#perrie’s fics
Note
Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo
Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶
true colours; luke castellan
wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader
synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.
warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending
notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈
You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.
This year, there were two.
As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.
You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.
Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.
It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.
It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.
Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.
Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.
Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”
(You came in fifteenth.)
You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?
It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.
“You alright there, sunshine?”
He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.
“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.
You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.
The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.
Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.
“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.
Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.
They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”
He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”
Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.
So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.
You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.
Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”
It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.
Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.
Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.
“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.
You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”
He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.
“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.
Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.
You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”
If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.
"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.
You haven’t talked to him since.
It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.
“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”
The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.
“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”
You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”
“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.
“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”
“Lee!”
“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.
You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”
“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.
The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.
“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”
There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.
“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.
“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”
“No to the first, yes to the second.”
You wish you said no to both.
The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.
He will not. Stop. Looking at you.
The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.
Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:
You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.
It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.
Luke, calling your name.
At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”
He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”
There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.
His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.
“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”
His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.
“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.
“I’m not—”
“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”
He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.
“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”
His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”
“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”
“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.
“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”
“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”
There’s a lull.
“What?” You blink stupidly.
“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”
His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”
A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”
His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”
“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."
You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.
“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”
The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”
“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.
“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”
The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”
“Not even a little.”
“But you’ve got so many other—”
“I want you.”
“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”
"Your knee is fine!"
"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"
“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”
It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.
He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.
“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”
Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”
He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”
You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.
“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”
Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.
In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.
When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.
She's given you two more rainbows.
#perrie’s fics#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#charlie bushnell#perrie's requests#pjo#pjo x reader#pjo fic#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo tv show#heroes of olympus#percy jackson
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If Anything, I Find it Educative (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
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Author Masterlist
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.
Summary: Spencer is not happy attending the annual FBI Gala this year. Having to socialize with a woman who only wants to seduce him makes it worse. But one not-so-fortunate incident could improve his night somehow.
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: Awkward Spencer. Morgan is stubborn about Spencer getting 'game.' Spencer spills facts about seafood (oysters), human biting, and cheating. Mention to Spencer's dick (only a phrase). Someone choking on food is described. A toxic relationship and job insecurities are described too. If I forgot something, let me know.
A/N: Okay, people. This is kind of an experiment: I want to know how you think the relationship between Spencer and Reader might evolve (if it evolves at all). Good friends? Romantic relationship rom-com style? An angsty romantic relationship? Friends to lovers? Just lovers? What important things do you imagine could happen to them? (canon or not). What could be the Reader's whole back story?
This is just a one-shot, but I am considering continuing it based on your thoughts and suggestions.
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Spencer's POV
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There are few things I hate more than being surrounded by many people at an event. Standing in the middle of a crowded party dressed in formal attire is one of them.
It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.
And this time, it's Hotch's fault.
Tonight, I should have been at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket and enjoying my new edition of War and Peace. But the annual FBI gala and Hotch's adamant request blew my plans.
"Strauss wants to see the whole team at the venue this year. And we are in a very thin line with her to ignore her wishes."
No one seemed conflicted with the idea of attending this fancy party. Even some of my teammates looked excited about it. While JJ and Garcia chatted animatedly for days about what dress they would choose, Morgan saw it as a chance to get to know the new female agents working at Counterterrorism. Rossi only wanted to know how good the scotch would be this year, and Prentiss took it as an excuse to have free drinks. For his part, Hotch seemed as calm as any day at work.
But me? I wasn't excited at all.
Reluctantly, I purchased a tuxedo for the gala. At first, I thought about renting one since I would hardly use it again. But my germophobic self made me think again, and I decided the expense would at least make me feel less uncomfortable.
Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.
Now, I'm standing at the entrance, scanning the venue, searching for a familiar face. The place is packed with agents from all divisions and their plus ones, so it's hard to find anything at all.
But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.
"Boy genius! Over here!"
Penelope is calling my name from a table in the corner. As my gaze lands on her, I can see Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Hotch there too.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips, and quickly, I stroll where my teammates are.
"Spence! You made it!" JJ greets me as I pull a chair next to Morgan to sit.
"We thought you weren't coming," Emily added before sipping her drink.
"I understood it was a requirement," I quipped, looking at Hotch. The aforementioned man nodded in agreement.
"It was, indeed. Have I to remind you Strauss is still mad about the whole ordeal with you stepping into a building with no vest and no gun?"
Hotch is right. Strauss made his life hell for a whole week until he notified my suspension.
I wince, remembering the incident in question.
Self-note: don't leave behind the vest and the gun again.
"You look very handsome, boy wonder," Garcia chimes, waving her hand and pointing at me.
I can't help but blush at the compliment. It's not she hasn't done it before, and I know she means well, but-
"Maybe pretty boy gets some game tonight," Morgan claps his hand on my shoulder, grinning.
That's why I don't like that kind of attention. At every chance, someone pips up and tries to play wingman or wingwoman for me. And although I appreciate their efforts, I like to move at my own pace. Even if some say my pace, it's more like a turtle's speed.
Giving him a tight-lip smile, I reach for a glass of water. I don't know how I'll survive this night.
Surprisingly, it is okay for now. I fall into conversation with Garcia and JJ, although it is more like me listening and them talking. Occasionally, I add some to the topic, and they seem receptive.
But Derek looks impatient to stand and march to a group of women talking on the opposite side of the venue, next to the bar. I don't look much into it until I feel his hand on my shoulder.
"You're oddly quiet tonight, pretty boy. What's up?" My sight darts from JJ and Penelope to Derek.
"Nothing?" I offer. My eyebrows creace. Derek snickers.
"I know what you need! Come on, let's enjoy the party and come with me to chat with those beautiful agents at the bar over there," he proposes. I shake my head.
"No. I'm good. You can go if you want. I don't think you need my help."
Derek rolls his eyes.
"Don't get dismissive with me. It'll help you to lose a little. I promise," he insists. And I know I'm losing my battle with him tonight.
"As if I had something interesting to say to them," I mumble, loud enough for Derek to hear.
"Don't say that. Surely, some would like to hear about, I don't know, oysters? And how they became a symbol of glamor or whatever. Because I'm sure you know that, right?" Derek points, grabbing an oyster from the tray a waiter offers him.
"Actually, oysters were not considered a status symbol until the 11th century, when the Crusades trunked access to seafood in Europe. Some researchers believe that-"
I'm about to explain the whole thing when Morgan cuts me off.
"See? Now, don't waste that knowledge with me, and let's share it with those gorgeous, shall we?"
I'm screwed.
I reluctantly stand to follow Derek. I know he's the best intention even if I won't tell him that. Maybe he's right, and I need to step out of my comfort zone occasionally.
As smoothly as only Morgan can be, he interrupts the conversation between three women by the bar. You would think they would return annoyed looks from the sudden interruption, but they did not. It is everything but that.
"Excuse me, beautiful ladies. Hope you don't mind some company. My friend and I thought it would be an honor to share part of your precious time tonight."
How the fuck can he do that?!
The result shocked me almost more than it impressed me. The three turn to us with flirting smiles flashing to Derek. And me?
That's new. And, of course, I have to blush furiously at that.
"Hey, handsome. Sweet talk, uh?" One of the girls teases Derek while the others giggle.
"I know I can do better, but you make me nervous, sweetheart," Morgan banters as smoothly as the beginning.
And that's it. We have their full attention now. Scratch that; Derek has their full attention now.
He asks for their names, and that's how I know the woman who spoke first is Vivian, and her friends are Julie and Ashley. The three of them work in the Counterterrorism Division.
"And who is your good-looking friend?" Ashley asks, skimming at me.
Why is she looking at me from head to toe?
Derek glances at me, and I understand it's time for me to say something.
"I'm Spencer," I wave.
Short and precise.
"Hi, Spencer. You are cute," Ashley points, and suddenly, my mouth goes dry.
As Emily once said, my IQ slashes to 60 when I'm in front of a beautiful woman. And Ashley is a beautiful woman. Her long, stylish blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin with perfect makeup, gorgeous smile, and a dress that accentuates her body in the right places. It would be stupid to say she is not attractive.
"Why don't we go to the dance floor while Ashley and Spencer get to know each other better, uh?" Derek offers to Julie and Vivian, winking at me.
Oh, Lord. Help me.
I don't think Derek or Ashley would appreciate it if I refused to stay here and run to the nearest exit. So I give Ashley a tight smile and prepare myself for whatever comes now.
"Well...?" she prompts, and I don't know what the fuck she expects me to say.
"Yeah. Nice party," I offer, hoping my attempt to small talk works.
Ashley's smile suggests it does.
"It is. Are you having fun?"
No.
"Yes! A lot! Are you?"
"Yeah. But I think it turns out better now," she says, subtly closing some distance between us with a playful look directed at me.
Is she flirting with me?
I clear my throat to appease some of my nerves. I need to cool off. If Derek can do this, I should try.
A waitress approaches us and offers some drinks. Ashley picks a glass of wine, and I prefer a flute of champagne. I don't usually drink alcohol, but I need it now.
"Slow down, boy. People would think I make you nervous," Ashley points seductively when she notices how I quickly down the liquid.
My eyes widen when she rests a hand on my chest and leans to whisper in my ear.
"I don't bite. Unless you want me to."
Okay. That sounds very straightforward.
I should feel flattered. An attractive woman is more than insinuating me right now; I barely said anything. But it doesn't feel like that.
Derek surely would tell me, 'Take it and play it, pretty boy,' but I don't feel like it. If we could engage in a kind of conversation, I would feel more comfortable. Don't get me wrong. I know what a potential one-night stand means, but I'm not good at it. That's how I am. Sue me.
I want to turn her down gently, so I do what I know to do, and people usually hate me for it: spit information.
"Compared with other mammals, like dogs and bears, humans don't have the strongest bite. Scientists measure the pressure exerted by an animal's bite in pounds per square inch or psi. The human bite force is 162 psi. The bite force of some dogs can reach 250 psi, while some bears have a bite force of over 1,000 psi. It's interesting, actually-"
Ashley is now looking at me, confused. She retreats his hand from my chest and hums, faking interest in what I'm saying.
As I go on with my info dump, I notice how Ashley changes her empty glass of wine to a filled one when a server offers it.
Aside from 'interesting,' 'oh,' and 'uhm,' she doesn't add more to the conversation - or more likely, my rambling - and by now, you would think she's tired of me. But no. For God knows what reason, she is persistent. I give her that.
Typically, I can ramble on and on, which is not the exception. The waiters and waitresses keep coming with drinks and food, and even I pick some for myself.
When they offer us a tray with oysters, I can't help but recall what Morgan told me before.
As I see Ashley ushering one to her mouth, I deliver an exciting fact about it.
"Did you know that raw oysters are still alive? Indeed, some people argue oysters might feel pain, and others say that because they don't have a central nervous system, they don't feel pain like other seafood species might."
Not looking at her, I focus on my oyster, inspecting it before continuing.
"If it's that so, the question is when they die actually. This is likely to happen when they are shucked rather than when they are chewed or swallowed. Scientists think this because an oyster's heart is right next to the bottom adductor muscle, so separating it from the shell kills it."
I should have known the lack of response wasn't due to the interest in the topic, although speaking was impossible for her. Her face's blueness and her hand on her neck now tell me something is wrong.
Fuck. She is choking.
I don't know what to do. She is choking on an oyster, and I'm paralyzed. The people around us start to scream as they see her turning blue. That picks everyone's attention, and I want to dig a hole to get into right now. But first, I should do something to help her. Before I can reach for her, a pair of arms hugs Ashley from behind and applies the Heimlich Maneuver. After a few thrusts into the abdominal area, we see the oyster fly from her mouth to somewhere on the floor.
At the same time, Vivian, Julie, and Derek rush to us to find out what is going on.
Ashley starts coughing, and some of her natural color returns to her face. The arms around her torso loosen, and that's when I notice the woman who just saved her life from choking.
Everything happens so fast that I barely register the slap across my face—Ashley's courtesy.
A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.
Before I can say anything, Ashley starts a rant full of anger and frustration toward me.
"Are you fucking crazy? Why would you say something like that? It's disgusting!"
Ironically, I'm speechless now.
What is wrong with talking about oysters?
"You fucking weird!" Ashley continues with her rant. It's like she has been holding it since we were left alone.
The woman who helped Ashley now looks between me and her with her eyebrow creased.
"Hey. You should take it easy. You're just recovering from-"
She can't finish the sentence since Ashley turned to lash out at her.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I almost died because of this pathetic nerd here who can't stop rambling about alive oysters! Just thinking about it makes me sick again!"
"Could it be a hint for not eating them anymore?" I muse, gaining a chuckle from the woman - let's call her the savior - and a deadly glare from Ashley. I recoil from saying anything else, and it is the wiser.
"I should have known better than to engage my time with you. Even if you actually pack a big dick, it doesn't worth it!" she whisper-yell at me, but loud enough for Derek, Vivian, Julie, and the mystery-savior woman to hear.
I'm utterly confused and embarrassed. What have to do my dick with all of this?
Derek is now dispersing the crowd around us as Vivian and Julie try to soothe her friend's anger, rubbing her back and arm.
I bet they see Ashley's wrath boiling and the high probability of her launching towards me to punch me. Their efforts to subdue her seem to work because, after a loud huff, Ashley only grabs her coat from Vivian's hand and spits at me: "Thanks for ruining my night!"
The three pass by my side to one of the exits venue.
I don't even know how I should feel.
I feel upset because my escape plan didn't go as planned. I feel relieved because Ashley didn't die. Hurt? Yeah, that, too. I didn't deserve a slap on my face. She calling me a pathetic nerd? Sadly, I'm not surprised. And it only confirms my theory I'm not good at this kind of setting.
With the show over and people not focused on me anymore, Derek approaches. I know what he wants to say, but I don't want to hear it. I'm done for tonight.
"Don't say it," I cut him off.
"I wasn't gonna say anything," he tells me with a sympathetic look, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Sure you not," I grumble. "And what was about that comment about my… dick?" I whisper to him.
Derek's face tries to remain neutral, but I know him better.
"What did you do?" I demand to Morgan, and he sighs.
"I may or may not have suggested a rumor about your attributes."
I look at him in disbelief.
"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"
"Come on, pretty boy. It worked! You caught their attention, didn't you?"
I shake my head, trying not to snap at him in public. Morgan can see the distress I'm carrying right now and relents.
"I'm sorry, Reid. I thought it would be a good chance for you to show yourself around. You're a good kid; you deserve to have a good time."
It's useless to engage in this argument again. I understand his good intentions, but like this? No, thanks.
"I better get going," I mumble, walking backward. I'm done for the night.
"Reid..." Morgan starts, but the shake of my head cuts him off. He sighs as I turn to head to one of the exits.
Walking through one of the venue's doors, I find myself on a lateral terrace. I stop for a moment to look around.
If there were different circumstances, I would be enjoying this view. To the front, you can see a beautiful and thick green shrubbery. Several fountains with little waterfalls and statues recreate a neoclassical garden. It is no coincidence since the property where the venue is located is a typical Jefferson's Neo-Palladian construction with high ceilings and large columns.
My architectural appreciation stops when my eyes land on a woman with her back leaning against one of the columns, her left hand resting on the concrete railing, and her right hand with a glass of wine. Her face is turned to the side, and she is observing the beautiful garden in front of her.
