#i was kinda sick when i did this so it's not that great but whatever

[zorbik-guligan]

Not really sure what incongruous means so I'll look it up after but it does feel like as i get older life gets more complex theres more things i understand now that sure i knew about them before but not in great detail but it feels like I've become so fucking complex as a person that if i tried to explain what i actually think and feel it would just overwhelm a person so i try and section myself off into pieces and just use different parts of me with different situations or people and it may just be because ive spent most of my time these past 2 almost 3 years now alone with nothing to do but think and figure myself out that when im asked what i think about something slightly personal its kinda hard to say it just got lost in my head somewhere and that whatever i think will change at a moments notice like i can bring up memories of lots of things and remember nostalgic times but i spent so long thinking about why i feel a certain way or what makes me feel a certain way in order to try and get a better hold of myself that ive kinda forgotten alot of my past like so many memories that i made are just gone because remembering them made me feel a way i dont want to feel like i remember realizing the beginning of 6th grade that i had completely forgotten 5th grade and the reason why was because that time i had was so nice yet not at the same time my brain just frogot because it didn't want a reminder of how good yet not something can be like great teachers who for the first time ever actually seemed to care as far as i could tell class mates who were generally friendly and occasionally checked on me if i seemed off yet i felt so alone cause nobody there really seemed like a real friend like the friends i had before who even when we were in deep trouble wouldn't rat me out and would stick with me who genuinely cared and missed me if i was sick getting older and not having anyone to socialize with for really formative years off my life has made understand those really old dudes who are nice and always up to make friends but just seem extra lonely for some reason despite knowing so many people i guess technically being that alone did hurt me but i kinda learned that im just not alone ever when im outside theres always some squirrels birds or plants nearby that make it more lively its why ive grown so fond of certain forested spots they are always lively and it feels like hanging out with all my friends its also why i enjoy making things like with metal or wood stone or even writing and painting those things feel alive in a way same with music and having time to think so much has made me reflect and realize that no day is the same and even when something changes something else stays the same or gos back to how it was in a weird cycle like growing but remembering where you were growing older for me anyways is like gaining more skills and more knowledge not just on the stuff around me but on myself too obviously people change sometimes pretty quickly too but getting older makes you learn more about yourself which duh that how life works but still it feels weird to be aware of it at 17 when it feels like i should still be trying to figure out my favorite youtuber or something not contemplate who i am as a person and what makes me feel the way i do but its a good kind of weird and theres always more to learn and find so i still have plenty of room to learn more about myself still not being able to really fully let a person know you kinda sucks but to be fair that is a rather special thing its also nice being able to put into words why i feel a certain way so that i can actually explain myself instead of just going quiet cause i dont know myself that well still kinda funny to know your own problems but not be able to jusy fix them when you know its a very deep problem even when it seems surface level and damn i got kinda personal there woops also just noticed that im shaking so might be overwhelmed remembering 5th grade which is probably why i frogot it or at least thought i did

anybody else feel that being human is like being a long-time syndicated cartoon character watching the world get more complex while your own design stays the same until youre incongruous with the reality around you??

[yamarts]

𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

how are you feeling today? did you make it through unscathed?

Yeah I definitely didn't 😭 I've been hella congested all day and I definitely have a cough, but it's more bc my throat is bugging me than anything. I don't think I technically have a fever, my temp's just slightly elevated from where it normally is. It's fucking miserable bc I can't breathe through my nose and the damn thing fucking hurts, and I'm kinda uncomfortable and a little achy, but other than that I'm mostly just tired and a little hazy and generally just don't feel great, so I'm not dying like my partner was lmao. But yeah, all this to say that I'm fucking pissed at him and I literally feel like a goddamn plague rat 😭😭

[lilgynt]

if we are not established friends - and i mean we talk often or at length with clear enthusiasm from both sides. both of which had a normal relationship development rate YOU CANNOT SPAM MESSAGE ME OR VENT UR SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!

[pearlcigs]

⋆ maybe some faith would do me good

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ ellie's forced to go to some church camp thing for the summer. maybe she'll actually enjoy it if she keeps seeing you around.

warnings ⋆ 2.78k ⋆ smut, non apocalyptic au, guys dont cancel me😅, mention of suicide (jokingly) , implied reader virginity loss, religious themes, alludes to what david did to ellie, friends to enemies to lovers kinda, dacryphilia, public sex, sex in church, public humiliation, cunnilingus and fingering (r!receiving), pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl)

ellie tried to protest when joel proposed the idea of ellie spending her summer days at some camp for religious kids that one of the elders in jackson had volunteered to host, she really did. she didn't know what joel was trying to accomplish. maybe he thought in some twisted way this would help her get over that encounter. it didn't matter what the point was, it mattered that she was being woken up at 8 in the morning on the first day of summer to go to some stupid camp. joel told her she was being dramatic, it was only a 2 and half week program and then the rest of her summer was free.

she was still grumpy nevertheless, slumping her way to this church retreat. she'd only packed enough for a week, hoping that if she ran out of clothes they'd be forced to send her home. A friendly old woman greeted her, smiling and cheerful unlike ellie. The woman led ellie to a room, explaining that this was her room during the program. She fought every urge to roll her eyes, knowing the woman was just being nice but, god, who really had that much energy this early in the morning? The woman instructed her to leave her bag on one of the beds— great she had a roommate— and then make her way to the prayer room.

ellie groaned at the thought. prayer room? she might as well shoot herself now. she complied nevertheless. her feet dragging along the wooden floor, the planks creaking with every step she took. the halls were white, various pictures of religious symbolism decorating the otherwise plain walls. she couldn't deny that the hallway made her feel uneasy. she could only imagine what it looked like at night. ellie sighs as she comes across a door, half open and she can hear chatter from behind it. she worked up the courage to walk through the door, preparing herself for whatever bullshit she'll endure while she's here.

she takes a look around the room, eyes all the girls who seemed to all know each other. each girl with their own smile on their face. ellie rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her and before she could even process what was happening, she was approached by a girl. you. "i didn't think you'd be here." you smile at her, oblivious to the one sided feud you had with ellie. you were the pastor's daughter, probably the one responsible for this little get together. god, ellie hated you. the way you dressed, the way you talked, the stupid smile on your face, the even stupider bow in your hair and that little sundress that showed so much for someone like you.

truthfully, ellie didn't have a good reason to hate you. especially since you two grew up together, being raised to be built in friends. but hating you just to hate you seemed justified enough for her. "didn't have much of a choice." she barely keeps eye contact, keeping her response cold and dry. you frown at that. "oh. okay..." you look down to your shoes, it was obvious you picked up on the dismay in her tone. her mind wonders, just for a second, if she took it too far. but she shakes the thought. "yeah." she clears her throat, looking around the room once again. "well... um..." it was ridiculous how quickly your confidence was knocked down. all because of ellie.

ellie chuckles, finding some sick amusement in your reaction. you were going to speak again, probably to ask something like 'are you mad at me?' but you were dragged away by your friends. ellie sighed, watching you walk away. her eyes trailing from the back of your head all the way down to your— woah. why the hell did she look there?! god, but the damage was done. ellie wanted to look again, certain parts of her practically begging for just another glance. she refuses though, instead focusing on one of the stained glass windows. nothing fancy, just a red cross with a blue background. the funding for this particular chapel wasn't exactly the highest.

ellie could feel herself warm up, her mind jolting such crude thoughts about you. she groaned, running a hand through her hair. you had her mind so confused. she hated your guts. she really did. but all she could think about when she saw you was how much she wanted to bend you over and just yell at you. for what? she didn't know. for being too religious? too kind? too innocent? her mind wanders again, to a new thought she'd never had before. she wanted to ruin you, give it to you until you couldn't possibly take it any more. watching all the innocence leave your eyes while she filled you with sin. ellie snaps out of her thoughts, noticing that the woman from earlier had begun to speak about the quote unquote 'fun activities planned'.

through out the day, she tried to avoid you. even when you tried your very hardest to make amends for something you had no clue about. she participated in the church themed activities with little enthusiasm, being told more than once to at least act like she was having fun. the sun had begun to set, the chaperones calling out that dinner was ready. but ellie wasn't hungry. she managed to slip away from everyone else. wondering the semi creepy halls, just thinking to herself. she counted how many times the floor squeaked and creaked. she was content with just doing that until she counted a creak that she didn't make.

she turned around, her heart rate a little elevated only to find out it was just you. she sighed and rolled her eyes, returning to her initial path. "hey... they said dinner was ready." you were wary, nervous and shy even, and she couldn't blame you. "i know." her tone was less harsh this time. perhaps she was feeling guilty for her outburst earlier. "you're... um, you're going the wrong way." you were just trying to be helpful, but with every word you spoke, the more ellie got angry at you. "i know." she repeated. she heart your soft footsteps running up behind her to catch up. "so, why are you going this way?" your voice was so sweet, just like the honey ellie imagined licking off your body at least 30 times today.

she didn't answer, continuing to walk in the opposite direction of where she needed to be. and you just followed like a lost little puppy. "hey? i said—" she cuts you off. "i heard you." her cold tone was back. "oh." just like earlier, your gaze redirected to your shoes. "don't do that." she sighed, looking over at you. "huh? do what...?" you look up at her, frown evident on your face. "look like i just crushed your heart." ellie looked away from you again, examining the religious paraphilia on the walls. you didn't reply, looking away again but ellie didn't miss the hint of blush covering your face before you did. "oh? did i just crush your heart?" she jokes, weirdly seeming to warm up to you. once again, she's met to no reply. she rolls her eyes, turning the corner in the hall. she was met with a door and she wasn't sure if she should enter.

"it's the chapel." you explain, sensing her confusion and hesitation. ellie looks at you, a little annoyance on her face that you knew something she didn't. she pulls the handle on the door, gesturing for you to enter first. "ladies first." she remarks, not much amusement in her tone. you walk in and she follows after you. it was empty and though it shouldn't be creepy, ellie felt unnerved. "wait! don't let it close—" you try to warn, but the door had already been shut. you sigh, biting your lip in anxiousness. "what?" she utters, wondering why her closing the door was a bad thing. "it locks from the outside." you explain and ellie's face drops. "that's fucking great." ellie groans, running her hands over her face, walking down the isle and up the two steps to the alter. you follow.

"i tried to tell you..." you mutter. ellie wants to yell at you. say something along the lines of 'you should have tried harder' or whatever but before you can get the words out your head is in your hands and you're crying. ellie's shocked, not knowing what to do or say. she sighs. "don't cry, c'mon." she comforts, moving your hands away from your face and wiping your tears. it made you reminiscent to when you and ellie used to be friends. "i'm sorry." you sniffle as she dries your tears. "why're you crying, hm?" she tries to be gentle but just at the sight of your tears makes her want to fuck you over the alter. "'cause you're being mean and i got us locked in here." you vent your frustrations, revealing just what a hard day you had because of ellie.

she feels terrible now, hating that she made you feel so inadequate. god, why does she even care how you feel? ellie looks at you, watching as you wipe the tears that she missed. "i'm sorry for being so mean." she apologizes, deciding to cut the act. she didn't hate you. she could never hate you. "i just can't get you out of my mind." she admits. you look at her blankly for a moment, clearly not understanding. but ellie can see the exact moment when your eyes lighten up, realizing what she meant. "you mean it?" you ask, full of hope. "god." ellie rolls her eyes and your naivety. she leans closer to you, pressing her lips against yours, her hands cupping your face.

you pull back and ellie is now the one who frowns. did she misinterpret all your signs? "i'm not good at that." you admit while avoiding eye contact. ellie chuckles, pulling you closer by your waist. "i don't care." she mutters, kissing down your neck. you gasp, her warm tongue running over your cool skin. ellie's hands venture down, grabbing your ass over your dress. the ass that started this whole mess. "ellie!" you were startled. it felt like all the statues were suddenly watching you, judging you. but it just felt too good to care. but it weighed in the back of your mind as ellie kissed your jaw.

"i'm gonna fuck you so good." she mumbles, becoming drunk with lust. "i've never..." you trail off, your voice transitioning into a gasp when her hands begin to roam over your body. "i know. so pure, huh?" she teases with an eye roll, mocking how the church would call you pure. you don't reply. you couldn't. you words stuck in your throat, your eyes focused on her hands. watching them caress your waist slowly sliding up your body to cup your breasts. "el..." your whisper, you voice filled with breath. "i'm right here." she slides her right hand back down your body, reaching your thighs. she trails her fingers over the flesh before pressing her finger to your clothed cunt. you gasp, clutching onto her tighter.

