say they do and tell me how great i am but they never listen when i communicate what i need and i have to beg#and they expect praise for the bare minimum#i asked him what he does for me and he said 'i was there to support you'#do you want a medal?? you SHOULD support your partners and your friends#and they all acknowledge that when the roles are reversed#what really fucks me up about it is when i see how they treated their exes#why not me?? what did i do wrong??#and they say i didn't do anything and that i was the best but no one acts like it#im so fucking tired of this it hurts so much#like i know for a fact my other ex legitimately saw me as his reward for persevering through rejection#when can people start seeing me as an equal to them that also wants to be loved and valued and needed?? it's not fair#people keep taking advantage of me and how caring i am towards them and it sucks#im losing hope once someone DOES treat me right i won't even trust it#personal posts 😌✨️✨️#tw vent
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someone take this device away from me i am much too tired to be dignified. pay this buffoon no mind.
#is that that word#much too#those are words#when i am sleep deprived i get rambly so thats what this is#please tune me out i will tired post and comment and tag and it is humiliating bc its not my true potential#i am better than this!#go to sleep!#nay#i shall keep on for some reason#old speech posting i guess. what era is this#shakespearean? early modern english? what era was that#anyway the Some Reason is boredom and need of sleep#i will continue to ramble stop laughing at me#bloop#ren faires are so fun even though they have like. nothing to do with the renaissance. im in the process of making a cape. sewing machine is#a bitch. why do i keep adding tags#fuck off stop looking at me#dont reply to this please spare me some pride#why did i even make this post#anyway i shoudl really be more educated on history#fuck what was i thinking about. bees?#no ren faires right#who wants to come with me that would be so fun. actually i have only been here for like 3 months and ive only dm’d a couple of you#and even then not a lot. but in my defense how tf do uou keep a conversation. how does that work i cant even do it in person#ive decided to cut myself off#bye
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the hits stop coming and they don't stop coming
#every time i think i can't feel worse i discover a new blow#TO BE FAIR. IT'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN THAT BAD#i'm just like. really sensitive or something annoying like that#the worst part is that usually when i'm feeling low i can hinge my feelings on smth like 'if this happens that means everything will be okay#but then sometimes. it happens. and i still feel like the world is ending. so that didn't work now what do i do#ugh i didn't even feel this bad when i was like in the hospital a few months ago and it's literally just like. (in summary)#2 people i love are mad at me. i did really poorly in my exams and might lose my gpa. my car (highly attached) is breaking down and i need#get a new one#i start a new job tomorrow and i heard bad things about it from my classmates who started before me#+ i have serious doubts in my ability to dress neatly and well with all my shitty poorman clothes#+ i started breaking out#+ i just noticed i lost a bunch of weight likely from my hospital stay and i dunno how to get that back#+ my doctor said i'm not likely to get full mobility back at this point and it's upsetting me#also my spare tires are missing#ugh i'll be fine. i'll be fine i'll be fine i'll be fine. i'll be fine#i'm good at dealing BUT ONLY WITH SOME OF THESE. i can deal with the car and the job and the health. but interpersonal shit?#which is the thing upsetting me the most? wow surprise surprise local autist doesn't do people good#UGH anyway sorry for complaints on main i just feel like i got too many straws rn#it's 10:30pm i'm sure i'll feel better in the morning (ignoring the fact that i've been feeling almost exactly like this for days)#ugh. it's fine. i'll deal. only way out is through or whatever
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Y’know I kinda wanna elaborate on the HC I mentioned, where I said that if Donald hadn’t found out what Douglas was doing and intervened, Douglas would’ve eventually cracked and fessed up
Mostly I wanna elaborate that he wouldn’t have fessed up because of ethical guilt (though I do think he may have something somewhere inside him that would give a damn about ethics. He did seem pretty excited to do good things after all) but more because he’s got the emotional strength of a wet tissue and would feel personal guilt after getting so attached
I’m gonna put most of it under a cut ‘cause it turned into a full on Douglas study I guess