I know her. I've seen her before.
Although it is dark outside, the light from the venue's long windows illuminates the terrace enough.
My brain comes up with the answer in a fraction of a second.
Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.
After what she did, nobody even thanked her. The worst part is knowing Ashley behaved that poorly with her. It's not fair. And it's my fault.
With that in mind, I approach her.
She seems too concentrated to register I'm just a foot of distance from her. I clear my throat to call her attention.
She turns her head with a confused look at first. But she offered me a kind smile when she realized who I was.
It's my first chance to look at her; with everything happening so fast, I barely noticed her trying to talk back to Ashley moments ago.
And now that I'm in front of her, I feel weirdly struck.
Besides her beautiful smile, her eyes hold a piercing gaze, but not the kind that frightens you. It's more like she actually sees you and gives you her undivided attention. With light makeup, her face lets you see some of her freckles. With her hair tied to one side, you can see her neck adorned with a simple gold chain with a compass-shaped pendant.
My not-so-subtle scrutiny is interrupted by her voice.
"Can I help you?" She asks, and my cheeks turn pink. But I'm here for a reason, so I clear my throat before speaking.
"Sorry. I - uh. I'm sorry for bothering you, but I wanted to thank you. For what you did back there," I say, pointing to the inside. "And, well, I want to apologize too. Ashley wasn't very kind to you, considering you mostly saved her life."
She tilts her head slightly, a frown forming, while contemplating what to say.
"Well," she starts. "I'll take the thanks. But I can't take the apologies."
Now, it's my turn to frown.
"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"
Not that she should do it. It's her right to do it or not, but I'm curious.
"Because you didn't do anything wrong to me, so you don't have to," she shrugs, like it's obvious.
"I kind of did. I mean, Ashley behaved awful, and I didn't -"
Before I can continue, she shakes her head to stop me.
"No. Don't do that. Why on earth do you want to apologize for someone else's bad manners, considering she treated you like garbage?"
She doesn't say it as if she is upset at me, more likely as if she doesn't understand why I would do that. And yes, she has a good point. But someone has to do the right thing, and that's what I say next.
"It's just the right thing to do."
She takes her time, mulling over my words and whether she believes me or not.
"Okay. You're correct. It's the right to do. And it's a shame most people don't do it. But I still believe it is not your responsibility here."
Something is telling me her statement concerns more than Ashley being impolite. But it is not my place to point that.
"But some people do. And that must count as something, I guess. "
It's curious how her look changes from pensive to more light-hearted.
"Okay. You win this time..." she trails off, not knowing how to refer to me.
"Spencer," I supply. She hums.
"You win this time, Spencer. And being that said, I accept your apology too," she added, sipping the remaining wine from her glass.
I smile, nodding appreciatively. It's a little gesture, but I feel better after what happened.
Silence settles between us, and I take that as my cue to leave. I had already taken enough of her time.
"Uh, well. Thank you again..."
I trail off, realizing I don't know her name.
"(Y/N)," she says.
"Thank you again, (Y/N). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."
With that said, I should get on foot to leave the venue, as I had planned to do ten minutes ago, but for some reason, my feet didn't want to move, and I kept standing there. (Y/N) look at me as if I'm going to say something else due to the lack of movement on my part.
"Are you okay?" she asks, and now I have the same question for myself.
"Yeah. Yeah. Totally okay. Sorry, I'm leaving now."
Turning in my heels, I'm about to walk away when I hear (Y/N) 's voice.
"I didn't know that, you know? And, for the record, I didn't think it was disgusting."
I stop in my tracks to look at her with a raised eyebrow. When I catch what she is referring to, my eyes cast to the floor, and my cheeks turn pink again.
"If anything, I found it educative," she adds. I try to decipher if there is some teasing in her words, but I find none. She's being oddly genuine. Oddly, because I'm not used to people saying that when referring to the things I tend to ramble about.
"Thank you," I sheepishly say, my hands finding home in my pant pockets. "People don't tell me that very often."
A puff leaves (Y/N) 's lips before she says, "Ungrateful fuckers."
I chuckle at her choice of words.
Weird. It's the first time all night that I don't want to run away from here.
"Yeah. Something like that," I agree, and she smiles. Now I'm comfortable enough to make some conversation.
"Uh, are you from Quantico?"
"Yeah. A very adrenalinal position," she prompts, and I raise an eyebrow. "Finance Division."
I can't help but snort, and she laughs. "I told you. What about you?"
"Behavioral Unit Analysis," I reply. (Y/N)' s eyes wide in recognition.
"Wow. The one and only BAU."
"You know us?"
"Sure. I wouldn't forget a unit that has its own jet. I'm the one who enters the travel expenses from all Quantico," she explains. I hum, trying to figure out the amplitude of that sole task. "Like I told you, very exciting."
She is mocking herself regarding her job. But I find it impressive for a desk job. Not all people have the skills to run financials.
"Well, I agree it is not very adrenaline but very important. I mean, we have to travel around the country all the time. Our job depends on traveling."
(Y/N) has now an amused expression on her face.
"It's nice to know someone truly values what you do. Not even our boss does it," she points before letting a deep sigh escape from her lips. "Gosh, I'm being very judgmental right now. You're going to think I spend my life complaining about everything. I do sometimes, but I'm not always like this," she explains. I shake my head.
"I'm not judging you. Everyone has the right to say what things don't like or would change about their jobs."
"Well, thanks. Although I'm sure you guys have more reasons to be concerned. You risk your life on the field every time. That's huge."
She rests the empty glass on the concrete rail, adjusting her coat around her body. The air is chiller at this time of the night.
"You know? People say that a lot. And I agree. It's a dangerous job, but it's not better than anyone's for that reason, or whatever another reason for that matter.
Her eyes are analyzing me with curiosity. I'm not sure, but it's like she's having difficulty believing what I'm saying.
"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"
"Sure."
"Why are you here tonight?"
My eyes narrow at her question. Isn't the reason obvious?
"What do you mean? It's the FBI annual gala," I point out, knowing she already knows that too. She nods.
"Precisely," she starts. "And at the risk of being impertinent, I can say this environment makes you uncomfortable. When you were with that girl talking - scratch that, when you were talking, and she looked at you, trying to devour you with her eyes - you seemed like you didn't want to be there. Above all, knowing this kind of event is basically to show off to other bureau agents, I don't think is your notion of an ideal night."
If I wasn't impressed when we started talking - which I was - I am now.
She assumes my awe as discomfort.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overstep."
"No, no. You are okay. And let me tell you, your observation is completely accurate," I hasten to clarify.
"Yeah?" (Y/N) asks, and I nod earnestly.
"Yeah. Have you not considered applying for a position as a field agent?"
An amused laugh leaves her lips.
"No way! I would be a total disaster! And carrying a gun is not my idea of a dream job anymore," she points out, still laughing.
I chuckle, but her answer makes me think. Before I can ask for clarification, she calls me out.
"Hey, you didn't answer my question."
I didn't, although the answer is simple.
"My boss made me."
(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.
"What? Did he put a gun against your chest?"
Well, thinking better about it, maybe the answer is not that simple.
"Not quite, but you can say I felt it that way."
I tell (Y/N) how my team always worries about my lack of social interaction, which isn't that accurate if you ask me. However, some of the pressure of doing things that people my age would generally do is finally getting me and pushing me out of my comfort zone.
She listens to me with undivided attention and seems to understand what I'm talking about.
"Peer pressure, uh? I can relate to that to some extent," she agrees.
"That's why are you here tonight, too?"
My question makes her let out a deep sigh as her eyes focus on the garden beside us for a second.
"Not really. Who knows, maybe I do enjoy being here?"
(Y/N) phrases it more like a question than a statement. And I can tell she doesn't believe it either.
"Enjoying being apart from the crowd, in a lateral terrace barely illuminated and exposed to the chilly night air? I can think of several other places to do the same thing without the trouble of a gala environment."
Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, which tells me I'm right.
"Not fair, you are a certified profiler," (Y/N) complains, faking annoyance.
"And you haven't answered my question either," I remind her. She rolls her eyes playfully.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Well, let's say I came here to prove myself something. Spoiler alert: I failed. That's why I have been mostly spending the night here."
I hum, knowing she is vague in explaining, but I'm not in a place to pry.
"Look, I would tell you more about it, but I'm sure you have to return inside. Your teammates are surely wondering where you are."
I can't help but snort, and she raises an eyebrow at my reaction.
"I'm sorry, but your assumption is far from reality. Considering what happened inside, they think I ran home. What I was actually doing before spotting you here," I admit.
"Ha! So it's true I'm holding you back but for a different motive," she triumphantly concludes.
"I didn't say that!" I complain with a hint of exasperation, to which she breathly laughs.
"I know. I know. I'm messing with you. Honestly? There are two reasons why I'm avoiding this topic right now. First, I don't think you want to hear the mess my life is these days, and second, I would kill for a coffee and a sandwich-" she pauses, stifling a chuckle before continuing. "Considering oysters are out of the table."
"Oh, come on!" I groan, seeing how she falls into a fit of laughter, so contagious that I can't help but join her.
"Sorry, sorry. Not very kind of me, I know. But I couldn't help it," she apologizes, still giggling. I bit my lower lip in amusement.
"Alright. It's okay. It's frankly funny," I admit, my words leaving my mouth before I can think of them. "Well, I could tell you more of those moments in my life - many of them - if you let me join you with the coffee and sandwich. I know a good place that is open at this hour. And you can tell me what kind of thing you wanted to prove yourself tonight."
Spencer Reid. Is that you?
I'm surprised by my sudden confidence, and it seems (Y/N) is, too. She hums, scrubbing her fingers under her chin while contemplating my offer.
"Okay, I'll take it. But don't tell me later that I didn't warn you about the mess of my life," she points her index finger at me.
"I won't. I promise."
-
Grabbing a cab is relatively easy since the FBI considered transportation outside the venue for people who won't be driving.
The fifteen-minute ride allows us to have a light conversation. That's how I know (Y/N) has been in the bureau for almost four years. Being an Accountant by profession and with a Master of Science in Finance from Georgetown, she was recruited for the FBI precisely considering her outstanding skills in the financial department.
She asks me about my trajectory in the FBI as well. I tell her about Gideon and the start of my life at the BAU.
Arriving at our destination, I insist on paying for the ride despite her resistance. I assured her that she could invite me to the coffee.
It must be a curious image for the patrons to see two fully gala-dressed people stepping inside a diner at eleven pm.
We sit on a bench facing each other.
A girl who can't hide her curious expression comes to take our order. As promised, (Y/N) asks for two coffees and two sandwiches.
"So, Agent Gideon recruited you for the FBI. Why did you accept? I would have thought you would be more comfortable in academics," (Y/N) asks, stirring a spoon of sugar in her coffee.
"I thought the same at the time. But Gideon saw something I didn't. He knew I wouldn't settle with learning and teaching for the rest of my life, and I needed it to be useful beyond that environment."
I explain how profiling has helped us to catch unsubs around the country and how worthy it is for me. I can't think of myself doing anything else. (Y/N) listen to me with raptor interest; it is nice to be heard that way.
"You know? I haven't heard someone speak passionately about their work in a long time. It's good you feel that way," she says with a hint of longing that doesn't go unnoticed by me.
"It is bold of me to assume you don't like what you do?"
Maybe I'm overstepping, but I'm curious. And (Y/N) doesn't seem bothered by my question. Shifting in her seat, she leans, resting her elbows on the table.
"Not bold at all, mister profiler," she teases. "But not always has been that way. I would say I started to feel uncomfortable not long ago. A couple of months, perhaps?"
I hum, thinking about what could have made her feel that way.
"It has to do with why you were at the gala tonight?"
She chuckles, nodding.
"Kind of. Remember I told you I wanted to prove myself something? Well, it has to do with what has been bothering me," she prefaces.
(Y/N) relates how things have gone well since she got into the FBI. She felt respected, wanting to do many things and learn everything she could.
That's how she met her boyfriend.
"I wasn't looking for a romantic relationship, much less at work. I wanted to be professional, separating my private life from my job. But he was so attentive and supportive. He always told me he was happy I felt fulfilled with what I was doing. He was so perfect I thought I had found my soulmate."
I don't know exactly where she is going, but sure as hell, that prick wasn't her soulmate.
"What happened?"
"One day, I wasn't good enough for him anymore. After two years of relationship, he started with harsh comments and criticism about everything I did and didn't do."
A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.
"I should have noticed. By then, he was promoted from desk duty and junior trainee to field agent. He had always wanted it, and I felt so happy for him. But that changed everything."
(Y/N) tells me about how her boyfriend stopped listening to her, and instead, every topic of conversation turned to his job, implying - sometimes saying it explicitly - that it was more important than hers.
"It's not only the fact we stopped communicating; it was realizing how low he thought about me and my accomplishments. At first, I tried to understand. Of course, he was dazed by this new life, full of danger and adrenaline. I could understand it. But when he started comparing me to his female colleagues and the things they were doing, way more important than the ones I was doing, it made me insecure."
(Y/N) takes time to collect her thoughts, sipping the remaining coffee from the cup.
"The insecurities got the best of me. At some point, I just wanted to run away and leave it all behind. I knew it was irrational, but I believed him. I even thought about changing my career and training to be a field agent. Good thing we broke up before I could do that," she admits.
"What stopped you? I mean, like you're telling this, you were going to change for him," I ask. She cast her gaze, averting mine. Her cheeks turn pink.
"I don't like to admit it, but the reason we broke up wasn't because I realized how stupid the situation was. We broke up because he cheated on me. I discovered it two months ago, breaking the camel's back."
Fuck. That prick was not meant to be her soulmate. And I feel the urge to have one or two words with him right now.
"I'm sorry." It's the only thing I manage to say. (Y/N) shakes her head.
"Nah. If anything, I'm glad it happened. Even if it broke my heart."
"He was at the gala, right?" (Y/N) nods.
"With the coworker that he chose to cheat on me. His current girlfriend."
Everything makes perfect sense now. (Y/N) was trying to prove to herself that the wound had healed. And from what she said earlier, it didn't turn that way.
She bitterly chuckles.
"Yeah. It's pathetic, I know."
Spencer, do something.
"No! It's not. Unfortunately, cheating is not uncommon, particularly in men. In 2020, IFS released a report stating that 20% of men have admitted to cheating, and only 10% have. In 2021, the Health Testing Centers asked 441 people who admitted infidelity to their partners and asked how long it took for them to tell their partners about it. 47.7% of the respondents told their partner within a week that they'd cheated. 26.6% of those have waited for a month, and 25.7% took six months or longer to tell their partner about the infidelity. And 60% of them said the affair started in a work environment."
And then again, the rambling. But instead of giving me a blank look, (Y/N) seems to consider what I just said.
"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about it then. Anyway, it hasn't been easy to get out of this. I thought going to the gala and forcing myself to see them together would be enough to get a closure," she reflects.
"But it still hurts," I supply, making (Y/N) hum.
"Yeah. I'm not ready, and it sucks. Not for him, but for me. I hate feeling so out of place, so dissatisfied with everything," (Y/N) retorts, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
Her eyes look sad, and I want to do something to fix it, although I know that nothing I can say would be enough. Maybe joking will at least get her off the topic.
"And there I was talking about oysters all night," I sigh, feigning disapproval. Genuine laughter escapes her lips.