"i know, baby. feels so good, doesn't it?" she mumbles in your ear, her fingers circling your clit so gently over your panties, which were becoming soaked. "el, el, ellie." you breathed out heavily, trying your best to keep as most decency as you could. after all, this was a chapel. "saying my name just like a prayer." ellie acknowledges, her fingers slowly working towards slipping into your underwear. your eyes rolled back when her cold fingers finally touch the place you needed her most. your legs were weak, wanting to give out on you. ellie notices, biting back a laugh at how blissed you already looked. she leaned you against the alter, her fingers working faster.

"so pretty." ellie mutter against your clammy skin. "so good. you're being such a good girl." her words made you feel so dirty but so... aroused at the same time. "keep... keep saying that." you barely managed to get out, you voice coming out in broken whimpers. "yeah? you like being my good girl?" she gently slides a finger into your dripping cunt. ellie can help but moan herself. "ellie." you whisper, feeling more pleasure than you've ever felt before. "i know. i know." she comforts, knowing exactly how you were feeling as she adds another finger. ellie was so aroused, drunk on the power of ruining you, being the one to help you commit the worst sin you've ever done.

your head lolled back, feeling something you've never felt before. "el." you choke out. "i know. you're almost there." ellie sinks to her knees, kneeling in front of you. "should i confess my sins to you." she whispers, kissing your thighs. you can't respond, finding the scene before you so arousing. ellie lifts up your dress to reveal your lacy underwear. "of course." she mutters under her breath. "hold this for me pretty girl." she looks up at you, and you shakily take hold of the dress that she flipped up. she gently slides your panties down your thighs, never breaking eye contact with you. she helps you step out of them, shoving them in her pocket so she didn't have to put them on the dirty ground.

her eyes flicker down to your pussy, biting her lip. "ellie." you can't even focus anymore, the loss of her fingers deep in your cunt making you want to cry. "i'm gonna make you feel so good. just be patient." she kisses your inner thighs, teasing you. you can't say anything, complain about how much you need her. but luckily, she doesn't torture too much, cause in a matter of seconds she's sucking on your clit, with her fingers returning to their job of fucking you. the sweat on your body makes you hot to touch, needing your release so badly. you push your hips forward instinctively, greedily wanting everything ellie could give you. before you could even process how good ellie was making feel, your orgasm approached.

ellie couldn't help but moan as your own moans got louder and your free hand tangled itself in her hair. "so close, baby." she mumbles into your pussy, feeling just as pleasured as you do. "el. oh my gosh, el! please!" you mutter, your words conjumbled and not making much sense. "good job, baby." she mumbles as she finally pushes you over the edge. your moans are loud and broken, filling the empty chapel with such sin. the cross necklace around your neck sticking to your skin. "ellie rubs your thighs, pressing small kisses on your pussy. "can't get enough of this pussy." she moaned, so drunk on you, on lust, on life. "ellie—" you whine and she moves away but not before she runs her tongue through your folds one last time.

"so good." she praises and lets your dress fall back into place. ellie kisses you, the taste of your arousal still in her lips. she pulls away, both of you out of breath. the sound of doors opening cause you both to pull apart. your hands going to fix your hair. "ms. heather wanted to know where you two went. you okay...?" a girl ellie recognized as one of your friends from earlier asked you. ellie began to make her way down the steps and down the isle, you quick to follow. "yes, yeah. we just got a little lost." you speak slowly, trying to maintain your thoughts.

your eyes scattered around to find your underwear. ellie smirked when she saw you looking around, knowing they were right in her pocket. she would give them back eventually but the thought of you walking around a few hours commando just made her feel things. catching glimpses of you around the night pulling down your dress, looking around to make sure no one can see anything. but of course in the morning she'll return them after using them all that night, after her roommate when home sick. but this is ellie we're talking about. she had to tease you just a little bit. so on day two when everyone wakes up to gather in the prayer room to see a pair of lace panties hanging from the cross, the kids and chaperones were most definitely shocked, and of course ellie earned some death glares from you in between your embarrassment. and ellie can't help but think maybe she'll hang out with you at church more often if that's the reward.

another christian!reader x ellie williams fic!

[incognit0slut]

dude hi love tje work it’s great you’re great so if it’s not too much to ask and you can totally ignore this but can we please have thigh riding with post prison read like the seasons where he gained a little weight i mean goddamn he fills his cardigans, pants, kevlar vest so well. i actually need to feel his dad bod (that term kinda irks me but yes) angwags love u love the work keep it up -!

Spencer asks you to ride his thigh while he finishes work.

Warnings: (18+) Soft Dom Spence, Sub Fem Reader, thigh riding A/n: Apparently being sick does not stop me from being horny for this man (although it stopped me from thinking of a plot, this is just 900 words worth of smut)

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this predicament. You had simply gone to check on your boyfriend who had promised to follow you to bed an hour ago, only to find him exactly how you had left him—still in his work clothes with papers scattered across his desk. 

Spencer rarely brought work home, but when he did, he often became so engrossed that he lost track of time. So you were forced to peel yourself out of bed with the plan of persuading him to join you, although you did not expect to find yourself being the one persuaded.

Because now you were sitting along his thigh, naked and embarrassingly wet, while he continued to work.

Maybe it was because you were so desperate to be close to him that you accepted whatever he could offer. He saw it as a compromise: you could use his thigh while he finished his work, and afterward, he'd give you his full attention.

At first, you hesitated, not just because you were unsure, but because you were surprised he could come up with such an idea.

“Why don’t you ride my thigh for now?” he had suggested simply, in that soft, cool tone of his, as if he were offering something mundane like a kiss on the cheek or a hug—something soft, cute, and sweet, not riding his thigh. You didn't even know he was aware of such a concept.

But your clit pulsed with need, a lump formed in your throat, and your mouth went dry. You had swallowed and licked your lips, not quite used to this sudden authoritative attitude he had adopted. However, you were not complaining, especially with how it made you ache with desire.

So, you stripped off your clothes and climbed on top of him. 

The rough fabric of his trousers created delicious friction against your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he placed a steadying hand on your hip. You had been sitting there, not knowing what to do, until you couldn’t hold on any longer.

You began to move, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm that would bring you relief. Every drag of your clit against his thigh sent waves of pleasure through you, and soon you were panting softly, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. Spencer’s attention remained on his work, but the slight tightening of his grip on your hip and the occasional flicker of his gaze told you he was very aware of what you were doing.

Your breaths grew heavier, mingling with the rustle of papers and the soft hum of the night. The need within you built steadily, each stroke of his thigh against your sensitive flesh bringing you closer to the edge. You leaned forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder, as his voice cut through the haze of your arousal. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone still maddeningly calm. “Just like that.”

Your nails dug into his arms as your desperation to be close to him, to feel him, drove you on, even as he remained focused on his work.

“Spence,” you whined, almost pathetically, your hips continuing to find that delicious friction. “Please…”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, rubbing soothing circles on your skin as you struggled. “I’m almost done.”

A strangled cry left your lips as the intensity of your movements increased. Your legs instinctively spread wider as you sought more, and your clit pressed harder against the rough fabric of his pants. The sensation was electrifying, and you could feel your slickness spreading, but Spencer didn't seem to mind. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you with a steady rhythm.

Your fingers gripped his shirt as you buried yourself in his neck, inhaling his scent—intoxicating and arousing. You pressed your naked flesh against his clothed body, pushing against him as if you wanted to be closer, to sink yourself into him completely.

Spencer’s calm demeanor only made your desperation grow. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just let go.”

The friction, the heat, and his words all combined into an irresistible force. You felt yourself spiraling, your body trembling as you rode his thigh with abandon. The sensation of his muscles tensing beneath you, his hand guiding your movements, was too much. Your moans grew louder, mixing with the rustle of papers and the steady hum of his voice.

You whimpered, the ache between your legs becoming almost unbearable. “Please,” you begged, your voice a breathless plea.

He responded by pressing his thigh against you more firmly, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. The combination of his commanding presence and the friction against your sensitive cunt was overwhelming.

The intensity grew, every touch, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge. You gripped him tighter, losing yourself in the sensation, your mind consumed by the intoxicating blend of his scent, his touch, and the raw need pulsing through your veins.

Your body tensed, and with a gasp, you finally let go. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Spencer held you tightly, his hand stroking your back as you came down from your high, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

When you finally came down, panting and spent, he looked at you with a mixture of pride and affection. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think you earned my full attention now.”

You melted into him, barely able to support your own weight. He lifted you gently, guiding you to the bed, and as he laid you down and began to undress, you realized that the night was far from over.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!girlfriend!reader

Summary: When your long-term boyfriend is slipped a love potion—he loses his memory of you.

Genre: Angsty Fluff (happy ending)

Warnings: intense swearing, violence, being drugged/spiking someone's drink, mentions of blood, vomiting, crying, a suggestive joke, James kinda has light trauma

~ again—to the kind anon that had this idea—thank you! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Everyone knew it was you and James. It has always been you and James. Ever since the third term of your second year when he'd stolen you an absurd amount of chocolates and candies from Honeydukes because you had failed an exam and were sobbing in your dorm, you knew he had you hooked around his pinky. Luckily, you had him wrapped around yours just as well.

He was yours as you were his. 

It didn't worry you that you hadn't seen your boyfriend all day because N.E.W.T's were coming up and as much as he pretends not to study or care, you've never met someone more desperate for success.

James had even left you a little note signed "only yours" telling you he'd be in the library today, so you used this time to spent the day with the girls instead. 

However, you didn't expect to see what you did when you walked into the Great Hall that evening.

Remus, Sirius, and Peter look just as dumbfounded as you when James stands from his usual seat, his arms outstretching towards another girl.

Your smile falters and you freeze up, your stomach sinking as his hands find the girl's waist and he spins her around.

"What the fuck?" Marlene mutters from next to you, her arms crossed. 

"Who is that?" Mary asks, unhooking her arm from Lily's as she sympathetically touches your shoulder. You blink, unable to look away from whatever nightmare is happening.

James would never cheat on you—especially in public like this.

Never.

"Amerie something, she's in my Potions class," Marlene whispers but her gaze is hard.

James's grin is wide and the girl—Amerie apparently—holds him closer. She's beaming as her manicured hands finds his cheeks and your entire world shatters when she presses her lips to his. James leans into her kiss, one hand at her waist while the other runs in her dark curls. 

Marlene breaks at the same time as Sirius does and they march up to the couple. You're stunned, your eyes watering as you replay how your beloved boyfriend kissed another girl in front of everyone. Including you. 

James would never cheat on you—right?

Lily takes your hand and guides you towards where everyone had gathered. Marlene is being held back by Mary, but she's furious as she screams at James and Amerie. Sirius stands next to James, his arms crossed as he stares at his best friend.

When his gaze flickers to you all calm crumbles. "James," Sirius says, interrupting Marlene's shrieks, as he sounds unusually serious, "This is wrong. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

James has never looked this confused in his life. "What are you talking about, Pads?" he asks innocently, his eyes scanning all his friends and their upset expressions.

They skim over you as if you were nothing to him— as if he hadn't held you close to his heart just yesterday and whispered how much he loved you into your hair. 

Amerie leans into James, her hand on his chest, and even Remus scoffs.

"You can't be serious, James?" Remus says. He stands and puts his hand on your other shoulder as Lily holds your other arm. He stands tall and looks stern, clearly unamused by whatever sick joke he thinks his best friend is playing. 

James's eyes widen but even Peter squeaks, "You have a girlfriend," as if to remind James.

"I know!!" James exclaims and turns to Amerie as he smiles like a love-sick fool. You feel like you're going to vomit all over your uniform. "Aren't I allowed to kiss my lovely girlfriend?" 

 Chaos ensues as Amerie holds James closer, her icy-blue eyes staring into yours with venom and malice as Marlene lunges for the two of them.

Marlene is pulled away by Mary and Lily and Sirius and Remus speak up with confusion as they jumble out accusations and disbelief.

You stand there, frozen, as your boyfriend looks right through you.

"She is your girlfriend, you dimwit!" Lily shouts and points to you. "Not this minger," Marlene adds with a hiss at Amerie, eyes dark. 

James finally looks at you and your breath hitches when you see the look in his eyes. There is no remorse or shame, just a blank expression as he looks you over.