Like... obviously I’m prefacing this with it being my own interpretation of the guy, but Douglas was a pretty emotional dude in the show. His entire redemption was rooted in his emotional attachment to his family. His morals never 100% improved, and the growth we did see was almost entirely motivated by “My family won’t like me if I’m a bad guy :(”
And while he’s not a particularly GOOD dad, he is a dad. Literally every kid Douglas gets more than 2 minutes of screen time with, he goes into some kind of Dad Mode
So, the way I see it, I don’t think Douglas would’ve lasted if he got to keep the Rats for longer than he did. It’s never actually said how old the kids were when Donald found out, but they couldn’t have been older than like... 3? Tops? Possibly even younger, technically. If Douglas actually got to watch those kids grow up in whatever messed up environment he had them in to keep them hidden (Which, I’ll be honest- based on comparing the brothers’ lab quality, was probably a worse environment than Donald’s lab) I don’t think he would’ve been able to commit. Not with the original trio, anyway
ALSO. I wanna bring up Donald, ‘cause he’s also a factor in of himself
Yeah, the brothers fight a lot, and did fight a lot. But I think it’s worth remembering that despite that, these two founded a company together. They invented things together. They work together seamlessly when they get in the zone. Douglas, despite all the animosity, was ecstatic at the prospect of getting to work alongside his brother again, and was genuinely sad when Donald didn’t feel the same, but chose not to fight Donald’s decision
Douglas cares what Donald thinks of him, and I bet he cared a lot more before Donald discovered what was happening and made his own judgement call. The two of them had to have been incredibly close, and that probably would’ve weighed on Douglas, too
But Donald found out on his own, and he didn’t waste time. He saw the children, he saw the conditions, the plans, the schematics. There was absolutely no way to rationalize what was happening here, Donald had to get these kids out and away. His little brother was using their assets to make deals with terrorists regarding the creation of bioweapons in the form of children
And Douglas was left ghosted by the most consistent presence in his life for the past 20+ years, locked out of the company he helped build from nothing, and separated from these kids who have also been a consistent presence in his life for entirely different reasons
And Douglas is notorious for deflecting and pushing back when someone else decides that he’s in the wrong. All that potential turmoil means the time between Donald finding out and Douglas “dying” was probably like. Intense. To put it mildly
All this to say: Douglas is still a DICK lmao and the point of this post is NOT to be like “Douglas deserved better” or even “Donald is to blame.” It’s more about how Douglas is a notably emotion-driven character and how it affects his dynamics and actions, both positive and negative
It’s also my favorite kind of angst- where technically, things could have turned out okay, or at least better than they did, if everyone involved hadn’t been such a mess
#Lab Rats#Douglas Davenport#I'm only tagging Douglas 'cause he's the focal point but Donald does get a fair bit here#Anyway Douglas fascinates me 'cause like. I definitely don't want him or his actions to be underplayed#Like it really doesn't matter if he wouldn't have gone through with it. Especially not at the time everything happened#The fact that he got as far as he did is damning enough#But also he is SO pitiful and his emotional reliance on others is interesting#Especially in contrast to how nonchalant he tends to act#He's perfect for exploring how consequences effect someone#Which is why I draw him with such tired eyes and like to write him being Fucking Miserable#And I'll say it. Dude was a SOFTIE in the actual show#Seriously- in no particular order:#He made Chase some good soup. He went above and beyond to save Leo's arm. He gave every Rat a new ability for various reasons#He stood up for various kids on numerous occasions. He cried when Leo became an instructor#He saved a stray dog. He put a kid up for adoption to keep him safe.#He encouraged his robot son's passion for drama club. He actively helped Donald with the indestructible car#Look me in the eye. Make direct eye contact with me and tell me#That this man could raise 3 flesh and blood children from infancy#And simply pawn them off as disposable weaponry#You cannot convince me. Douglas Davenport is too pathetic to commit to that bit#He's willing to kill a kid but that goes out the fucking window if he spends more than 1 non-hostile hour with said kid#He acts like he hates his brother's guts but will literally drop it the minute Donald's nice to him in any capacity#... See now I went and wrote TWO essays#Kill me
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i hope i die, you broke my heart