I didn't know that making her laugh could fill my heart so much with satisfaction.
"That's life," she adds, now checking the time on her cell phone. "I think I'll get going," she announces, collecting her things and preparing to stand.
"Can I walk you home? It's very late already," I ask.
"Oh no, don't worry about me. My building is not far from here."
I know she doesn't want to cause trouble, but it makes me uneasy about what could happen to her walking alone at this hour.
Thank you, BAU.
"Please?" I insist. (Y/N) raises an eyebrow.
"Aren't you already fed up with me?" she asks curiously.
"Non yet," I grin.
Not having the energy to put up a fight, she accepts my offer, and after paying the bill, we leave the restaurant.
The night is colder now, and both of us walk in silence with our hands in our pockets.
I can't know what exactly she's thinking, but at least I can't stop thinking about tonight. For someone like me, it's hard to fall into spontaneity, but with (Y/N), it wasn't a problem. That amazes me, and I like it at the same time.
When she stops walking, I get out of my thoughts.
"Here," she says, looking at the building we are standing by. "Thank you for walking with me," (Y/N) states, smiling. It's the same warm smile she offered when I found her on the venue's terrace a couple of hours ago.
"Of course. It's the less I could do."
And I mean it. She saved my night in so many ways she doesn't even know.
"Well, I need to say it was a pleasure to share this shit of a night with you and turned it less shitty," she says, grinning and satisfied with her remark.
I laugh at her statement. I couldn't have said it better.
"Thank you. It's the best compliment I have had in a long time," I joke, making (Y/N) giggle.
"You are welcome."
I have the question on the tip of my tongue. I would love to see her again, but what if she doesn't think it's worth it? I opt for the vaguest thing that comes to mind.
"See you around?"
(Y/N) thinks about it for a moment. Am I being too obvious? Before falling into a spiral, she smiles at me again.
"Yeah, sure. Why not."
I can't help but feel the excitement pouring from me.
"Great! Well, I - I'll go now. Good night (Y/N)," I say goodbye, slowly walking backward.
"Good night, Spencer," she retorts before entering the building.
I watch her disappear behind the door, and I think that while neither of us got what we wanted, maybe we got what we needed.
-------------
A/N 2: I'm excited to know your thoughts about this!
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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#dr spencer reid#amanda perry williams#aperrywilliams#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot
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“now,
i have to remember you
for longer than
i have known you.”
(c.c. aurel)
#anderperry#neil perry x todd anderson#anderperry = soulmates#anderperry fanfics#anderperry fics#todd anderson x neil perry#todd anderson#neil perry#todd x neil#todd and neil#neil x todd#neil and todd#dps#dps spoilers#dps boys
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Dune crack!au (1)
Paul: May thy knife chip and shatter-
Feyd: *starts singing* 🎶In another life, I would be your girl🎶
Paul: What?
Feyd: 🎶We keep all our promises, be us against the world🎶
Paul: I’m so confused right now.
Irulan: And I’m recording this.
Feyd: 🎶In another life, I would make you stay🎶
Chani: NGL, he has a great voice.
Stilgar: True.
Irulan: *is still recording* You’re doing great, Feyd!
Paul: Shouldn’t we be fighting-
Chani: Shush, Paul! Let him finish.
Paul: But-
Feyd: 🎶So I don't have to say you were the one that got away, The one that got away🎶
Paul:. . .
Jessica:. . .
Feyd: So how’s my singing?😀
Chani: I approve! You’re going to be our concubine number 2!
Feyd: Nice.
Irulan: Oh, great. A new roommate.
Stilgar: As written.
Paul: What?!
Jessica: I did not see that coming.
Mohiam: I did.
#dune laundry and taxes universe#dune part two#dune 2#dune#crack post#crack ship#feypaul#feyd x paul#paul x feyd#paul x chani#paul x irulan#paul atreides#feyd rautha#chani kynes#irulan corrino#lady jessica#stilgar#gaius helen mohiam#feyd becomes concubine no. 2#as written#katy perry#the one that got away#dune incorrect quotes#alternate universe#incorrect quotes#dune memes#crack fic#crack treated seriously#house harkonnen#house atreides
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hii could i request a neil perry smut, similar to the charlie one. With a Taylor Swift song!! Love your work🤍🤍
New Romantics
Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader
Warnings: 18+, lust, sexual attraction, smut, mentions of nudity, oral, p in v, first time, fluff
Summary: Neil Perry falls for you out of no where. In his minor crisis over his feelings for you, you find yourself feeling the exact same about him. After all a forbidden romance was far more interesting than the boring life you both had stuck in Welton.
a/n: I’m so sorry I absolutely got carried away with this but sweet precious little Neil and Taylor Swift. It’s genius.
word count: 5,234
Masterlist
Neil Perry didn’t really care about girls. That didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to them, of course he was. He just had far more important things to focus on than obsessing over a girl and her looks. That also wasn’t to say he didn’t care about those things either. Hell he had seen plenty of naked girls from the magazines Charlie stole from his father. He just never had in person and he was okay with that. He had things to focus on like school and pleasing his Dad. If he obsessed over girls like Charlie or Knox did he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the important stuff. At least that was what he thought until he saw you.
Neil had never been bothered by girls attending Welton like the other boys had. He’d rather them be comfortable and not distracting while he was here. Guys like Hopkins were the ones that couldn’t leave them alone. That was how he had ended up spotting you. Hopkins was leaning over you, hand pressed into the wall, his free arm trying to snake its way around your waist. Your heel came down so hard into the boys foot Neil actually heard him whimper.
“I told you to leave me alone!” you seethed, Neil’s eyes lifting to see your long hair swinging violently in your pony tail, bright eyes wide, nostrils flared. His heart stopped. You were damn near the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He was so distracted by the hills of your lips, imagining them pillowy soft against his own, he didn’t even notice you were now looking at him. A look in your eyes that could kill with your hands planted tightly on your hips.
“You want a go?” you asked, narrowed eyes and bright teeth shining behind your perfect red lips. Neil visibly gulped before shaking his head, clutching his books to his chest. You scared him. Yet not in the way you should. You scared him because for the first time in his life he found himself unable to deny his attraction.
“No, no. I uh, no” your head tipped back, the roll of your eyes so heavy he swore they almost disappeared. He wished your head would tip back like that looking up at him, touching him, taking care of him. The thought made his heart constrict in his chest, because he had never thought that about a girl before. It was as if he couldn't stop it, there was just something about you that made his skin tingle with anticipation. He had never had that before.
“Whatever Perry, find something else to entertain you” you scolded, briskly walking past him, shoulder brushing against his own. Unable to avoid it, another thought of you laying underneath him, with that fiery look appeared, and he actually had to close his eyes to shake the thought away.
So Neil spent the better part of the entire week trying to chase away thoughts of you. It was exactly what he had been afraid of. All consuming, distracting thoughts that he couldn’t seem to make go away. He had zoned out through three entire lectures before realizing he had a serious problem on his hands. He needed a way to get you out of his system and fast. Yet every time he was close to getting himself to stop he realized having thoughts and feelings for you was the most exciting thing to happen all year. The most exciting thing to ever happen in this school actually. At least since Keating had started teaching.
“Hey Neil, do you have the latin notes?” Charlie asked from Neil’s bed, surrounded by homework he was behind on. He preferred to catch up on it in the presence of his best friend rather than Cameron. Charlie didn't need a lecture about trying better at school from any one other than his father. Cameron had a habit of acting a lot like his Dad.
“Um, no actually” Neil gave him a sheepish look, long finger pushing the wired glasses up his nose.
“What do you mean no? You take notes even when Cameron helps us with math” Charlie sat up, confusion flooding his entire face. He just expected Neil to throw the notes over, he had never said no before.
“I was distracted” Neil shrugged, unsure how to properly explain himself.
“Something is up with you, you’ve been acting weird all week” Charlie shook his head, trying to read what was going on in Neil's head. Thing was it was usually Neil having to tell him what to do, not the other way around. As Charlie sat there trying to figure it out Neil felt the answer bubbling in his chest, ready to jump out at any moment. “What is going on?”
“Y/N” Neil blurted, nerves making his skin feel like it was on fire under the stare of his longest and oldest friend. The minute the name left his mouth he winced and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch Charlie as he processed this random response.
“Y/N? Like the Y/N in our latin class that tells Mcallister to eat it when she forgets her homework?” Neil opened his eyes and nodded, embarrassment covering his cheeks in a bright red.
“Since when do you even talk to her?” Charlie asked, arms crossing over his chest as an amused look covered his face. Neil never talked about girls, so this was a first.
“I don’t, but I can’t get her out of my head” Neil groaned as he gripped at his hair, more dirty images of the girl flashing through his mind. He needed help and as soon as he could get it.
“No way, Neil has a crush” Charlie snickered and that’s when Neil dropped his head on his desk, a defeated grunt escaping his lips.
“That’s the thing, it’s not just a crush” now that peaked Charlie’s interest, his best friend getting all squeamish about a girl was bound to be interesting.
“Not just a crush?” Charlie asked, eyebrows high in amusement. This was pure entertainment for Charlie, Neil embarrassed about a girl. Normally it was Neil being embarassed when Charlie said gross things about a girl.
“I can’t stop thinking about her. I watched her stomp on Hopkins foot and next thing I know I'm thinking about kissing her and..... other things" Charlie laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut because for the first time it wasn't just him getting all hot and bothered over a girl. Hell it was Neil of all people.
"Wow, I did not expect this" Charlie said once he had finally calmed down, still amused over the predicament his friend was in.
"Stop laughing man, I need your help. I don't know what to do and if my grades slip because of this my Dad will kill me" Neil pleaded, not enjoying his friends amusement one bit. Charlie had been fighting attraction his whole life, Neil had never found anything worth it to be attracted to. At least until now.
"Look there's only one way to get rid of an itch, and that's to scratch it" Neil furrowed his eyebrows, confusion covering his face.
"I don't think that's true, actually the worst thing for an itch is to scratch it" Charlie rolled his eyes at his friends literalness and shook his head.
"Not that kind of itch, look you're not gonna stop thinking about her until you at least talk to her. Even better way to scratch it is to do all the things you're thinking about but let's start with baby steps" Charlie told him and Neil somehow turned even redder, the idea of even acting on his thoughts embarassment enough.
"Fine, I'll talk to her but that is it"
Welton sucked. Truly since the moment you had been here. The last thing you needed was to be harrassed by boys who had gone here so long without girls they'd have no idea how to act when one finally showed up. Yet your parents made you anyway the minute it became co-ed and it was exactly like you had predicted. Almost every boy in the school harrassed you, sexualized you, made slimy comments, and out right direspected you. A small part of you sympathized with them not being taught but at the same time you didn't feel the need to deal with it. It wasn't your job to make them decent human beings, it was their mothers, and all their mothers abandoned them here. So all you could do was put them in their place when they tried to mess with you. You had yet to meet a Welton boy that respected you.
You liked to pretend it didn't bother you but it did. You hadn't really gotten close to the other girls and all the boys ever did was tear you down. Everyone in this school was too bored and tired of everything. All they could do is mess with each other while they all waited for their escape. Especially you, waiting for that train you knew would never come. Didn't matter anyway, your parents were no better than this no good school. So all you could do was watch as they all flirted with each other, disgusting displays of undeceny, practically wearing scarlett letters like the Nathaniel Hawthorne book. Little did they know yours was better, you just hadn't bothered to show it.
Being young it was easy to play innocent, like being in this school wasn't putting you on the road to ruin. So everyone in this school could play dumb but they all knew what being here meant. It meant saying goodbye to the finer things in life, accepting a life of successful educational pursuits, with no passion for life behind it. So you continued to listen to girls cry in the bathroom at night and see the distraught faces of the boys when they realize now that their on this train they will never be abe to get off. Too focused on the progressive classrooms without realizing living their life held the best lesson for them. You hoped Keating would help them realize that, before it was too late at least. So that was what you thought about once English class had ended, the teacher yet again surprising the students in the classroom.
"Y/N?" turning you spotted Neil Perry, the dreamy dough eyed boy that sat two seats behind you. You had yelled at him last week, you hadn't meant to but people like Hopkins made you so mad anyone that happened to be in the cross fire could end up burned too.
"Hey Neil" you smiled lightly at him, hoping you wouldn't have to add another boy to the list of Welton imbeciles.
"Hey, uhm. I uh-. Could you-?" you watched as he stumbled over his words, eyes darting around your face, looking anywhere but your eyes. You realized he was nervous and he was also trying his best not to disrespect you. That was new.
"Take a breath Perry, I promise I'm not going to stomp on your foot" you chuckled, hand gripping his shoulder to ease the tension slighty. Finally his eyes met yours and they held so much adoration you swore your heart melted on the spot.
"I was wondering if you had the latin notes?" your eyebrows furrowed, surprised he was asking about notes. Especially since he was friends with Meeks who was top of the class. He spotted your confused face and the panic set in again.
"I mean yeah, but isn't Steven always on top of that stuff?" you asked as you began to dig through your bag, looking for the notebook.
"Yeah which is exactly why I don't want him to know I've been forgetting to take notes" at this you laughed lightly and Neil swore his heart stopped. He had made you laugh, Charlie was right. So far this conversation had already done so much for Neil, when all at the same time it was making his feelings for you absoltuley so much worse.
"Has something been on your mind?" you found yourself asking as you finally found the notebook and moved to hand it to him. Neil gulped nervously and chuckled.
"Uh, I guess you could say that" he said, adding the notebok to his mountain high of textbooks. "Thank you for this, and also I thought Hopkins deserved it just so you know. That's not how you treat a lady, especially you"
"I'm nothing too special, but thanks" you smiled softly at him, not expecting this. All the boys you had run into this year had been so vile. Who would've thought Neil Perry was a sweet heart.
"You're everything Y/N" Neil told you, stare hard as if the look itself could convince you of your worth. Your skin instantly started to crawl, your neck heating up, because damnit Neil Perry was cute and he just said you were everything.
"Would you want to study for latin together? My roomate goes to the library every night from six to seven so we could then" you found yourself saying, unsure why you had seemed to cave. You swore you weren't going to allow Welton boys in but you forgot how real gentlemen had acted and Neil was starting to take your breath away.
"In the girl dorms?" the color seemed to suddenly drain from his face and you snickered, the way he was so shy making you gigle like a young school girl. After all it was what you were but so many of the rude boys and vicous girls had thrown bricks at your cool and innocent structure. Hell you could build a castle from how many they had thrown at you. Yet, even if every day at this school was a battle maybe a night with Neil Perry could be a dream.
"Yes, Mrs Leonard reads in her room around that time. You won't get caught, promise" you told him, assuring him that the hall monitor wouldn't be on duty if he stopped by. Neil suddenly found himself nodding, the idea of seeing where you sleep every night, where you change, sending him into over drive.
"Okay, uh, sounds good. I'll see you then" you smiled softly before nodding and leaving him behind, a smirking Keating from his desk staring the young boy down.
"Should I be worried?" he teased and Neil shook his head, the tips of his ears red.
"No, we're just friends" Neil lied, right through his teeth, and Keating just laughed.
"My boy, you don't look at friends like that" Neil nodded, a blush permanently etched across his face as he rushed to tell Charlie because the only way he would survive the night was learning the expertise of someone who was a master at sneaking onto the girls dorm floor.
