#god forbid a woman make mistakes

[maladaptvs]

if you hate daisy fay buchanon shut the fuck up i never want to hear shit from you.

[buttfrovski]

i totally fucking forgot about the episode where she almost let kyle die

not now mom i'm defending sheila broflovski on tumblr

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Stop giving me excuses as to how a female character is annoying to you and start explaining how the hell you think finding a woman annoying justifies hating her or disregarding her as a character

[merrycrespo]

STOP BEING MEAN TO ISA SHE'S JUST A LITTLE GIRL

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

I think another reason why I get rather annoyed when people hate on ToA Apollo is because how hypocritical their criticisms are.

I just saw a post talking about how great it is that Annabeth gets to show a lot of emotion, especially by crying. I also recall moments where she got frustrated or angry, and I found myself absolutely agreeing!

But then my thoughts turned to Apollo, another character who shows a lot of emotion.

But you know what he’s called for being frustrated, or upset, or for crying?

Whiny. He’s called whiny.

Apollo gets frustrated when he’s unable to perform something (archery) he used to be extremely good at. He’s upset that he can no longer use a bow correctly.

And people call him whiny for that. Apparently, those people have never experienced, let alone heard of The Gifted-Kid, something all Gifted-Kids (hello, tis me, Gifted-Kid since 4th grade RIP) can relate to Apollo over.

You were really good at something but all of a sudden you can no longer perform it as well? You’re not hitting your usual mark?

Well too bad, according to the fan base, you should shut up and not be so awfully whiny! It’s just archery!

(That was obviously in jest but you get my point.)

Additionally, Apollo never complains about important things. He complains about having to walk, but not the injury that’s literally turning him into a zombie and physically tormenting him.

That post really made me think about this, and then I asked myself; “Why? Why are people’s thoughts so different on Annabeth v Apollo showing emotion?”

It became apparent rather quickly, if you ask me.

Annabeth is a woman. Of course she should be able to show emotion! also maybe deep-seated sexism of ‘women are emotional’

Apollo is a man. And God forbid men show emotion I guess smh so also sexism

Because think about it. How many of the RRVerse male protagonists were allowed to cry? To be fully, and undeniably, upset?

I can only remember Frank crying on the plane after his grandmother’s presumed death, and Grover sniffling/getting teary-eyed in PJO. I don’t recall Percy, Jason, Leo, or Nico ever crying, or really having powerful bursts of emotion.

Yes, yes, Percy and Nico have both gotten mad and unleashed their fury upon someone, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

I’m talking about letting them feel, letting them be emotional.

Not a burst of anger. But real, genuine character-driven emotion.

The fact that I can only name Frank and Grover from the previous two series is truly saddening.

Apollo gets to feel. To let his emotions flow freely. He whines, yes, but he also gets frustrated, he gets upset, and most of all he cries.

That all makes him a real character, someone people can relate to.

I’ll admit I’m a rather emotional person too. I have a quick temper, and more often than not the water-works come on real quick when I get upset. It’s a normal emotional response, but it can be difficult to work with, especially when you’re trying to stay calm.

Apollo is the first RRVerse protagonist to be allowed to have feelings— strong ones, even. And I can relate to that. There’s a reason why Apollo, Reyna, and Annabeth are all favorites of mine, and that’s because I see myself in them.

Annabeth is prideful. I can be too. She gets obsessed over her work. I do that too. Hates spiders? Oh hell yeah.

Reyna gave me someone to connect with over my sexuality. Ignore that Rick mixed what aro and ace are for a moment please She really gave my demiromantic self somebody to relate with, because the lack of aro rep is criminal. and no the Hunters are not aro rep

Apollo is emotional. He’s made mistakes and wants to do better.

Who wouldn’t see themselves in him? I certainly do.

And yet, he gets called whiny for having the literal rug pulled out from under him again and again, and he doesn’t even let himself complain over what he should, absolutely complain about!

Idk. I think there’s a lot to be said about how this fandom treats emotional characters, especially based on gender.

I guess this is all to say don’t judge a fictional character, because you’re judging a real person too.

And real people have feelings, you know.

[quillyfied]

There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:

The Sympathetic White Woman.

In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.

Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.

(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)

For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.

Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.

Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.

Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.

It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.

Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.

(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)

[voxslays]

Hi i loved your Hazbin Men as Dads Writing! Maybe you could write the same for the Hazbin Woman x reader as parents if the Idea intrests you ;-) ?

OMG OFC!!! I was thinking of doing a sequel lol but I wasn’t sure if I should. Now I definitely will though! <3

HAZBIN WOMEN AS MOTHERS

Featuring >>> Charlie, Carmilla, Rosie, Sera, Velvette, & Vaggie x Reader as mothers!

Rosie:

Let’s be honest, your child is going to be a cannibal. Assuming the three of you live in cannibal town together as a family, (which is very likely), this may happen sooner…like before your baby turns a year old…BUT ANYWAYS-!

Your child will grow up surrounded by Rosie’s loyal subjects. Nobody in cannibal town would dare lay a hand on your precious child, but for the few outsiders who try…let’s just say they pasta way. Their ashes may or may not end up in Rosie’s spice cabinet, and then on your dinner plate…but rosie is such a good cook!

Rosie would be such a good mom. Sure, she is a very busy woman, but she would always make time for her little (demonic) spawn! Overall, 10/10 parenting.

Carmilla:

Carmilla is already a mother, she has lots of experience. Having two or three daughters, (I can’t remember how many she has in the show lol), she has seen it all. She knows all the tricks. She is strict…but loving!!!

She is shown being protective and willing to anything to save her daughters, so it would be the same for your child, if not more. She would not let the poor kid out of her sight for the first few months. She knows hell is a dangerous place, and will teach your child how to defend themselves from a young age.

Like I mentioned with Valentino in my other post, Carmilla would likely have your child learning Spanish young. It is very important your child is well educated both in language (and fighting). But then again, she’s already portrayed to be a good mother in the show, so what did you expect?

Velvette:

Oh lord. With her there is no way your child isn’t a mistake. Velvette would be ‘way too busy’ to deal with a child. She is one of the Vees and the top designer in pride! What did you expect!? She doesn’t have time for some random child!

Velvette is literally an adult screenager, so like Valentino I don’t think she would be very responsible with your baby. Velvette would leave your child unsupervised, or under the supervision of one of her models who wasn’t busy at the moment, while she does fittings and preps her models for the next big fashion show.

While in public she puts up a front of being too busy, in private I think she would genuinely feel guilty. Overtime I think she would grow to care for the child, teaching them all about fashion and social media. She is totally the type of mom to show your child off on social media or just create an account from scratch. Its safe to say your child is already a star.

Charlie:

BEST MOM EVER??? I mean first of all, she is the princess of hell, and with her personality, that basically means your child is going to be spoiled rotten! Your child has all the (mostly duck themed toys, brought to you by Lucifer) they could ever dream of. This child is royalty, and will be treated as such.

She would NEVER yell at your child, god forbid the poor kid cries…she might start crying too! Charlie is also always up for playing with your child. Whether it’s arts and crafts, dress up, dollies, etc. she will drop whatever she’s doing—or finish it up quickly—and play.

Grandpa Luci is also around very frequently. He has just reconciled with his daughter after all, and his daughter has a daughter??? If Charlie wasn’t spoiling your child enough, Lucifer is doing ten times more. Every time he visits he brings your child a trinket, like one of his ducks, a duck themed onesie, or just a sugary treat.

Vaggie:

Literally a carbon copy of Carmilla but like ten times more protective. I mean how could she not be? Her precious child is living under the same roof as the radio demon! (Let’s just say that if Alastor steps within even ten feet of your baby he is getting threatened with a spear to the neck.

I feel like she would be a boy mom. Not in the tiktok boy mom sense, but I just generally feel like she would get along better with a son than a daughter. No matter which one you have though, she will love them unconditionally.

Supportive of her children’s dreams in the same way she supports Charlie’s. She is always very supportive, but can sometimes be a little doubtful. However, to balance that out, she always brings good advice to the table. I can also see her keeping secrets, like the fact she was an exterminator from her child until they get older.

Sera:

She’s like Carmilla but more angelic. Sera is very strict and by the book, and would expect her child(ren) to be the same. She can be hard on others, especially her children, but in reality she just wants the best for them.

If the two of you had a child, I feel they would be a mix of Emily and Lucifer. Kind, energetic, and a dreamer. This worries Sera a lot. She lived with Lucifer in heaven, she saw his dreams. Sera watched him fall for the dreams he tried to make a reality. Therefore, she would try to stop your child from turning into a dreamer.

Overtime, I think she would realize that your child’s dreams are nothing like Lucifer’s, and would become more supportive. Overall, Sera is very overprotective, strict, and hard on others, but she is truly looking out for their well-being.

[1980shorrorfilm]

unadulterated yearning

click!!!

pairing…abby anderson x gn!reader

in which…a cruel patrol somehow brings you and your roommate closer together.

before you read…angst with comfort.

such few words have been spoken between you and abby, despite being in her presence a significant amount of the day— every single day. 

you weren’t sure what you did to warrant the hostility, and why it hasn’t fleeted within the few months of you replacing her prior roommate. you knew she missed him, abby made it abundantly clear she’d rather have manny back, but you knew her despising you ran deeper than just that.

her one-sided frustration was a lot. it hurt when all you did was grace her with overbearing kindness, to simply be mocked by the woman to her friends. her friends; she wouldn’t let you in the group, leaving you isolated and alone.

you wondered if she spoke behind your back, almost hoping that was the case when they’d give you the cold shoulder, like you had done something wrong. you never thought you did. abby made you feel that way, though. 

abby couldn’t seem to find a soft spot for you. all the good things about you, she took issue with, and she would let it be known each time. god forbid you fold a shirt she had thrown on your floor, or decide to do your shared dirty dishes, or open the door for her first. she always found a mistake, a flaw, she searched for it.

you couldn’t win with her. every single try has been a failure, and for some reason, that was a hard thing to accept.

it shouldn’t be— abigail anderson should have no fucking impact on your feelings. but she does, deeply, and right now, as you wake up early for a patrol you originally weren’t scheduled for, all you feel for her is resentment.

it’s entirely her fault, somehow getting her day switched with yours, so you get the shitty shift no one wanted.

you weren’t sure why until you were informed the wlf had some sort of get-together for the holidays, an excuse for a feast and drinks. and you would be excluded from it all, because better you than her, apparently. 

you tried not to mind it, truly, you weren’t a bitch about small things like this. if you were annoyed by every little thing abby had done, you might have given up this sanctuary just to be out of her presence utterly.

it’s simply her entitlement that troubles you, the fucking audacity.

“might wanna put on more gear. pretty cold out there,” her voice calls from the other side of the room, where she’s lying comfortably in bed with a book on her chest, eyeing you getting ready to leave. you scoff. 

“i’m serious,” she dares to add, though her tone lacks sincerity to you, “wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“how thoughtful, abigail.”

she rolls her eyes at the use of her name, a small win for you.

those are the last words you tell her before taking off, leaving abby alone, and feeling alone. it’s odd. she likes when you’re around, to bother you, of course. the cool wind is harsh against the stadium window, a tinge of guilt already hitting her. 

but if she could praise you for anything, it’s how much you can endure. nothing here has been easy for you, and yet you’re still here. she pushes you, and you push back. you’d be fine, might even make it back for the last hour of celebrations, making patrol worth it for the sweet reward at the end of the harsh day.

abby was very wrong.

harsh was a kind word to put for the day you had.

the sun is down by the time you arrive back. you’re freezing and bleeding, having skipped the infirmary out of embarrassment. you didn’t want to be a letdown or a burden, especially if abby were to find out how poorly you performed out there; so you’d pretend today was fine.

at least, until you’re locked away safely in your bedroom. 

once you are, you turn on the light, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t known you were keeping in, leaning against the door just so you could stop walking for a split fucking second. that’s when you feel the throbbing on your thigh, eyes drifting to the now crimson-stained makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around it. 

you don’t have the energy to change it. you don’t even have the energy to change in general, only peeling off your jacket, and picking up whatever grey sweatshirt was thrown on the floor near you. 

you know it’s not yours when you smell the familiar pine scent, the one you associate with abby. 

weirdly, it’s incredibly comforting right now. even if she would scold you to not touch her shit when she got back. you really don’t care. you drag your sore feet to your bed, climbing beneath the covers, clinging to the blanket, begging for warmth that seems to refuse your body.

it’s moments later that you hear the door open.

abby enters, a bit buzzed from the party, tripping on your discarded jacket right away. she mutters beneath her breath, picking the piece of clothing up, and walking toward your bed. when she opens her mouth to speak again, it immediately shuts, and she halts her steps.

her gaze fell on you, huddled under your blanket, body shivering even in your sleep.

there’s a strange tug at her chest— both sympathy and guilt stirring deeply inside of her. you’re curled into yourself like a child, and you appear as innocent as one before her. innocent and in pain. left out from the festivities of the night, alone, out there, to come home, and be alone again. 

maybe it’s the alcohol, but abby feels like she’s suffering with you, simply by watching your body involuntarily shake.

“y/n?” abby calls out your name softly, closing the gap between her and your bed. you don’t stir at first, not until she repeats your name once more, but even then, you hardly acknowledge her. 

you hum, not daring to open your eyes and welcome the light to your corneas. 

“you okay?” abby asks, knowing it’s a stupid question with an obvious answer. you don’t think of it as stupid, though, it might be the kindest thing she’s done, checking in on you…are you dying?

“mhm,” you hum again, “just…cold.”

the words come out in an accidental whisper, unsure if she had even heard you. she does, not even questioning her next decision; she had the urge to help you, one she couldn’t shake off or ignore like in other moments where you could’ve used a hand. this is different. she doesn’t know why, but it is.

it’s just a few seconds later that abby had taken her blanket, the comforting weight of it being draped carefully over your body, abby doing her best to cover your head to toe. 

the long-going tension between you two doesn’t exist at the moment, abby’s sweet gesture becoming the highlight of this stupid fucking day. she had a heart. and she gave a tiny piece of it to you with the blanket. 

“thank you, abby,” your voice is still barely audible, but she catches it, nodding though you couldn’t see her. 

the room fell silent again, and abby wasn’t sure if she should walk away, or keep awkwardly watching you from the edge of your bed. 

she walks away; only after you stop shaking, soft breathing from your sleeping form. she wonders if it is weird she literally watched you sleep, but her concern is overbearing.

abby crawls into her bed, laying her head on her pillow, and shutting her eyes. your face is the last thing on her mind before drifting off, not the first time this has occurred, but the first time acknowledges it’s not due to the loathing she has felt for you. it’s something else.

the next morning, abby wakes up to the sunlight barely filtering through the window, eyes drifting to the lower half of her body. 

her blanket returned, along with yours, an additional warmth that has her dreading the idea of getting up.

especially when she notices you had already left the room, and you weren’t going to be the first face her eyes laid upon…fuck. abby gulps at her thoughts about you. 

these now, suddenly, extremely confusing, thoughts. what is this feeling?