#personal#my posts#so fucking tired oh my god#just yelled at my sister so loud that my throat is sore over a piece of fuciing plastic#sometimes ecerytbinf feels so bad and its like. what do i even do#like ok i relapse and i need a break from someone and they loose their fucking shit on me#taljing about how you always deal with my shit and youre tired of how i see you as the worst in the group#as if i didnt literally repeat to you over and over again that i love you and that i always will even when you kept denying it#all of the times youve left all the servers and the gc and all that and i was there to comfort you#theres a reason im always the person you go to#byt yeah . im neverrrr there for you#like is it just that im not there for you in the Same Way that youre there forme ??#does it need to be completely equal to be fair#and idk. i know hes struggling too but its so fucking stupid because ive been struggling for months and i dont treat u like tjat#im tired of feeling like i have to do two times more than everyone else ro be worthy of their love#like sorry man but im fucking sick and tired#i know ill be fine without you but like youre so sick right now that i dont know what youll do without all of us#idk im just like. you used to be so kind but now youre writing your name in mu blood#and sometimes i feel bad because i didnt mean evedytbinf i said to you but lets be honest#you didnt mean everyrbinf you said either#and i dont know if you were ever the right person because a lot of the time i think we are just two chemicals that werent meant to mix#but ill always remember you when i hear that one song and im making it sound like this is some kind if goodbye but it Really isnt#but like there was a time when i would tear myself apart for you. mot even because i liked you that much#i guess i just wanted someone that liked me as much as you did???#and when j say that it isnt even about one soecific oerson. its an amalgamation of ecery person tgat has ever loved me#a little more than they were supposed to#i think i hate ahen people love me Too Much because i dont want to be adored like that it scares me#iknow what thats like and i dont want to be someone fp Its so scary#okay if im being honest i dont know whbat the fuck im saying right mow#byt like. idk. im tired and i think im done. tbh
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maybe if i play y7 ill be normal <- played y7 four times this weekend, a decidedly not normal thing
#snap chats#'snap how many times can you play y7 in a week before youre tired of it' do you wanna find out together#i had a horrible night last night. ok not a WHOLLY horrible night but something trash did happen and i woke up still groggy bout it#i dont like sulking about the past but sometimes i cant help it and it aint fair to myself to act like i can help it. sometimes.#i gotta be candid just for my sake last night i got real upset with my friend because when i say she tests me She Really Does#and i hate getting angry cause then i just feel like my mom and at that point i figure itd be better if i slipped on ice and broke my spine#generally im good at controlling my temper but everything just testing me and i broke down and it was embarrassing as hell ☠️☠️#so yeah thats gonna bother me for a few days LMAO#'snap it aint that deep' it AINT and thats why its so annoyin cause i KNOW it aint that deep yet i still cant argue away how i feel#all i can do is try to ignore it... like plying y7 for the 11th time.....#i cant ply it now tho i told myself id work on a commission a bit so. maybe later...#i already started another file yesterday- or was it two days ago ???? idk i just know im up to chap 5 in it#chap 5 always give me a damn headache its so LONG at the very least the benefit to having my friend over and raising my blood pressure#is that i start to remember things to do from a y7 speedrun. like i dont hound her on what to do obvi i just let her play#its just lil notes to myself. tho she does tell me to give her tips and exploits when i can LMAO#anyways.. im gonna go work ig and try to feel like crummy bye bye#i wanna stream.. maybe i will this evening before my evening class.. lol.. we'll see but probably not
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#i’ve been thinking about it for a while but i think i am going to take a break from writing at least for the st fandom#i’m so grateful for the ppl who leave comments they truly make my day when i get them but as a whole i’ve just felt. unappreciated#and i know i shouldn’t but it’s really hard not to wonder what i’m doing wrong#i’ve been feeling shitty abt it since my last stargyle fic flopped so bad but the lack of response to my most recent fic is fucking with#my head bc i see the hits keep going up and nothing else and assume people hated it#which is fair i really only wrote it for myself and one other person but it doesn’t make me feel good#those that did leave comments on part 2 i’m kissing you#but i don’t want to spend any more of my mental energy trying to write through my writers block for it not to get the response it deserves.#is this dramatic? yeah probably. but i’m tired
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