If you were being honest you half expected Neil to not show up. He wasn’t really known around the school to cause trouble. So when he showed up at your door, 6 o’clock on the dot, your heart fluttered. He had rid himself of his formal school uniform, now in sweat pants and a white t-shirt that he had covered in a long sleeve flannel to keep warm. The way he looked warmed you over as well.
“You came?” you found yourself saying out loud, stepping out of the way for him to slip easily into the room.
“Yeah, I wanted to spend time with you” Neil told you, honesty dripping from his tongue like honey. You watched as his eyes scanned your room, taking in the differences, and possibly the similarities to his own. Then his eyes landed on you and it wasn’t hard to miss the way they had darkened.
Neil almost rubbed his eyes because he had pictured you in a silk night set hundreds of times. It was how most of his fantasies would start. Now here you were in front of him, a silk red set laying softly against your skin. Long legs bare and for him to see. Maybe he was day dreaming again. Surely this couldn’t be real? He was going insane and he was going to start losing it. First his grades then he won’t be sure what planet he is even on.
“I didn’t take you for the sneaking around type?” you finally said, surprised goodie two shoes Neil had not only snuck away from his dorm floor but snuck his way onto yours.
"I'm not, but lately I've learned some risks are worth taking" Neil told you, hard stare set on you. You weren't one to fall easily into guys but for some reason the way Neil looked at you made your skin crawl. You allowed his stare to wash over you, refresh you, and for the first time you allowed yourself to think it was possible to be something with Neil Perry. After all you could be the new romantics and even though heart break was a national anthem you both could sing it proudly. Neil was a reminder that the best people in life are free.
"Um, here are your notes" Neil finally spoke into the silence, nervously gulping as he returned the notebook. It was damn near impossible to copy the notes when thoughts of tonight seeped into his mind, doing things in your dorm bed that no dorm bed should ever see. The minute he would get his focus back he would stumble upon some hearts you doodled and it would start the process all over again. He wished he could get every single heart tattooed on his body.
"Oh perfect! I'm glad I could help" you told him, taking this notes and turning to set them on your desk. You used this moment to catch your breath, no longer looking at Neil Perry like something you wanted to corrupt. Yet that was exactly how he was looking at you because the red fabric covering the curve of your ass was making him want to bite it like an apple, any taste of you willing to soothe his internal war of lusting after you. He was so distracted he hadn't even noticed you had turned back around and had caught him practically drooling over you.
Quickly his eyes snapped up to yours, unable to read your face. He waited for any type of reaction, more than likely one similiar to when you bruised the hell out of Hopkins foot but instead you just sat there, staring back him giving no clue as to what you were thinking. Little did he know this was poker and you were about to play your ace. When you're a teenager you are too busy dancing to get knocked off your feet but afterall you need love and all you want is danger. A forbidden romance could be exactly that. You knew starting something with him the rumors would spread like wildfire but the thing about rumors is even if they were terrible and cruel most of them were true. So what would it matter if they had one more brick to throw at you. Neil still didn't have a single clue as to what was happening as you took a step closer to him.
"I can leave, I didn't mean to upset-" Neil froze as you held up a hand to stop his apology. For the first time since you had a caught him a smile broke across your face.
"Please stay" you told him, your eyes now practically begging for the boy who had been falling apart for you all week. Neil's shoulders relaxed as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he realized you were looking at him like he looked at you.
"Okay" he told you and before he could process what was happening next your arms were flinging around his neck, mouth sealing against his own. Eyes wide and unsure hands quickly turned into holding onto you like at any moment you would disappear and this wouldn't be real. Your lips were as soft as he imagined, you tasted sweet like sugar, and now that you were so close he could smell your shampoo. His senses were trying to take it all in, commit it to memory, because until now it was just what he had imagined and now you were pressed against him, mouth hot against his own and chest pressed tightly against his. You weren't wearing a bra, he had noticed immediately and now he wasn't sure he would survive this. Surivve you.
"Is this okay?" you asked as you pulled away, panting to catch your breath but Neil didn't answer because now that he had a taste he couldn't stop. His lips were now trailing down your neck, your perfume clinging to him, and he vowed to never wash it away. Charlie was right about scratching that itch but he needed it fully taken care of. One kiss would not solve over a weeks worth of painful pent up sexual feelings for you.
You read his message loud and clear and as his lips continued to taste every visible inch of skin your hands were pushing the flannel off of his shoulders. The fabric dropped to the floor and now your fingers were curling under the hem of his white t-shirt and he only removed himself from you for a second to allow you to remove it completely. Your head fell back in a gasp as his cool hands slipped underneath your own shirt, pressing softly into the flesh of your back, and impossibly closer to him. You had planned on studying, truly, but now that he was flush against you, his length against your stomach you realized you might never think of latin ever again.
"Take it off" you whispered in his ear and he finally detached himself from your neck, careful to not leave any marks. His eyes searched yours for any uncertainty but you didn't seem uncertain at all so he didnt hesitate to grip the red fabric and pull it over your head, lifting your hair with it. His eyes dropped instantly, taking in your bare form, hair swooshing down, and making you look like an angel. He realized none of Charlie's dirty magazines could never ever compare to the real thing. To you.
You realized his nerves and slowly grabbed his hands in your own. You gave him a reasurring smile as you lifted them, placing them directly on your chest. Nervously his hands cupped around your breasts, squeezing softly as he determined exactly what it felt like. He didn't want to hurt you after all. Your head tipped back at the feeling, a small whimper leaving your mouth and he realized he much preferred that one over Hopkins. As if his body was on auto pilot his mouth moved to cover your own, to swallow your whimper, and sear it into his heart forever.
Your hands fell up one his shoulders, guiding him towards your dorm bed. Neil’s hands only left your chest when the back of his knees met the edge of your bed and he fell down into it. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched as you shimmied out of the silk shorts, leaving you in a white pair of underwear, a small bow right in the center. His eyes locked onto it like a missile to its target as you lifted yourself to straddle his lap. Neil fell back in the sheets, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Fuck, there is no way this is real right now” he spoke his thoughts out loud and you giggled lightly, leaning down so your face was hovering right over his.
“You treat me like I’m worth something Neil Perry, because of that I have no issue allowing myself to feel things for you” you whispered to him, wanting him to know that in this shit show of a school at least there was one other kindred spirit just like his.
“You should know you’re the only person I’ve felt things for ever” he told you in return and you smiled before sweetly kissing him, something you planned on doing for as long as you could.
You deepened the kiss once Neil’s hands gripped your waist, planting you firmly above his erection and trying desperately to not rut into you like a needy dog. Yet he was failing miserably because he could feel you everywhere and the sensation of your bare chest against his own was about to become much better. His thoughts were halted when your fingers curled into his waist band, head pulling away from his own as your eyes flashed to his bare torso. He looked at you pleadingly, begging you to do anything, so you stood up, tugging the sweatpants down along with his plaid boxers.
Never would you have guessed Neil Perry would be naked in your dorm bed yet here he was, in all his glory, clearly doing everything he could to last. Which he wasn’t going to much longer because now your were on your knees, delicate fingers tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock. The image more perfect than the first time he imagined it, the first time he had imagined you. “I’m gonna take care of you”
And then your tongue was licking a long stripe from the base of his dick to the very top. Your lips closing around to give it a soft kiss and Neil felt tears beginning to fill his eyes, a desperate mess and so needy for you. The effect you had was dangerous and he was done for, officially. He should just drop out. Then he couldn’t think of that any longer as your mouth finally closed around him, taking as much as you could. He rutted against the back of your throat, your hands palming his balls and he felt himself begin to tremble. You only smirked at the reaction, sucking him for all he was worth.
“I’m not, I’m not gonna make it” he stuttered out but before he could succumb to his needs you were releasing him with a pop, a small smirk on your face as he lost his orgasm. You felt only a little guilty as he looked at you so wounded.
“Don’t worry baby, I want us to finish together” you told him, now standing as you slid your panties down your legs. Neil cursed himself for hardening quickly again at the sight. You sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air met with the wetness of your core and before you could straddle Neil again he was sitting up and gripping your hips, fingers digging softly into the flesh of your ass.
“Could I-, could I taste you?” he nervously asked and you smiled at his shyness before nodding. Neil stood, allowing you his place on the bed where you allowed yourself to relax. “This is my first time”
“I’ll teach you” you encouraged and he nodded, now dropping to his knees himself. You had been so worked up that when he finally dared to run a finger through your folds you were tightening around nothing. Neil took a moment to explore, really see what it all looked like, a curious thumb pressing to your clit. When he heard you take a sharp rush of air in he looked up alarmed and you just chuckled.
“That’s the sweet spot handsome” you explained and he took this information in as he continued to look. In a daring moment Neil leaned forward, tongue dragging through your folds before pressing firmly on your clit again. He was shocked to find how good you tasted, not expecting it to be like this. The moment he realized how much you liked it he dug in like it was his last meal. Savoring it and hoping to keep your taste on his tongue the rest of the night.
Neil was a fast learner. After only a few more tips and adjusting his position he had you wreathing beneath him, you fingers practically trying to rip the hair out of his head. You could feel him rutting against the side of the bed and the minute you felt your stomach begin to tighten you pushed him back, panting out heavy breaths. “I need you inside of me right now”
Neil blushed and you leaned over to dig for the one condom you had come to Welton with. You had never planned on using it and now you realized you needed to figure out how to get more. You sat up and rolled the condom on for him before moving to lay on the bed the correct way. Neil followed your lead and settled himself between your legs, dragging the tip through your folds. You moved to put your own hand down there, lining him up before nodding at him. He pushed in slowly, his length stretching you sweetly.
Neil realized no day dreaming could compare to the sight of you naked underneath him and the way your warmness enveloped him inside of you. Once he was fully inside he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You hissed at the pleasure it gave you, realizing he had gotten more comfortable during all of this. Slowly he started to move inside you, sucking so hard at each breast you realized he was leaving them covered in hickeys. You grabbed his head, pulling it up to kiss his mouth as he begun to hit the sweet spot inside of you.
Of course he couldn’t seem to leave your breasts alone, hands finding them as he kissed like you were his and he was going to keep it that way. Soon enough he was pounding into you like his life depended on it, you prayed the other girls couldn’t hear the bed squeaking or your moans. You wished you could let out the pornagraphic sounds you were holding back to avoid getting caught.
You felt your stomach begin to tighten again and Neil could feel you clenching around him. His thrusts began to get sloppy and in a moment of courage he took his hand and behind to rub your clit just like he learned and you were milking him for all he was worth in seconds. Neil allowed himself to finish as well, practically falling on top of you as he collapsed, the euphoric feeling making him dizzy.
“I guess even though we didn’t study you at least learned something” you said, pressing small kisses into the side of his neck. Neil chuckled lightly, lifting himself up to look in your eyes.
“I hope you know this wasn’t my intention. I mean I’d thought about it but I was at least hoping to take you on a date first” it was your turn to giggle and you pulled him down to give him a quick kiss.
“I know, that’s why I let you do it” you told him and he smiled, leaning back down, and hugging you close.
“I plan on keeping you” he whispered into your skin and you smiled, a hand running through his hair, him still inside of you, and warming your heart for the first time all year.
“Baby we’re the new romantics”
#neil perry#neil perry fanfic#neil perry imagine#neil perry fic#neil perry x femreader#neil perry x reader#neil perry series#robert sean leonard#dead poets fanfic#dead poets headcanons#dead poets au#dead poets fandom#dead poets honor#dead poets aesthetic#dead poets society imagines#dead poets society#dead poets in nyc#dead poets society neil perry#neil perry smut#neil perry x todd anderson#charlie dalton#imagine#charlie dps#neil dps#dps headcanons#dps fandom#dps fanfiction#dps au#dps fic#dps boys
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THE LAST TIME
- ten out of the countless times you have seen neil perry, and nine where you saw him alive. (neil perry x gn! implied to be shy reader, fluff to angst, canon-typical main character death, major spoilers for dps but i assume you’ve watched it before, i included my own poetry so i hope y’all like it, sad face emoji i teared up while writing this).
word count: 9,006
a/n - thank you so so much to my beta readers @sorencd and @chuudidit for reading this massive piece, i appreciate you endlessly <3 this was definitely a labor of love, one that i took a considerable amount of time to write and edit. i adore dead poets society and poetry in general (i have written 130+ poems and never plan on stopping) so i definitely needed to put my thoughts into words lol 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy, because i definitely enjoyed writing this for you.
When Neil Perry first saw you, and god, did he see you, he knew nothing would ever be the same again.
You were simply sitting there under the old tree just outside the borders of Welton with a book under your nose and the soft rays of a flashlight filtering through your hair. You had one knee up, holding the book in a gentle balancing act as he stared. Charlie gave him a nudge, eyebrows raised and a tease on the tip of his tongue, but Neil couldn’t even move. He was completely and utterly dumbstruck. The moon was hanging above your head, full and bright, drowning you in a poetic haze. You flipped a page and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before, and he had no idea why.
After a long minute, he peeled his gaze away from the figure under the tree and followed the other dead poets to their second ever meeting. From the corner of his eye, he swore he saw you glance up at him when he passed, but no one else seemed to notice.
When Neil and the poets were walking back to Welton, you weren’t there- something Neil noticed instantly. Of course, being who he was, Todd noticed that Neil noticed, and Charlie noticed that Todd noticed, and before he knew it, Neil and his fixation were the new tortured topics of the evening.
“Oh, love at first sight! The most beautiful kind.” Charlie teased, clasping his hands and spinning around. “How romantic.”
Neil shook his head, trying desperately to clear his suspicions. “It’s not like that. I swear, it’s not even a crush. I just thought it was weird.”
Cameron chimed in with a slightly hushed tone. At least he was aware of the fact that they were quickly approaching the earshot of every single person in Welton Academy. “I wonder where they came from. I mean, it couldn’t have been comfortable or safe to be out here at night. Especially alone.”
“Same. What do you think they were reading?” Neil responded, quick to try and put the teasing behind him. Despite his efforts, the teasing carried long into the night and the days following it. It seemed like nothing and no one would ever let him forget he ever saw you.
He would find out later that you were reading a poetry book.
He saw you for the second time on a trip to the main town. He recognized you instantly, from what little knowledge of you he had gained. You had the same hair, the same stature, the same book tucked under your arm as you peered into the musty old bookstore in the back corner. Just Todd was with him this time, and he definitely knew what was up.
Todd glanced at him, a warm expression on his face. Once again, Neil was entranced.
In the new glorious daylight, he noticed things he never could’ve before. The undertones of your hair, your skin, the way you seemed to glow even when you dipped into the shadows. He saw the pure beauty of you in a manner he had never seen anyone else in before. He took a step forward, pulled towards you somehow as his heart beat a mile a minute. The bookstore loomed over you, cracked and imperfect, yet casting the evening in a scene plucked out of a storybook. You turned, seeming to have seen him in the window’s reflection, and he flinched. He almost had a heart attack as his brain registered the color of your eyes and exactly how your mouth pulled up into a smile. Quickly turning away, he grabbed Todd’s sleeve and hightailed it out of there. Todd followed, as he always did. Neil was enamored, and Todd could tell.