[losersiren]

𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘵

"𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎."

CW: Fem reader (she/her), Time-appropriate misogyny, underlying themes of comphet, implied cannibalism, weird behaviour (?), cheating (in a sense?). N: To the two sapphics that wanted this, Merry Christmas!

New town, new neighbourhood, new people, and the sense of unfamiliarity hits you before the fresh air can as you open the mustard yellow cab door. 

Suburbia. 

Picture-perfect houses lined up perfectly as if they were soldiers waiting for an order from their sergeant; the lawns are flawlessly mowed, with no imperfections seen, just like the housewives inside those soulless clone houses. How…dull. Your hand unconsciously grips the metal door as your jaw clenches. Your heels hit the concrete when you finally get out of the taxi, too focused on the sight in front of you in a less content fashion.

In any other circumstance, moving into such an established community would be a blessing. Especially with the rise of Suburban houses and nuclear families after World War Two, people were scrambling to settle down before, god forbid, another war started yet again. You would have to be demented not to take an opportunity like this by its horns and celebrate. But you weren’t here to settle down with a beau in tow to populate this “great nation.” No. In this context, this place would be your collar for the foreseeable future; one misguided risk, you made one tiny mistake at your job, and now you’re on time-out.  

A journalist from the big city trying to make a breakthrough, which in itself is pathetic enough, but to add fuel to the flame, you’re a woman trying to achieve that unattainable dream. Getting into a male-centred field of work should've been nearly impossible, but you dipped your toes in it at the end of the day! Which is more than most could say; maybe it was your persistent attitude in your youth that gained your spectacular references or how you constantly pestered the journalist's office for a month straight to get a job since you were more qualified than 90% of the men in that fucking building. Still, you were placed into the “woman's” section. Which was an old rundown storage closet with a rotten-wooden desk in the middle of it…

Fast-forward to later, you were given only the bottom-of-the-barrel stories to research, and god, were you tired of them, you might’ve possibly “burrowed” one story from one of the rookie's desks; it's not like he could do any better than you. You quickly sift through whatever was attainable for you. Passing through possible big stories you knew you had no chance to break through quickly, such as “unknown serial cannibal still missing, when will they strike again?” or “Local government official caught embezzling after the war.” No, the story fitting your position was “Local priest fights allegations of using church money for the devil’s lettuce.” It's a perfect scandalous piece that is easy enough to get information on and would get your name somewhat out there.

You took that story and ran with it, and it turns out the more you looked into the story, the more the allegations had truth to it. This story would be your breakthrough! You would be among the first women to break through that glass ceiling! Yet, when you walked confidently into the office with an article written and sources in your hands, you left with a broken spirit, your article being taken by a male co-worker and a transfer to Pennsylvania. Your boss shouted at you in that box of an office, demeaning you in every way, but what stuck to you is when he scoffed out that the only thing you could handle was “the housewife section” in a newspaper nobody reads and that would be your only legacy other than dying a washed-up old woman with nothing to her name.

And here you were where you belonged. 

“Miss, the meter is running here. You just going to stand there or…?” a ragged, aged voice calls to you from the driver's seat. “Oh! Right…sorry sir…” You acknowledge him, breaking out of your dissociation, and march toward the cab's trunk, fighting with your heavy leather suitcases to get out of the damn thing. “Ya know, a young lady like yourself shouldn’t be doing all that work…your husband going to help you with that?” the taxi driver questions you as you struggle instead of assisting you. “Don’t have one,” you quip back as you huff, finally getting the second one out; his eyes give you run down, full of judgement. “Well, you aren’t going to apple butter a stud with that tone, that’s for sure; smile more, doll,” the older gentleman snorts as you give him the money you owe him. 

As the car drives away, you turn to see your already-furnished house, partly given to you by some distant relative who brought property. You barely even know him, which is why you have to pay rent. But who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth? 

As you take in your new life, your eyes bounce from the russet brown asphalt shingle roof to the moss-green mowed lawn. A sigh escapes you as your eyes finally drift to your neighbour's house; it's nothing too shabby; it's nearly identical to yours, sparing a few minor details such as colour and different window positions. Your curious eyes wander through one of the windows in your line of vision at a woman in her early to mid-twenties, skin so pale you could almost mistake her for a Jane Doe in a morgue. Her blonde hair resembles hay you would see decorated inside a barn, and her eyes are as lifeless as a cloudy blue sky before it rains. Her thin fingers scrubbed away at porcelain plates dazedly, hunched over just a bit over her sink so that she could compromise for her taller-than-average height. Once aimed at the dishes below her, her eyes now meet yours; her movements stopped like a deer in headlights. 

You goan, she probably thinks you’re giving her the royal shaft. Well, that’s it for first impressions. You give her a smile and a small wave, hoping she doesn’t misconstrue your curiosity for something worse and rush into your new abode. Her murky blue eyes clear the more they follow your figure, fading into your house.

-

Love.

It’s simple yet complex to comprehend. Since the dawn of time, humans have expressed love through multiple forms of media, languages, and art. Yet, despite all this knowledge of the emotion, it never resonated with Annabeth. No matter how many romance novels or novels she read in general about the topic (much to her mother's dismay), it never clicked. It didn't click when boys started paying attention to her in high school, and it didn't click when she debated the pros and cons for each boy in her grade to have an answer when her friends asked her about what boy she had a crush on. Maybe she was just broken; the emptiness of her heart matched her stomach when her mother took meals from her to have a figure to attract whatever city boy would come waltzing in their small town—born and raised to be a housewife, to have children then die like the cattle at her meemaw’s and peepaw’s farmhouse. So she adapted, pushing aside her heart-racing anxiety that should’ve been the flutters of butterflies in her stomach anytime a man romantically talked to her. All that is in the past now…she changed her “habits”…she has a husband, a good home, and he has an excellent job for the both of them.

At least up till now. 

The house next to her was always empty except when, once in a blue moon, the owner would come for a few days or even a month to check up and maintain the property. She didn't know the man well, she doesnt even remember his name – so when she felt eyes on her, the lonesome woman didn't expect you… 

There you were, staring at her in your grey blazer and matching skirt; your shoulder pads, as did your belt, accentuated your figure. Your eyes…such an alluring sight that they froze her on the spot, hypnotizing her until you retreated into the building. The breath she didn’t even know she held slipped out of her mouth, and her heart drums rapidly against her ribcage like it never had before.

One blink.

Two blinks.

What…

The soapy rag slipped from her hand, causing warm water droplets to splash on her face. This action snapped the blonde out of her trance-like state. 

Her pupils expand, her eyes frantically move left to right, and there’s a flare-up in her flight or fight senses, yelling at the housewife to do something! Anything! as if her body is unconscionably sending signals throughout her body to make a move, but the question is…for what reason? Annabeth thought of the most rational reason she was feeling such a strong emotional response, and of course, the only logical explanation was that she just really wanted to be your friend.   

The back of her hand wipes her once-damp cheeks.

Yeah, that’s the only possible answer.

The next few weeks became a blur of events, from immediately baking you sweets the next day to “welcome” you into the neighbourhood and telling you if you ever needed anything to holler at her. To her inviting you to dinner with her husband to help you get “accumulated” more into such a new environment from the bustling city– she’s an idiot. God, she’s a grade-a dumbass for even thinking that she could pull something off like this; why is she even nervous? 

The nail between her top and bottom teeth snaps, yet another fingernail lost to the unknown anxiousness of the night. The dinner went well, right? She hustled away on the food for a day or two and put the excellent cutlery out—you laughed throughout the night, talked to her, and complimented her. You wanted her opinion on topics, which barely happened to her in the first place! This night was…no, it is a smash, so why did she feel she was doing something wrong? Guilt in the back of her head slowly crept up like the common cold in an elementary school.

Heels clack against the title-checkered floors in the kitchen, and there you were, hand resting on the kitchen door frame, holding an empty wine glass by its stem. Your lipstick smeared onto the clean surface of the rim, and a small liquid of red wine remained in the cup. She didn’t notice you at first, too lost in her turbulent thoughts, till you said something.

“Mary,” you softly say, attracting her attention immediately.

It took her a second to recognize and respond to the name, but Annabeth did.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you; your husband just told me to tell you he’s resigning for the night,” you inform her sluggishly.

“Ah…” She exhales “..bless your heart, you didn’t hafta go through such a fuss just to tell lil’ ol’ me,” the blonde sputters, leaning against the kitchen counter, her bony finger tucking an out-of-place hairpiece behind her ear. “Does he always leave you to wash the dishes without helping ?” You griped, a crease forming between your brows as you set your wine glass on the counter closest to you. “ innit my duty, ya know, as a housewife or something,” she jokes, but you make your way toward her; “at least let me help…it’s the least I could do after you’ve given so much of your hospitality to me.” As you make your way to her, the more of you ingrates itself into all of her senses, the way your perfume smells so divine, the way the summer season has kissed your skin, and the way your lips move, sounding out every word that leaves them. 

The way… 

“Please…” Her soft hands stop you from coming further, the young woman’s voice timid yet light as a feather, “At least let me keep something of my hometown and give ya some southern hospitality. Yer real nice for looking out for me, but I don’t mind it.” She changes the subject so that you can no longer interject. “It’s late out. Do n’tcha got work in the morning, you mentioned earlier.” As if reality hit you, your eyes widened. “Ah! I forgot, gosh, I'm such a ditz; thank you again for your hospitality. You didn’t have to do anything; I really appreciate it.” you say in a hurry, and unbeknownst to you, the woman in front of you is heating up more than the fireplace in the next room. 

“No, thank you! For coming over and entertainin’ me,” She insists while fiddling with her frilly apron nervously. “I’m worried we’ll go on all night in a gratitude cycle if I don’t leave now. I’ll see you soon…I mean, we are neighbours,” you laugh.

“Mhm, I’ll see you…” Annabeth nods 

You smile and thank her again for good measure, then make your way out of the kitchen, but before you leave, you stop at the archway. 

Her breath hitches 

“Before I forget…and feel free to say no since you’ve done enough for me already, but you are the only person I know in this town. I was wondering if you don’t mind helping me with my work; clearly, I'm not a housewife, again, you can say..”

“I would love to!” She exclaims in excitement, “I mean…ahem, I would love to, anything to help,” 

“Then I'll see you soon,” you smile at her; by god, it's radiant.

When she hears the front door close and footsteps fading into the background, she squeals excitedly, having to bite her pointer finger to keep her voice down. She’s downright flush. The colour has finally seeped into her life, and it's like a rainbow after a rainy day; you, you are…you are something. She can tell you’re a great friend.

With newfound enthusiasm, she finishes cleaning the dishes in record time, finally putting down the wet rag before something catches her eye. The wine glass you left is still in the same place as before; she reaches for it and inspects it carefully. Usually, she would’ve washed it right away, but she doesn’t…she just stares at it, almost burning a hole in the damn thing. Yeah…she needs to wash it…dazed she grabs the damp rag near her, but that doesn’t clean the glass. No, her mouth moves without warning as her tongue caresses the rim where your lipstick was once stained. She was taking in the flavour of your lipstick and you, in a way, creating more smudges than there were in the first place.

There was a creak of a bed upstairs, a slight noise that snapped her out of whatever haze she was in, and her fingers twitched. Right, her husband. Her eyes automatically move toward the meat cleaver hanged. No, she changed; she has a new life now…she can’t. She looks down at the wine glass in her hand and bites one of her fingernails.

What is she doing?

And why…is her heart racing again?

She washes the cup but doesn’t put it back in its rightful place; instead, she hides it like a secret treasure. Finally, she resigns for the night, making her way up the stairs, and she hears it again: her husband moving in his sleep, causing the bed frame to creak.

Her fingers twitch involuntarily at her side.

It’s okay, though.

Now she has something to look forward to; she’ll see you soon.

End notes: What?...no! I wasn't gone for.... almost half of the year, hahaha... On a real note, every time I wrote, I felt like it was slop that should be burnt at the stake, but then it hit me last week that I'm literally writing for practice. I'm going to write slop, and that's okay!!! I also felt like I did too much for this fic, so I had to rewrite it so many times. But! in the holiday spirit! I'm back! I tried to write a country accent and input some 50s slang, but I don't know if either worked LOL!!! WATCH Carol (2015)!! Okay, I'll shut up now hehe

[mochiroreo]

Oh goodie! Pt.1 [cherry pies, vanilla, and cigars]

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x innocent!nerdy!reader (afab!reader) x Older!Steve Harrington

Wordcount: 5.4k

Summary: being a latchkey child, you are used to being alone. So when your parents announced that your whole family is moving to Hawkins, you paid them no mind and just packed up your bags. What you are not expecting was that the house that your family just bought comes with two neighbours that are in dire need to have you in any way.

Trigger Warnings: [this chapter: manipulation. Gaslighting. Fingering. Titty sucking. Taking advantage of reader’s vulnerable state.] she/her pronouns. DUBCON. NONCON. 100% FILTH. Smut. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Hidden relationships. Age gap. Cream pie. Size kink. Degradation. Corruption. Choking/slapping (in a pleasurable way). Pet names (no use of y/n). Fingering. Squirting. Overstimulation. Public sex. Non-consented Recording.

Author’s note: hello hello~ sorry for the long wait! Steddie are now on the move~! As usual, thank you so much for your support on my first fanfic ever! And sorry in advance for the grammar mistakes as English is not my first language. Not beta’d as well (we die like Nanam— *gets mugged in Shibuya arc*) Enjoy! 💖

“Hi..?” Ever so softly,you whispered and let it hang onto the air. Both men just looking at you with wide eyes and an expression that you aren’t sure if its embarrassment because they know you have heard what they were talking about or they just don’t expect a woman like you to be in front of their door around this time. Both of them staring at you with intensity, making you unconsciously grab the boxes a little bit tighter,feeling your palms sweat before turning your head away slightly to try and ease the warmth that is slowly creeping up your body from being ogled openly. One of the them,the one with thick,luscious hair ran his eyes all over you,unconsciously biting his bottom lip. The other,arms littered with tattoos,doing the same thing, holding such intense stare that you cannot stand it anymore which made you clear your throat and snap them out of their trance.

“Hi..?” The tattooed man answered,also clearing his throat before leaning against the door frame. Taking a deep breath, he looks like he is about to say something before closing his mouth again. He ran his fingers through his shoulder length hair upwards,clearly in distraught on what to say to you,not minding how it ruined his hair a bit. He did not expect someone,a woman (who is definitely his type) to be standing in front of his friend’s door. Hell,his best friend looks like he did not expect someone at all too with how he is standing awkwardly beside him.

“Uhm.. are you lost? I— we—“ stumbling on his words, he looked at his friend with annoyance “fuck— help me out here man!” He whispered harshly to his best fried beside him with a bit of a shove,which seemed to take his friend out of his staring competition against you and made him fold his arms over his chest. “Uh,sorry, I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. and this is Eddie Munson” Steve introduced his friend and himself politely before extending his hand,which he retreated back after noticing how you’re balancing two boxes. He wanted to help you but does not want to seem like he is already overstepping his boundaries. “Is there anything we can do for you?” Steve combed his hair,a nervous habit of his,but you only stared at him.