"Who?" he asks as he turns to his friends with a genuine look of confusion on his face. His question brings silence to the group and you feel warm tears brim in your eyes.

Some part of you screams at you that the confusion is real. You know James and you know how he lies. But his voice rings in your ears as pain caves in your chest and you turn, breaking into an embarrassing jog as you run away. 

James would never cheat on you—right?

Lies. 

* * *

A few hours later, when Lily comes into the dorm with news that James is in the Hospital Wing, you don't want to care but you do. Just the mention of James in pain hurts you and Lily doesn't even have to convince you to come see him. 

You walk into the room and your eyes instantly widen. Dumbledore and Amerie stand in one corner. Amerie's eyes are bloodshot and she's pleading with Dumbledore—who looks absolutely furious.

Lily pulls you to the main dilemma and you see James sitting up in a bed, a bowl in his lap as he's encouraged to vomit. He's surrounded by Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Madame Pomfrey. 

Remus sees you and Lily and he walks up to you. 

"Is he okay?" you ask, your voice small and hoarse from your crying.

"Love potion," Remus doesn't waste time as he glances at Amerie in the corner, his jaw clenched, "she slipped it in his drink when we went to lunch. I lost him this afternoon after that but I thought he'd gone to find you. It's strong, well made, but Madame Pomfrey is convinced she can reverse the spell it has on him."

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders relaxing as you take in his words. A love potion? It had all been fake.

You turn to look at Amerie and anger swims through you. She'd drugged your boyfriend and taken him from you. You clench your fist.

If she wasn't with Dumbledore, you'd punch her. 

"But Y/n," Remus interrupts your violent fantasies and Lily takes your hand. Lily clearly knows the news Remus is about to break and it doesn't sound good. "The reason he didn't remember you is that the potions—well he was already in love with you so the potion messed up that chemistry and it was so strong it reversed all those emotions to Amerie. Erased any memory of you completely."

You feel like you can't breathe. 

"Madame Pomfrey doesn't think she can fully reverse his memory loss," Lily whispers and tightens her grip on your hand, "Obviously, he won't be in love with Amerie anymore but—we don't think he'll remember you either." 

You can barely hear her. Your eyes water as your eyes glaze over and you look behind Remus at James. Your James, who is puking his guts out and who doesn't have a clue who you are. He has no more memories of you. No more midnight secrets or scandalous touches. No more sweet confessions or fleeting arguments. Nothing.

And it's all her fault. 

You storm up to Amerie, ignoring the Headmaster's presence, as you see red. You grab her by the shoulder and punch her in the nose.

The sound resounds around the room as she falls back, a broken cry leaving her mouth as she holds her nose. Blood runs down her mouth and chin, her tears mixing with the crimson liquid as nurses rush to her. 

Your voice is unemotional when you snarl, "Stay away from him, you psycho cunt."

* * *

You sit in the common room, bandaging your bruised knuckles, as you let your tears fall freely. Your heart feels broken and crushed into absolutely nothing.

You don't even care about the detention Dumbledore was basically forced to assign you. "Violence, no matter how deserved, is never the answer," he had said and perhaps he had a point because breaking Amerie's nose didn't really make you feel any better.

She'd still taken your heart away from you. 

All you want is to reverse time and prevent James from leaving so early in the morning and slipping through your fingers. You hate yourself for not finding him in the library that afternoon. You should have studied with him—maybe then you could have prevented this. 

You unclench your fist and stare at James's crumbled note from a few hours earlier. 

Early morning for Quidditch then I'll be in the library studying. You can always join me, lovie, or go to Hogsmeade with the girls, I know they miss you. I can't always be selfish and have you all to myself, can I? 

I love you, my darling. 

Only yours,  

J

You choke on another sob and you resist the need to scream. 

"Hi," a familiar voice suddenly whispers from above you and you look up. Color has returned to James's cheeks and he's standing in front of you. He's so familiar and so different.

He doesn't look at you the same and you want to cry harder. He looks down at the note in your hand and holds out his hand when he sees a glimpse of his own chicken scratch. 

You hand it to him without a word, leaning back on the couch as you wipe your tears with your palms. You shut your eyes, feeling the cushions dip as James sits next to you and you can feel the tension in the air. You peek at him as he shakes the note and says, "So, this is real, hm? It's not some messed up nightmare? I- I don't even remember writing this. I remember this morning but—you aren't in the memory," his voice sounds shaky. 

"It's okay," you whisper, unable to say much more or you'll cry. 

James turns to you and shakes his head. "No. It isn't okay. I want to remember you," he whispers and takes your hand.

Your head snaps up, eyes widening at the sudden warmth of his touch. James puts the paper in your palm and closes it, squeezing your hand, "I obviously loved you a lot, and I think you loved me too—"

"Love," you whisper, looking him in the eyes, "I haven't stopped."

James makes a pained grimace and his hand loosens around yours. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could remember. I wish this never happened. I know I don't know you anymore or well, my brain doesn't know you but I still can't stand you being hurt because of this," he sighs, "Sirius told me everything. I have so many pictures of us in my room—my sheets smell like your perfume—I– I wish I could remember," he sounds so lost and your heart breaks.

You can't help yourself. You cup his cheek and lean your forehead onto his like you'd done a thousand times over the last years. James doesn't pull away. Instead he leans into you, as if your touch sparked a distant muscle memory.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. I-" you pause and then say, "I can help you remember, if you want?"

James doesn't hesitate and he nods, his breath unsteady, "I do. I don't understand why but my heart, well it misses you. I want to understand why." 

Your heart flutters at his words and you smile. You pull away and smile at him. His smile is weak and you know him all too well to let that slide. "What's wrong, James?" you ask and when his eyes shift, you can tell he's feeling guilty. 

"I'm sorry you lost your boyfriend. You didn't deserve that."

You sigh, "It's not your fault, okay?" you look him in the eyes and wait until he nods solemnly. "If we're meant to be, we'll figure this out, yeah?"

"Yeah," James whispers in agreement. 

* * * Six Months Later * * *

The snow falls around you as you and your friend return from The Three Broomsticks one Sunday evening. Sirius and Remus walk much faster than you and James as Sirius rambles wildly about this new muggle band Remus helped him discover, and Peter loiters behind you all as he hurries to finish reading his Transfiguration book due Monday morning—he seems quite discouraged considering the snow keeps ruining his pages. 

You are snuggled up against James, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he adjusts your scarf and presses a kiss to your head. You sigh, continuing your conversation about how very clearly chocolate is the superior ice cream flavor, and James just listens even though he has no clue why you're talking about ice cream in the dead of winter. 

Suddenly, your voice dies down and you tense when you see who's walking towards you. She's with three of her best friends—snotty Ravenclaws with egos larger than their brains—and you feel sick as all those horrible feelings come bubbling up again.

Amerie had been suspended for six months after what she had done to James and while you and your friends insisted she be expelled, your outburst of violence had inevitably lightened her sentence.

Dumbledore didn't want a scandal on his hands and Amerie's parents were well off—surprisingly more so than the Potters. 

James senses your tension and he looks up too, his stomach sinking. Amerie is staring at you both and her friends are whispering. You look between her and James, sensing how uncomfortable he is with her presence and anger boils inside you. 

Six months. Six months of peace and time you had to rebuild your relationship with him. Six months you spent taking him to all your favorite places, reminding him of all those secrets he had already earned, and telling him stories he should remember.

Six months to catch up on six years, all because of her. 

You feel James's gloved hand find yours and he squeezes it, pressing his lips into your hair near your ear and he murmurs, "Ignore her, my love." His voice sounds a little strained and you look at him, the warmth of his hazel eyes calming you. 

You nod and press a kiss to his lips. You can feel Amerie's eyes on you as you pass but you just walk faster. Once she and her friends are behind you, you squeeze James's hand too. "Are you okay?" you whisper. 

James had been very open with you about how much what had happened scared him and still does. There were times he remembered snippets of you from before, but mostly nothing, and that scares him. I never want to lose you again, he had said three months into the six and you knew he meant it. 

When James Potter loved, he loved hard, and it became very obvious his feelings for you had returned even stronger than they had been. 

"Yeah," he whispers, his voice small. 

You pause, turning around and taking his cheeks in your hands, encouraging him to look at you. "Baby, it's okay if it made you feel uncomfortable to see her. It's normal," you say, kissing his forehead and leaning against it. 

James holds you close and kisses the crook of your neck, which causes you to giggle. 

"I love you," he mumbles and you grin.

"I love you," you say and kiss his lips again.

James runs a hand in your hair and sighs, lifting his head and watching Amerie and her friends disappear down the road. "As much as I hate her for what she did, I am sort of grateful," he whispers. 

"Oh?" I ask, caressing his cheek lovingly. 

"Mmhm—it was an absolute pleasure falling in love with you all over again," James says sincerely and your heart flutters at his words. 

You laugh and ruffle his messy hair. "You're such a dork," you chuckle. 

James laughs now too, "It's true!" 

Suddenly, you shriek lightly when you feel cold snow glide down your neck from inside your scarf. You and James spin around at the same time, catching Sirius as he makes another snowball and barks out a laugh, "Ooops."

Sirius smirks and as if on cue, James bends over and pats down his own snowball to throw at Sirius in your defense. 

"Keep your grubby snowballs away from my girl, Pads," James shouts in between his laughter as he runs after his best friend. You hear Sirius mumble something that sounds like, "Ooh, kinky," before James shoves snow into his mouth. 

You just smile, your heart feeling completely full.

[angelsforthenight]

MRS. AND MRS. SMITH — abby anderson x fem!reader

ways you can help gaza 🇵🇸

do not buy tlou2 remastered!

a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why they’re wives :3

you’re an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, you’re pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know it’ll get under abby’s skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.

cw: mdni, owen feature🤮🤮, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.

“short brown hair, rugged beard. got that?” abby’s murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece you’ve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.

see, any other day, you would’ve loved to hear your wife’s pretty little voice guiding you — her praises when you’d do something right or her degrades if you’d do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.

but not today. today you’re over it. so what do you respond with?

“yeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.” you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so that’s exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.

that’s right, you two are at a charity gala event. it’s fancy. too fancy to the point where it’s intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that you’re complaining. you’re sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever you’d get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.

your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.

you’re planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe you’re going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.

“found him yet?” abby sighs.

“please don’t distract me.” there’s way too many people and it’s beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.

“i’m getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.” she complains.

“not my goddamn problem.” you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if there’s not enough time, worrying if he’s even here in the first place.

“literally what is your problem? acting extra fuckin’ snobby tonight...”

your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.

“let’s not fucking start—“ you’re about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!

“oh shit. sorry, i didn’t mean that.” you hear a man’s voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.

despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.

“it’s okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?” you bat your eyelashes, hoping you don’t look silly.

“and what’s that?” owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. he’s already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.

with a few drinks, owen’s already tipsy and you’re leading him to the vast room. you make him believe you’re just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade — feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, it’s also never not exhilarating.

you’re about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.

“woah.” you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. “we go at my pace.”

“aww… please?” he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but he’s now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.

“come on… don’t play hard to get.” he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebody’s arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.

“what—“ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abby’s arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. it’s unnerving.

it doesn’t take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.

“what the fuck, abby…” you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. “where the hell did you even come from?”

“there’s doors.” she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadn’t even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget you’re supposed to be mad at her.

the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. “you starin’? assumed pussy boys were more your type.”

“real fucking mature.” you snarl. “i had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.”

“you were taking too long.” abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.

“jealousy? really? grow up.”

“at least i watch where i’m going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.” she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didn’t offend you.

“you’re a fucking child. help me with the body.”

you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend that’s had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.

for now, you’re sat on the passenger’s seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abby’s driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. she’s obviously fuming.

“can you slow down?” you glare at her.

“you owe me… i mean, who even says that?” abby grumbles, ignoring your request.

“a lot of people do. now slow down, we don’t wanna attract attention from police knowing there’s a dead body back there.”

“not to mention that you’ve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.”

abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. “owen.” you correct, “you’re so self absorbed!” you continue to beg for her to slow down.

“he’s, like, the embodiment of revolting too. don’t even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i should’ve put a bullet in his brain.” abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.

“you were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.” she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.

“abby. abby!” you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.

“fuck.” abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.

“just what the hell is the matter with you?” you scold, “all this shit over a mission? are you serious?” abby’s lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.