“Do you think they saw me?” Neil gasped, pulling Todd into the square’s corner. He was panting lightly, red-cheeked, with a lopsided grin on his face. Todd had never seen him nervous, much less shy. In fact, he was the opposite- friendly, inclusive, and not the type to run away from a challenge. Something must have been different about you.
Todd raised his eyebrows. “Probably, Neil, they looked back.” He, too, saw your eyes, though he was mostly focused on the anxiety coursing through his veins rather than committing them to memory.
Neil’s gasping breaths were definitely louder than they needed to be. “Oh god, they definitely saw me. They probably think I’m a creep. Jesus, it’s definitely over.”
“What’s over?” Todd put a hand on his shoulder worriedly. “There was nothing there to begin with. They’re just a person, you’ll be fine.”
“Way to kill my dreams, Todd. Look, can you promise me that you won’t tell this to anyone else?” Neil asked, suddenly very serious. He glanced around like someone would waltz into the trash-filled and truthfully disgusting corner. The bathrooms were just around the bend, and he could smell it.
Intrigued, Todd nodded.
“I need you to say it. Promise me.” Neil whispered. His coat crinkled as he moved closer to Todd, the material dipping around his sweater. The fall air was the perfect background for whatever Neil was trying to get up to.
“I promise.”
Neil grinned boyishly and glanced around the corner again. “This is stupid, but I think I’m in love.” From the look in his eyes, Todd could definitely tell. His friend was suddenly more animated than he had been in a very long while, and he knew that he would do anything to keep him that way. His caution, however, took over.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. What if you never see them again?”
“And what if I do?” Neil breathed. “What if I see them tomorrow, or the next day, or a week from now? What if I see them every day of my life because I just went out and said something?”
Todd shook his head. “Just be careful, alright? There’s a very good chance that nothing will come of it.” Neil clasped Todd’s jacket, quirking his eyebrows.
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Just no.”
The first time you saw Neil Perry, you didn’t even know you saw him. You were sitting under a tree, reading an Emily Dickinson book you bought in the town’s bookstore. It was a way to relax to you. A way to forget all of your troubles and just enjoy the wonders of the world. You don’t know why you picked that tree, or why you stayed so long you had to use the flashlight you so hastily packed, but life has its ways of pulling you towards something you didn’t know existed.
The scenery was absolutely beautiful, even at night. You wrapped your thick coat tightly around your shoulders. The fall leaves beneath you gave a crackle and the moon hung high above your head, slightly illuminating your page. Welton Academy loomed just outside of your line of sight. It was beautiful, too, but something about the cold stone walls made you shiver.
As time slipped away, you began to hear a hushed cacophony of boys around your age coming out of the school to the side of you. They had their hoods up, laughing and giggling like they were in some sort of secret club. You looked up, and one of them stopped dead in his tracks. You could see his breaths clouding in the night as the others urged him forward. Your eyes drifted back down to your book, as if you were embarrassed. The moment broke, and he was on his way.
You weren’t there for his return back to Welton.
The second time you saw him, you noticed him a lot more clearly. You were window shopping just outside of the bookstore. Even though the building was dusty and marred, it smelled like home. It smelled like stories and adventures and comfort. You were a frequent visitor to this place, and one of the owner’s best customers.
He often set up his new imports in the big, yellow-tinted window in front of you. As you gazed in, you noticed a face appear in the space next to you. You turned around partially, meeting his dark brown eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him.
It was an electric moment. His lips were slightly parted, and the gray clouds above him were engorged with unshed tears. You gaped at him, dumbfounded, as milliseconds ticked away like hours.
Before you knew it, he had sped away with his friend in tow. Huh, you hadn’t even noticed he had a friend. All you could think about was the fact that he looked familiar, and the fact that he was the most handsome boy you had ever had the pleasure of locking eyes with.
His stature reminded you of the boy by the tree, the boy from Welton Academy. There was just something about him that screamed “you saw him once in a dream”.
Somehow, you thought one simple thought: you were in love with someone you did not know.
When Neil saw you for the third time, and the third time you saw him, he worked up the courage to talk to you.
Mr. Keating was instructing the boys outside yet again. They were in the courtyard, taking inspiration from the world around them. From leaves, patches of mud, anything that struck their fancy.
You were taking a walk by campus. Once again, you didn’t know why; you just were. The boys were not a quiet group, and you could hear their shouts very clearly. You strained your ears, hoping to hear one voice in particular. Of course, you didn’t know what his voice sounded like, but you were listening anyway. If you were right, and he was a boy from Welton, maybe you might be able to catch a word or two.
That’s when Neil spotted the person walking loops around the front of campus. Maybe, for the first time, you could be his inspiration.
He looked over his shoulder, quickly trying to assess whether he could slip away unnoticed or not. No one seemed to be looking at him. He left his group behind and jogged up next to you.
You saw him coming. Even from a distance, you knew it was him. Your heart began to pound in your ears, loud and fast and just a little bit lovesick. You were right.
“Hey!” He exclaimed. You took a small step back. Your nerves were on their highest setting and your mind was reeling. What did he think of you, you wondered. More importantly, who was he?
As he approached, you put on your best nervous smile. “Hi.”
“My name’s Neil.” He said, reaching out a hand for you to shake. You complied quickly, saying your own name in turn. His palms were slightly damp, but you couldn’t blame him. Yours were probably worse.
The moment your hand held his, fitting perfectly under his fingers, he knew you were made for him. “I saw you in town the other day. Do you like books?”
Your voice was hesitant, unsure, and Neil wished he could reach out and smooth the wrinkles in the sound like an old coat. “Yeah.”
“What were you reading?” Neil asked. He tried to stamp down his own nerves, but something about you made his breaths flutter in and out like butterfly wings. It was a feeling he was completely and entirely new to.
You shifted the bag on your shoulder to your hands, reaching in to pull out the book. “Oh, Poems by Emily Dickinson. It’s not the traditional type of book, but I love poetry.” Your cheeks began to warm. You knew nothing about this boy. What if he thought poetry was stupid, just a lesson in his English class and nothing else? How could anyone know how much those words meant to you?
Neil beamed, big and wide and lovesick. You truly were perfect for him, he thought. Poetry. You certainly were poetic, with those gorgeous eyes and an equally beautiful mind. “I love poetry too.” He breathed.
Your tense smile turned genuine. “You do? That’s awesome.” A quiet flutter started to pick up in your heart.
“Yeah. You know what?” He grinned, “my friends and I have a sort of poetry club. The dead poets society- we do readings, original works, whatever the members are feeling at the moment.” He sucked in a silent breath, pausing just enough to let his reeling mind decide on what he wanted to say. “It’s at night in the old Indian cave.” You nodded along to his words, growing increasingly intrigued the further he carried on. This dead poets society began to excite you. It was all you ever wanted in life: a community of like-minded people sharing the verses that made your heart tick. “If you want, I mean, you should go to our next meeting. It’s tonight.” Neil offered. He could tell his words were cycling through your mind, finally catching up to his proposal.
You wanted to join the dead poets society so badly it made your heart ache. A little inkling, though, in the back of your head, sparked a pit in your stomach. “Would your friends be okay with me being there? I… I don’t exactly know them.”
Neil was head over heels. You were so wonderfully lively, in the way that a breeze touching his eyelashes with the tips of its fingers would be. You were exactly how he expected, and exactly who he needed.
He waved away your concern with the flip of a hand and a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. The others bring guests too, and gosh, I’m sure they’re going to love you! Especially Todd. I’m sure you two would get along real well.”
“Then I’ll definitely be there.” You replied. The sparkle in your eye shot Neil at full force. You were excited, smiling, happy. He made you happy. He mentally patted himself on the back.
“Great!” Leaves rustled from behind Neil, and you could see a group of boys approaching in the near distance. “Shoot. I gotta go, but make sure to show up. I’ll be waiting for you.” He whispered, leaning in closer to you before turning around to walk towards the group. You felt cold air where he had once been, and you wished for a moment that he would come back. His friends, however, were hooting and hollering, and you thought you could hear a kissy noise or two. You shook your head, a shaky warmth creeping its way up your neck, before turning to walk away.
You were going to go to a secret meeting in a secret cave at a hauntingly secret hour, and you had never been quite so excited in your entire life.
The fourth time you saw each other was the dead poets society meeting. You were brimming with nerves beforehand, shaking fingers gathering your materials as you tried to prepare for waltzing into a place with people entirely unknown to you. The bag you were holding contained a couple of your favorite poetry books, your own poems scratched in the empty spaces on certain pages that really inspired you. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to read a poem out loud, especially your own work, but earlier in the evening, you resolved to “go with the flow” and do what the others were doing. You hoped you wouldn’t have to regret that decision later.
After putting everything together and making sure to turn off your light and close your door, you slipped out of your house into the black night.
The scenery on your walk was entirely too beautiful. You never noticed just how much the bark on trees formed swirling patterns, or how the stars seemed to twinkle on their own. The ground under your feet was littered with fallen leaves in fiery shades and clumps of moist dirt. You began to smile just a little bit, thinking of a poem you had written when autumn had first started. That is surely what you would say if the dead poets wanted you to speak.
Nothing felt greater than breathing in the crisp, cold air and swinging your arms as you stepped along the path less traveled on.
When you finally reached the cave, heart significantly lighter, the sound of laughter floated up to your ears. It was bountiful and boyish and beautiful. You peered around the edge of the cave entrance, and Neil’s eye immediately caught on you.
“Come in, come in! We’re just about to begin.” He called. You stepped fully into the light and glanced around at your company.
They were giggling and shoving, gaping at you and Neil with a sort of uncertain certainty. Some were standing, some sitting, a couple moving around, and all of them male. You took a seat next to Neil, between him and the boy you saw with him in town. He gave you a meaningful nod and looked to Neil, who was opening an old, thick book. He was frightened to so much as speak in front of you, as silly as it might have seemed.
“Attention, dead poets. Today is another wonderful night.” He announced, voice deep and commanding and humorously theatrical. “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately… I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! To put to rout all that was not life… And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived…” His voice trailed off, and someone from the back of the cave echoed his last word. He closed the book with a snap, and the boys began to murmur excitedly.
Neil took a seat and turned to you, a glimmer of something sweet in his eye. When he looked at you, all he saw was magnificence. “Who wants to start?”
A boy jumped up. In his fist was a crumpled piece of paper, which he made a show of unfolding. “For those of you who don’t know,” He said, with a pointed glance at you, “my name is Nuwanda, and today, I actually made a poem.”
A couple boys yelled in support, and Neil gave you a nudge. “Charlie Dalton.” He whispered, making sure to not alert the others. You thanked him with a shy nod. Then, as “Nuwanda” was starting to begin his woefully homemade poem, Neil put his arm around your shoulders.
His touch sent jitters through your entire body, lighting you up like a firework. It just felt so right, so natural, so breathtaking. It felt exactly like shaking his hand and feeling his eyes and seeing his breath hang in the air- like it was destined, written in the stars, utterly perfect. You leaned into his touch, feeling his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and shoulder. “To live, to learn, to die,
my boys,
to see, to love, to burn.
To touch, to know, to harm,
my dear,
to eat, to reap, to sow.”
Charlie recited. For someone who seemingly took poetry lightly, he wasn’t particularly bad. He put more passion into his words than most other boys you knew. In fact, you’re sure he would be a great writer if he put more than an ounce of effort into it.
He took a bow as the room erupted into applause, Neil’s arm still wrapped around you. He could feel it too, the electricity. He wanted nothing more than to bottle that feeling and keep it forever.
Charlie sat, staring at you and Neil with a smirk on the corners of his lips. “Hey, why don’t we let our guest take a crack at it?”
The cave filled with a rumble of excitement from all of the poets. Neil’s brows were furrowed, but he gave an urge of support anyway. “If you want to, of course.”
You wanted to. Energy thrummed throughout your company, filling you with a sense of confidence you rarely had anywhere else. For once, you truly wanted to speak up. The air was crackling with a sense of anxious anticipation, and you could smell the love each boy held for each other. They knew, somehow, that the moment meant a lot to Neil, and they were willing to put aside any inhibitions to help him enjoy the night.
“I’ll go.” You uttered. Neil’s face lit up as his previous worries slunk away into the night.
You pulled out a book from your usual bag and opened it to the page you knew so well you could recite the poem it held without looking. And, of course, your own poem was scribbled in the margins.
Everyone was attempting to peer over your shoulder, to take a glimpse of what made you a poet. Having attention on you was an odd feeling, like ants crawling along the back of your spine. You took a deep breath. “When you die,
the beetles will still sing.
The trout will still jump,
and the earth will still rumble.
When you die, the moon will still turn
and the stars will still burn.
When you die,
The lakes will still ripple
and the trees will still creak
and I will lower you into the ground
and I will cry so hard the world stops moving.”
As the last words left your lips, a profound silence enveloped the group. Then, all at once, it exploded.
“We’ve got a real poet in here!” Came Charlie’s teasing (yet not entirely unkind) voice. “Truly Keating material. What sparked your creative melancholy?”
You felt yourself glowing as you sat. If you were being honest, you never could have imagined that anyone would genuinely enjoy your work. That notion was entirely unfounded and untrue, considering they were a group of poets, but it persisted nonetheless. “I don’t know, really. Just the notion of losing a loved one, I suppose.”
When Neil saw you, in that moment, when he heard your voice, he couldn’t breathe. He knew so little about you, yet you pumped his pulse up to be as fast as a racehorse. He wanted, no, he needed to learn everything that made you you. He needed to know what you looked like when waking up in the morning, or how your fingers felt threading through his hair, or your deepest, most desperate passions. He needed to be so close to you he could feel your heartbeat through the fabric of your shirt. He was intrigued.
When he first discovered acting, he felt the same exact way- a burning desire to learn, to know, to discover. If you let him, he would recite his lines all the way into your heart.
The meeting continued as the sky grew ever darker, complete with poems and rhymes and words spoken in deliberately lyrical tones. You fell into every verse and every story as easily as you would if they were written in a book. You began to learn every name in the room, and they quickly caught on to yours. It was a community, a group of people that began to feel like home.
Of course, by the time they decided to end things, the stars were full and bright. The sun would surely peek its head out of the fog in a couple hours. You were smiling harder and more genuinely than you ever had before, with Neil by your side, and Todd on your other. As they all stood up to leave with boisterous whispers, Neil turned to you.
“Will you come tomorrow? And the next, and every day after that?” His question was so excited, so innocent, like he didn’t know that you would kill for the chance to be near him and everything he held dear.
You smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a dead poet for life.”
Your eighth encounter with Neil was not a lucky twist of fate. He got permission to leave school for some something or other that you never bothered to find out. Now, it was just you two and the big town square looming in front of you.
In truth, it wasn’t that big, but when you’re standing at the beginning of a new day with the boy that holds your heart, everything feels intense.
He took hold of the sleeve of your sweater, as he so often did, and you descended upon the shops.
“Come on, you’ve absolutely got to try the milkshakes at Tom’s Ice Cream Parlor! They’re just the best. Hurry, hurry!” He tugged you along, a bright smile on his face. God, how you loved him.
You had grown closer in the past five dead poets society meetings. Often, he would stay with you in the cave long after the meetings had ended. You would talk about whatever crossed your mind in the moment, and he would spin stories out of thin air. He didn’t ever seem to talk about real life things, though. His work at school, sure, but anything outside of that was uncharted territory. When you asked him about his family, he just clammed up.