With the presence of both men and the slowly cooling air of Hawkins,your cheeks slowly grew red. You snapped out of it when it felt like minutes has passed after his question,making your cheeks warmer in embarrassment “I uhm.. we just moved here and my mom baked these pies for you and uh the other neighbor.. I’m just here to give you yours.” Eddie clenched his jaw with how soft you spoke. God forbid him for already having feral thoughts about someone he just met. The way your cheeks grew red, the way your eyes slowly raked over him and Steve’s frame before tilting your head to stop staring at them, and how your skirt fits perfectly and shows the meaty expense of your thighs. He knows he is fucked with the palpable attraction that he is already holding for you. And its seems like his best friend holds it for you too with the way Steve looks at you. Hearing you say the statement though made him and Steve feel like they won a million bucks. What are the odds of leaving next to someone looking so divine?

“Oh-!” Steve exclaimed,grabbing both boxes from your hands,to which shocked you and almost made you fell. Eddie quickly managed to grab your arm,immediately shooting Steve a glare. “Jesus” he mumbled. His hand is warm,firmly holding you and making sure you’re standing properly before gently letting go. Your eyes widened with the sudden physical contact,mumbling a “thank you” and looking down to fiddle with your fingers,trying to calm your nerves and the odd sensation in your stomach. Steve only eyed you and Eddie sheepishly,giving you a small chuckle “Sorry. I just really wanna help you out the moment I’ve noticed you were having a hard time with these boxes” he leaned onto the door to open it wider “if you’re planning to give the other pie to the other neighbor, you’re in luck cause this guy—“ he paused before pointing his head to Eddie “this guy is your other neighbor.” Eddie gave you the friendliest smile he can muster, before extending his hand. Blaming your nerves for short circuiting because of the full blown interaction, you grabbed his hand with both of your hands and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you both.” You tried to answer sternly but your voice just won’t come out clearly. He lets out a booming laugh, looking at both of your hands before copying you and shaking both of your hands with his.

“Its nicer to meet you.”

Noticing how his voice dropped a tad bit when he said the statement,you cannot help the slight shiver that crawled under your skin. It already felt so wrong. Standing in front of two men that are literally strangers and knowing that you are already infatuated with how good-looking they are is definitely not what you expected on the first day of moving to a different state that you barely knew exist. And definitely how you reacted to someone before. Biting your lip out of embarrassment,you just nodded to him and let go of his hands. Steve,smirking with the interaction,gestured towards inside his house “would you like something to drink-? You must have been standing there for a while.” The question took you off guard,looking at them both with hesitation while you struggle to answer. “I don’t want to bother—“ before you can even finish your sentence,Steve had already cut you off “nonsense. Its alright,you’re not bothering anyone.” He waved you off,carrying the boxes with ease. “Come on in,honey.” With a boyish smile given your way, you took the invitation,the nickname making the odd feeling inside you growing stronger and hard to ignore. You followed him,stepping inside the house while Eddie closed the door with a knowing smile, which Steve returned when he looked at him.

“You just moved here today..?” Steve started as he put down the boxes on the countertop. The design of his house is very modern,neutral colours were dominating every space but not without a pop of colour here and there which just screamed like him with how he’s dressed with some brown slacks and a pale yellow sweater. You stopped looking around,realising you haven’t told them your name yet so you did,taking a seat on one of the bar stools to which Eddie followed and sat beside you.

“Aww, what a pretty name.” He cooed,chuckling with the way you immediately blushed. Both men took the opportunity to look at you closer. Glasses sitting perfectly on your face, red pouty lips that looks like they will feel like heaven once they kiss you, the soft pink skirt that fits you perfectly and shows of your curves. Something akin to feral were slowly being awaken with just your presence.

“Uh yeah,just moved in. Me and my parents.” Adjusting your glasses,you gave Steve a small smile when he handed you and Eddie some lemonade. “I see..” he nodded,taking a sip out of his own glass before continuing “are you planning to continue your studies here then,hon? Hawkins doesn’t have much to offer but the universities and public colleges here and surrounding areas are quite nice— or are you still in high school?” Eddie knows what Steve is really asking you without all the formalities. He gulped his drink,slowly taking small sips while he waits for your answer. He is hoping that if the heavenly beings are real,that they are on his side on this. Him and Steve would be disgusted with themselves inside and out if you choose the latter as the answer to Steve’s question,already planning to drop you home just in case.

“Oh no” you quickly answered,shaking your head “I am planning to attend a university here but I haven’t decided what to pursue yet.. which kind of explains why I’m out here on what should’ve been a school night. I’m turning 19 this summer” politely answering before focusing on your lemonade and removing the slice of lemon wedged at the edge of your glass. Steve sighed in relief,a little too loud, with how quick you looked at him. “Are you alright?” You asked him, tilting your head in concern to which Eddie answered “He’s fine sweetheart” the nickname rolled too easy at Eddie’s tongue, giving you a smirk. “He’s just really happy that his lemonade tastes good.” Steve only chuckled, agreeing to Eddie’s statement before he moves to open a cupboard and a drawer for some plates and cutlery for the pies. Noticing him grabbing 3 plates, you started feeling restless that you are overstaying “I uh— sorry Sir, I’m alright. I- I can just eat the pie at home. My mom bakes them all the time.” Slowly getting down from the bar stool, you grabbed your glass that was once full, along with the coaster “I don’t want to over stay, your family might come home and ask why a stranger is inside their house.” You tried to joke with them, smiling and mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for thinking that you’re really doing well at socializing, oblivious to the effects of what you called Steve. Eddie shifted uncomfortably on his seat, easing the growing pain behind his jeans while Steve took some deep breaths to steady himself. Sir. Fucking Sir. That was said with the most innocent intent but went quickly to their groins. If they thought that hearing you speak earlier was like the loveliest melody wrapped in honey, what more would it be when you’re breathless and a moaning mess underneath them?

“No, you don’t need to worry about that” Steve clarified. “Me and Eddie live alone, so you can just call us by our names. No need to be too polite,sweetie.” Walking towards where you are, he gave you a firm squeeze on your shoulder, to which you looked at him in surprise “We’re already neighbors, we’re going to see each other every day starting tonight. Might as well be comfortable around us already.” Shyly looking at him with doe-eyes, you can only give him a sincere smile while staring at him to which him and Eddie gave you a grin. Steve is ecstatic. His eyes can’t hide the emotions that he is trying to keep at bay. His excitement. Curiosity. All the things he already wants to do with you to open you up to him is slowly filling his mind. Excusing yourself to put your glass on the sink and to wash your hands, Eddie gave Steve a look. A knowing look that they’re going to talk about important things later, forgetting about all the things he laid out tonight that he said he will finish before the day ends. Wiping your hands on a tea towel, you asked them “would you perhaps know any stores around that are hiring? I would really like to apply to one..” Eddie never thought that he will smile so wide that he felt his cheeks starting to hurt. If he felt like a million bucks earlier, he felt like a million times luckier than Steve now. What are the chances that he owns a record store that clearly doesn’t need any employees except you-?

“I own a record store, if you wanna apply? No need for a resume. You look trustworthy enough.” You gasped then squealed,forgetting where you are before giving him a quick hug. You were too happy about already landing a job without going store to store and talking to every manager to notice how Eddie’s eyes widened, before slightly hugging you back. You pulled away immediately,mumbling sorry’s continuously,cheeks now back to being red at what you just did. “I’m so sorry,I’m just—“ you mumbled too quickly,while he just gave you a grin. You felt him rest his hand on the curve of your back,acting as if it doesn’t give him the same gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach. “You’re alright. Like Stevie here said, we’re going to see each other now every day. Might as well feel comfortable,right?” You nodded at his words,relief evident on your face when you thought you ruined the night with your sudden bold move. “I- thank you so much.” You gave them both a genuine smile,to which they cannot help but be in awe with how cute you look. You feel giddy,not only did you think they’re handsome but they are also the nicest neighbours already. You cannot think how it will make your parents pretty proud. Your mom’s voice ringing inside your head “I told you so.”

Both of them guided you towards the door,you cannot stop yourself from thanking them. You stepped out of Steve’s house before turning around to look at them with a shy smile on your face. “I will bring more pies in the future. It was so nice meeting you both!” You promised to them,waving your hand goodbye as your feet found the asphalt once again,skipping on your way home.

They both waved goodbye before Steve closes the door shut,releasing a breath he’s been holding before giving Eddie a look to which he returned. Eddie clasped both of his hands on his chest. “Whoever divine being is in heaven. They are fucking real.” Steve cannot help but to run his fingers through his hair while figuring out what just happened and what he is currently feeling. He had never been smitten with someone he just met. Even with his beloved ex,Nancy, it took him a few weeks to figure out how attracted he is to her. He groaned,running his hand on his face. “I take back what I said to Robin. I take it back” he walked towards his fridge, opening it to grab a pack of beer for him and Eddie. Sitting down, he opened his beer and quickly chugged almost half of it “we were fucking teasing her with how quick it was for her to be smitten when she met Vicky. And now—“ Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing a beer as well “we are way more worse.” He shook his head,sighing at how his mind seem to drift towards a particular neighbor already. “I want her.” Eddie stated, there was no hint of playfulness nor humour in his eyes while he looks at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Steve stood up, drinking the last of his beer before crushing the metal can and chucking it in his bin. Sighing,he plopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I want her too.” He gave Eddie a sly smile, having a mutual understanding on what they want to do.

And how they want to do it.

Tonight is like a fever dream.

You immediately changed your clothes back to your sleeping ones with a smile on your face. Laying down, it sinks on you that you’re alone now, so you had let your mind wonder to the things you felt earlier. The feelings that were foreign to you but mixed with uncertainty. You touched your arm that was squeezed gently by Steve while the feeling of Eddie’s hand that rested on your backside felt like it’s still there. Butterflies still erupting at the pit of your stomach though laced with uneasiness and doubt. You try to calm yourself, telling yourself that they’re just your awfully nice neighbours and that they don’t deserve the doubts you’re thinking about them. Finding sleep at last.

A week went by quickly. Days filled with sticky shirts and the smell of chlorine.

Immediately telling your parents the next day how you managed to land a job after meeting your neighbors, they were proud and happy for you. “They are just the kindest” you told them,saying how they did not hesitate to offer it to you without even getting to know you. You busy yourself with arranging your things from the move, helping your parents decide which curtains fit the living area better, and going to some good spots around Hawkins. Your days being spent mostly with your parents while they enjoy their days off with you before they go back to working again.

You went out with your mom to grab some groceries, the car slowly coming to a stop as she parks on the driveway. Talking about the things you’ve noticed about Hawkins that you did not have from where you used to live. The town kept tons of things that made it look like its stuck in the 80s and 90s. Drive through movies, vintage theaters, a mall called “Starcourt” that have a vibrant blue and red retro sign. You quickly hopped out went straight to the car trunk and opened it,trying to grab as many bags as you can. Hearing your dad’s voice not too far, you turned around to call and ask him for help before noticing that there’s two familiar silhouettes in front of him that he is currently talking too. “Dad?” Calling him a bit louder than earlier, he turned around before Steve and Eddie followed. Your eyes widened a bit, feeling the warmth that you felt that day when you met them,both of them giving you a small wave. Awfully conscious with your choice of short shorts and oversized shirt, you turned back around and focused your gaze on the bags you are trying to carry.

“Need some help,sweetheart?” The deep timbre of Eddie’s voice made you shiver, goosebumps trailing over your arms. He’s already grabbing some bags, taking the ones on your hands too. “T-thanks..” you mumbled, trying to put some space between you and him so he can carry the bags easier. Quickly shutting the trunk, you see your parents talking to Steve,clearly laughing at whatever he said. You and Eddie walked towards them, trying to grab some bags on the way even though he’s too stubborn. “Oh goodness, thank you!” Your mom exclaimed “would you gentlemen like to come in and stay for dinner? I’ll be making my casserole,which everyone says that they love. I’ll love to put that statement to the test.” Your mom asked them both,already opening the door with your dad following her “It’ll be our pleasure” Steve answered,throwing a grin on your way which made you give him a small smile back when your dad grabbed his attention,letting his eyes wander on your body for the last time before immersing himself on another round of sports talk.

Everything’s going well on their end,it seems.

Dinner went by smoothly.

Your parents seem to love them both already,smooth talking their way on several topics that mostly focused on you in which your parents are happy to tell them about. Your mom was telling them how you are always on top of your class and subjects you find interesting. Your hobbies, your achievements, your preference in food even. While your dad tells them how you kicked a bully on 8th grade, when you did something funny in the middle of the grocery aisle that your mom snorted too loud. This made Steve and Eddie looked at you while you try to hide your face, blushing while whining “mom, dad, my god stop”. They were both taking mental notes, thinking of ways how to pamper you, how to take care of you while also how to defile you. It was a mixture of gentleness and filth, the gentle part only there to make you open up to them and their desires. After helping you mom in cleaning up and washing the dishes, you excused yourself and said goodnight to everyone, yawning on the way to the stairs to go up to your room.

Througout the dinner, Eddie cannot help but steal glances your way. How lovely you look in that oversize shirt that he wishes was his, how it showcases your neck and enough skin to leave it in his imagination, already looking forward to painting it with hickeys. He hates the fact that this is Steve’s “plan”. He hates the fact that he needs to take things slow, but he knows that all this planning and acting on it will be worth it.

And seeing Steve’s massive grin when your parents asked them after a week if both of them can look after you as they work all the time and how they don’t want you to feel alone in a new town, it is indeed worth it.

By the time your parents left after a few days of getting told that they will be out of town for a week, you quickly found yourself in your room, burying your whole body underneath your blanket. That gnawing feeling of loneliness is now back after feeling your happiest for the past few weeks.

Your eyes slowly becoming blurry as your tears cascade down your cheeks, your hands trying to wipe every single tear away though it just kept on coming. You hated how the empty house kind of made your sobs grow louder in your ears, covering your mouth to muffle it out. The ringing of the doorbell halted your sobs, turning into sniffles while you stand up and try to look presentable on the way to your door. Only wearing your oversized sweater, you adjusted it and wore your house slippers. With one last look at a mirror near your hallway, you opened the door to find Steve and Eddie.

“Hey, sweetheart! We were supposed to come here earlier but got stucked in traffic.” Eddie explained,looking down while adjusting his watch that kept on getting too loose for his liking,. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit honey. They have mentioned that they’re leaving for a week and if we can look after you— why are your eyes red?” Steve asked, looking at your face intently, his smile now replaced with a scowl. The statement made Eddie look up quickly, his soft demeanor quickly changing like Steve’s. Your lower lip was jutted in a pout, trembling while you try to stop yourself from crying. “I- I’m— Mr. Harrington.. Mr. Munson—“ you tried to answer that you’re fine, just feeling off but your voice wobbled and suddenly you cannot stop your tears from spilling. Both men went rigid because of what you called them before snapping themselves out of it. They can appreciate your tear-stained cheeks later if it was in a different situation.