“of course we’re going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known you’d be acting like this then i would’ve never—“

“why didn’t you kiss him?” abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.

“i…” you look away. you’re not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldn’t kiss him because of her. “where even are we anyway?”

“nice try. since you’re so professional, why didn’t you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you could’ve easily killed him then.” the corner of abby’s lips arch up into a smirk — the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.

“for someone who’s had so much to say just a second ago…” she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, “…you’re awfully quiet.” her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear you’re beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

“look, abby, you’re my wife… so…” you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.

“don’t play dumb and pretend as if the agency didn’t arrange that.” her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.

“you’ve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?” her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too — reminding you that she’s got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abby’s car, pretty fucking hot.

“let’s face it…” abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.

“you want me so bad it hurts.” her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. it’s beginning to ache down there and it seems like abby’s aware of that. you can’t help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that it’s suffocating.

you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.

“maybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.” you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.

“maybe you need to fix your attitude.” abby retorts, “like, seriously, pipe down… you’re probably soaking down there.” she snickers, right on the money.

“fuck you.” you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe you’re saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know that’s not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abby’s skin. it’s what you’ve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.

you wipe the pleased look off of abby’s face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.

abby’s eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. you’re quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent can’t even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.

desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.

“hurry… with your slow-ass.” you whine.

“watch your fucking mouth. c’mere.” abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress — not without making sure to go deliberately slow.

“why do you have to be so mean?” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“oh, trust me… i’m only gonna be meaner.” she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. you’ve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel she’s going to treat you in a second.

once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. it’s her favourite thing in the entire world.

“turn around.” abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.

“what?”

“just do it.”

you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.

“now… bend over.” she coos, clearly poking fun.

you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. “what am i, your dog?”

“don’t piss me off.”

you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.

“arching that back and everything… wooow.” abby teases, “and to think i haven’t even touched you yet.”

“oh, just fuck off, abby…” you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.

“what was that?”

“i said fuck—“ but you’re cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.

“mm? didn’t quite hear you. repeat yourself.” abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abby’s humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? you’re enjoying this way more than you should be.

“i’m not kidding. speak.” abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, it’s a fucking party down there.

“abby…” you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.

“go on babe… finish what you were saying before.” abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. you’re trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.

see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.

another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.

“you wanna get fucked?” abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.

“use your words.”

“y-yes…” tears begin to stream down your face. you’re desperate, yearning for her touch as if it’s a life or death situation.

“so finish what you were saying.” her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.

“i-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didn’t… haa… mean it.” you splutter. the you a while ago would’ve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.

“where’d all your attitude go?” the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. she’s touching you but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough: abby knows that.

“don’t do this to me, abby…” you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if you’ve been dumbed down.

abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. “you look stupid.”

“shut up and fuck me.” you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what you’ve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.

before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that you’d squeal, if it wasn’t for abby’s hand still clenched on your cheeks.

“this what you wanted?” abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.

“oh! riiiiight, you can’t speak.” she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how she’s handling you like a doll.

abby’s finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.

“suck.” you mindlessly do as she says, as if you’re brainwashed. you can see abby’s cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.

abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didn’t think you’d actually do it.

“you’re shy.” you point out. you triumph over the fact that now it’s her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.

“shut the fuck up.” abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.

that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.

“nothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.” and she’s right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what she’s seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.

“i’m cumming…” you manage to choke out.

“i know.” abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.

“i’ll decide to be nice and let you finish.”

and that’s your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. you’re panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.

“so cute…” she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you — this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.

so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how you’re in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how you’re gonna clean up the mess you’ve left all over the chair and dashboard.

a/n: you made it !!! thought it’d be funny if the target was owen😭😭 hope u enjoyed reading <3

[forever-rogue]

for holiday prompts maybe “Get closer to the fire, you’re shivering.” with stevie 🥹 maybe r gets stranded in the road and walks towards Steve’s house cause it’s closest and Steve is concerned about her getting sick 😭💖 best friends to lovers kinda vibe? Or whatever vibe you’d like!

AN | Stop but this is so sweet and I got carried away but 🥺

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You gripped the wheel tightly as you heard the car rattle before it came to a shaky stop. 

“No,” you groaned, tears already welling up in your eyes as you smacked the steering wheel. That caused your hand to throb in pain, which pushed you over the edge and you couldn’t help but cry. It had already been a bad day - this just made it a million times worse, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You had no clue about anything related to cars besides being able to get the engine oil. You doubted that little bit of knowledge was going to come in handy. At least you’d been able to get off the road while you waited for…something. Steve’s house was still a couple of miles away and you hadn’t noticed a payphone anywhere along the way. On top of all that, it had started to snow, softly but albeit - it was snowing. This was…not an ideal situation by any means. 

After allowing yourself to cry for a few minutes, you got out of the car and opened the hood, looking inside to find…absolutely nothing that you understood. Your options were not necessarily great or endless. You could wait for someone to drive by and maybe stop to help, or you could walk to Steve’s house, the place you’d been on your way to when disaster struck. You figured that walking to Steve’s house was probably the best idea; maybe someone would stop while you were on your way. 

“I’m sorry,” you yelled to the sky, unsure of who or what was your intended recipient, “I’m sorry for whatever I did that caused this to happen!”

With a huff you grabbed your stuff out of the car and started walking. The best thing, if there was a best thing to this situation, was that at least it wasn’t dark yet. If you walked fast, you’d be able to make it to Steve’s house just before the sun set.

-\─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve paced around the living room as he tried to figure out where on earth you could have been. You’d called well over an hour ago saying that you would be there shortly. He knew that it was about a fifteen minute drive from your office to his house. You should have been there by now. Something was wrong and he grew increasingly worried. 

And then came a gentle, timid knock on his door. He stopped dead in his tracks, goosebumps bursting up all over his skin as he looked to the door as though he’d be able to see right through it. But he knew that knock, that gentle tap that was always in a small pattern that you’d made up years ago. Steve wasn’t even sure why you bothered knocking anymore; his place was practically yours by this point.

He almost ran to the door and threw it open without hesitation. When he saw that it was you, he visibly relaxed - until he really looked you over. 

“Sorry I’m late,” your teeth were chattering as you offered him a small, shy smile.

“Honey,” he tutted softly as he reached for your hand, his long, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you into the warmth. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out how to tell him what happened, without worrying him too much.

“‘m okay, Stevie,” you promised meekly, despite the fact that you were freezing, your feet hurt, and you still had to figure out what to do with your car, “just…ran into a bit of a problem.”

“Take off your jacket and get closer to the fire,” he whispered gently; all you could do was nod as he helped you to take off your jacket. You were only wearing a thin sweater underneath, not having expected on making a cold, wintery trek, “c’mon, you’re shivering.”

He tossed a big, cushy pillow onto the floor along with your favorite blanket. You obliged him without hesitation, your heart melting at his gentle and tender nature. He held up a finger before quickly running down the hall to his bedroom; you could hear him rummaging through his drawers for a few moments before coming back and holding one of his sweaters out to you. It just so happened to be your favorite - warm and thick and yellow. You wondered if he knew that it was your favorite. He had to. 

“Are you-”

“Positive,” he whispered softly as you took the sweater and slipped it on without hesitation. No matter how many times it was washed, it always smelled like him, which was something you adored, “better?”

“Already so much better,” you agreed, bundling up in the blanket as you looked at him and sighed softly, “thank you so much.”

“What happened?” he plopped down next to you, leaving just enough space between your bodies that left you wanting more. He reached over and put his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I was expecting you a long time ago.”

“I ran into a spot of trouble,” you admitted sheepishly as he raised an eye at you.

“Which was…”

“My car broke down-”

“What?!”

“My car broke down,” you whispered, wincing at the tone in his voice. You knew he wasn't mad at you, but you hated when he got upset, “its nothing really.”

“It's not - no. It's not nothing,” he took your face in his hands, his touch nothing but reverent, as he looked you over, “something could have…fuck. Where? What happened?”

“A few miles down the road,” you pointed over your shoulder as if that Would answer all of his questions, “near the bend.”

“You walked all that way?” He hung his head with a heavy sigh, “that's like two miles.”

Before you could say anything in response, Steve threw his arms around and pulled you in for a tight hug. It caught you off guard at first, having not expected the sudden hug from him but it took you only a moment to respond. You snaked your arms around his waist and let yourself melt into him. He was so warm and smelled delicious and familiar; his hugs were probably one of your favorite things in the entire world. 

“It’s okay - I’m okay,” you burrowed your face into his glorious neck, breathing in the smell of his soft skin. He slowly let go of you; you immediately missed the feeling of him, “I didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like I could just call you for help and I wasn’t sure when anyone else would go by. So…that’s why I just walked over.”

“Yeah, no, I understand,” he ran a hand through his glorious hair, trying to suppress all the horrible thoughts of what could have happened. He was just glad you were alive and well and standing right in front of him, “I…I’m just glad that you’re here.”

“Me too,” you promised with a soft smile, “thanks for always being there for me.”

“I wish I could have done more,” he looked into the merrily crackling fire, unsure of whether or not he should look at you. He was afraid that if he looked too long he might just spill his entire guts out to you, “I’ll call and have your car towed to the shop. Eddie’s working tomorrow so I’m sure he’ll be able to take a look at it.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he insisted, his tone letting you know that there was no room for objection. He touched your cheek, brushing his thumb along your soft skin before standing up and heading to the kitchen, “let me just make a few quick calls and get it sorted, yeah?”

“Thank you, Stevie,” you watched him go with soft eyes, feeling every conceivable emotion fluttering around in your belly. He never failed to make you feel so cared for and loved. You settled in and leaned closer to the fire, feeling overly tired suddenly. You were sure the cold and the long trek did that to you. You listened to him on the phone, his voice distant and far as you closed your eyes. 

By the time that he came back to the living room you were already curled up in a small ball, looking toasty as ever as you snored softly. Steve couldn’t help the gentle sigh that escaped his lips; this was a view that he loved and adored and he wished he could bottle that feeling up and keep it with him forever. He grabbed a pillow off the couch and tucked it under your head as delicately as he could in order to keep you from waking up. 

He considered laying down and curling up next to you, but he also didn’t want to make things weird in case you woke up suddenly. Instead he busied himself around the house to get things ready for dinner and to keep his mind off you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up, you were immediately enveloped by a warm, delicious smell. You clambered to your feet, keeping the warm blanket around you as you padded towards the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks when you found Steve in the kitchen; he was softly singing along to the radio as he moved around cooking whatever it was that was so delicious. 

“Hi,” you whispered softly in order to keep from startling him too much. He turned around at the sound of your voice, a smile growing on his own face as he took in your sleepy form, “what’cha doing, Stevie?”

“Just finishing up dinner,” he came over to you and brushed your wild hair out of your face, “I made your favorites. Hope that’s okay.”

“I…” you looked at him with wide, soft eyes unable to convey just how much this meant to you. This and everything else he did; he was almost so good to everyone but especially you. You hesitated for a moment before leaning slightly, watching as he did the same, “I think I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington.”

“Umm…” he mouth dropped open and closed his mouth a few times, a pretty blush breaking out all over his face, “does that mean it’s okay?”

You laughed, a loud and warm sparkly sound that warmed his heart and caused him to realize the gravitas of the situation. You nodded softly before leaning in even closer so there was barely any room remaining between the two of you, “yes. It’s more than okay. Thank you.”

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before cupping your cheek with his large, soft hand. Steve hesitated before closing the rest of the remaining gap and gently pressing his lips to yours. It was soft and barely there but it was everything; you had waited for this so long, always dreaming of this moment. And now it was here, hesitant and gentle but perfect. 

Steve pulled back and looked at you with curiosity to make sure he hadn’t broken or crossed any boundaries. When he found you practically beaming at him, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning back in and kissing you again, this time with more fervor and confidence. The blanket dropped from your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around his neck and let yourself melt into his warm body. His large hands settled on your waist, and you were all consumed with the love you had for this man. 

You didn’t want to break apart from him, only doing so when both of you suddenly smelled something burning. You both turned to look at the stove and found whatever it was that Steve had been cooking was nothing but a lovely shade of…black. 

You exchanged surprised looks before dissolving into a fit of giggles. He reluctantly untangled his limbs from yours before hastily turning off the stove. He picked up the pot and frowned as he stuck it into the sink, “umm, I’m really sorry but I’m pretty sure I just ruined our dinner.”

You reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “you didn’t ruin anything, Stevie. Trust me.”

“But…the food.”

“It’s okay,” you hated that he went through all this trouble for nothing at this point, “we’ll order pizza or Chinese or something. Baby, it’s cold outside and all I want to do is stay here with you.”

“That was terrible,” but there was a giant smile on his face and a pretty blush over his cheeks, “I wanna stay here with you too.”

“Can we just-” but you were quickly cut off by him pressing his lips to yours, stealing a few soft kisses before he pressed his forehead against yours. It was like he had been reading your mind. You looked at him sheepishly, “do that some more?”

“Yeah,” he rested his hand on the small of your back as you looked up at him sweetly, “I love you.”

“I kind of figured that much when you didn’t totally just run away when I told you,” you whispered as you brushed your fingers along his jaw, “thanks for the reassurance though. I wasn’t sure I’d ever manage to actually tell you.”

“Why did you?” he asked, “not that I’m not glad you did - I’m really glad but…yeah.”

“I dunno,” you admitted, “I guess I just realized, again, how much I love you and everything about you and all that you do and I just couldn’t not say anything. Knowing you kiss like that I’m a little sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“Just think, you could have been kissing me for a long time already,” he teased gently as you groaned dramatically before he indulged you and pulled in for more kisses. You melted into him and he slowly led you to the couch before stumbling backwards and falling down with you on top of him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you laid on his warm body, resting your head on his chest; you could hear the slow and steady beat of his heart. 

And then you had a thought and lifted your head, “you hadn’t been on any dates in a long time.”

“I know.”

“Why…”

“Didn’t feel right,” he shrugged it off as though it was no big deal, “it wasn’t you. So…I didn’t want it anymore.”

“That’s…” you swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that were already prickling at the back of your eyes, “that’s…that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Yeah,” he tenderly brushed away the tear that had rolled down your cheek, “but it’s true. I haven’t seen you dating much either.”

“None of them were you,” you leaned into his warm, soft touch. He laughed softly, as you took his hand and laced your fingers through his, “I love you, Steve Harrington. And now that it’s out there, you’re gonna hear it all the time.”

“I hope some,” he sighed contentedly, “so are you, just so you know.”

“Good,” you whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[thebearer]

fall into me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: part 2 of follow me. your date with carmen.

contains: fluff. anxious carmen. mentions of mikey. but all fluff :)

Carmen was sure he was going to be sick. A new kind of sickness, where his stomach felt like it was going to fall out of his mouth and ass at the same time. He changed his outfit six times, slacks and a tie felt too formal. Jeans felt out of the question, and while the very cool guy on TikTok swore that slacks and t-shirts were in this season… Carmen couldn’t bring himself to wear it. 

So he wore his slacks, good shoes he still had from pretentious meetings in the restaurant, and his good button down, a steely type blue- the saleswoman told him it really complimented his eyes, then wrote her number on his receipt. Of course, Carmen didn’t call it. He’d never allow himself the simple pleasures like that. 

Carmen smoked the whole way to the restaurant, a bottle of cologne in his pocket, which he doused himself in on the corner, popping a mint. He saw you standing there, awkwardly on your phone by the light pole, head ducked to your screen in your black, silk, cowl neck dress. Carmen could feel his heart jump at the sight of you, cursing while he started to jog in the still new shoes. 

“Hey, shit, sorry.” Carmen apologized, his chest tightening and burning as he slowed in front of you. “I-I couldn’t find my phone.” Definitely not because I tried on a million different outfits and had a panic attack.

“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t text me back. Thought you ghosted me at your own restaurant.” You quipped, his heart plummeting, face falling with it. You grinned, shoving your phone in your tiny purse. “‘M fucking with you, Carm. I just got here.” 

“Oh,” Carmen sighed. “Yeah, good. That-That’s good. Do you want to go in?” 

“Sure.” You giggled. “After you, Chef.” 

“C’mon.” Carmen laughed lightly, shaking his head, hoping it would hide his burning cheeks. You were ahead of him, reaching for the door, his heart skipping when he saw it. “I got it!” 

You drew your hand back, looking at him carefully. The blush in his cheeks spread down to his neck. “I-I got it, let me get it.” Carmen nodded, pulling the handle. You glided past him, his hand ghosting on the small of your back, leaving you shuddering under his touch. It was casual, you doubted he even knew he did it, just a slight usher while he followed you in. 

“It’s so different being here at night.” You whispered to him, your arm brushing his while you walked to the hostess station. 

Carmen nodded. “I know, it’s, uh, it’s nice to see it like this, ya know?” He muttered. “See it from a customer’s perspective.” 

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” You asked, your head tilting to the side softly. “Why we’re kinda doing this?” 

Carmen’s heart fell, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He could feel his own mind racing. Of course, you didn’t think this was a date. Why would you ever want to be on a date with him?

“I mean, yeah, sorta. Here f’you too. To thank you for everything.” Carmen nodded, eyes cutting to yours. Fuck, he knew he needed to look at you, he wanted to look at you, but it was so fuckin’ hard. When you looked so pretty, so effortlessly calm and cool. It made him fluster. 

“C’mon, Carm. You hired me, paid me. And you guys have been so nice. Most places are… horrible. Act like I’m bothering them when they hired me. You’ve got a good place, great staff. I’m glad you wanted me to be a part of it for a while.” You smiled, stepping up to the hostess station.

Carmen could feel his heart squeeze, an uncomfortably tight realization that this would be the last time he saw you. He’d been running numbers all night, seeing where he could take cuts so he could keep you, but even then, you’d be gone for at least another two months since you already took another job. By then, whatever you had here, would be gone. 

“Ah, there you are, the VIP customers for the night.” Richie schmoozed, sliding behind the hostess stand. 

You grinned, Carmen’s eyes downcast making Richie’s jaw tick. “How are you two this evening?”

“Great.” You beamed. “Excited to try this place. I’ve never been here before. Heard it’s the best in Chicago.” You nudged Carmen playfully with your hip, grinning at him. 

He gave you a tight lipped smile, hands by his side, trying to nonchalantly wipe his hands on his slacks. Richie smiled at you, glaring lightly at Carmen. “Well, you heard right, sweetheart. We want your night to be extra special, so we have this booth back here just for the two of you.” 

“Hey, Syd,” Tina muttered, looking up from her plating to see your head pass with Carmen’s curly locks. “They’re here.” 

“Shit, are they?” Sydney turned, looking through the window. “God, Carmen looks like he’s about to pass out.” 

“Fuck, he does, doesn’t he?” Sugar huffed, her hands on her hips. 

Richie caught Sugar’s eye through the window, a flickering glance that told her exactly what she needed to know. “So, I will have the focaccia out for the two of you shortly. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” 

“‘M good.” Carmen muttered, taking the leather bound menu into his hands, knee bouncing under the table. 

You looked a little uncomfortable, eyes cutting to Carmen’s before a moment of hesitation flashed over your face. “Uh, I’ll take a glass of whatever you think would pair best with the meal?” 

“Perfect. I’ll have that out.” Richie smiled, hoping his silent screams at Carmen would be enough for him to catch on. Fak passed, slipping a piece of paper in Richie’s hand. Richie stepped away, reading Sugar’s scribbled writing: “GET CARMEN BACK HERE NOW!!!!” 

“Excuse me, folks,” Richie greeted apologetically, though the two of you weren’t talking. “Carmen, I hate to do this, but I need you just for a second, ok?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth without so much as looking at you. Richie fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’ll just be a second. That focaccia and riesling are on the way.” Richie grinned at you, stepping beside Carmen. 

“What’s goin’ on? Did we run out of-” 

“-No, you fuckin’ moron.” Richie huffed, letting the door slam shut. “The fuck is your problem, huh? You’re not even- hey, send that to six with the Cakebread white, ok?- You’re not even looking at her, c’mon, Cousin.” 

Carmen blushed, running a hand through his hair. “What? I-I’m talkin’ to her-” 

“-No, you’re not.” Sugar snapped, rounding the corner. “You look like an ass, Carmy. You’re on a date with her and-” 

“-It’s not a date.” Carmen shook his head, brushing it off. 

Sugar blinked. “You’re on a date with her,” She repeated, her tone firmer- a mom tone she’d adapted since working here that would help with the baby. “And you’re acting like a total-total…” Sugar waved her hands, stuttering over the word. 

“Jagoff.” Neil added, passing through the kitchen for a moment before going out the doors. 

“Thank you! Yes! A total jagoff.” Sugar glared at Carmen. 

“I-I don’t even think she thinks it’s a date-” 

The kitchen erupted in groans, shouting at him irritatedly. “Look at how she’s dressed. If she thought this was a free meal ticket, she wouldn’t wear that. That is a date night dress.” 

“That’s true.” Sydney added. 

Carmen couldn’t help the way his heart flipped with excitement, looking out the window at you, sitting at the table, nursing your wine slowly- alone. 

“Cousin, c’mere,” Richie motioned him, leading him towards the office. “Look, I get you got this whole ‘I deserve nothing good’ doom and gloom attitude, but that right there. That’s good.” Richie jabbed his finger towards the door. “I see you, ok? You guys got that cute little texting thing goin’ on, alright?” 

Carmen stilled. He felt like a teenager again, being teased and tormented by Mikey and Richie about a crush he had. How the fuck did he know about your texting? “Look, if you let her go tonight without even trying, you’re gonna regret it. You only got one chance, cousin, do not miss your chance to blow.” Richie said seriously. 

“Don’t fuckin’ quote Eminem to me right now-” 

“-Alright, alright, but seriously?” Richie nodded into the office, the tiny frame that held Mikey’s note ‘Let it rip!’. Carmen felt his stomach turn, guilt trilling in it. He knew Richie was right and that fact alone made him queasy. “Listen to Mikey, alright? You can have good shit in your life.” 

Carmen looked at the photo, taking a grounding breath, Mikey’s voice ringing loud in his ears. “Let it rip.” Carmen muttered, pushing past the double doors back to you. 

“Oh, no way!” You laughed. “You don’t have TikTok?” 

“No, no. Don’t have time for it.” Carmen shrugged, sipping his water. 

“Then how do you watch our videos?” You asked, brow raising in question. 

“I click the link you send me and it opens up just on my Google or whatever.” Carmen grinned, shrugging lightly, popping another truffle fry in his mouth. He’d nearly fallen over when you asked for ranch, teasing you lightly. You’d only shrugged, sticking one in your mouth, declaring it would taste better with ranch. You were kidding, of course, it was perfect. 

“Wow.” You smirked, finger tracing around the rim. “You’re missing out. It’s addictive.” 

“Yeah? It’s weird too.” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“Says you! You’re Mr. TikTok Famous and you don’t even know it.” You pushed his arm lightly, trying not to gawk at how firm his biceps were. Sure, you’d definitely seen them while he was working, but… they felt better than they looked. “Should see how you’ve got everyone in a tizzy. Chopping onions and marinating wagyu.” 

Carmen laughed, cheeks reddening at the compliment. “Yeah, those comments were…shocking.” 

“You think?” You cocked your head to the side. “I thought they were pretty normal.” 

“Half of them were asking me to violently punch them.” Carmen laughed, eyes widening at you. 

“Well, can you blame them?” You grinned, leaning in closer. “You got nice hands. Of course, they’re going feral. I knew what I was doing with that shot. Giving the people what they want.” 

Carmen blushed furiously, hoping you couldn’t see under the low light of the restaurant. “Nah, c’mon.” He looked down at his fingers, etched with tattoos. 

“You c’mon.” You grinned, reaching out a little daringly to trace a finger over his veins. You’d blame the wine for your boldness, but Carmen shivered under your touch. “You’ve got hot hands. No wonder they all go so crazy. You’re a pretty chef with good hands.” 

Carmen knew you had to see his blush now, sure his body temperature went up ten degrees, heart beating so bad in his chest he was sure he wasn’t going to make it another course. “Uh,” Carmen laughed, running his free hand over his mouth, hoping to hide some of his grin. He didn’t dare move his hand from his. “Well, thanks, I guess. I, um, I wanna say I think the same.” 

You lifted a brow, biting back a laugh when he stuttered, his eyes widening. Your giggles were infectious to him, a stream of his own nervous laugh spilling out of his throat. “No, I-I meant- fuck, I meant… I, uh, I think you’re pretty.” 