You laughed as he weaved through the clumps of people with you in tow. “Slow down, Neil! You’re gonna get us killed.”
The sound of your voice, especially your laugh, was something Neil had come to relish. He would keep you talking all day if it meant he could hear that giddy ring in his ears every time he craved your presence. “You’ve just got to go faster. The line is horrific at this time of day.”
“This place had better be good.”
“It is, believe me. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”
When you arrived, bodies hot and just a little uncomfortably sweaty, the sight of the ice cream parlor was a welcome one. He led you through the doors and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. You wished you could do it for him. The line was, unsurprisingly, quite long. You made idle chat, but his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at him.
“…he was real impressed when Charlie played his sax. Mr. Nolan, though, he definitely wasn’t-“ And, before you could think about it, before the screaming in your head could tell you no, you reached up and smoothed the cowlick that always seemed to mess up his part. When you pulled your hand away, he was beaming.
“Thanks.” He said, simply. You smiled back at him.
“No problem. So, what happened to Charlie afterwards?” You questioned. Neil gave you a look, one you had come to realize meant “I’ll tell you later”.
As you stood three people away from the front counter, Neil fumbled around in his pockets. “Shoot, I could’ve sworn I brought more money than this…” He muttered. He pulled out a dime and three pennies, all slightly covered in the fuzz from his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, I must’ve spaced out- I’m usually so good about things like this.”
You took his arm with one hand and slipped the other in your pocket, rooting around for any spare change you had. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I have more than enough.”
You did not, in fact, have more than enough. You had a single quarter and a spare button. Pooled together, you could get exactly one milkshake and have his three pennies left over. Neil looked at you regretfully.
“You take it. I’ll get one another time.” He said, putting on a smile. “I’ve had too many sweet things today anyways.”
You would not accept this as an answer. Not here, not now. He deserved all the good things life had to offer, and you would be damned if he didn’t get them- starting with this milkshake. “It’s alright, you have it.”
Neil looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “You should have it, really.” He would be damned if you didn’t get what he dragged you out here to experience. If he could see your face, smiling and sticky-lipped, after taking a sip from something he contributed to, he would be the happiest man on earth.
The back-and-forth was getting nowhere and you both knew it. “Why don’t we just share it then? Ask for two straws?” You sighed. “It’s the best solution.”
He paused. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t the life he wanted to give you (if this was any indicator), but it would work. Everything would work as long as you were there. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that.”
There was another quick conversation about which flavor to choose, but you settled on one that you both liked equal amounts. You discovered that he had far different tastes than you milkshake-wise. If you were any less filtered, you would’ve told him his opinions were downright wrong.
You sat with him, smiling so hard you thought your face would break as he finally told you what happened to Charlie. Apparently, Nolan had reprimanded him as he so often had to do, but Charlie couldn’t stop smiling during the lecture. Eventually, Nolan just stopped mid-sentence and ushered the boy out the door. Apparently nothing and no one could ever crush Charlie’s spirit, not even the hardships of wooden rulers.
You leaned in to take a sip absentmindedly. As you reached your straw, you felt the tip of Neil’s nose brush against yours, and you realized you were so close to him you were almost kissing. You pulled back quickly, a hotness enveloping your cheeks.
“Sorry.” You uttered, trying not to look him in the eye. You were so mortified you almost killed yourself on the spot.
Neil, however, was overjoyed. He felt your breath on his chin and it was all he could think about. You, close to him, like you would’ve touched him if you hadn’t pulled away. He relished the feeling.
He shrugged, trying in vain to make it seem like he was just simply all right with it. “It wasn’t a problem,” He said, before noticing that the milkshake was running dangerously low. “Hey, why don’t you take the last sip?”
You cocked your head slightly. “Why?”
“Because I never want to be the one to end it.” He grinned. You shook your head, the corners of your lips rising up as he let out a little laugh. You adored his laugh.
“If you say so.”
That conversation stuck with you a long time after it happened.
It took four more dead poets meetings for Neil to ask you to go somewhere with him again. By the twelfth experience, though, you knew him like the back of your hand.
He loved acting. Loved it. He loved it so desperately that he was willing to face the wrath of his father to pursue the play he was casted in. Oh, and you learned about his father through whispers, mostly from Charlie. Neil, he told you, would never say a word about him. Tyrannical, inhospitable, red-hot like fire and ice-cold like ice. You knew of his mother, too, and her quiet indifference. Neil held a special place in his heart for Todd, the new boy at Welton. He loved puppies and poetry and soft scarves. Not the scratchy ones, as those irritated his neck. He wanted to be an actor in the future, but his father wanted him to be a doctor. He loved so many things, and yet could not have them; however, he definitely hated when people felt sorry for him.
So, you weren’t sorry. You felt his desires like a burning in your gut, stripped away piece by piece, but you were not sorry. You loved him.
You needed him to be fulfilled in every way possible, and you were not sorry. He was going through so many conflicting things, and you were not sorry. You were hopeful.
Life would turn around, you told him. He would see. In ten years, he would be on Broadway, waving at you and Todd and Charlie from the stage. He would be great, and you knew it.
“I’ve never skated like this before. Are you sure it’s safe?” You asked, standing at the edge of Welton’s lake. It was late in fall, with powdery snow dusting the edges of the ground, but the lake may have been in the process of freezing still. Neil took your gloved hands.
“Trust me, it’s good.”
He often asked you to trust him, and you always did. There was just something in his deep, dark eyes that whispered exactly how strong he was.
You took a tentative step onto the ice, nose already feeling the cold burn of pre-winter air. The ground under your feet was slick, but it held. Neil walked backwards, gently guiding you, and you followed.
You found a sort of rhythm in the movements, pushing off with your feet and letting them slide forward on the ice. Neil’s face was tinged with red as you skated on flat shoes, never letting go of your hands. You laughed, truly and honestly. The world spun around you in a blur, white and brown and beautiful. The air snuck through the gaps on your clothes, but you did not care. In that second, it was just you and Neil and the most beautiful day you had ever known.
His eyes softened when he looked at you. Even through the lack of words, he knew exactly what you were thinking. That crinkle by your eyes, the curve of your lips, your laugh. You were content, happy even, because he brought you here. When you reached the middle of the lake, leaning against him, trusting him, he felt a fluttering in his stomach.
Throughout his days with you, he had come to discover the person behind the book, behind the shy smile. He could firmly say that he knew you, and he loved you even more for it.
He knew your favorite book, which jokes made you laugh so hard tears formed in your eyes, your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn’t his, but it was completely and entirely you. There was nothing he adored more in the world than you.
You stared at him with a smile gracing your lips as you came to a stop. He reached his hand up to your face and brushed a small snowflake away from the corner of your mouth gently. His hands were soft.
He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his face. It was now or never, he thought. Carpe diem.
Neil pressed his lips to yours, and all of your feelings exploded from your connected flesh like dynamite.
He was warm, so warm. You kissed him fervently with your arms wrapped around his shoulders like you were dancing. He had finally done it, put to action the kind thoughts he had expressed, and you were glowing. There were stars in your tightly shut eyes, and you reveled in how they spun.
Neil’s mind was racing as you didn’t pull away. He didn’t know what he expected, but you pulling him closer was not his first thought. He most definitely didn’t mind.
When you finally broke the kiss, you were both panting feverishly and looking starved for more. Your combined breaths hung in front of your faces.
“We should do that again.” He whispered. You huffed a laugh, feeling every bit as blushy as he looked.
“Only if you’re okay with never stopping.”
It was a week and a half before Neil’s big play, and the twenty-fourth (maybe twenty-fifth, you had lost count) time you saw him. It was also your tenth official date.
“Date” may have been a loose term, as it was more practicing lines than talking, but the atmosphere was quiet and calm at the café you sat in. There were grainy pictures of favorite customers on the wall and the chairs were just the right amount of wobbly. It felt like a place where you could relax without abandon. Neil’s hand was on top of yours and he was staring deep into your eyes as he spoke line after line, trying to steel his nerves and push past the stress of his approaching deadline.
“If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: and, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck…” He hesitated for a moment, eyes unfocused. You squeezed his hand in support and he gave you a small smile. Clearing his throat, he continued. “…now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long; else the Puck a liar call; so, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.”
You gave a quiet cheer and clasped your hands together. “I think that was your best runthrough yet! I’m so proud of you.”
His eyes lit up as he gazed at you bashfully. “You think?”
“Absolutely. You’re good, you’re really good. You could probably perform tomorrow if you wanted to.” He smiled and ran his fingers over his fleece sleeves as you spoke. If you were in the audience, he was sure he would be able to do anything. “In fact, you could perform any time you wanted to. You’re just that amazing.”
You were so impressed by the sheer amount of talent and emotion he had that you just couldn’t help but smother him in compliments. Every single one was true.
Neil tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blushing like a madman. Every time you said something kind about him, his heart leapt for joy. “What about you? What have you been working on?” He posed. He had heard your poetry before, of course, but you always seemed to be creating something new.
You pulled out a book from the bag sitting next to you and flipped around. There was one specific poem you wanted him to hear. One you had written about him.
When you found it, you turned the book sideways so you both could see and pointed at it. “This one.” Neil tilted his head, opening his mouth to read it aloud. “I think,
if I was blind,
I would still know your face.
The curve of your nose would call to me
and your eyelids would flutter under my touch.
There is no one else, no one at all
who could make the pads of my fingers
see the entire world.”
He gazed up at you with a starstruck expression. “Is this about anyone in particular?” Neil leaned forward and dipped his head down to rest on his propped-up hand. He had a grin on his face. He absolutely knew who it was about.
“I wrote that one for Meeks. He’s just so cute, don’t you think?” You teased. Neil’s mouth dropped open as his expression turned to comical shock.
“I’m wounded, my love! How dare you.” He shouted, throwing his arms up. You started laughing as he continued his theatrical expressions, much to the dismay of the café workers.
“Be careful, we might get thrown out!”
“I’ll throw you out myself if you don’t stop laughing at my demise.” He furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose as you giggled from your seat. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He murmured, suddenly as soft as a spring rain. You ran your fingers over his hand underneath the table, finding every groove like it was your own.
“And I’m lucky to have you. I love you, you know.”
Neil smiled gently. “I love you too. So much.”
You sat in that café for a few hours more, until the workers had to politely remind you of their closing hours. You laughed and talked and felt the sheer joy of being with the boy you had begun to consider your soulmate. He was a star, shining his light and illuminating you with his rays. Too often, however, the brightest lights fade within the snap of a finger.
“I hope that when I die,” Neil wrote, right before your thirty-first meeting,
“God will send me back to Earth.
He will say,
‘Live again. Run again,
hope again,
plunge your body into ice-cold water again.
Hate again,
and cry again,
run your fingers through the grass again.
Kiss them again,
press your palms to their faces again,
and lose them again.
Let yourself feel again,
and never forget
that life is what matters,
not death.’
And I will say,
‘I promise
to do everything I have ever told myself I could not do
again and again and again.’”
He closed his journal with a thump and tucked it into his drawer calmly. That was something he would rather not share with anyone, not even you.
The day was cold and drizzly, but he stood up with a kind of manic smile. He walked out of the doors of Welton and into your awaiting arms.
You both sat down on a park bench under the cover of a tree. Your seats were slightly wet and very cold, but it didn’t matter all that much. You were just glad to be there with him, with Neil. He was the love of your life, and any time with him was well-spent.
“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly. He was the same as he always was, you thought. But his eyes were welling up with tears and you just felt the need to ask, like some unearthly force was telling you that you needed to.
He leaned back, putting his arm around the back of the bench with a sigh. “I’m trapped.” He was smiling, but there was such an utter lack of humor behind it that it made you shiver. You shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as a silent sign of comfort. By this point, knew everything there was to know about Neil Perry- even the parts he tried to keep hidden.
“How so?”
“I don’t even know, I just… I want to be an actor. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I can’t, and I’m trapped, and no one can help me, no matter how much they try.” His voice was sullen, but he was still smiling. Curse him for trying to make you feel better even then.
You placed a kiss on the back of his hand and threaded your fingers through his. Your heart ached for him. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, though, and that’s what made it even harder. Holding his hand, telling him it’ll all work out, everything ultimately did nothing for his situation, and you cursed the being that forced him into this position. If you could scream into the night, into the big, black sky to execrate the universe, you would. You did, in the future. You regretted not doing it sooner.
“I’m sorry.” You started, squeezing his hand. “ Just keep going, alright? I promise you, in the future, none of this will matter at all. You just have to stick with it. The world will find a way of figuring it out.”
His face formed a more genuine smile as he laid his head on top of yours. “Yeah. I guess it will.”
The last time Neil Perry saw you was the night he had been anticipating, dreaming about, and dreading: the night of his play. He was prepared. He knew every line and cue by heart, and yet he was still nervous. He was so nervous he could hardly think.
He stood behind the curtains listening to the chatter of the audience. The rest of the cast members and some of the technicians were scrambling to put everything in place, but he just stared at the dark walls of fabric separating him from his new life. That was it. He was going to put on the best performance of his goddamn life.
The lights dimmed, and he stepped away to take his place.
When it was finally time for him to make his entrance, Neil did it with flourish. “How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He spoke. Cheers came from the audience, whoops and hollers from the dead poets. He could hardly keep himself from smiling.
Then, he saw you. You were grinning wide and large from your seat, giving him that quiet encouragement he had always loved. You whispered his name, and Neil could hear it in his heart.
He was having fun. So much fun. With every line he spoke, with every movement he made, Neil was sinking deeper and deeper into the play and his love for acting. He didn’t remember the last time he had ever felt that alive.
But with every sinking, there comes a point where one drowns.
His father was there. When had he come? Neil hadn’t seen him before. God. He was burning a hole in the back of his head with his piercing gaze, and it took everything in Neil not to turn and run. That was it, he thought. He was done. But gods be good, he was going to finish his play. He would not let his father ruin this for him.
By the time he was speaking his last lines, the ones he had practiced with you, he barely remembered his father was part of the audience. The curtains closed, and the audience exploded into cheers. He could hear your voice, he swore he could- he was the happiest man on Earth. He had put on the performance of his lifetime, and he couldn’t be more proud. Until, of course, he was dragged out the door by his father.
He was back home before he had even registered his father’s anger. All he could feel was emptiness as the gnawing hole in his stomach expanded to encompass his entire being.
“We're trying very hard to understand why it is that you insist on defying us. Whatever the reason, we're not gonna let you ruin your life. Tomorrow I'm withdrawing you from Welton and enrolling you in Braden Military School. You're going to Harvard and you're gonna be a doctor.” His father stated, eyes sharp. Neil let out a noise of protest.
“But that's ten more years. Father, that's a lifetime! I won’t be able to see any of them again, not one person I knew before. You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.” Tears formed in Neil’s eyes, and as he looked at his mother, she was feeling the same way. And yet she said nothing. He could feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate.
His father scoffed. “Oh, stop it. Don't be so dramatic. You make it sound like a prison term. You don't understand, Neil. You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of and I am not going to let you waste them.”
Neil rose to his feet, suddenly angry. He needed to fight for this, for himself. He couldn’t just let one man take away everything he had ever loved. If he couldn’t see you, his friends, if he couldn’t act, there was no purpose in his life. “I've got to tell you what I feel.”