Steve immediately stepped inside and wrapped his arms around you, his bigger frame enveloping your body in a warm embrace. All the emotions that you were trying to keep at bay now coming out, sobbing in his chest. Steve had one of his arms wrapped around you, his hand resting on your lower back while the other holds your nape gently, drawing soft circles to calm you down. The action made you cry harder, your hands finding its way on his shirt, clutching on it tightly. “Oh baby, its okay. Its okay. We’re here” He tried to calm you down, feeling his breath on top of your head as he continue to gently rub your back. Eddie closed the door, concern written on his face as he watches his friend hold you. “How about we move to the couch, pretty girl?” Steve said, his voice laced with softness. He felt you nod on his chest, still sniffling as him and Eddie guided you to the couch. You already missed Steve’s warmth. His scent,a mix of something sweet and tart, like cherries laced with vanilla, filled your senses the moment he wrapped his arms around you. You did not dare to look at them once you sat down, feeling embarrassed about crying, and about wanting to be hugged by either of them. “Sweetheart, can you please tell us whats wrong?” Eddie softly asks, placing his hand on your knee while Steve sat down on the other side, holding your arm and rubbing it in an comforting manner. “I just— I feel so lonely.” Wiping your tears using the sleeves of your sweater, you continue “I can usually ignore it but today I’m—“ you covered your face out of embarrassment, out of thinking that they must have been annoyed by now with how much of a crybaby you are. “Oh sweet girl, come here. You don’t need to feel shy about this” Eddie said, shuffling closed to you and wrapping his arms around you, he rested his head on top of yours. Your smell intoxicating him as he take deep breaths. You gripped his arms, letting his scent consume you like Steve’s. His is a mix of cigars and grapefruit. You looked up at him with doe-eyes, his hand quickly catching your falling tears. “Me and Steve are here now, yeah? You won’t feel alone now.”

He whispered, hand now caressing your cheek in a loving manner while he looks straight to your eyes. You stared at his long lashes, pink lips that looks too soft, cheeks kissed by the sun with how there are freckles here and there up close. Steve’s arm wrapped themselves around you as you face Eddie, resting his head on your shoulder. He had let his hands wander, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Our sweet girl..” he whispered directly to your ear. You shivered, a foreign feeling crawling under your skin while you gasped. Your stomach twisting into something that is uncomfortable but at the same time pleasurable.

“No more days and nights feeling lonely..” Eddie swiped his thumb on your lips, watching you let go of your bottom lip that you did not realized you’ve been biting. “We’re now with you all the time, your parents told us to look after you. Take care of you..” Steve’s hands began to crawl their way upwards, his hands now caressing your bare thighs, before realizing you’re only wearing an underwear underneath which made him release a deep groan. You froze, feeling wetness pool in the middle of your legs. “M- Mr. Harrington..” you tried to close your legs, changing your position on the sofa before Eddie stopped you and held your face to make you look back at him again “Shhh.. its alright, sweetheart. This is how you forget. This is how you can forget how lonely and sad you’ve felt.” You tried to focus on what he was saying but Steve’s hands are now playing with the lace of your panties while also peppering soft kisses on your neck, making you release a whimper. You felt Steve’s smirk on your neck before sucking your skin, leaving his mark on you, Eddie’s pupils now blown wide with lust and desire. You continued to whimper before feeling Eddie’s lips on you. You gripped his arms, trying to control his pace, as the rational part of your brain screams how wrong it is to kiss your neighbors that were just trying to comfort you. Eddie grabbed both of your arms with one hand and pinned it to your side, while the other held your face to crane your head back a bit to let him kiss you deeper.

Steve continued his assault on your underwear, pushing your underwear down before hiking your sweater up to expose your pussy. He moaned on your neck when he touched your bare cunt that is soaking wet, fingers swiping your juicy lips before he lifted it to know what you taste like. “God, honey. You taste so sweet. So fucking sweet.” One of his hand now holds your hip still, the other going back to play with your pussy. He found your clit and kept on rubbing it in a pace that made you buck your hips. You threw your head back, Eddie quickly latching his mouth on the other side of your neck. You moaned at all the sensations you’re feeling, everything foreign but welcomed with how you unconsciously try to open your legs wider to let Steve’s thick fingers play with you more. Your mind is slowly becoming blank, pleasure numbing all the other emotions you were feeling earlier with how good they’re touching you. Eddie’s kisses travelled lower, hiking your sweater up to release your breasts before him. His mouth quickly finding your hardened nipple, sucking it hard while your other nipple gets toyed with his calloused fingers, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Breathy moans left spit-slicked lips, catching hold of Steve’s hair. The tight hold on his hair urged Steve to finally soak his fingers on your cunt, one thick finger breaching its way inside you. “Fuck!” Steve exclaimed as you moaned loudly, watching how his finger disappears while he build his pace.

Feeling you relaxed, he added another finger that made your eyes roll back. With Eddie still sucking your nipples and leaving hickeys all over your chest, and Steve’s unforgiving fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, you were starting to see white. “Yes baby, that’s it. Oh, how can you be this pretty? Even the sounds you’re making— jesus, I’m gonna explode.” Eddie mumbled on your skin, continuing his actions to your sensitive nipples. “Fucking perfect for us, made for us—“ Steve grunted, rubbing your clit using his thumb. You clenched on his fingers, the pleasure slowly becoming too much for you. “Mr. Harrington—“ you tried to call out to him, wanting to grab his arm but forgetting that Eddie is still holding it in place. “Yeah, baby? Feeling too good?” Drool pooled around your lips, losing your train of thought. High-pitched moans leaving your lips continously as Steve furrowed his eyebows in concentration. He felt you clench on his fingers, hips bucking to meet his fingers to which he knows that you’re close to cumming. “S-stop please— M-Mr. Harrington- it feels weird,I’m gonna pee—“ you tell him with shaky breaths, trying to stop the urge to not embarrass your self further. Steve chuckled, quickening his pace. Eddie inserted his thumb on your mouth, to which you immediately suck. He groaned at the feeling of your tongue enveloping his thumb and to the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and drooling mouth with how fucked out you are. One thrust of Steve’s fingers towards the spongey texture made you trembled, releasing Eddie’s thumb to let out a high-pitched moan. Steve continued before whispering on your ear. “Let go, our good girl.” He gave your neck a kiss, before feeling you still underneath them with your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Your legs quiver, creamy white cum now coating Steve’s fingers.

You whined when Steve took out his fingers, lapping your up your cum before offering his fingers to Eddie. “Taste her.” He said, Eddie quickly lapping your creamy release on Steve’s fingers while staring at your figure. He let out a deep groan, closing his eyes while he savours your flavor on his tongue. “Like fucking honey.” Both men looked at you, body coated in sweat, eyes closed with drool on your lips. Eddie took of his shirt, wiping the remnants of your cum between your legs before standing up and grabbing water for the three of you while Steve slowly arranged your position to lay you down comfortably on the sofa.

“See, honey? We got you. No more crying every night or day..” he softly talked to you, brushing your hair out of your face. He cupped your cheek on his hand, “we will be here,okay? This is what we’ll do when you feel sad and lonely. So you can forget all those.” Leaning on to his touch, you slowly opened your eyes. “B-but what about mom and dad..” you looking at him so innocently made his forgotten boner throb underneath his slacks. Not today, he told himself. “This is our little secret, yeah? Mommy and Daddy doesn’t have to know.” He gave your lips a quick peck, smiling when he watched your cheeks go pink. Eddie walked in, handing Steve your water and his. Steve made you drink a bit before letting you drift to sleep, cheeks squished on a throw pillow.

Eddie drank his water, plopping down on another chair while Steve does the same. “This is like a fucking drug.” He groaned, putting his hair in a low, messy bun. “Tell me about it” Steve combed his hair, both men watching your sleeping form in awe. “You think she won’t tell her parents?” Eddie asked, the idea making him a little nervous. “Mhm, I doubt. Besides—“ Steve looked at Eddie with a smirk, before he moves to fix your sweater from exposing your bare ass more to them. “You still have that video camera, right, Munson?” Eddie chuckled darkly to his friend, nodding his head. “Yeah. I still have it.” He looked directly at Steve’s eyes, mimicking the devilish grin of the other.

“You’re evil. And you know it. Don’t you, big boy?”

[alexthetrashyracoon]

CW// None, English isn’t my native language, mistakes are part of the experience, enjoy them with care.

Likes/Shares/Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated <3

Don’t be shy to send in requests lovelies <3

Simon, when off-duty for a few days, likes exploring his neighborhood. That’s how he found about that small bakery that made amazing garlic bread, the owners an elderly couple that immigrated from Italy back in the sixties, keeping the bakery running together with their seven children and the oldest grandchildren.

He found a small flower store hidden between apartment complexes that were also a bookstore and a small cafe, the owners were nice people, one of them had served too, but got blown up and ended up medically discharged. Sometimes Simon and her exchanged stories but most of the time they just co-existed.

So color Simon surprised when his feet carried him to another cafe, just a cafe without any dilly dally around it.

But you work there, and you are a bit like the sun. Burning hot and mean as hell.

“No, Lady, with all due respect but I can’t make you an omelette without eggs. If I could, trust me I wouldn’t work in this shithole.” You say annoyed, staring down a woman that demands stupid stuff from you.

The line isn’t too long, so Simon just listens with amusement as you argue with the woman until she scoffs and turns around while telling everyone willing to listen that the youth of today doesn’t know how to work anymore and all the usual stuff.

“Anyone else having stupid questions and requests? Ask now or be quiet forever because otherwise I will explode.” You call, leaning onto the counter.

Simon doesn’t know what makes him reply, he didn’t plan on getting your attention. “Can I take you out on a date?” He hears himself and everyone is looking at him.

Simon isn’t shy, god forbid he can’t be. He’s awkward sometimes, but not shy.

“Friday, seven o’clock. Be on time.” You grin before you return to take the next order.

He leaves the store without asking your name or anything, just happy to learn more about you on your date on Friday.

[kira-fluff]

hello! if its okay with you, i’d like to request fluff/comfort with mikey from tr. i’ve been in a mental slump lately and contrary to the whole “worst boyfriend” ranking, i feel like he’d be great at comfort if we gave him the chance :3

whatever you need - mikey sano x fem!reader

after getting let go, you'd been struggling. thank goodness for boyfriends. (fluff/comfort) tw: language, mental health struggles, getting fired a/n: i hope you've been feeling better as of late. just finished my last exam, i have a presentation tomorrow, but i'm not worried about it. thankfully finals are mostly over so i have time to write! thanks for requesting. i love me some mikey. worst boyfriend slander will not be tolerated!! i gotchu

you couldn't seem to catch a break. just when you thought you were crawling out of this hole you didn't even dig yourself, something (or someone) would push you down further. was there really a way out? nope. clearly not. of course you were fired. well, "let go" as he said. your asshole of a boss sat you in his office and said, "i'm afraid we're gonna have to let you go." like it was this sad, reluctant choice he simply had to make. a sacrifice. but you could tell by his expression he was anything but remorseful. the worst part was that the company was flooded with cash, and you'd not be prideful to say you were a major contributor in that success. so why were you let go? because the business was "expanding" and therefore, there needed to be "reprioritizations" made. which basically just means you weren't worth keeping on board the ship. probably because you're a woman and god forbid any female succeed in the workplace. whatever. fuck him. it was all so overwhelming anyway. your sleep schedule was - is - fucked. all the work you're putting in and was it even worth it?

you ignored the sense of dread pooling in your stomach whenever your eyes happened a glance on your bank app. funds weren't going to be coming in any time soon. sighing, you powered off your phone, chucking it to the side of your bed. before you realized it, a week had passed. a week of productivity? no. a week of bed-rotting. a week of napping, getting up to eat a few crackers, and then trudging back to sleep. it's what you deserved for busting your ass for an ungrateful corporation and an ungrateful piece of shit boss. you just wanted to close your eyes forever and forget about the world for a little bit. was that so wrong? mikey was gone visiting takemichi, so it's not like you needed to try to look cute. just a little longer. just a little longer.

-

you heard a faint thudding sound. you groaned and rolled over on your bed, covers twisted around your form, your hair tangled and knotted. the sound was getting louder. were you getting robbed? eh, what does it matter. it wasn't like you had anything of value in here anyway. covering your ears with your pillow, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, basking in their warmth. thankfully, the thudding noise stopped. it was probably just your dryer, which you're fairly certain is possessed by satan (not that you'd done laundry in... awhile.) your peace was short lived. suddenly, you heard a sound that was suspiciously akin to the bolt of your front door being unlocked. your eyes shot open, but you were too scared to move as you heard your front door burst open. maybe they won't know i'm here if i just lie still. maybe they'll think i'm dead. loud steps made a beeline for your room - a voice getting closer, mumbling something under their breath. if you got up now, the intruder would surely know. throwing the covers over your face, you hoped maybe they'd mistake you as some extremely large body pillow. the thief stopped at the entrance to your room. you held your breath, hoping he'd move on and maybe steal your microwave instead. could this month get any worse? there was an exasperated sigh. "what are you doing." it wasn't a question, more just a statement. and you recognized that voice. shit. what's the date today? the mystery intruder, you realized, was actually your boyfriend mikey. but he sounded kind of pissed. so... you decided to play dead a little longer. the loud thumps of his boots came closer to you and without warning, he ripped the covers off of your body before returning his hands to his pockets. his eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and perhaps a bit of concern. he repeated, "what are you doing, y/n?" you blinked up at him slowly, your eyes trailing up and down his body. "you look nice. back from takemichi's?" he moved closer. "you weren't answering any of my calls or texts. couldn't even find your location. did you turn off your phone?" your brows furrowed in puzzlement. you looked around your room, realizing it had been at least a couple days since you'd last seen your phone, much less heard from it. you were shocked to find it lying next to you. pressing the power button, you watched the screen ignite back to life. "oh. sorry. turned it off. i was tired." his voice rose in frustration, "for how long? i tried to text you on monday and you didn't answer." you paused. "...what day is it today...?" mikey's eyebrows rose in worry. "it's sunday. i've been trying to get ahold of you for almost a week. y/n, what's going on?" you frowned, biting your lip to stop it from quivering and shook your head. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

"got fired. yay..." you said with no enthusiasm, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. he blinked. "what? when?" "last friday. well, last last friday, i guess." his shoulders lowered and he let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "shit, i was so worried i sounded like such an asshole just now. 'm sorry babe." slowly, he sat down next to you on your bed, shucking off his boots. "he didn't even give me a good reason. like, they're "expanding"?? doesn't that mean you can afford to keep your most loyal workers??" "i always fuckin' hated that guy." "i just--" you tried (and failed) to hold back a sob, "i just don't know what i could've done differently!" you cried, tears streaking down your cheeks. "it's not a 'you' problem, babe, it's their fucking loss." "but there had to have been something i did wrong!" "there isn't." "maybe i should've--" "hey, look at me. please?" you stopped midsentence, adjusting your gaze to meet his eyes for the first time. cupping your cheek in his palm he smiled sadly, "sometimes it's not you. sometimes there's nothing you coulda done better in a situation because you weren't the problem to begin with. and that's ok, because you don't deserve to be around piece of shit people like that anyway, ya know?" "i know, but--" "but nothing. i know i can't convince you, but i want you to know that i think you deserve the fucking moon. i'd get it for you if you asked. somehow." you laughed wetly, "well, you do have connections." a corner of his mouth turned up. "yeah." his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he pulled a strand of your hair back behind your ear. "and 'm gonna take care of you know, you know that. whatever you want. whatever you need tonight. i'll make it happen, ok?" "it's just... what i need is a job, and i've just been lazing around all week and i don't even know where to start..." without a moments hesitation he said, "work for me." "but wouldn't that be--" "i'm the boss, i make my own rules. shit, you don't even have to work. like i said, i'll take care of you." "no, no i want to work. but i'm probably not qualified enough to work for you..." "who says?" "well, you haven't even looked at my resume...isn't that, i don't know, kind of nepotism-ish?" mikey grinned. "yeah, because everyone else that works for me got their jobs through hard work." "ok, ok, but...thank you. ok." you sighed. "it's gonna be ok. 'm here now."