There was a pause, your own teeth pulling in your lip, grinning shyly at him. “Really?” You asked. You felt like you were in junior high again, finding out the boy on the JV team like liked you. It was giddy, the feeling in your chest. Warm, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Beautiful, really.” 

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, hoping to hide your smile behind your own glass of wine. Fak came by, dropping your next course off, a temporary relief for the moment, letting the two of you get yourselves together. 

“You think he’ll do it?” Sugar asked, pretending to roll silverware while Richie handed them to her. A meaningless job that just so happened to be by the window, so they could see the two of you. 

“I dunno. Could go either way.” Richie sucked in a breath. “He seems to be close, ya know? Think he has it in him to do it, just… fuck, I hope he does.” 

“Me too.” Sugar sighed. “Can you hear what they’re saying? It looks… nice? So that’s gotta be good, right?” 

“Yeah, hopefully…” Richie hummed, squinting to try and make out the words you were whispering to each other. The two of you were pressed together, migrated together as the meal went on until you were huddled, like it was the two of you. 

“I really don’t want you to leave.” Carmen admitted, body pressed to yours, hand in yours in the dim light of the booth. Everyone had left, all the patrons shuffled out and escorted to their cars. Some of the kitchen staff went home, but some stayed, pretending to be extra tedious with their cleanup so they could see the two of you. 

“I know. I’m having such a good time with you.” You agreed, tilting your chin up to look at him, lashes batting, eyes a little glossy from the wine. 

“No- I mean, yeah I-I’m having a good time with you, too. But I meant… leave forever.” Carmen admitted, the lump in his throat growing more and more with each word. “I really liked having you here.” 

“I liked being here.” You hummed, tongue running over your bottom lip lightly. “It was a lot of fun. I liked spending time with you.” 

“Yeah? I liked spending time with you too. A lot.” Carmen admitted. “And I… I want to keep spending time with you?” It came out more as a question, all hopeful eyes and a rounded gaze. “If-If you want to-” 

“-Yeah.” You grinned. “I wanna keep spending time with you. I like being with you, Carmen.” 

“Yeah? Really?” Camren was half convinced he was hallucinating. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. “If you wanna spend some more time with me too. I’d like to get to know you more, and not to just write a staff spotlight on.” You giggled, his lips curling at the sound. “To, like, really get to know you.” 

“I would… yeah, I’d like that. Like to get to know you too.” Carmen nodded. 

There was a pause, the tension between the two of you was thick. Your eyes darted from his lips back to his eyes, already leaning closer. Carmen could feel his stomach lurch with nerves, Mikey’s voice ringing over and over and over. 

Let it fuckin’ rip, Carmen thought before he moved in, lips on yours. His hands were clammy cradling your jaw but you didn’t seem to mind, your own arms snaking their way around his neck, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. 

“Holy shit!” Richie gasped, dropping the fork. “Look! Fuckin’ look!” 

The staff clambered around to huddle by the window, watching the two of you kiss, pulling apart with small smiles, before going back in. Carmen’s hands sliding down your back, your arms, your waist- fuck, he just loved feeling you like this, and he hadn’t even felt all of you. Yet. 

“He fuckin’ did it.” Richie grinned, awing at Carmen. “Hey, Sug, might be a bad time, but I believe I’m owed fifty dollars.” 

You pulled apart, grinning at Carmen, still huddled close together, his hands rubbing the silk fabric of your dress, your sliding through the curls on the nape of his neck. Your mind was dizzy, the rush of adrenaline, emotion, and buzzing from the wine. 

“What’re you doin’ tomorrow?” Carmen asked. 

“Nothing.” You hummed. “Why? You’ve got something in mind?” 

“Not-Not right now, actually.” Carmen admitted with a small laugh. “But I’d love to do something with you.” 

“Me too.” You smiled. 

Carmen looked around, catching his staff standing in the window, rolling his eyes when they darted after he caught them, scampering in different directions. “Um, it’s gettin’ kinda late.” Carmen looked at you, fingers drumming on his thigh- that was still touching yours. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking at your phone. “I guess I should go, and I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Carmen nodded, sliding out of the booth then offering his hand to help you. “Did you walk here?” 

“No, I took the L.” You walked towards the door beside him. It was quiet, the soft hum from the kitchen, the muffled clatters of pots and pans being put away. 

“Me too. I’ll ride back with you?” Carmen offered. 

“I thought you lived like three blocks away?” You giggled, tilting your head to the side. “And I’m in the opposite direction.” 

“Yeah, I-I do.” Carmen nodded. “I just… You shouldn’t ride alone at night, ya know? Shit could happen and… I don’t want it to. To happen to you.” 

You could feel the heat flushing through your cheeks, through your chest. You laughed lightly. “Is this your way of trying to come home with me?” You lifted a brow playfully. 

“No! No.” Carmen shook his head, flustered, which made you laugh harder. 

“I’m kidding, Carm.” You giggle, reassuring him. “But… if you wanted to come stay the night. Since it’s late… and you’re insisting on coming with me on the L.” 

“I don’t wanna make-make it weird, or come off like that. I-I really am… I like you.” Carmen stuttered. Fuck, there was nothing more tempting than that invite, but Carmen didn’t want to fuck this up. He really didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“I mean, stay over so we can talk more.” You gave him a pointed look. “We were having a good conversation. Weren’t we?” 

“Yeah, no, yeah. Yeah, we were.” Carmen stuttered, hand on the door, twisting the lock though his eyes never left yours. 

“So… You want to come over then? Finish telling me about Copenhagen? Please?” And how could Carmen say no, his head spinning with excitement when he walked out behind you, letting the door fall shut, your arm looping around his while you walked towards the L. 

Richie ran to the front, pushing the door open with Sugar and Tina, watching the two of you walk towards the station. “Good job, Cousin.” Richie muttered. 

[photo1030]

Heyyy I have a suggestion to make it’s kinda stupid whatever so it takes place at the mayor’s party where Arthur Morgan and Dutch is meeting mr Bronte and reader come running to Mr Bronte for some random reason and sense she’s wearing a corset she can’t get all the air in her lungs AND SHE PAST OUT so Arthur or Dutch (I LUV THEM BOTH teehee) gotta RIPS her out the corset.. that’s all I got LOVE YOUR WRITING BTWW MWAH! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi there @lizzie2980 So sorry this has taken me forever. Thank you for being so kind and patient (and hopefully still interested?) This was a great prompt, had a lot of fun with this one.

This is a bit out of the canon story, hopefully that is OK. This is a little bit of flirty and protective Arthur, with a smidge of charming Dutch in there...lovely combo, if you ask me....which you did...(This is not part of my existing fic, Leather and Lace, btw)

(The images used here were found on a lovely blog that is apparently designed to help fanworks. Check it out! Thank you to whoever put that together. https://reddeadreference.tumblr.com/post/679731317406072832/the-gilded-cage )

*Special thanks to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

DON’T MAKE A SCENE 

Summary:  You are at Angelo Bronte’s house for a fancy garden party when you meet a certain group of outlaws.

Your hands clamp down tighter as the plump elderly matron apologetically yanks the strings of the restrictive corset. Nails of already shaky fingers dig into the wooden bedpost that you use to support yourself with as you stand on wavering feet. You wince on the verge of painful tears as Bridget stands behind you and pulls the threads of the already too tight garment even tighter still, testing the limits of its stitching and causing a gasp to quickly get sucked into your folded-up lungs with each pull.

Sunset has already begun, the brilliant orange disc settling itself softly behind the horizon line for the day, and your room slowly dims to a pastel dusk as you get ready, the wall sconces glowing against the ivory painted walls of your lavish private quarters inside Angelo Bronte’s mansion. The garden party below will be starting any minute, and the shadows that dance along the walls inside the house mask the dread inside your chest. It is as if your hope and spirit are diminishing with the quickly-fading sun. You are hoping that Bridget doesn’t see the trepidation creeping into your expression as she flits about you, but the older woman is too shrewd for that. 

“You know...Mr. Bronte…he isn’t going to wait much longer for you”, she murmurs as her weathered fingers begin to run over your frame, smoothing out the fabric of your dress, picking at errant threads. “He will eventually want what he feels he is due.”

The obvious statement hits your gut like a prize-fighter’s punch. “I know,” you utter with a dejected sigh, your voice almost a whimper in the air.

The thought of the man’s pock-marked, oily skin against your own makes you sick to your stomach. It would be like a vile lizard rubbing up against you. 

But Bridget is not unsympathetic to your situation. She is definitely a woman of experienced years, as the graying hair of her loosely tied-up bun gives testament to. And she knows a thing or two from her twenty-some years in service to upper-society households. 

“You know, sometimes when you’re a woman, you just have to do what you have to do. Close your eyes and let your mind go somewhere else when it’s happening.” She waves her hand dismissively in the air as if speaking about the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. “Just tune it all out, let the man have his way, and then it will all be over quickly. In fact, it’s usually over quicker than you think.” She gives you a whimsical wink as a sharp cackle snaps out of her throat at her own joke. Whether Bridget is speaking specifically about Bronte, or any man for that matter, you are not sure, as this seems to have the feel of a rehearsed speech she has given many times over.

When Bridget sees the distaste of such a thing clearly coating your face as you silently stand there with your hands fidgeting over themselves, she continues.

“If you’re clever enough, you could let him have what he wants, but then have something for yourself on the side, you know.” 

Your eyes immediately shoot up to hers to find that knowing twinkle in her eye. The thought causes a humorless huff from your lips. 

“I can barely manage to look after myself, Bridget. I couldn’t manage that cat-and-mouse game.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs and continues to primp and preen your outfit. 

Despite the odd advice, you are grateful for Bridget’s counsel. She is the only friend you have here in Angelo Bronte’s mansion. You are not a hostage per se, but he has made his opinions very clear on how he feels about a woman, especially one indebted to him, leaving the premises to socialize without him as your escort and chaperone; so improper, so ungrateful. 

It is especially warm tonight on the evening of the garden party that Mr. Bronte has been planning for weeks now. The whole household buzzes with excitement and anticipation for the fancy event, despite the sweltering weather. St. Denis is dreadfully hot and muggy, making it difficult to breathe on a good day. You’re not used to such heat. You come from the northern state of Massachusetts, which is much cooler. The heat here is bad enough, but the humidity clings to the air like a wet blanket. 

And this damn dress doesn’t help in the slightest. 

The dress that Angelo Bronte hand-picked for you to wear tonight is way too tight, making you lightheaded already. You watch in the full-length mirror as the constricting fabric pulls your body into shape under Bridget’s strong, able fingers, transforming your voluptuous figure into an hourglass. A deep midnight blue hued fabric that shimmers in the light is cut to hug and accent your physique, leaving little to the imagination of the observer. 

If the origins of the dress weren’t so distasteful, you may have very well liked the beautiful gown that currently clings to your form and drapes over your hips in a cascade of silk. But you know Bronte did not provide this gown to please you. No, he did it for his own inflated ego. Bronte will parade you around tonight like a prized horse out of his stable, showing you off to all in tonight’s attendance. And he’ll treat you as such too - like something he’s purchased and owns outright.

You curse yourself for letting yourself get into this situation. You hate that you have to rely on this man for a place to live. You arrived new to St. Denis a month ago and were promptly robbed upon arrival, leaving you with nothing. So much for civilization. 

Bronte noticed you at the train station, frazzled and lost, and totally beside yourself as to what you would do now. You came here with no relatives, no contacts, just the promise of jobs and new adventure out West from an ad you saw in the newspaper back home. The man quickly made your acquaintance, preying like a vulture on your vulnerable situation. He was charming with a note of authority, like he knew exactly what to do and where to go. But it quickly became apparent that he offered you his home as a sanctuary in hopes to win your affections. You’ve managed to play coy for awhile, however, agreeing to be on his arm and accompany him to various social functions in town in exchange for residency in his home. But you have denied the man what he wants most - you in his bed. 

An involuntary sigh passes your cherry lips as Bridget takes your hand in hers, patting it in the same way a grandmother comforts her troubled grandchild, and leads you to the vanity along the opposite wall so she can set your hair. Your body mindlessly drifts to the tapestry-padded stool, like a lost flower petal in the wind, void of any energy or enthusiasm. 

Bridget’s nimble fingers curl your hair and pin it back to showcase your pretty face, adding in beautiful crystal clips for decoration and she even weaves a few flower buds from the garden into your locks. You sit silently in front of the vanity mirror with a blank stare, a melancholy overtaking your soul as you watch her prepare you to be the perfect accessory to the rich man’s life. The motherly woman’s presence comforts you, but she is also serving you up to the master of the house like a slice of beef on a silver platter for him to devour. 