Neil’s mother reached for him. “We’ve been so worried about-“
“What? What? Tell me what you feel. What is it? Is it more of this, this acting business? Because you can forget that. What?” And just like that, it was gone. Neil sat back down, staring blankly at his lap. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do anything because he was just a stupid boy who wouldn’t listen. His father scoffed once again before leaving the room.
His mother, ever the soft one, paused.
“I was good. I was really good.” He whispered. She sighed, urging him to his feet.
“Go on, get some sleep.”
Neil nodded, still in a trance, before trudging to his room. That was it. He was done. He would never see you again, no matter what, and it hurt him so badly he didn’t know what else to do. He ran his fingers over his things lightly before removing his shirt. That was it. He grasped his crown of twigs and placed it on his head, staring out through his open window. The cool air kissed his body sweetly, like your lips on a rainy day. He took a deep breath.
It was time for his last act, his curtain call, his final carpe diem. There was no warning, and yet there did not need to be one. That night, that cold, bitter night, he knew what he needed to do.
The last time you saw Neil Perry, he didn’t see you. He couldn’t see you. It was December 18th, and you had been asked to read a poem at his funeral.
God, the word “funeral” hit you like a train. Neil was dead. His sweet demeanor, his gentle words, his soft hair, they were all going to be covered in dirt within the next few hours. You couldn’t stand it. The world needed so much more of him, but terribly, horribly, the world did not deserve it. No one deserved him.
It was odd, you thought, how the sound of one gunshot could replay over and over again in your mind without you ever having heard it at all. The boom, the thud, the scream. It was all so clear in your mind.
As the priest spoke, you felt an emptiness pool in your guts. He was really gone. Your Neil, your poor Neil. You sat between Charlie and Todd, all three of your faces streaked with tears. You could feel more welling up in your eyes, and you let them free without a care. Neil was dead, and nothing else in the world mattered.
In a way, you couldn’t believe it. He was just here, warm and happy and yours. When you got that phone call, you almost joined him. Nothing was worth it anymore, nothing at all. The eulogies, the sobs, they faded into the background as you stared down at the ground.
Before you knew what was happening, you were standing at a podium with a piece of paper clutched between your shaking fingers. Neil’s mom looked up at you in silent support.
You took a breath, so much like the breaths you always took before reading a poem and yet so different. Neil could not hear this one.
“When you died,
the beetles still sang.
The trout still jumped,
and the earth still rumbled.
When you died, the moon still turned
and the stars still burned.
When you died,” Your voice cracked. Looking out into the audience, at people you didn’t know and people you knew so well you could identify them by a strand of their hair, it was too much. Hot tears slipped their way down your face as the pit in your stomach grew ever-wider.
“The lakes still rippled
and the trees still creaked
and I lowered you into the ground
and I cried so hard the world stopped moving.”
There was a murmur throughout the audience, choked sobs and utters of agreement. “For Neil, who lived as he died and died as he lived.” You rasped.
You were quickly ushered away from the podium and back into your seat.
Neil was one in a million. There was no one else in the history of ever that could make you feel so amazing. Like you were a real person, like you mattered. He made everyone feel that way, but something in him burned for you in a way that you believed was unique. And, of course, you burned for him the same.
The rest of the service went by in a blur. Everyone around you began to get up, and you knew it was time. As you sat there, still as a rock, when everyone went to say their final farewells, you were extinguished.
You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. When you looked up from your tear-soaked lap, Todd was there, and he clasped your hand. “Let’s go.” He whispered. “Let’s say goodbye.”
You pulled a page from the book by your feet and shoved it into your pocket. It was for him, it always was and it always had been.
“In some other universe, I found you again.
Maybe in this one we held hands, gently and honestly,
or leaned against each other’s shoulders on the train,
or sobbed against each other’s shirts when we crashed and burned,
because anything with you
means flying too close to the sun.” It read.
As you stood in front of his casket, you could hardly bear to focus on his pale face.
He was cold, so cold. The embalmer had done well with his head, but there was so much that just looked off. He didn’t look like your Neil. He looked empty. You gripped his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. It was winter, and he was colder and paler than the snow.
You held him far longer than what was deemed socially acceptable before tucking the page into his lapel and swiftly walking away.
You weren’t there for his burial, and you knew you couldn’t be. It was just too much. If you had seen his casket close, if you had watched them shovel dirt on top of the wooden box, you would’ve dropped to your knees and screamed. Much like you’re doing now.
You sat on that same old park bench, knees clutched up to your soaked chest, sobbing harder than you ever had before. Your Neil was gone and you could never see him again, not ever.
When you saw Neil Perry for the last time, and god, did you see him, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.
#solar eclipse.#neil perry x reader#neil perry#neil perry imagine#dead poets society x reader#dead poets society#dead poets fandom#dead poets fanfic#dps fandom#dps hcs#dps fanfiction#dps boys#dps fic#dps#x reader#angst#fluff
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crowdsourcing a 200k @hellsite-hall-of-fame x perry the platypus fanfic: part 8
at long last, i'm back to writing The Fic!! however, being an Internet Funnyman is difficult sometimes and i can't decide what should be written above the Capital Building doors!! oh golly goodness!! here's what i have right now:
this is a spoiler, sort of, but i think it's worth it for some audience participation. (also, ideally, the chapter will be out before this poll ends. i just want to scope out the general vibe.)
@hellsite-hall-of-fame @hellsite-hungergames @hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend
#the fic#enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus#fic polls#fanfic#fanfiction#writing#hellsite hall of fame#hellsite hunger games#perry the platypus
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“I do”
Cover for the AMAZING fic “Forever and a Day” by @inators
#perryshmirtz#human perry#heinz doofenshmirtz#phineas and ferb#perry the platypus#agent p#human!perry#wedding#perryshmirtz wedding#inators fic#fanfiction#perryshmirtz fanfiction#THiS FIC MAKES ME UGLY SOB#I will be annoying everyone with lots of fanarts about them getting married#If you dont like SPEAKING Perry… refrain yourself for saying someting against it#let people enjoy the headcanons they like man#artists on tumblr#digital art
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Imagine human!Perry getting hit with the molecular separator. Set during the events of 'Split Personality'
-That morning when Candace was wrestling with the separator and accidentally separates herself, the machine smashes into a rock and begins to malfunction. She doesn't notice, what with suddenly being two people with wildly contradicting priorities and all.
-But when Perry steps out into the backyard to head into his hideout, stepping onto the very same rock-a trigger for his lair, the machine descends down with him. Perry lands in his seat, but the machine activates upon impact to the floor and hits him with it before it sputters out and dies. Monogram is greeted with two distinct Perrys; Agent P, professional hardass and lone wolf dedicated in the pursuit of justice and fighting evil (specifically Doof); and Uncle Perry, a mellow headed novelist who sleeps a lot and really doesn't do much, but loves the kids with all his heart.
-If both men get caught in public and outs OWCA, it could decimate Perry's cover and invite all sort of legal and coverup catastrophes. Monogram demands Carl chase them and fix it.
-Instead of the Look-Away Inator, it's a Vanessa week and Doof has cooked up another harebrained scheme to take over the Tri State Area, but first! Buying parts at the mall with his daughter :3 Bonding time.
-So Agent P storms to the Mall to defeat Evil and Uncle Perry goes to the mall because all his kids (Phineas, Ferb, Candace, Vanessa) are there!
-Cue four part musical number with Romantic Candace, Busting Candace, Agent P and Uncle Perry while PnF and Carl are trying to chase Candace and Perry around the mall, while Linda and Doof remain perfectly oblivious.
-At one point Vanessa separates from her dad to go look at some new knee high goth stomping boots, and Agent P gets to her first. He gets all up in her face, interrogating her on her father and where he's going and what he's planning, and Vanessa-miffed-goes "What is going ON with you today" and Agent P is like "That's none of your business, Doofenshmirtz." Spitting out her last name like it's something disgusting. He's never referred to her like that before: Perry has ALWAYS made a point to separate her from her father, and emphasize that she was her own person. Agent P storms off and leaves her behind feeling hurt and confused and 40% sure that was NOT the Perry she knows and loves.
-Barely a moment after he leaves Uncle Perry stumbles inside the shop, looking winded and worried before he spots her and breathes this huge sigh of relief. He notes that Vanessa looks spooked, and Vanessa is making that math calculation meme look as Perry checks her up and looks her over until she convinces him that she's fine and she hadn't been hurt. She knows Perry was a softy on the inside, but she's getting whiplash from the sheer difference between him NOW and the him that just spit in her face 5 minutes ago. Not to mention they're dressed COMPLETELY different, and she's never seen him dressed like THIS before. An old battered denim jacket with old band patches over a slightly washed out ducky momo tshirt, khaki shorts and crocs. Hes wearing glasses, and his hair uncombed and unruly. If she was any measure as face blind as her father, they would be two completely different people despite the teal hair, and she wouldn't have recognised him at all.
-She's beginning to suspect they ARE different people. Sthg smells FISHY.
-She off handedly mentions that her father is making a SUPER evil contraption that could completely isolate her uncle. He's on his way home right now.
-Ducky Momo Perry just looks at her with this confused, slightly amused "ok, and?" Look like he's not sure what to do with this information, and just asks if she needs a ride home? If she can just wait until he collects the rest of his kids (he has kids?????) he can drop her off at her father's. They could even get slushy dog otw out maybe?
-She asks if he doesn't want to stop her father's evildoing maybe, and Perry's like no???? Im just a novelist, I dont do much. I dont go out busting evil, that's Other Me's job, and Vanessa's Something Is Off senses just goes BLARING like What Does He Mean.
-Perry checks something on his phone though, and notes with concern it is so LATE, and he needs to make Lunch, oh the kids must be starving he HAS to look for them, and takes off with a kiss to Vanessa's cheek requesting her to meet her at Slushy Dog so he can take her home.
-After he leaves, Vanessa walks out with her mind going A Mile A Minute and spots the Carl The Intern that Monty had once introduced her to. She waves him over, and he asks, nervously, if she had seen "Agent P" around. It's child's play to pressure him into telling her that Agent Perry the Platypus had accidentally been molecularly separated into individually embodying each side of his double life. One where he is known as Uncle Perry of the Flynn Fletcher household, and Secret Agent P the enactor of Justice.
-They had to put the two of them together, else OWCA could risk Perry's cover to be blown, and he would have to be relocated.
-She doesn't want this! She tells Carl that she had already told Agent P that her father had gone home to enact his Evil Plan so she's sure he's going to be at DEI, and she's going to persuade Uncle Perry to send her up. Carl will have to meet them there with the repaired separator and blast them back together.
-She finds Uncle Perry at Slushy Dog, talking to that blonde kid behind the counter that she's pretty sure is Candace Flynn's boyfriend and Perry introduces him as Jeremy Johnson, who had told him Phineas, Ferb and Candace had gone home with their mother. Jeremy seems to vaguely recognise her, at least. Perry introduces her as his "Partner's daughter, Vanessa." Which, okay, they are so pressed for time to unpack that right this second. The implications don't seem to miss Jeremy, either; he looks too stunned to speak. She doubts Jeremy had known Perry was dating anybody. Heck, she didn't know until right that second either. She is SOOOOO bringing this back up once Perry was back to normal.
-She tells Perry that her dad was making her favourite doonkelberry pie for lunch and he just called her and said Perry was invited so won't he please send her home? Perry blushes a little, most likely at the thought of her dad inviting him over to lunch, Jeremy looks arrested and wide eyed like he's piecing things together in his head and Vanessa is only a little bit sorry about the mess Normal Perry is going to have to come home to when he reports home to his mother.
-As Uncle Perry drives her home, Vanessa implicitly understands Carl and Monogram's concerns for the Agency's cover and OWCA's secrecy, because Uncle Perry has NO FILTER. She learns more about him in the half hour car ride (a battered Honda Accord) over than she ever has in the last 5 years she had known him. In a relaxed state, Perry talks in odd accent amalgam that he explains had been due to being raised in Australia, before moving to England with his sister when she married Lawrence, Ferb's dad. They were otherwise orphans who were integrated by OWCA at an incredibly young age, so the Fletchers became like family, and he had stayed even when his sister passed from an OWCA related incident (the one thing he seems hesitant to elaborate on) to help Lawrence Fletcher raise Ferb. He explains to her that prior to his nemesis-ship to her father, OWCA had demanded him work odd hours which weren't very kid friendly, which made him apply for a more stable schedule. Major Monogram got in contact and persuaded him to take up a nemesis-ship with his father in Danville, and when he moved, Lawrence and Ferb moved with him.
-Lawrence met Linda Flynn in Danville, who was a single mother of Candace and Phineas Flynn, and the rest was history.
-Vanessa had an inkling there was so much more lore she could uncover from that brief yet eye opening wealth of information, but she got distracted just learning more about Perry as a person and-apparently-how much more open he is about his adoration of her father without his concerns of professionalism as an OWCA agent. She knows he thinks her dad's cute, seems exasperated but fond and awed of his inventions, angry and sad about his childhood and past. Perry says he feels like he owes Heinz for so much, not least for getting to care about another brilliant kid, a point he emphasizes with a noogie to Vanessa's head. She feels all mushy and warm inside, but all too soon they have arrived at her father's penthouse doorstep, from which originated the sounds of cartoonish violence.
-Perry notes that her father must be busy, and Vanessa is abruptly reminded of her Mission. She reiterates her father's invitation to lunch, and practically drags Perry inside, praying that Carl had beat them there or was at least primed and aimed the Separator whatsit with a clear shot.
-Inside, Agent P is posed over her father, straddling his chest and he lies on his back on floor squirming and wriggling and noting that Perry the Platypus is being strangely intense today. Agent P is sporting a good few scrapes of his own, implying that her father had given as good as he got, but even with his scowl and a fist pulled back, it's a awkward configuration to catch her dad in. It's not even the first time it happens, but it's SO weird to see every time. Her dad never seems to notice the kind of picture it paints.
-Vanessa doesn't even need to do anything to shove the two halves of Perry together, because Uncle Perry had stormed forward with a beet red face pulling Agent P off of his Heinz, demanding to know what it is that he's doing. It seems to set them both like nothing else, because they are suddenly in a full blown fight with each other (Agent P accusing his other half that he was Consorting With The Enemy, and Uncle Perry hissing about he could've seriously hurt them Heinz and Vanessa BOTH, and this was why they never have any friends or nice things.)
-As Vanessa pulls her father away, she briefly worries that she had blown Perry's cover, until she notes that her dad's got two black eyes and muttering dizzily about seeing double. It's easy to coax him out to an adjacent room as she sees Carl the Intern sneaking inside the house through the still open front door with a machine that looks a like a camera. They give each other a thumbs up as the arguing increases to a fever pitch, one wrong word away before coming to blows, and Carl fires up the reverse of the Separator.
-The abrupt silence throughout the penthouse makes Vanessa's ears ring, but seeing only one dazed figure in the middle of the lab is such a wonderful relief. She watches him take note of his surroundings, a thoroughly defeated Heinz Doofenshmirtz and a thwarted Inator before reaching his own conclusions, and practically overlooks Carl, who takes the opportunity to slink back out the apartment with a visible echoed sigh of relief.