-

mikey truly meant it when he said he'd take care of you. as soon as he helped dry your tears, he got your into your bathtub and helped you wash up, gently massaging shampoo and conditioner into your scalp while you scrubbed soap on your arms. he sprinkled light kisses on your forehead and cheeks as he helped you dry off. when you finally settled back into bed, cozy and clean, mikey was right there by your side. not ten minutes later, your favorite chocolate and ice cream was delivered to your door. when you turned back to say thank you, he waved you off, gesturing you to come back to your bed so you both could watch a movie. in the best way, mikey helped you forget. or at least let go. in a way. you spend the rest of the weekend binging your favorite shows. what others might not suspect is just how physical mikey is in his affection. he was showed more than told, and it was the same in his love for you. in those moments you spent together, he clung to your side, as if he had to have at least some part of his body touching yours at all times. when at last he had to leave to go back to his penthouse to "make some calls" (you suspected he had mountains of work to do), he'd already tried to convince you at least a dozen times to move in with him, which you staunchly refused because 1) you can't afford to help pay for whatever the hell he pays to live in a fucking penthouse and 2) you're not about to freeload. but as he said his final goodbye with a chaste kiss on your lips, you wondered if maybe you could finally give in and let someone take a little more care of you, after all, he'd shown you just what it felt like to not have to worry so much about your own needs.

-

back at his penthouse, mikey quickly dialed a familiar number. "hey. it's me. yeah. think you can take care of it for me?" there was a pause. "i don't care what you do to him so long as it's painful." another pause. "make sure to keep this underwraps. remember, it's all an 'accident'. if you can't do it, i'll go take care of it myself. bye."

a/n: mmm protective mikey y'all

[hoffmansgirl]

Honestly, I’m getting tired. It’s literally bts pics from a tv show. He’s not even playing Jesus in the show. People are just looking for a reason to hate him at this point and it’s really pathetic. I was not okay with him posing with those guys and I felt like people had a genuine reason to be upset with him, but I also thought double standards were rearing its ugly head again. Let’s get mad at nick for posing with guys dressed as Lyle and Erik but let’s like and repost thirst edits of Nick and Cooper made up of scenes from a show where they play … Lyle and Erik Menendez. People are holding him to a standard that other celebrities aren’t held to. He can’t do anything without people picking him apart and ��canceling” him. It’s honestly annoying.

YES YES YES 🗣️ louder for the cunts in the back!

nicholas chavez is not problematic.

so. i actually feel so bad for him because it must be so hard. he's just gotten popular how long ago... a month? two? and people are trying to cancel him so bad.

he can't do ANYTHING without getting hate - first people started bringing up his love life - since when is it anyone's business? calling him a bop, a man whore. people are feeling way too comfortable nowadays.

next ━ "nicholas doesn't support the brothers", "he doesn't give a fuck" ━ how can YOU know that. he doesn't owe anyone a ny thing. he doesn't need to be as vocal as cooper is about it ━ as i wrote in here aaand here. i honestly won't even talk about it anymore after this post because it's fucking annoying.

the picture with the dicks dressed as menendez brothers ━ disgusting. i'm not gonna defend this one because well. he could have refused to take it. he's a grown ass man, for gods sake. although, as i mentioned before, he is HUMAN. he is LEARNING how to be a big star, what he should and should not do. let's not pretend we are all angels, bffr. we all make mistakes, and sometimes we don't even realise we do something that might be considered wrong.

now... the (hot) god damn pictures... can we stop being so sensitive and fucking annoying!!!!!! 😁 i saw that post and thought that he looks so good, the brat dance made me smile sooo much ━ then i saw the comments... he is not. mocking. religion. he is not mocking your beliefs or your god.

"cancelling" an actor for being an... actor is fucking embarrassing. i just have to laugh.

why is everyone so obsessed with this man, with everything he does? why are haters the first ones in his comment section? god, even i am not that fast and i'm fucking obsessed with the guy. come on... people just hate to hate.

and! surprise! he doesn't owe you an apology ━ if you're offended by the pictures ━ because it's just the show. people think he dressed up as jesus for halloween... do your fucking research. read the caption. stop harassing the poor man i swear 😭

in this house we don't hate on nick ━ of course he needs to be held accountable for the menendez brothers picture, no explanation needed ━ but nothing else.

it's kinda funny because my man is just working, being an introvert and people think he's a soulless narcissist.

i guess people just hate rich, popular and hot men that live their best life... i kinda feel sorry for them, ngl.

and one more thing before i finish... nicholas' love life. the insults i've seen online are so concerning. why are people so comfortable to comment on other people's relationships? why do people believe everything they see on tiktok or twitter? calling him a "man whore" is wayyyy too much. like let this man breathe around another woman? or have female friends? god forbid talk to another woman...

i don't want to comment on his girlfriend because... i want need her man, why would i even talk about her 😭 i have my own opinion but lemme just not...

woof woof i'm yapping. but yes anon, i agree with you. 100%.

and finally! if u wanna talk about it (or just talk about nicholas...) then my dms are open!

and remember!!!! to treat people with kindness ♡ 🫧

(celebrities are also people).

[microtyalm13]

How would your ocs react to a partner whos very vocal and loud in bed, like every moment they can't go without spouting some type of praise. . . ask, totally not based on a chat im having - 🐠🎩

mmmhehehhe... < З I LIKE THIS QUESTION DEAR FISH ANON. okaaaayyy lessgooo.... also feel free to send me more questions like this one, it was fun to write for everyone <3 deity, naga, monster under the bed, kikimora, fallen god, mothman x reader. derzena x fem!reader, the rest is gender-neutral. there could be mistakes and im npt s orrty

gavriil. — the louder you are the better, honestly. gavriil here is a provider, he cares about your pleasure more than his own, so there's nothing more rewarding than to hear your voice break so deliciously. sex with him is a praising galore... loves receiving it too! he's very talkative and mostly breathes heavily or hums in amusement/delight. if you don't want to make noise on principle, that's a whole different story. will take it as a challenge. will fuck the noises out of you. breaking your indifferent facade until you're nothing but a drooling, whining mess always makes him so smug and proud.

xiaolong. — prefers it if you're at least somewhat vocal because he want to hear how good he makes you feel, so you being so unashamed is perfect for him. loves cutting off your never-ending stream of sweet words and whimpers by kissing you. will remind you to keep it down sometimes though, because "you don't want the whole inn to hear your pretty moans now, do you? they're reserved for my ears only, isn't that right, dear? mmhm, that's it". can't get enough of how lovely your voice sounds when you call out his name. will probably tease you about that later...

taisya\tasechka. — when he's balls deep inside of you, he would absolutely not care. he won't even hear you probably, driven blindly by his instincts and desires. that's why when you want him to stop or give you a second for whatever reason, you need to show it with your body language. give him a pat, a punch (he won't mind), a squeeze. he pays much more attention to how your body moves and shudders underneath him, how your breathing patterns change. values your physical participation more than anything else. this guy is also pretty loud himself, though his noises are not very... pleasant on the ears and sometimes his voice morphs in funny ways, giving that uncanny edge to his low whines and growls.

derzena. — she will be... a bit surprised. she didn't have many lovers, and most of them were pretty quiet and/or shy in her presence (no wonder, bc she has a very... intimidating stare). at first she will think she did something wrong, or, heavens forbid, hurt you. derzena is a very careful woman, mainly because she's very aware of her sizes and strength. but once you reassure her and tell her that you're just very vocal in bed, she'll except it and will move on. she'll learn to love it very quickly, silently relishing in your gasps and loud pleas. she might lose herself for a good while between your legs, eating you out for hours and pushing her thick, smooth tongue deeper into your pussy to see if she can make you even louder.

veniamin. — oh he is so mean. likes it when you're loud just because he gets to shut you up. a hand clasped tightly over your mouth or pushing your face into the pillow, he doesn't care as long as you're keeping up the volume and writhing under him. when he's feeling gracious enough he'll let you ride him and babble all you want. until then, he'll keep calling you a desperate little thing, mocking the noises you make <З despite that, he also loves it when you talk back or insult him in return. it's the "missionary, so we can keep arguing" for him. smug fucker wants nothing more than to rile you up and then make you whine in disappointment by ruining your orgasm... for the fourth time in a row.

livy. — he hasn't had much experience with humans before, so he thinks it's perfectly normal for you to express yourself the way that you do. livy thinks it's very pretty actually, and won't stop you, because no one will hear you in the middle of the forest, where his cave resides. except for him, of course <з lets out happy chirps and clicks in return, or hisses sweetly when your little hole squeezes him so tightly. will ask how you feel very frequently, seeking your approval. might get too excited and get a bit rough, fucking you into the ground, trying to stuff you full of his cock despite you being so much smaller in comparison to him.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey! 😊 I’ve had this idea for a while now but kept putting off typing it out. Here it goes!

Donna and reader have been dating for some time, and everything has been going great. They’ve managed to keep their relationship a secret because Donna wants to protect reader from the other lords and believes that discretion is the best way to keep them safe.

One day, while they’re making out (or doing something else that clearly shows they're in a relationship), Mother Miranda unexpectedly appears and catches them. She becomes furious, telling reader that she'll only distract Donna and hinder her ability to oversee the village and do her job. The confrontation gets really intense and angsty, and as a punishment, Miranda sends reader to Castle Dimitrescu, forbidding Donna from seeing her ever again.

However, during a visit to the castle to see Alcina, reader manages to convince Miranda to allow her to be with Donna again. When reader finally returns to Donna’s house, she finds Donna completely broken. The moment Donna sees reader, she rushes in for a tight hug, breaking down into tears and declaring that she will never let anyone take her away again.

Thank you! 💖

Yessss!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Forbidden love

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff,

Word count: 8,055

Summary: Your love is a secret, but it can't keep being anymore...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!!

The mansion was dark, gloomy even during the day but… For some time now, you stopped seeing it that way. The cracked walls slowly became a refuge for you, a place that protected you, where you felt safe.

The sound of the waterfall penetrated your ears, relaxing you, taking you away from any strange thoughts, from any worries. Love, you could only feel love, you could only think of her, of the warm atmosphere that surrounded you.

There was no longer fear in that dark place, there were no more cries, no more laments; only laughter, kisses, caresses, soft words that served to remind you where you were, why you wanted to be there.

The soft caresses of her hands on your hair, the relaxing sound of her breathing, her perfume impregnated in your clothes, her presence captivating your soul, everything was like a dream come true, like the conquest of an impossible goal, a utopian and unattainable objective. At least that's what you thought when you started to fall in love with her, that it was impossible.

Donna Beneviento, Lord, sick and dangerous woman, the lady of fear, of sinister dolls... It didn't seem like falling in love with a woman like her could have a happy ending, a fairy tale ending. You were wrong.

Your eyes had met several times; sighs had left your lips at the same time. So close, but so far. Nothing could make you, a simple villager, with no greater talent than your blind faith in the Black Gods, manage to attract her attention.

But again, being wrong was one of your greatest flaws, or one of your greatest virtues, you weren't sure.

Soon you began to get closer, to maintain that gaze you couldn't see, to focus on every detail of her dress, on the pale skin that could be distinguished on her hands. You would never take the first step. You would never even be able to hear her voice.

Mistake after mistake, prejudice after prejudice, those teenage dreams of that lady in black falling in love with you took shape little by little, almost without you realizing it.

A shy greeting, a tea, a conversation… Feats that fate granted you when you saw yourself lost in your own thoughts, in the love you felt irrationally for that mysterious lady, and after too much time, the kiss came.

A chaste, almost cold, innocent kiss she gave you for simply saying what you thought, for seeing the face that hid that black veil and discovering a beauty that you already knew existed. It could have been a reflex action, an involuntary movement of her dark soul when she heard that someone in that village didn’t say she was a monster, that she was beautiful.

Her intentions or thoughts didn’t matter to you, you only cared about that kiss, her soft lips on yours, her hands on your skin, the fact that you stopped dreaming, to live the reality, one that made you not want to sleep, that made your dreams mediocre compared to her kisses, with her whispers of love, with that smile when she saw you every morning… To hell with dreams.

You had become the girlfriend of fear, of death, of darkness, but… Did that matter to you? Not at all.

Moving to that mansion was the best of your decisions, the best of your compulsive behavior, the greatest success of your life. You never believed it was a mistake, not even for a second.

“You said you wanted to read with me,” her soft voice took you out of your own memories, her smile entered your soul to caress it gently, to remind you again and again that it was not a dream.

You smiled back, settling into her lap, lying on her just to enjoy that company you believed would be eternal.

“I'm fine,” you said with a sweet voice, with your hands traveling towards her, caressing her imperfect, but perfect for you, face. “Besides, I don't understand what it says.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, lowering her head to kiss you, to mitigate the voracious hunger your lips had with hers. “Maybe you'd like to do something different.”

“No, no, I'm fine,” you said with a nervous smile, sighing, closing your eyes so her soft caresses on your hair would intensify, so nothing else existed in that mansion, just Donna.

“We could do something together,” the lady said, leaving the book aside, focusing all her attention on you, only on you. “How about making some cookies?”

You pretended to think about it, but you shook your head, smiling mischievously.

“I'd like to take a walk with you, you know, walk hand in hand through the forest…” you murmured, looking at her from below with bright, pleading eyes.

Her tender gaze faded, her eye separated from yours for a moment and a sad sigh came out of her lips.

“You know we can't, tesoro,” she whispered softly, with an apologetic look.

Your heart beat confused, hurt by the truth of her words.