“There, now. Don’t you just look breathtaking?” she breaths in awe. The deep-set lines around Bridget’s hazel-colored eyes crinkle as she admires her masterpiece. Your eyes refocus to catch the old woman’s proud gaze in the mirror, and then back over your own reflection.

“Yes, Bridget,” you whisper with a sad smile, your lower lip quivering just slightly. “You did a fine job. Thank you for your help tonight.” She catches the reluctance in your fluttering eyes and can only nod in agreement. She lovingly pats your arm in an attempt to comfort your growing uneasiness. 

“Well, I had better get downstairs and tend to the kitchen, then. Don’t hide up here too long, miss.” And she wipes her hands on her apron as her wide hips carry her to the bedroom door before she slips out and you are alone with your thoughts once again. 

With a deep sigh, you haul yourself up to stand. You swish the heavy fabric of your dress-skirts to the side to allow you to amble over to the balcony doors of your private room. Pulling the double-doors open wide with both hands, you step out onto the freshly painted wood as a rush of humid air hits you like a wall, causing you to take a brief pause to try to catch your breath. Your hands eventually find their place upon the smooth railing as you step up to the edge to look out over the balcony at the garden party below. 

Jovial music floats up to your ears from the string quartet that is playing on the patio beneath you. String lights delicately criss-cross over the open garden area, resembling a net that has caught a thousand fire-flies. Bronte’s guests have already started to arrive and their chatter fills the air, alternating with the clinks of champagne flutes. You casually observe as greedy fingers grab at the delectable food and free alcohol that is meticulously displayed along elegant tables that dot across the property, the delicious aromas wafting through the evening air. 

The scene laid out before you is like a page out of the society section of the newspapers. Always over-the-top, always impressive, Angelo Bronte spares no expense in his functions. Decadent food, expensive wines, extravagant decor. Always to impress the upper echelon of society. And yet, you have no desire to mingle with the high-society of St. Denis. From what you’ve seen, it’s hardly impressive to you. 

You watch with disinterest over the crowd, observing from the elevated vantage point as people collect in small groups, then turn to whisper to each other like conniving socal piranhas the moment one of the fold turns to leave to join another circle. With a scornful roll of your eyes, you have no idea how you are going to make it through this evening unscathed. 

And then, a collection of unknown men catch your eye. You’ve never seen them in Bronte’s circle before. And they clearly don’t belong. Under closer observation, this is an assembly of rugged looking gentlemen, a sharp contrast to the other guests in attendance tonight. Though they may have donned fancy tuxedos and hats, the way they carry themselves indicates they are not used to wearing such garb. Their eyes nervously shift all around instead of at whoever is addressing them as if more interested in what is happening around them rather than trying to assert social connections. Your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth as your curious gaze lingers on them, trying to determine if they were invited or snuck in with the crowd.

As if he can feel your eye on him with the sixth sense of a trained outlaw, Arthur instinctively looks away from the men he is standing with and looks up towards the balcony of the great house and notices you. He doesn’t smile or even move for that matter, other than a single eyebrow lift as if in confusion. Your breath catches a bit at being caught staring. But yet you cannot bring yourself to break eye contact with the startling blue eyes gazing back at you from across the garden. And you can’t help the soft smile that blooms across your blushing cheeks at the ruggedly handsome man. 

When the mystery man eventually turns his attention back to his companions, you shake your head back to reality and decide you’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to begin to make your way down to the garden party and get this over with. You leisurely stroll along the length of the wrap-around balcony of the house to the stairs that will carry you down to the patio. Your hand has to grip the railing of the staircase as you walk, as your dress is so tight that descending the stairs makes you out of breath. The boning of the corset digs painfully into your ribs and hipbones as you move. Such a dreadful, masochistic thing, you wonder why on earth women put themselves through such torture for the sake of fashion. Once at the bottom, you attempt to take a deep breath, bringing your fingertips to your temples before bracing yourself to join the guests. 

First order of business, you scan the crowd to locate your host. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually lock-in on him when you hear his boisterous, condescending laugh echoing over the throng of people. Angelo Bronte really is a toad of a man. And despite his money and power, he is rather socially inept. Maybe it’s the fact that he's not from this country. Or maybe society is held differently in Italy. But either way, the elite here in St. Denis have mixed feelings about the wealthy man. Mixed as in, they like his wealth but do not care for the man. And that is where you come in. 

Bronte’s idea is that having a beautiful, refined and charming woman on his arm will make him appear more distinguished. Your role in this little arrangement with him is to be the doting young paramore, helping him to navigate the social circles. No one needs to be the wiser that the two of you sleep in separate rooms on completely different ends of the house. But for appearances sake, Angelo Bronte has acquired himself quite the crown jewel with your presence. 

As you meander through the crowd, you keep getting intercepted by random party guests, each one handing you a new glass of champagne. Your eye catches Bronte’s a few times as you mingle, as he checks to make sure you are performing as expected. Of course, the witty jokes, effervescent laughing and demure little smiles that emanate from you work according to plan. You can see Bronte pointing you out to guests from across the garden, a crude grin of approval splitting across the faces of the men he leans into, all chattering with hushed tones and hungry eyes. It’s enough to make your corset-restricted stomach turn. 

After about forty five minutes of false chuckles and empty smiles, you are desperate for fresh air and peace and quiet, so you discreetly head to the rose garden which is off to the right side of the party, hoping to find less people there.

Wandering aimlessly through the maze of hedges and rose bushes, you manage to find a quiet little corner away from prattling visitors and raise your tired eyes to the heavens above. The smog of St. Denis covers the night sky and it leaves you with a heavy feeling of disappointment that even the vast galaxy of stars is being kept from you in this dreadful place. With a dispirited sigh, your tear-misted eyes slowly roll shut, attempting to find some sort of solitude from this hell on earth. 

“Is this a safe place to hide?”

The sound of a deep, gravelly voice suddenly cuts into your mind, causing your eyes to snap open as you spin to see who is speaking to you. 

And there he is. The handsome fellow who you were staring at from the balcony. He stands quietly, a slight smirk of amusement on his face. It takes you a few moments to realize that he is indeed real, no fantasy apparition to come to stand before you. Confused blinks skitter across your face as you take in the sight of him. Now that you are up close to him, you can see just how tall and broad-shouldered he is. 

“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he offers when you hesitate to answer, his simple apology carrying little fanfare or bravado. Just a simple statement with no malice, no ill-content and no agenda towards you. 

“Oh…no…you didn’t startle me,” you manage to stammer as you try to regain your composure.

The stranger’s ocean-blue eyes float across your frame, head to toe, assessing you with a slight tilt of his head.  “You sure about that?” he jokes as he gives you a deeper smirk now.

Picking up on his genuine humor, you release the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. “No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I just needed a minute, is all. I didn’t expect anyone to be back here.” 

When you lob a smile back at him in return, Arthur takes a gamble and begins to move slightly closer to you, specifically intent on maintaining this conversation. “Hmm, needing to get away from the herd? Is that it?”

The term causes a chuckle to erupt out of your throat. “Yeah, something like that.” You begin to step towards him as well, both of you moving slowly yet purposefully towards the other to close the gap between you until you are about three feet from each other. The air surrounding the garden is like that before a thunderstorm, exhilarating because it could be both beautiful and dangerous at the same time. The two of you stand quietly, simply staring at the other like a couple of clumsy teenagers not knowing what to say. 

“No offense, but you don’t seem like you belong here,” you finally break the amorous spell with a raised eyebrow. As your words hover like a butterfly in his ears, you note the faded scars along the man’s chin, embedded into his tanned skin and nestled beneath his rugged beard that you can see was probably hastily groomed for this evening.

He doesn’t deny it, but counters almost playfully with “I could say the same for you.”

You flirtatiously narrow your eyes at him. “What makes you say that?”

He waves his large finger towards you. “You carry the same disdain for this place on your face that I do.”

Well, you have to admit, he’s got you there and all you can do is nod in agreement. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he chuckles, bringing his hand up to pinch his fingers together to accent his point. “It's ok, though. Glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here.” And he tosses a perturbed glace back over his shoulder towards the noise of the party. 

“I guess that makes us two peas in a pod, then, doesn’t it?” you muse with a glittering smile that makes his chest tight.

A grin pulls at the corner of the stranger’s plump lips, causing his scarred chin to wrinkle. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?” 

“My name is Y/F&LN”. You extend your hand out and his large hand completely engulfs yours, dwarfing your delicate fingers with his own. You immediately notice how his skin is rough, yet warm to the touch, his hand strong in a comfortingly protective way. 

“Arthur Morgan.”

And the two of you hold each other’s gaze like a spark of electricity pulsing through the air to connect you. You can feel your fingertips go numb as your heart beats faster within your perfume-dusted chest. And Arthur hopes that you do not notice how he thickly swallows, flexing his now-sweaty hands before awkwardly kneading his thumb into the opposite palm. 

But your beautiful little moment together is short-lived when you hear your name being called out into the night, snapping you back to the real world. And before you know it, a very anxious-looking Bridget appears from around the hedges, her eyes darting around, her lips pressed tightly together in worry. 

“Miss Y/N, there you are! Mr. Bronte is asking for you.” She gives you a sharp wave in her direction before her eyes quickly slip to the burly gentleman to your right.

An embarrassed school-girl blush dusts your cheeks as you clear your throat. “Yes, of course, Bridget, thank you. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Arthur. “Well, Mr. Morgan, it was very nice to meet you. If you will excuse me, please.”

“‘Course.” Arthur dips his head with a respectful nod as you float past him, your fingertips nervously tucking a few tendrils of hair behind your ear. 

Bridget gives Arthur a good look up and down before she turns and follows behind you back towards the music of the garden party with a sly, smug smile drawn on her lips. “Maybe you’re more clever than you think,” she whispers impishly in your ear. You shoot her a cautionary look as you smooth your hands over the fabric of your dress, making sure that you are presentation-ready before you make your way to your host. 

As you navigate the crowd to approach Bronte, you take notice that he is talking to the other men that came with Mr. Morgan. The moment he catches sight of you, Bronte’s face lights up.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! There you are! Come, Come!” He waves you over to stand next to him. “I’d like you to meet some special guests.” Bronte crudely clutches your hand, bringing it to his saliva-slick lips before eagerly wrapping it around his arm. “This is Mr. Van der Linde, and his associates, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Matthews. Gentleman, this is my…’companion’, Miss Y/LN.”

You force down the bile in the back of your throat that the toad conjures up as a graceful nod and accompanying smile adorns your pretty face when you turn towards the men you are being presented to. “Gentleman, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

“Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Van Der Linde greets you as he flashes a sultry grin in your direction, boldly reaching his ringed hand to take ahold of yours that sits tucked in Bronte’s elbow. He brazenly brings your digits to his warm mouth to place a tender kiss along your knuckles. “Call me Dutch.” His dark eyes fully take you in with a glitter of mischief behind them. “Mr. Bronte is indeed a lucky man.”

Unlike Angelo Bronte, you find this new social contact of his to be quite charismatic and charming. And while most of the attendees of this event carry some level of bravado, this man standing in front of you seems to be quite different, the type to put his money where his mouth is. 

Interest flashes through your eyes at this dark-haired stranger. And Bronte is quick to notice. With a deep scowl of disapproval, his arm quickly snakes around your waist, holding you possessively against him in the presence of these men, so tight that it makes you squirm against his grip. You are about to protest the moderately painful discomfort when Mr. Morgan suddenly joins the circle, his azure eyes immediately targeting the meaty hand that grips your hip before lifting to meet your grimacing expression. The sight makes his face turn dark with a menacing presence to it. It almost shocks you to see the stark contrast to his demeanor from your encounter a few moments ago. 

“Quite the shindig you got goin’ here, Bronte,” Mr. Morgan says cooly, his statement breaking the tension of the social circle. “You always run things like this?”

The disapproval in your new friend’s voice causes one of the other men in his group (Mr. Matthews, is it?) to shoot him a glare of warning, to which Mr. Morgan shrugs off. 

Bronte lifts his nose at the rub, but he will not be made a fool of so easily at the challenge. “Ah, I’m sure you country folk are not used to such luxury, yes?”  