-Vanessa watches as he darts over first to her wrecked and injured dad, hissing as he carefully assesses the injuries and bruises he had inflicted on the man himself that reminds her of the way his Uncle Perry Aspect had looked over HER in the mall-the visible care and concern Agent P disavows himself of. He's avoiding her gaze, and Vanessa figures out that he's embarrassed.
-She doesn't get the opportunity to say anything though, bc her dad comes to somewhat and realizes that Perry is by his side. Despite his wounds being inflicted Perry himself, he seems to tell that Perry's worried anyway, and requests that the agent carry him to his room to take a nap. Vanessa feels a little like she's interrupting, seeing the gentle way her dad takes Perry's hand, the softness in Perry's expression, the easy acquiescence as he heaves her father up in a bridal carry. Her dad is still mumbling nonsense, she hopes Perry will look him over for a concussion, but Perry catches her eye to nonverbally indicate-importantly-that they need to have a talk.
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Commissions for @chrisis-averted for the fic "Rewind. Reset. Rewrite." Thank you for the support!
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Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸
fighting chance; luke castellan
wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader
synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.
warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3
notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!
You’re not much of a fighter.
That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Unless you’re a child of Ares.
People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.
Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.
There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.
The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.
He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.
He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.
The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.
“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.
“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”
“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.
You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.
He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”
“Confer?”
“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”
A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.
“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”
It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?
“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.
He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.
“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”
“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.
You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”
His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.
“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”
It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.
The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.
You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”
You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.
“All good?” He asks gently.
It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”
Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.
“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.
He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.
“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”
Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.
“And you’ve always got our flag.”
You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.
He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.
There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.
Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.
The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.
Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”
“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”
“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.
Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.
“Luke—”
“I’ll find her!”
He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.
He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.
It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.
“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”
The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.
“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.
You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”
“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”
The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.
Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.
You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.
The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.
“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”
Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.
Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.
Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.
The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.
Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.
And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.
“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.
The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.
“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”
“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”
“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.
“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”
“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.
“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”
It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.
The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”
Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”
He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.
Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.
“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”
Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.
The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”
“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”
He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”
You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.
You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”
You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.
“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”
You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”
“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”
“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”
You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.
Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”
“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”
You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.
“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”
Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”
The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.
“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.
“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”
“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”
“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.
You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”
It makes you smile. “So second-best?”
“Tied for first.”
He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.
“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”
“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”
You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.
Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.
“Don’t care,” Luke says.
You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”
“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”
You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.
You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.
#perrie’s fics#perrie’s requests#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#pjo#pjo x reader#charlie bushnell#luke castellan comfort#luke castellan x you#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan fic#luke castellan fluff#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo fic#i kind of hate this i think I’M SORRY#but some parts of it are interesting so oh well#luke castellan you are fucking crazy.
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We, as a society, don't talk enough about that scene where Troy, Annie and Abed are putting on a shadow puppet show for Jeff and Britta, and Jeff starts crying when Horsebot 3000 dies
#i think about that scene all the time i just adore it so much#because firstly trobedison came up with a whole show idea and made shadow puppets and decided which roles goes to who#then Jeff and Britta agreed to watch the whole thing#and Jeff got so invested in it#it's so great#now I'm wondering if there are any fics out there that incorporate the shadow puppet stuff they do#i feel like that'd be cool to read#community#nbc community#jeff winger#britta perry#abed nadir#troy barnes#annie edison
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“i could write it a thousand ways.
it all boils down to this:
i loved you,
and you left me.”
( @endlessnamelesseternity )
#anderperry#anderperry fanfics#anderperry fics#todd anderson x neil perry#neil perry x todd anderson#todd anderson#neil perry#todd x neil#neil x todd#todd and neil#dead poets fandom#dead poets society#dps#dps boys
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au where todd and charlie r 'dating' in the way that they didn't have anything else to do or todd was getting asked out and felt uncomfy so charlie and him started 'dating' but then todd met charlie's best friend neil and uh oh spaghetti o charlie forgot to tell neil his bf wasnt rlly his bf
so like in this au todd and charlie meet at like college or something - maybe theyre dormmates anyway
todd’s a little more comfortable than he was in high school and it shows in the way he stands and carries himself, so he starts getting a lot of attention
he is simply a todd, though, and he doesn’t not know how to deal with that
so he asks charlie to help him somehow
and charlie likes chaos so he suggests fake dating and todd is like “um is that a good idea” and charlie is like “have i ever had a bad idea” and todd is like “almost every idea you’ve had-”
anyway
so they fake date
but then
one day charlie’s best friend, his other half, his brother (in blood if the ritual they performed in highschool, drunk, worked) shows up becuz he’s planning on transferring out of his yucky dad-picked college
and to todd’s horror, charlie’s best friend is extremely pretty
and to neil’s horror, he starts having a crush on his best friend’s crush and oh does his self loathing go hard
#anderperry#anderperry au#anderperry fanfiction#anderperry fic#anderperry fanfic#todd anderson#charlie dalton#Neil Perry#todd and neil#neil and todd#neil x todd#todd anderson headcanons
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Hiii. Could I request a Neil smut? Maybe it is her first time and he's all soft and sweet? Thanks!
First Time
Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader
Warnings: 18+, established relationship, smut, readers first time, fluff, dirty talk, p in v, oral, nudity
Summary: it’s your first time and Neil seems like the perfect choice to take your virginity considering how gentle and caring he is.
word count: 2.2k
Masterlist
You had always considered sleeping with someone before marriage. Yet that consideration wasn’t taken lightly. You had swore to yourself that if that was what you decided to do it had to be with someone who was worth it. Which never seemed likely considering Harvard was a big place with a lot of people. Yet somehow amongst all of them you had stumbled upon Neil Perry. Found him studying in library, a sadness to the air around him, but the most genuine eyes you had ever seen. It explained the reason why you had half a mind to even sit next to him in the first place. The rest was history.
You had dated almost the full four years of college and it was no doubt in your mind that he was the one for you. You were going to marry Neil Perry even if it’s the last thing you do. All of this is why you had officially decided you were ready to sleep with him. That and the fact it was getting harder and harder to pull away from him. So when he reaches your dorm room, wearing a ivy green sweater pushed up to his forearms, wire glasses hung low on his nose, and grey sweats, your excuse is you’re only just a girl. A girl with an entire meal for a boyfriend. You’re supposed to be studying but none of your books are open before you’re straddling him on the bed.
“Someone missed me today huh?” he teased with a light squeeze to your waist and you fight everything in you to not roll your hips on top of him.
“I always miss you” you tell him, hands holding yourself up on his firm chest. He had filled out since Freshman year, more meat on his bones, yet just as lean.
“Even when you’re with me?” he asks, hands reaching to remove the readers that were meant for studying he never got too.
“Sometimes, but only if we haven’t talked in a while or were busy doing other things” this sentence has him pulling you down to meet his lips which you happily accept. You can tell he’s surprised when you deepen it but it lasts only a moment until he matches the pace and dares his tongue past your lips.
“I gotta say baby, I’m loving this mood you’re in” he says trying not to sound to breathless when he pulls away and you grin, hands dancing along his chest and to his abdomen.
“What do you say we remove this pesky sweater?” you grin deviously and he raises his eyebrows as your fingers start bunching the fabric up, revealing an expanse of skin. Your mouth practically waters at the happy trail now revealed to you, hair he had also just grown in the last few years of college.
“You sure baby?” he asks but you don’t need to answer because you’re practically lifting him by the sweater to get it over his head, taking the white T-shirt underneath with it too.
“What, want me to remove mine too?” you ask and his mind actually malfunctions for a moment, unsure of how to respond because he truly had only seen you in a bra a few times. He never comes up with a response because now you’re lifting the red Harvard t-shirt above your head and revealing the white lace bra from underneath. He visibly gulps, eyes darting between your chest and face as he tries to comprehend what’s happening.
“Listen, baby. If we start this I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop. I also have play practice in two hours and it’ll be so much harder leaving knowing I have you in bed like this” Neil tells you and you chuckle.
“Two hours is plenty of time, and you can always come back after” you tell him and his whole face reddens all the way down to his neck.
“You’re being serious, you want to do this?” he says and you nod almost instantly.
“I’ve already made up my mind, the only way I’ll stop now is if you’re not serious about me. I don’t want to do this and then have you leave me behind” you tell him and his face instantly softens towards you, hands pulling your face to his own.
“I’ve been serious about you ever since that day you sat with me in the library” and his confession is enough to make you kiss him again and Neil doesn’t miss the slight roll of your hips. You know you have his attention now based on the way he’s started to harden beneath you, no longer fighting the urge. Just as your tongue darts past his lips you grind against him again which makes him put his hands on your ass, holding you in place because one more movement and he’d be harder than a rock. That’s what you wanted anyway.
After a beat you break apart from his lips, something he protests to but stops when he realizes you’re reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. His throat has gone dry and as much as he feels panic rushing through him it is also paired with excitement. He knows not to stop you again, that you’re on a mission. So he does the only thing he can think of and just watches as the fabric loosens and slides down your shoulders. You don’t have to ask if he likes how you look considering he is now fully hard against your backside.
“It’s okay baby, you can touch me” you whisper to him like it’s your secret. He hesitates only slightly which has you guiding his hands and placing them over each breast. Your nipples harden under his palm which urges him to finally grope. The feeling of his hands and look of awe in his eyes has you grinding against him again. Now lost completely in your touch he leans up and places a nipple in his mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck as a moan bellows from you. Once he has given both breasts his attention you push him back down onto the bed, needing more skin to skin contact. His stomach jumps when you slide off him, shimmying down his body and curling your fingers into his waistband. His pants were tented and he couldn’t believe you were about to pull them off right now. Your lips meet his pelvic bone which makes him gasp.
“Shit, baby. Please” and you know exactly what he means. So you pull the sweatpants along with his boxers down, allowing him to spring free. Your brain short circuits as you look at the sheer size of him. You need to taste him immediately which is why you give no warning when you suck the head of his cock into your mouth. The precum is sweet on your tongue as Neil moans out, hips lifting to find some relief.
Seeing how well he responds you suck as much of him as you can into your mouth. He’s whining needily which urges you in to suck him for all he’s worth. Seeing how hard he has gotten for you has made you so wet you can feel it soaking through your underwear. When it all becomes too much for him he pulls you off, not wanting to finish before pleasuring you. “My turn baby, been dying to taste you for so long now”
Your eyes can barely leave his cock, now covered in your spit and hard against his stomach. It clearly needs attention but he wants to take care of you. So Neil lays you back in his spot, his own hands dipping underneath the fabric of your pants and pulling them down your legs. Neil’s eyes never leave your body as it is fully revealed to him. As much as you want to be shy you know you shouldn’t be based on the way he is looking at you, so you open your legs for him to see. “You’re so wet baby”
“All for you” you tell him and he grins, finger reaching out and sliding through your folds. Your head falls back when it bumps against your clit and Neil smiles before repeating the same action with his tongue. He had imagined how you would taste hundreds of times but this was better. You tasted so much better than anything he could’ve conjured up. Neil is no longer worried about going too far and has started to devour you like a man starved. He’s so good and you are so glad you finally decided to do this. Imagining going back to a life without Neil eating you was a life not worth living.
“Fuck, I need to be inside of you baby” and you nod eagerly, grinning at the slick that covers his chin. He watches as you reach to the bedside table, opening the drawer, and grabbing a condom you had stashed in there. Neil knows now you had been planning this all along. He wastes no time putting it on before lining up at your entrance. Your hands hold his biceps, eagerly waiting the moment he’d break that barrier for you. Officially make you no longer a virgin.
You’re whimpering as he runs his tip through your folds, on the verge of begging him to do something when finally he pushes in only slightly. You wince which makes him freeze. “It’s okay, keep going”
“You sure?” and you nod, holding him close as he slowly moves inside. It doesn’t take long for the pain to turn to pleasure and Neil closes his eyes, trying to think of anything else other than the fact that you were practically sucking him in. Usually the image of Nolan in his underwear did it for him.
“Please move” you whisper and Neil nods feverishly, slowly pulling his hips back before thrusting back into you. You don’t expect the low moan to rattle out of you due to the movement and once it reaches Neil’s ears he finds a quick pace, pumping into you like a man who no longer has anything holding back.
“Shit, you feel so good” Neil doesn’t think he has ever experienced this type of bliss before. There will never again be no better feeling in the world especially because the girl he loves so much is now marked entirely as his. You have no idea about the ring he has stashed away for graduation, and you have no idea he had planned on marrying you since the first day you both met. He would’ve been fine waiting until marriage but for once he finally understands why it was so good to wait for the right person. Yes, sex could be about the feeling but when you love the person you’re experiencing it with it adds an entire layer of pleasure. Charlie never understood that, Neil couldn’t wait to tell him. Charlie deserved this feeling too.
“Baby, I’m so close” you pant out, and Neil smiles as he leans down to kiss you. He can feel the way you clench around him and he knows he won’t last long. So he moves to speed up the process. You gasp the moment his hand meets your clit, and his mouth meets your nipple. Neil may have been a virgin but he also knew Charlie all his life. He was an expert because of his friend by senior year of high school.
The action alone has you coming undone in seconds, clenching around him so tightly Neil’s movements falter for a moment. When you relax into the mattress, a blissed out look on your face, Neil finds himself letting go and finishing right behind you. When his body weight lands on top of you, you can’t help but smile. Your hand meets the back of his head, fingers running through his hair as he kisses your neck.
“I can’t believe you expect me to still go to play practice after this and remember my lines” Neil says which has you giggling in an instant and Neil hisses when you flutter around his dick still buried deep inside of you. Slowly he pulls out, both of you breathing heavily from the action.
“I’m sorry baby, I just couldn’t wait” you tell him and he smiles as he kisses you sweetly.
“I can’t wait to tell Charlie” he says once he pulls away and you roll your eyes at the mention of his friend. One you had only met once or twice on a Winter or Summer break but knew was Neil’s best friend.
“Of course you would say that” you tell him because whenever Neil accomplished anything his first instinct was to always call Charlie. Charlie heard he got the lead in the play before you did. Yet after everything they had been through together, sometimes you just had to deal with it.
“What, he’s my best friend” Neil defends as you just giggle and pull his lips back to your own.
“Yeah well tell him he has to share”
#neil perry smut#neil perry x femreader#neil perry fic#neil perry fanfic#neil perry x reader#neil perry imagine#neil perry#neil perry series#dead poets society imagines#dead poets society series#dead poets society neil perry#dead poets society fanfiction#dead poets society#dps edit#dps imagine#dps au#dps fanart#dps fanfiction#dps headcanons#dps boys#dps fic#dps fandom#dps#dp spoilers#neil perry x oc#neil perry x original character#robert sean leonard#robert sean leonard imagine#robert sean leonard fanfic#robert sean leonard fic
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NEXT CHAPTER BAYBEE!!
enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus continues in the next exciting installment!! (i did the thing and made the pov shift as awkward and discordant as possible!! wahoo!)
(i added a bunch of iconic post references too! try to spot them all!)
@hellsite-hall-of-fame @hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend @hellsite-hungergames
#enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus#the fic#perry the platypus#well he's not in this chapter. but anyways#hellsite hall of fame#hellsite hunger games#i hope you don't hate this guys. im sure it's weird seeing your online persona represented in fanfic#i had so much fun w this chapter tho!! all the references were very funny to just shove in there#writing#fanfiction#fanfic writing#ao3#chapter announcements
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