“Um…” you protested, sitting with your arms crossed, frustrated by hearing the same answer over and over again. “Don't get me wrong. Being here with you is wonderful but… I wish I could go for a walk with you from time to time, you know, a romantic dinner in the moonlight… ”

“I know, amore mio, I know,” she said, with the same sad tone, pinching your cheek affectionately, turning so she could take your hand, as if hers felt the same addiction to your skin that yours had. “But we…”

“Yeah, I know, we can't,” you completed her sentence, that terrible mantra that took you out of your dream life. “I don't understand it, Donna.”

Your words were tinged with rage, with unfulfilled desires that blurred the happiness you lived in, that reminded you of what your parents repeated so many times: You can't have everything.

Yes, you could have Donna, she had you, you kissed her, you caressed her, you gave her all the love your little heart could hold but... You couldn't leave that house.

At first you thought that maybe it was due to her understandable fear of losing you, her jealousy, her sick possessiveness. Well, you weren't completely wrong but, there was something else, there was something that prevented you from living that relationship fully.

For Donna you were like a miracle, a fragile possession that could break at any moment, something to protect, something to fight for. That romantic feeling could be good, and it was, but it was just a small part of her absurd fears.

Lady Beneviento was a Lord, a powerful one. You were a stupid, love-struck villager who gave up the boring path young girls like you had. No one could, no one would ever dare to question the lady in black, and you knew it. The village was sinister, but among its rules there was nothing about the prohibition of loving whoever you wanted.

No, that was not the problem, it never was. Problems had names. They were in the form of a dark raven: Mother Miranda, the Lords.

Donna's siblings, Mother Miranda, those were the risks, the real dangers in your relationship.

According to the lady in black, someone like you would be like leaving a piece of meat near a lycan. You would be in danger, everyone would envy her because, in her own words: everyone would want to take you away from her.

You thought they were nothing but absurd worries of her wounded mind, that it was just jealousy, even fear that one of them would steal the heart that already belonged to her. It didn't seem that way, she was truly afraid of them.

And so your relationship was hidden, camouflaged by the sound of the wind. Your kisses and caresses, the nights of passion, were hidden behind the sound of the waterfall. You were like two ghosts who loved each other in the shadows.

Ghosts or not, you got used to living that way, but little by little, the delusions and desires of a young girl like you were overshadowing the pleasure of that tranquility, of that feeling of security that Donna felt by keeping you as a secret.

Those feelings began to bring out the worst in you, your selfishness, your own absurd jealousy. When Donna was at home you existed, when she wasn't, you didn't.

“We've talked about this many times, tesoro...” she sighed, shaking her head, her radiant face darkening at your words. “I'm sorry it has to be this way but…”

“Yes, yes, it's the best for us…” you said tiredly, bringing out your capricious side again, getting angry in a childish way.

“(Y/N),” Donna murmured, cupping your face in her hands, staring at you, fighting your stupid attempts to push her away. “If I lost you…”

“It's not about that, Donna,” you interrupted again, sighing, playing with the fabric of your dress. “I know it's to protect me, but what harm can it do to walk around with you? It's your land, no one will see us.”

“You can never know, (Y/N), the Black Gods are watching,” the lady commented, running her thumb over your skin, silencing your protests with her soft caresses.

“You mean Mother Miranda is watching,” you corrected with a mocking smile, relaxing the tension in your body. “You should tell her, Donna, I'm sure…”

“Hey, you dirty villager! Let my Donna go!” the Angie doll, inevitable guardian of your secret, approached you, climbing onto the sofa and waving her limbs.

“Angie, lasciala stare,” Donna ordered, angry at her doll's mocking attitude, at her constant attacks on you, ones that you knew weren't serious. To tell the truth, you got along quite well.

“You cheesy, clingy Donna!” the puppet scolded her, causing the lady to laugh shyly as she quickly kissed you. “Disgusting Donna!”

“Hey, come on, Angie, don't be jealous,” you said with a mocking purr, kissing the lady again just to annoy that sinister puppet.

“Me, jealous!? Please…” the doll protested, just as you wanted it to do. “Let her go, let her go, she has work to do.”

“Work?” you asked curiously, letting Angie comically untie your fingers. “I thought you were done with your dolls for today,” you said, looking at Donna, who frowned, drawing the puppet back with a gesture of her hand.

“And it's true, I don't have any more work,” she murmured, a little confused. “Angie,cosa vuoi dire?”

“Are you deaf? Didn't you hear the phone?” the doll asked.

Donna and you looked at each other confused, smiling mischievously. No, there were better things to do than to keep an eye on that thing.

“Yeah, I guess you didn’t,” the doll murmured, walking across the couch and pushing Donna by the shoulders with ridiculous force. “Meeting! There's a meeting, silly Donna!”

“Meeting?” Donna asked, shaking off the doll's annoying movements. “When?”

“Exactly…” the doll said, pretending to look at a non-existent wristwatch. “Half an hour ago.”

“What?!” the lady shrieked nervously, getting up from the couch immediately, ignoring your pleading look. “Cavolo, Angie, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn't you say you were busy?” the puppet mocked, causing the lady to growl in annoyance. “You're going to be late again,” she sang.

“If you told me before, I'd never be late,” the woman in black protested, searching the entire room for her black veil.

“If you weren't making out with (Y/N) all day long, I could tell you,” Angie replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head towards you.

“She's right, I think I'm taking up too much of your time,” you commented amused, getting up as well and taking the veil she was almost desperately looking for. “Here, darling.”

“Oh, grazie…” she said with a relieved smile, playing with the black fabric in her hands. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“You'd probably be later because you wouldn't find anything,” you joked, kissing her wounded cheek, which she was ashamed of. “Go, honey, I'll wait for you here.”

“Okay,” she said, smoothing her dress, ready to cover her face again. “Don't worry, I won't be long.”

“Wait,” you said with a frown, grabbing Donna by the wrist. “Let, let me go with you.”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed, shaking her head. “You know that…”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted hastily, with a nervous smile on your face. “I want, I mean I can walk with you to the door.”

“Mm?” she murmured curious about your proposal, forgetting that hurry she was in a few seconds ago. You always managed that. If there was someone to blame for her continuous delays, it was you.

“That way I could walk with you through the woods, even if it was just a few minutes.”

“Tesoro… What if…?” she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, letting your hands gently grip her waist.

“It's a very short walk, so I won't complain about you not taking me anywhere,” you joked with a childish, expectant smile. She rolled her eye and sighed, capturing your lips in a wet, short, but intense kiss.

“Mm, okay,” she finally said, walking with you towards the exit. “But just to the door.”

You nodded profusely, stealing one last kiss from her before leaving the mansion for the first time in months.

Walking with her hand in hand clouded almost all of your fears, your worries. It was a silent, peaceful, relaxing walk. The snow crunched under your feet while your hands played at caressing each other. It was perfect, a pity that the wooden door was the end of that romantic walk.

“Come back soon, okay?” you said in a soft voice, your hands swinging with hers. A beautiful smile came to your eyes again, that loving smile you only thought you saw when you looked in the mirror, that you never thought you would see on her face.

“Sure, tesoro…” she sighed, running one of her hands over your cheek. “We could watch a movie when I get back, what do you think?”

“Only if you make dinner,” you joked, laughing with her, giving her a tight goodbye hug.

“Okay,” she said, laughing, without taking her gaze off yours.

“Hey, Donna,” you said when the warmth of her body left yours. “Won't you give me a goodbye kiss?”

The lady approached again, pulling your waist in a romantic, chivalrous way.

“Just one?” she asked with a hoarse voice, whispering in your ear before fulfilling your request, kissing you deeply, not wanting to let you go.

“Ahem,” a different voice, one that was not Angie's, bounced off the trees in the forest, startling you.

“Who's there?” the lady asked, looking around scared, just like you.

A shadowy figure, with golden claws, appeared in a dark cloud. The priestess of the Black Gods, the owner and mistress of the village, Mother Miranda.

The lady in black opened her eyes wide, moving her arms to hide you behind her body. You could hear her heart beating fast, similar to yours.

“Mother Miranda,” she whispered with a broken voice. “What are…?”

“Shut up,” the witch interrupted. “Well, well, what do we have here? You, come out,” she ordered, forcing you to look out and walk next to Donna, with your head down and your hands together in a sign of respect.

“M-Mother Miranda,” you whispered, feeling completely unprotected if it weren't for Donna keeping you by her side, with a hand on your shoulder.

“How curious… I've been wondering for months why my youngest daughter was neglecting her tasks… She was late for meetings, she didn't seem to be in this world… Well, more than usual,” Miranda commented, with a mocking tone that put your nerves on edge.

“It's not what it seems,” Donna whispered, with a dangerous tone, but inevitably scared.

“No? And what is it?” the witch joked, slowly approaching you, lifting your chin with one of her golden claws, looking at you with feigned interest. “Because I think you were kissing this beauty.”

“Le, leave her alone,” Donna murmured, with a dark look, annoyed by the priestess's touch on your face. “She h-hasn't done anything wrong.”

“Oh, you defend her, that gives you away even more, dear,” Miranda said, laughing mockingly, letting you go, letting the dollmaker's arms surround your body, keeping it safe. “Look…”

“(Y/N) is… Is… My girlfriend,” Donna said, keeping you close to her, diverting your head with her hand so you wouldn't look at her, so it rested on her shoulder.

“Girlfriend? You? Don't make me laugh,” Miranda said with a more mocking, unpleasant laugh, pointing her claws at you. “What a surprise... I thought you could only love your dolls...”

“You, you're wrong,” the lady hissed, still hugging you, thus evidencing the trembling of her body, the fear she felt from the woman who gave her a second chance when she had already given up, when she wanted to die. “(Y/N) is...”

“What is she? Apart from a stupid girl...” Miranda mocked again, making your insides burn. But that wasn't enough of a reason for the words to dare to leave your lips.

“Don't insult her!” Donna shrieked, enraged, terribly nervous. “She's not stupid.”

“No? What's wrong with her? What's her problem then?” the witch asked, pulling your arm to separate you, something she achieved due to her strength. “What are you, (Y/N)?”

“Please, Mother Miranda, I don't…” you stammered, hissing in pain as her golden nails dug into your skin.

“You're stupid, Donna,” the priestess said, ignoring your words. “Have you been fooled again? How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?”

“She hasn't fooled me,” Donna protested, struggling with her Goddess's grip, trying to free you from it. “She's my girlfriend, mine.”

“Yours? Please... Look, (Y/N), she's crazy about you,” Miranda said, separating you from Donna definitively, grabbing you from behind, holding your head up. “That's what you wanted, right?”

“I don't know what are you talking about,” you said shyly, nervous, scared but determined to protect the woman you loved.

“Oh, yes you do,” the witch hissed, very close to your ear. “It's not right to take advantage of someone like Donna, don't you think?”

“Mother Miranda, please, if I could explain…” Donna said, clasping her hands together, her eye wet from her imminent tears.

“Silence, Donna,” Miranda snapped, hardening her expression. “You're a stupid lunatic, how can you let yourself be fooled by these tender eyes?”

“Fooled? No, no, you’re wrong…” you protested, suddenly falling silent when you felt a strong tug on your hair. “Ah!”

“Lasciala!” the lady shouted, approaching furiously, trying to free you again from the grip of the priestess, who simply shook her head, moving away from her attempts to grab you.

“Shhh, be still, dear, if you want me not to hurt her,” the blonde threatened, putting one of her claws on your neck, exposing it in an unpleasant way.

Donna moved away, shaking her head, pulling her hair, suffering a terrible nervous breakdown that you could not relieve.

“No, no, no, no, no…” she murmured, walking erratically, out of her mind. Not even Angie could help her, she was not present, she had fled from the fury of her Goddess. “No! No! Cazzo!”

“Donna…” you sobbed, trying to get out of that fierce grip, watching how the lady in black knelt in the snow, babbling things without sense, completely losing her mind.

“You are pathetic, Beneviento… A naive woman,” the blonde hissed, with a calmer tone. “Did you really think someone could feel something for you?”

A heartbroken cry interrupted that horrible moment. The lady moved nervously, hitting the snow with her fists, babbling, cursing, screaming without any kind of control.

“You're making her nervous!” you shrieked, trying to free yourself from those golden claws. “She's having a crisis! Don't you see it?”

“How dare you to talk to me like that?” Miranda whispered, fighting your impulses to help your beloved, to comfort her.

“Let me go! I have to help her!” you screamed, with a furious push towards the priestess who finally let you go.

“Donna, Donna, my love…” you whispered, throwing yourself to the ground next to her, tightly grabbing her wrists, preventing her from hurting herself, like other times. “Don’t, don't do that… Don't hurt yourself, my love…”

“Tu mi ami!” she screamed among sobs, moving on herself desperately. You nodded, lowering her wrists, broken. “You, you don't want to hut… Hurt… Hurt me.”

“Of course not, baby… My sweet Donna, please, please stop, stop doing that,” you begged, feeling the cold snow on your knees, with your face wet from your helpless tears. “Donna…”

Miranda watched the scene with disdain, slowly approaching where you were, without saying anything, without intervening, just watching.

“Shhh, stop, stop please, my love…” you whispered, holding her head, resting her forehead against yours, breathing as calmly as possible. “Donna… Relax…”

“You're not evil…” the lady in black whispered, fighting with her demons, with the voices in her head. Her nerves had betrayed her. They had forced the woman you loved to lose control. “You're not evil… I love you…”

“I love you too, I love you so much,” you said, shaking your head, hugging Donna tightly, letting her tears soak your dress. “Don't pay attention to her, my love… She doesn't know how much I love you…”

Your crying also got out of control when you thought about how you had gotten to that situation. Your capricious and selfish side had provoked the worst of her fears: that your relationship would be discovered, by the worst possible person.

“Gods… I, I'm so sorry… It, it was my fault,” you lamented, melting into the deranged woman in an intense hug, controlling the terrible tremors of her body, the curse she carried with her since she was born, her madness.

“You're not going to leave me… You love me…” Donna stammered, a bit calmer thanks to your well-learned breathing exercises.

“Yes, yes darling, I love you, you're the love of my life,” you repeated in a low voice, keeping her gaze with yours, relieved to see that little by little, the madness disappeared from her eye.

“Mm, it seems I was wrong about you, (Y/N),” Miranda murmured, bending down to observe the situation, how your words were the best of relaxants for the lady in black. “You seem to know Donna very well.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” you said without paying attention to her, wiping the tears from the brunette's face. “Her well-being is the only thing that concerns me.”

“I see,” the witch sighed. “Lift her up.”

You nodded, obeying carefully, holding Donna by the arms, standing up.

“That's it my love... You're so good, Donna,” you said in a comforting tone, holding the lady in place, checking how her body relaxed, something her breathing was unable to do. “Calmati, amore mio…”

“You're good at it,” the witch commented, brushing the brunette's hair away, who growled at her touch. “Not any stupid villager would put up with someone like her.”

“Don't talk that way about her,” you hissed, clenching your fists tightly as the bird woman smoothed your lover's dress.

“Maybe you are stupid,” Miranda said, with a sardonic smile. “Don't you know who you're talking to?”

“Mother Miranda… Don’t, don't hurt her, I beg you…” Donna murmured, in a hoarse tone, broken by tears, her gaze fixed on the snow. You, seeing that she had already woken up from that terrible attack, approached her, holding her hand tightly. “(Y/N) is the most important thing in my life.”

“Mm, I see…” the witch said, with an amused tone that unhinged you even more. “More important than your duties as a Lord?”

“More important than my own life,” the lady in black hissed, adopting a protective pose again, not wanting to let your hand go.

“How romantic…” Miranda sighed, rolling her eyes camouflaged in a horrible mask. “Look, my terrible daughter is capable of love. I would never have imagined it.”

“Basta,” Donna said.

“No, no, I'm the one who says basta, dear…” the priestess said, walking around you like what she was, a carrion bird. “How many times have you been late to meetings? How many times have you ignored masses to the Gods? Do you know how many stupid monster hunters have come to the village?”

“I don't know,” the lady said, defeated, embarrassed by her words, keeping you close to her.

“Oh, you don't know,” Miranda said, crossing her arms haughtily, giving a soft slap to Donna, a mocking one, one that didn't mean to hurt her, but to humiliate her. “Stupida…”

“I'm sorry,” Donna said, totally helpless, avoiding looking at her Goddess, her Mother.

“I'm sorry…” the blonde mocked, with an expression that feigned surprise. “Save your apologies, Donna. You have neglected your duties, your position as a Lord. Tell me, what will the villagers think if they realize that my fearsome daughter, Lady Beneviento, no longer behaves like one?”

“Please, Mother Miranda,” you interrupted, catching her attention when she grabbed Donna by her chin, squeezing her face tightly. “Leave her alone, please.”

She let your beloved go, approaching you again with a dangerous step, with a sinister laugh.

“It's all, it's all my fault, Mother Miranda. I, I have distracted her…” you confessed, trying to free Donna from a severe punishment, from the fury of the Black Gods.

“You… Of course it was you, what else could it be?” Miranda murmured, laughing mockingly again. “You are the one to blame, of course.”

“No!” Donna shrieked, shaking her head, putting herself between you and her Goddess to try to protect you from her wrath. “It's not her fault!”

“She said it was, and look… I believe her,” the blonde said, unfazed by Donna's aggressive gesture. “What do we do with you now?”

“Please don't hurt her, please, Mother Miranda,” Donna hissed, with darkness in her voice, but also a desperate plea. “Please…”

“You've got her crazy, huh?” the witch said, looking at you. “Well, okay… I feel merciful today.”

The two of you looked at each other with a smile of relief, believing that the danger had passed. Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Get Alcina,” the witch whispered to a nearby crow, which made an ominous sound after flying away.

You didn't hear it, and neither did Donna. The two of you were hugging each other, whispering to each other that everything would be okay, how much you loved each other, how much you would be able to fight for your love.

“Say goodbye to her, Donna,” Miranda said, interrupting those soft and fearful kisses, those intense caresses.

“What?” the lady in black said, moving away from your hold and looking at the priestess with a frightened expression.

“You don't expect me to let that silly girl distract you anymore, do you, dear?” Miranda murmured, with a passive gesture with her golden hands.

“What?” you asked, confused, protected again by the arms of your beloved.

“You have me fed up, Donna, I'm fed up with you not being able to maintain your status as Lord because of a stupid girl,” the witch hissed. “You should thank me. I'm not going to hurt her.”

“What are you going to...?” the lady asked, backing away from something you still couldn't see, quickly putting on the black veil that rested in the snow.

“How fast,” Miranda said, amused, as a long shadow appeared next to you.

“I wasn't far from here.” A sensual voice, a huge size, an elegant step, a snow-white dress. The first Lord, the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu, appeared behind the wooden door, staring at you.

“Her,” the witch said, pointing at you. “Take her.”

“What?!” Donna protested, hugging you tighter, angrily looking for a place to escape. There wasn't one. “No, no!”

“Yes, yes, and yes, Donna,” Miranda mocked. “(Y/N) is not good for you.”

“No, please...” you begged, noticing how the lady of the castle had put her interest in you.

“Enough of your complaints. The girl will serve in the castle as punishment for your incompetence, Beneviento.”

“No!” Donna shrieked again, interrupted by a strong grip on her shoulder, which almost made her let you go.

“Did I miss something?” Alcina asked, clearing her throat to get your attention.

“This girl will be your new maid,” Miranda said, sighing, pointing at you with her finger. “I trust there will be no objections.”

“None, Mother Miranda,” Alcina murmured, reaching out to grab you.

“Don’t touch her! Don’t touch her!” Donna protested. “She’s mine!”

“Yours?” Alcina asked, looking curiously at the lady in black.

“No, not anymore…” Miranda sighed, shaking her head. “Take her away at once.”

“No, I won’t let you! You can’t take her away from me!” Donna shouted angrily, holding you tightly against her, something Miranda prevented with a strong tug on your hair.

“Do you prefer that I take her life? Because that's what I'm going to do if I hear you say one more word,” the priestess threatened, pushing you hard against the lady in white, who was still confused by the situation.

Donna shook her head, crying again, trying to reach you without success, the witch prevented her.

“You will not see her again, do you hear me? I forbid it,” Miranda hissed, holding the furious Lady Beneviento, who was unable to say anything but curses or insults in Italian.

“No, Donna!” you shouted, grabbed by the waist by the lady of the castle, reaching out your hand to hers while she did the same.

The tips of your fingers touched, as a last attempt at farewell. You growled to be able to touch her, to be able to enjoy the softness of her hands one last time.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Donna shrieked, being dragged away from you by Miranda. “No!”

“Donna!” you screamed with all your might, lowering the hand that was unable to touch hers, retreating from the grip of the lady in white, who pulled you. “Donna!”

It was over.

There would be no more kisses, no hugs, no caresses. Your whole life, that dream you were living became a nightmare. You couldn't go back to her, you couldn't love her, you couldn't even see her. All because of you.

Your absurd desires and your lack of understanding of the danger had taken you to hell, to a place far from her. You couldn't imagine something so unfair, you couldn't imagine waking up and not seeing Donna by your side.

“Do you want anything else, my lady?” you said in a sad voice, after having spent entire nights crying, longing for her kisses, her hands, serving the Dimitrescu family for a couple of horrible weeks, the worst of your life.

“Mm, no,” said Alcina, your mistress since that fateful day.

The phone rang, startling you as you were about to leave the room, ready for another day of nightmares, of memories that would never return

“Yes, stay,” the lady in white said, pointing to a place in front of her while impatiently expelling the smoke from her cigarette. “There.”

You nodded, head down. You couldn't ignore her orders. She was your new owner, owner of your presence, maybe one day of your body. But if there was something Alcina could never possess, your heart.

“Hello, dear…” Alcina murmured, picking up the phone with a tired sigh. “Stop crying, I don't understand you,” she protested, under your confused gaze. “Donna, stop, speak in my language, Gods…”

Donna, it was she who spoke on the other end of the phone. Your heart skipped a beat, your cheeks flushed, and your body began to tremble. You didn't know if you didn't want to be there, or if you wanted to leave to forget her presence, to force your mind, and your soul to forget that love you felt and that you could never experience again.

“Mm, thank you, Angie,” Alcina said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, yes, she's here…” she said in a seductive tone, guiding her gaze to you. “Mm, well, she's wearing the uniform that maids wear… Gods, Donna, no, it’s not about that I haven’t touch her,” she squealed, annoyed by something.

“My, my lady,” you stammered, looking at the floor, too blinded by your feelings, by the desire you had to hear her voice again. “Please, let me talk to her.”

“Wait a moment,” ​​Alcina said disinterestedly, covering the phone and sighing sadly. “I can't do that, dear.”

“Please,” you sobbed, reaching out your hand towards that phone, towards the only way you could communicate to her.

“Don't, yell, Donna!” the lady in white protested with a furious growl. “You know what will happen if I do.”

“Please…” you repeated again, your voice cracking from crying, from helplessness.

“Oh…” Alcina murmured, rubbing her eyes with a tired sigh. “I'll give you a minute,” she finally said, gesturing for you to come closer, but moving the device away when your impatient hands went to grab it. “On one condition.”

You nodded nervously.

“You're going to tell me what the hell is going on between you and my sister,” Alcina said, with an amused look.

“Yes, my lady,” you said with a sigh, picking up the phone, your whole body shaking. “Donna, it's me…”

“(Y/N), amore mio, tesoro…” the lady in black said, sobbing, just like you. “I'm so glad to hear your voice.”

“Me, me too,” you said with a radiant smile, enjoying the soft melody of her words. “Donna, I miss you so much…”

“The house is so empty without you… I can't stand it anymore…” she said, her voice breaking. “I can't…”

“Donna…” you murmured, with a tear falling on the wooden dresser. “It’s, it's all my fault…”

“No, don't say that… Don't say that, amore mio… Just, just tell me that… That… That… That you still love me as much as I love you…” the doll maker begged, with a voice increasingly broken by tears.

“I could never stop loving you, Donna, never,” you said with an angry voice, clenching your fist tightly, almost hurting yourself. “I love you, my love.”

“(Y/N), I think about you every day, every hour… I love you, I will always love you…”

“Donna…” you sobbed unable to say another word different than her name, the name of your love. “Donna…”

“(Y/N)…”

“Okay, that's enough,” Alcina said, taking the phone from your hand and hanging it up abruptly, ending that conversation.

“No!” you screamed, picking it up again, knowing that the love of your life was no longer on the other end. “Donna…”

“Well,” the lady of the castle sighed, crossing her arms and nodding to a place for you to stand. “Start talking, dear, I'm listening.”

“I love her.” You were able to say, wiping away your tears. She was now your mistress, you couldn't forget that.

“Mm, that seems obvious,” the vampire commented, offering you a cigarette that you refused. “If before I met you they told me that my dear sister has a girlfriend, well, I probably wouldn't have believed them.”

“With all due respect, my lady, but that's none of your business,” you hissed, without thinking about your words, forgetting again the dangers that surrounded you.

“Mm, how bold,” the lady in white joked, tilting her head mockingly. “It turns out that you're here for that reason. It’s my business. You're clumsy and you can't stop crying. That vase over there is a better maid than you.”

“That's because I don't want to be here,” you replied wittily, crossing your arms. “It's not fair.”

“Life isn't fair, my dear…” she murmured, shaking her head, ignoring your scorn.

“Then kill me,” you said angrily, helpless, unable to contain that burning in your chest, that lack of her heart beating against yours. “If I'm not fit to be a maid, finish me off. I have nothing left.”

“And take away poor Donna's toy? Mm, I don't think she'll take it well,” Alcina joked, with a sinister laugh. “You must be very important to her. She keeps calling me day after day, asking about you.”

“I only know how important she is to me and that… I, I've lost her,” you said, with a more confident tone, with tears threatening to run down your face again. “I'm not her toy, nor her girlfriend, I'm nothing.”

“You'd have to ask her, wouldn't you? She's very... Insistent,” the lady joked again, confusing you. “Look, dear, I'd like to let you leave my property and return to her, but...”

“You can't do it. I've heard that before,” you finished, lowering your head.

“I'd like to, dear,” Alcina said, with a softer tone, as if she were really being sincere. But even if your heart harbored that slight hope, you knew it wouldn't be possible. “You've angered Mother Miranda.”

“She's the one who's angry!” you shouted nervously. “We've done nothing but love each other! Is that now bad too? Doesn't Donna having the right to be loved? Just because she's a Lord mean she doesn't have the right to be loved?”

“Relax, little bird…” Alcina whispered, with a threatening voice. “Mother Miranda wants the best for her children.”

“Mother Miranda has no idea what's best for Donna, she only cares about this stupid village,” you growled, forgetting what you were doing, who was listening to your desperate complaints.

“And I suppose you do know, don't you?” she asked, with a soft smile, not bothered by her attitude.

“Donna has to be with me… I, I have to be with her…” you stammered, shaking your head.

Alcina sighed, putting out her cigarette.

“Mother Miranda is a woman who likes to have everything controlled, (Y/N),” the lady began, crossing her legs, with her eyes fixed on yours. “You and I know the problems Donna has. I'm not going to tell you anything you don't know.”

“That never mattered to me,” you said firmly.

“Mm… Love does those things, doesn't it?” she commented amused. “Now think: if Donna stopped paying attention to her duties because she is drawn to you like a fly to the light… How do you think that would mean to someone like Miranda?”

“Donna doesn't get distracted, it's my fault,” you confessed, remembering the many occasions in which your affection, your hugs, made a dent in the duties of the Lord.

“Of course it’s yours… I don't blame her for going towards the light of your smile,” Alcina murmured, with a seductive tone, one that caused an embarrassed smile to stand out on your face. “Well, I don't like to agree with one of my maids but… Look, I wouldn't have to tell you this but… Donna is not well.”

“I already know that,” you hissed, imagining what the hell your absence had caused must be like, the times she would have screamed, that she would have lost control. “Me neither.”

“Mm, you have no idea, dear…” Alcina whispered, with a darker tone. “Donna has not attended the meetings for two weeks, coincidence? I doubt it… Gods, I know she is alive because she doesn’t stop harassing me with her stupid calls.”

“Is Miranda's fault, she is to blame for everything,” you said, hurt by the truth of those words, by the descent that the brunette made towards the darkness again.

“You won’t hear me say something like that,” Alcina laughed, shaking her head. “You said it.”

“Then… Then do something, let me go with her,” you begged again, joining your hands.

“You are a very stubborn girl, of course you are made for each other,” the lady sighed, rolling her eyes. “I can't do anything… But you can.”

“Me? What? I'll do anything,” you said excitedly, knowing that the light inside you was shining brighter and brighter.

“Mother Miranda has a habit of having tea with me every month…” Lady Dimitrescu explained. “What a coincidence, that day is today.”

Your smile faded when you realized the situation. It didn't matter what you said, she would never give in.

“I won't be able to do anything to convince her,” you whispered furiously. “She'll never let someone like me get away with it.”

“You can't know if you don't try, dear…”

The rest of the day passed as always, sad, grey, empty. In the hallways you heard Alcina's daughters screaming, laughing out loud. You remembered Angie, you remembered those afternoons when her sinister laughter was always there to bother you. Miranda's visit would be soon…

“Enough,” the witch said while you served her tea with trembling hands. You were sure that someone like you would not have that privilege, was it Alcina's doing?

“Go away, dear,” murmured your lady, to which you nodded with your head down, standing to one side of the door.

“Did Donna call this morning?” Miranda asked with disinterest.

Your body stirred at hearing her name, but you didn’t give yourself away, you remained rooted to the spot.

“Like every day, Mother,” Alcina said, with a tired tone. “She's getting worse.”

“Mm, I suppose that... Damn stupid girl...” the witch muttered, with a look of contempt towards you. “She'll never learn.”

Alcina sighed, but nodded, agreeing with the priestess. Both Alcina and you knew she wasn’t right.

“Don't be hard on her, you know she's not right in the head,” the lady in white said. Your hands were shaking more and more.

“Mm, believe me, I know, but this is too much. She hasn't picked up the phone for days, ignoring her chores,” the witch said, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “I suppose it's the whims of a stupid child... By the way, how is your new acquisition doing?”

“She's a pain in the ass, Mother Miranda,” your lady answered, looking at you in the same way as the priestess, studying you with her eyes. “She's clumsy, she doesn't know how to do anything and besides, my maids can't sleep because of her.”

“How is that?” Miranda asked, horribly amused.

“She don't stop crying,” Alcina said, bringing her teacup to her lips, looking at you intensely.

“I can't believe it... Come here,” the priestess said, pointing at you unpleasantly. Your body burned with fury, but you obeyed reluctantly, walking slowly, denying her the look she asked for.

“Mother Miranda,” you whispered elegantly, but revealing a certain mockery.

“I still don't understand what Donna could see in you,” she commented with a serious look, looking you up and down in a contemptuous way. “You are a simple villager.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda, I’m a stupid villager,” you repeated through clenched teeth, making the witch raise her eyebrows, with a sinister smile.

“I see that you have been taught manners,” she commented amused, settling down on the sofa. “I want you to answer my questions, (Y/N).”

You nodded slowly, looking for Alcina's help with your gaze, which came in the form of a slight nod.

“What exactly did you do to Donna to make her completely lose her mind?” she asked in a passive tone, one that did not reflect any emotion. “Answer me.”

“I don't know, Mother Miranda,” you answered sincerely, remembering that smile, the one you didn't want to forget.

“Are you comfortable here?” she asked again, nodding slightly after your stammering answer.

“Y-Yes, Mother Miranda,” you lied, earning a dark look.

“Oh, so you don't feel like going back to your dear Donna, do you?” Miranda joked, looking away to pick up her cup of tea.

“I dying to do it, Mother Miranda,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“Mm,” she murmured, taking a sip from her cup, tasting the tea you made and which unfortunately wasn't poisoned. “Love makes people stupid… I thought that taking my little daughter away from you would be a good punishment for having been ignoring her chores but… I see that I've only made it worse.”

“Mother Miranda, please, I beg you…” you interrupted closing your eyes, kneeling down pathetically. “Allow me to return to her side.”

“Here we go again…” Miranda murmured, shaking her head. “If I let you go… How do I know that Donna will fulfill her chores?”

“Mother Miranda, I must intervene,” Alcina interrupted, gesturing for you to stand up. “That girl may seem stupid, but she is not, believe me, I know her. I think there may be a solution that pleases us all.”

“I hear you,” the priestess said, looking away from you.

“The girl will be in charge of ensuring that Donna fulfills her obligations. It is a good idea, don't you think? If that is the only thing she responds to… Well, she will surely listen to her, if she loves her as much as she says…”

“Mm, interesting…” Miranda sighed, looking at you with interest. “There is only one way to check it. Well, (Y/N), you heard me. Go with Donna but… If she misses one more mass, one single meeting, well… I won’t be so pious anymore.”

Your face could only sketch a smile, your legs were already moving to leave through the door, but not before nodding to the lady in white, you knew that without her, nothing would have been possible.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” you said happily, leaving definitively through the door.

You ran out of the castle, forgetting about the cold, the snow, any stupid obstacle that interrupted your way back, back home.

“Donna?”  you said as soon as you entered the estate again.

The landscape was desolate. Battered furniture, broken plates, shattered dolls... The darkness of that place was soaked with suffering, with pain. Donna had destroyed everything, she had directed her anger towards anything that was on her way.

“Donna...” you sighed, horrified by what you saw, by being able to feel her madness through the broken glass, the dismembered dolls.

You walked stepping on the result of her fury, looking for some remains of the brunette anywhere. A dark shape in the corner indicated her position. Sitting on the floor, her head buried in her knees, was Donna.

“D-Donna,” you called again, walking quickly towards her. She didn't seem to see you. She didn't seem to hear you, to know you were there. It was a terrible sight for your fragile heart.

“Silly!” Angie shrieked, appearing behind you while you tried to move her frozen arms, to lift her head so she could see you. “You're back!”

“Of course I'm back, I couldn't…” you murmured, unable to make the Lord react, who stammered a constant mantra.

“Don't leave me, don't forget me…” she whispered with a hoarse voice, torn by her tears.

“Angie, help me,” you ordered the doll, trying to lift the lady in black off the floor, who struggled with you, pushing you away as if you were one of her demons.

“Donna, Donna! The fool is back!” Angie shrieked, tugging at her dress when you finally managed to get her to her feet.

“Donna, my love… It's me… I'm here,” you said in a soft voice, stopping her head from moving erratically.

“No…” she growled, pushing you unpleasantly. “You're not here… You're not here!”

“Honey, my love… I'm, I'm here, Mi, Miranda has released me, please, darling, react, I beg you,” you said nervously, managing to grab her hands, holding them tightly in yours.

“(Y/N),” she sighed, once her skin made contact with yours, slowly raising her gaze, her eye reddened by suffering. “(Y/N)!”

Her reaction was overwhelming. She threw herself into your arms, holding you tightly against her, kissing you desperately, almost without letting you breathe.

“Amore mio… You're back…” she whispered crying, with a romantic smile, not leaving an inch of your face unkissed. “But… But how?”

“It's known that you can't live without me,” you joked, elated, happy to have returned to the arms of your beloved. “She has allowed me to come back.��

“Oh, I… Gods… I… I'm, I'm sorry,” Donna said, nervous, caressing you, assuring herself that you weren't a hallucination.

“No, don't apologize”

“(Y/N)…” she sighed again, hugging you, pulling your dress with her hands, clinging to you to never let you go. “I will never, ever let anyone else take you away from me… I, I promise you… I love you, I love you, I love you…”

[starfilmz]

THERE SHE GOES — DEAN F.

⤷ Just tooth-rotting fluff of you talking to Dean Forrester for the first time. ᡣ𐭩

cw: fem!reader, so much fluff and sweetness, just reader being a girl, this is s1 dean since he’s the only i’ve seen, no rory au lmao, unbeta’d so grammar and spelling mistakes are probably there, english is not my first language :,) banner || gif

“Here are the keys, darlin’.” The item jingled in between Ms. Patty’s fingers as it landed on your palms, barely catching it from falling on the piles of snow on the ground. You were never really the graceful one. It took you about a year of living in Stars Hallow to get used to Ms. Patty’s natural whimsicalness and spontaneous energy—you’re not getting any smoother by the days.

You shoved the keys down your pocket, watching as she walked down the small set of stairs. “You’re closing a bit earlier today. Something happened?”

“Tomorrow’s Bid on a Basket, honey! I gotta make my own set for the wonderful event—maybe I’ll be able to enjoy some of my fresh cakes with a fine man,” Ms. Patty winked, giggling to herself. “A lot of people are joinin', I heard. Are you not participating?”

Your mouth contorted into a mixture of a smile and a frown—if that was even possible—as you awkwardly chuckled. “Probably not this time, Ms. Patty.”

As much as you wished to join the fundraiser, most of your free time in the morning was consumed with homework and your jobs. Your mom’s decision to switch jobs last month caused a bit of a financial strain in the family, resulting in you taking on more jobs as she adjusted to her new work.

“I’m working a shift at Luke’s tomorrow. I won’t have the time to make the food and hang out with the lucky bidder.” Your lips formed into a straight line as you looked at her. “Who’s always been my mom, anyway.”

“Don’t be so down, honey. I’m sure there’s a special boy who’s willing to pay for your basket.”

“That’s not—”

“I heard the new boy in your school started working in the grocery store a few weeks ago. Maybe he had some paychecks to spare.”

You snorted at her words. “Ms. Patty, c’mon.”

She had a proud expression as she finally took off, leaving you by yourself at the studio. “See you tomorrow, honey.” You waved goodbye as she left. She was truly an unpredictable woman—you would be lying if you said you didn’t wish to have at least a quarter of her confidence.

You knew of this ‘new boy’ she was talking about. Stars Hallow High School was not big enough for mystery; everyone knows each other if not by name, face, or by being their parents’ friend’s kid. Dean Forester joined a month into the semester, and you were surprised he wasn’t as popular as you expected him to be. But, at the same time, if it weren’t your shared classes with him, you barely saw the boy outside the building.

Lane, one of your childhood friends, was particularly fond of Dean’s friend, Todd. There were moments where you wished you could join on in your friend’s excitement, but—as Lane had commented several times—you were too busy making money to even notice the boys around you. But one single afternoon in between classes, you caught yourself staring far too intensely at Dean when he passed by the hallway when he suddenly met your eyes. You couldn’t recall what you did when it happened, just that it resulted in a startled Lane and a booming sound of your locker closing.

Have you been purposely avoiding him ever since? Yes. It’s not like the two of you talked anyway. Though it didn’t help when you began noticing him in Doose’s market more often than you liked.

You sighed, shaking your head at the one-sided chaos you’ve managed to create in the midst of the boy’s arrival. You weren’t exactly “boy crazy” as Lane’s mom would call the girls in your school, but you’re literally just a girl.

“God forbid I find a guy attractive.” You mumbled to yourself as you began to close the doors of Ms. Patty’s studio. The children had ballet today, so there were twice the amount of tutus inside; an array of pinks, blues, and whites decorated the wooden floors.

As you cleaned up the rest of the clutter, closing boxes and stacking them in the same way you saw them last night, you noticed one particular box was by the door, the heaviest one.

Inside were miscellaneous items (you’re sure some of them were lost as well) and you’ve experienced several aging moments after carrying them all the way to where they should be in the studio—the opposite side of the room.

You stifled a sigh, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater as you crouched down. Whatever was inside the box, new or not, doubled the weight you carried yesterday, and you prayed this wouldn’t be the reason you’ll hurt your back.

Just as you were about to put your hands on the bottom of the box, you heard footsteps on the wooden stairs; one of the hinges on the doors creaked. You had no time to look up and see who it was before you heard the unfamiliar voice.

“Need any help?” Without warning, a face you’ve been dreading to see came into view. His hair fell on both sides of his head as he lowered himself in front of you and the large box.

Dean grinned, his pearly whites showing themselves, and God, why did he have such eye-catching dimples?

You were sure something in your head was short-circuited because of how much you stumbled on your reply. “I- yes, I guess, if you want to- it’s totally up to you, if you want… to help.”

He chuckled at your response, and you can’t really blame him for that, but you decided to ignore the gnawing embarrassment you felt as you laughed along with him. It was the first you’ve ever heard his laugh—his voice in general, actually—and somehow, with your logic, you thought it fitted him perfectly.

You saw his arm move around behind the box in between the two of you, as if looking for something underneath. Dean still had a smile on his face as he readjusted himself on the floor, mimicking your crouched position. It took you by surprise to feel his hand on yours, and you had to fight back the urge to flinch.

“Here, take both of your hands under these corners, and I’ll take the opposite,” Dean instructed, moving your hands into position. You brushed off the thought of how his hands consumed yours. “then we’ll stand up on three.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the box shift as he adjusted his grip. “One… two… three.” The two of you rose together, the box hovering between you, expectedly heavy but manageable as you moved in sync.

The two of you placed the box on the ground with a huff. You had to stretch your back as you stood up. Dean was doing the same thing, though his expression seemingly filled with amusement. He doesn’t say anything and you raised an eyebrow at this.

“What?” You said, pulling down your sleeves.

Dean shook his head. “It’s nothing. I, um, wasn’t expecting to see you here. Do you work for Ms. Patty?”

You caught the way he changed the subject, but decided to leave it alone for now. “Aren’t we all?”

This caused a chuckle from him as he scratched the back of his neck. “That’s true. I still haven’t thanked her for getting me a job at Doose’s.”

Dean followed you around the studio as you continued to pick up props and tutus off of the floor. He would grab what looked out of place and parroted where you’d place them. You didn’t protest at his presence—as much as you wanted to for the sake of your own mental health—and allowed him to help along. Besides, you didn’t have the heart to kick him out, and while your brain protested, your heart wasn’t exactly against Dean.

“The best thank you you could give her is probably keeping the job she gave you,” you joked and followed up with, “and bid on her basket.”

As you chucked the last baton inside with the others, you turned around and almost bumped into Dean with how close he was.

“Wish I could, but I was told to go do a quick morning shift just in case people would do their last minute baking.” He tilted his head slightly, his voice filled with humor.

“Sounds great. Let me know if you need a morning boost; I’ll be at Luke’s serving the best coffee around.”

Dean nodded, a grin making its way to his face, and said, “I’ll make sure to visit.” There was a few seconds of silence before he picked up his eyes to look at you. “You’re not going to do a basket?”

“No, not this year. Life’s been busting my tail lately, so I don’t really have the time.” You shrugged, putting your hands behind your back as you awkwardly leaned against one of the wooden boxes.

“That’s a shame,” Dean replied, walking over to your side to rest his back on one of the boxes as well. Your shoulders touched—specifically your shoulder against the side of his upper arm—and it all dawned on you at how tall he was.

You turned your head to look at him, failing to hide your surprise when he was already looking over at you.

“A shame? How so?”

“I’d bid the highest, for sure. Just hanging out with your famous cupcakes Lane talked about.”

You’ve recalled several instances in your life when you were physically stunned at a person, but none of them could compare to what’s happening. Dean’s eyes were still on you, waiting for a reaction, a response, literally anything, and yet you just stood there like a flustered child receiving your first love letter.

It’s a lot more important to remember that you’ve never spoken to this boy before. You knew one day your worlds would collide eventually in the small town of Stars Hollow, but you’ve never realized it was happening right under your nose.

And since when Dean and Lane talked?

You and her were always attached to the hip, telling each other every single little detail about the in-between moment of the day when the two of you weren’t together. She’s never mentioned talking to Dean about you.

“You don’t need to spend money to hang out with me.” was the next best thing of a response you could think of. “I mean, you’re doing it right now.”

Dean chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“And if you wanted to try my cookies, try visiting Luke’s,” you added, having a little bit more confidence in your tone this time. “But you have to buy them at the exact time we opened; there’s a reason why Lane calls it famous.”

A grin was on your face as soon as you heard his laugh. Your previous panic seemed to die down as a calm silence washed over you two. The doors to the studio were still wide open, letting in the cold breeze of the night brush past you and Dean.

The sweater you wore didn’t help your spine from shivering. You wore whatever you saw first in your closet when Ms. Patty called, and you weren’t exactly planning to stay for this long.

The sound of rustling made you look over at Dean. “What are you doing?”

He took his leather jacket off of him, that boyish smile on his face again, as he placed it on your shoulder. “I heard it’s going to be especially cold tonight.”

You made no effort to protest as his hands gently tucked the jacket on your shoulders, brushing some of your hair on the back of your ears. The freezing temperature inside the studio only made the heat on your cheeks twice as noticeable.

Dean patted you down, in attempt to warm you up, before retracting his hands to his side. “Better?”

You snuggled further into the leather jacket, taking in the familiar musk you’ve been smelling since the boy got here. “Yeah. Thank you, Dean.”

Maybe skipping one shift at Luke’s wouldn’t hurt.