“Personally, I don’t care for it,” snarks Arthur with a snort of derision. “Hard to enjoy myself like a gluttonous pig when there’s people right outside the gate starvin’”

As you stand there next to Bronte listening to these men throw thinly veiled contempt at one another, you begin to feel dizzy. Your head starts to swim, spots dancing before your eyes, making your stomach lurch. But no one notices at first, except for Mr. Van Der Linde.

“You alright, miss?” Mr. Van Der Linde questions you with concern skipping across his dark features. 

“Oh, yes,” you wave him off. “It’s just…just this heat…” You begin to fan yourself, desperate for some cool air to caress your face. 

And suddenly the world around you starts to spin and your knees give way underneath you as if they move of their own accord. You begin to crumple in front of everyone and Dutch is quick to catch you just before you hit the ground, his strong arms shooting out to enfold you and ease you into the grass. The moment Arthur sees that you are in trouble, he promptly hovers over you as well, catching your hand into his own and placing himself between you and Bronte as things go dark in front of your eyes.

A collection of curious guests begins to gather around the spectacle, whispers and fingers discreetly pointing in your direction.

“The lady needs some air,” asserts Dutch as he kneels behind you.

Arthur is at a loss on what to do at first, but is quick to notice how restrictive the corset of your dress is, as your chest can barely move as you desperately gasp for air, your face turning red from the heat of the evening.

With a look of determination, Arthur’s rough hands wrap around your biceps and carefully lift the upper part of your limp body to lean against Dutch, who cradles you into his chest for support. Without a word, Arthur grabs at the fabric of your dress and quickly rips the corseted area wide open, easily tearing the seams under his hands, to release your lungs, exposing the delicate silk undergarments and bare skin hidden beneath. Shock slaps Angelo Bronte in the face as he stands behind Arthur, helplessly watching this embarrassing little scene unfold before his eyes. 

Ignoring the judgemental gasps of the partygoers, Arthur then proceeds to snatch a glass of champagne out of the hands of one of the nosey women craning her neck to see the spectacle and tosses the liquid into your face. The moment the bubbly fluid hits your skin, your eyes instantly pop open as you deeply gasp, desperate to expand your lungs to draw in fresh air. 

Arthur cautiously watches your face in anticipation as you rapidly blink the sweet nectar out of your lashes. Your eyes land on Arthur in confusion as to what has just happened before looking down at yourself and realize that you are now exposed to the whole party. But Arthur immediately takes off his jacket and lays it overtop of you as you sit nestled safely against Dutch who is still behind you. And Arthur breathes a sigh of relief when he recognizes the threads of alertness brightening your features once again. 

“Get the hell outta here,” Arthur orders the crowd, waving them away with a wide arc of his long arm. “Nothing to see here, just a woman needing some air, is all.”

“Can you stand, miss?” Dutch’s deep voice carries softly over your shoulder and into your ear, anchoring you back to consciousness. 

“I think so,” you venture, although the wavering in your voice is not entirely convincing. Your head is still swimming with confusion, but at least you can breathe now and the pounding in your temples has started to recede. 

Arthur takes your hand again, his other slipping under your arm to guide you to your feet as Dutch carefully steadies you from behind. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you say sheepishly looking up into Arthur’s worried face. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Bronte suddenly bellows, finally finding his voice of outrage. “Thank you?! You make a scene in my house and you say ‘thank you?!”

“Easy, leave her be,” Arthur growls out, turning his threatening gaze to the party’s host. “Can’t you see the lady isn’t well?”

“No, she most certainly is not!” Bronte spits back in anger. His heartless, burning eyes now land back on you, his nostrils flaring wildly with impatience as his expression screws up into a hateful scowl. “Nuisance! I knew it was a mistake to bring you here” he hollers at you, flecks of spittle flying in your direction. “Should’ve left you at the station where I found you!” His finger thrown in your face causes you to shrink backwards, leaning your back into Dutch yet again, where the man’s hands protectively come up to cradle your arms. 

But Arthur is not having any of it, protectively placing his large bear-like frame between you and Bronte, towering over the other man and desperately trying to refrain from landing his massive fist into his face. “You best keep that finger to yourself, Mr. Bronte, else I'll break it clean off.” Arthur’s tone is low and deep, his threat making a shutter cascade down your spine as you watch with baited breath for what is to happen next. 

“Get out! All of you! Get! Out!” Bronte screams, waving at the group of newcomers. “And take that bitch with you, too!”

Your heart sinks as you watch the Italian spin on his heels and storm off towards the house, his arms flailing wildly as he vents his frustrations and anger out into the ether. The party has clearly ended now, as the guests murmur and whisper amongst themselves about the outrageous scene and begin to file out of the garden to leave. 

Your head hangs a bit in shame as you nibble nervously on your pink bottom lip, holding Arthur's jacket over your chest like armor. You have no love lost for Angelo Bronte, but the idea that you now have nowhere to go is a little terrifying. You have no money, no provisions. Nothing. 

Arthur turns to look at you, seeing your soft face frozen in stunned silence. His own countenance turns sheepish as he now realizes that he has cost you your home. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to get you tossed out.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” You shake your head and place a grateful hand along Arthur’s arm. “You probably did me a favor.” Your smile is warm and forgiving, but it doesn’t make him feel any less responsible for your new predicament. “But I meant what I said, Mr. Morgan. Thank you,” you whisper emphatically. Your gentle voice causes butterflies to flutter in his belly. 

“You have anywhere to go now?” Arthur asks, his blue eyes burning into your own. God, how you could get lost in those eyes for hours. 

Sadly, you shake your head, confirming his suspicions. 

“Well, then,” interrupts Dutch from where he still stands behind you, “If that is the case, you are welcome to come with us, Miss Y/L/N.” He offers you another of his charming smiles as he holds open Arthur’s jacket as you slide your arms in, and he pulls the oversized garment protectively over your shoulders. He then offers you his arm to escort you away from the party, with his entourage in tow. 

Arthur gives a lofty eye-roll to the heavens at Dutch’s attempt to swoon you, causing Mr. Matthews to chuckle at the interaction. But you smile graciously at Mr. Van der Linde’s offer as you gladly accept his arm and begin to walk with him. You look back over your shoulder and give Arthur a demure little grin, which he returns as he follows you and Dutch out to the front of the property towards the awaiting carriages with Mr. Matthews and Mr. Williamson close behind. 

“Thank you, Mr. Van Der Linde,” you smile brightly up at him. “I just may have to take you up on that offer.” 

Masterlist for more Arthur goodness

Taglist: @appalachiancowboy99 @rivetingrosie4

[buuniebaby]

receiving and giving head 👅👅

IN THE BACKSEAT - PT1

showing how greatful you are for the way your boyfriend cares about you.

notes: I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH. before I left I had an idea based on this ask + another ask to make a fic about hamzah giving u head, receiving, and giving him a handjob, and I was gonna make them 3 lil short blurbs but i kinda got carried away and decided to just make 3 fics.

contains: kinda dubious consent, road head, the sloppiest toppy you’ve ever seen

wc: 2k 🎀

it’s not uncommon for your boyfriend to get sick of being indoors. it’s almost like an itch, driving him to get out, move, go do something to keep him from bed-rotting.

it’s a feeling becoming far too familiar this morning, creeping up into hamzah’s head because he’s just so suffocated by the house around him. his bed doesn’t feel comforting anymore, just messy and overwhelming. it stresses him out.

the feeling starts to get visible when you watch as he starts doing that thing where he bounces his leg up and down as fast as he can.

“you good?” you ask, looking up at him from your side of the bed. you’ve known him for long enough to know that something’s up - now you just need to go through the 3-4 things that could actually be wrong and figure out what’s bothering him.

“just.. bored.” he says, shrugging to himself. it’s a surface level response, not letting you in as deep as you’d like to be, but it gives you all the information you need.

“y’wanna go for a drive?” you ask, first solution coming to mind. it shocks him for a second, how you’ve come up with the perfect solution given nothing to work with, before he remembers that you know him better than anyone. of course you can guess that he’s restless.

“how did you-“ he says, cutting himself off because he really doesn’t need to argue with you. “yeah, I do.”

“I’ll go with you.” you say, shrugging the blanket you were nicely tucked into off of you in one swift movement. he jerks a little, noticing the way you seemed comfortable under the covers.

“you don’t have to-“ he stutters, but you’ve already made your way out of the bed to get ready.

“want to. it’s fine.” you mutter as you walk to the bathroom. “plus, i’m hungry. this is like, the perfect opportunity to force you to take me through a drive thru.”

not much time passes before you’re hamzah’s passenger princess, dropping to the side of your boyfriend and cranking the seat back to whatever makes you comfortable. as if it’s an instinct, one of his hands creeps it’s way to your thigh, slowly rubbing the flesh. you’ve noticed that physical touch seems to comfort him, even if it’s as small as just having a hand on you.

you tap your fingers on the dash in a rhythmic pattern as he drives, subconsciously trying to pass the time. he looks over at you, noticing your restlessness, and shooting a quick smile at you before focusing himself back onto the road. it makes your heart thump a little harder for a second, and you melt back into your seat.

“have to go to the gas station,” he mumbles, eyes still locked in on the road. “pick up some stuff.“ all you can do is just reply with a soft “mhmm,” knowing from his tone that he’s probably got a lot on his mind.

it’s not long before he’s pulling into a parking lot, tapping your thigh with his hand before he pulls it away to open the door. “be right back, love you.” he mutters; a small comment, but it means the world to you. it’s the way he goes out of his way to make sure you’re safe, knowing he’s not going to be gone long - it’s a sweet gesture.

you’re finding yourself staring out the window into space for a few minutes, before you flinch at the sound of the door opening again. suddenly, you’re melting into your seat again - this time, with a warm smile.

there hamzah is, few things in hand - most notably, an arizona tea can in your favorite flavor. something you didn’t even have to ask for, but he still thought of. your stomach flips and it hits you;

he really cares.

he shoves himself back into his seat, nonchalantly handing you the tea and cracking open an energy drink for himself. you just keep staring at him while he gets comfortable, a adoring glare in your eyes. he doesn’t notice it until he buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you, doing a double take when he realizes how intensely you’re staring.

“what?” he chuckles, searching your face.

“you’re so sweet.” you say, a mix between a smile and a frown on your face forming as you hold your drink in your hands. he looks back at you like you’re crazy.

“it’s just like, a drink-“ he replies back, confused at your demeanor. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t get it.” you sigh, lovingly. “like, I didn’t even have to ask. you just.. thought of me.” you duck your head, softly smiling while rubbing your fingers together.

“i guess.” he replies back as the engine of your car revs, still not understanding why you’re so amused by a simple act. “just wanted to see you smile.”

you think you can feel yourself melting.

he places his hand back on your thigh again as he gets back on the road, and you come to a realization.

you want to give this man the sloppiest, most earth-shattering head he’ll ever experience.

“hamzahhh..” you mumble, looking up at him with those big, glossy eyes, because you know it’ll get it to him. he looks over at you, staggering his attention between your face and the road. he lets out a little “hm?” in response to the sound of his name, making sure you’re okay.

this time, you move a hand over to his thigh, gently tracing the fabric of his shorts with your fingers while you contemplate your next move. his thighs are so fucking beefy and bulky and you think your panties are completely soaked.

“can i-“ you start, cutting yourself off when you realize what you’re about to say. you decide to move your hands a little higher before you say what’s on your mind, ever-so-slightly palming him through his shorts. he lets out a small whine, eyes losing focus on the road.

“what are you-“ he cuts himself off, nearly gasping at the impetuous feeling of your hands creeping up on him. you can tell he’s trying to keep himself from giving in to your touch.

“i wanna suck your dick like, so bad right now.”

hamzah grips the steering wheel as tight as he possibly can.

“yeah- t-that’s- yeah. okay.” he manages to get out, gasping for air. his hips rock upwards, pressing himself into your hands. “fuck- please.”

you give yourself a sly smile, celebrating your success as you reach a hand into his pants. you have to pull his shirt up a little for full access, revealing the hair of his happy trail peeking out - a sight that always gets you going. he’s already letting out a breathy moan the second your hand comes in contact with his cock, pulling it out of his boxers.

“love you s’much hamzah.” you mumble, voice drunken with bliss as you watch him grow in your hand. there’s already precum dribbling over the tip, which you swipe away with your thumb, causing him to shiver and choke on his breath a bit.

as you start to move your hands up and down the length in front of you, a tension builds. you can tell he’s struggling to focus on the road, taking desperate peeks down at the sight below him. you click your tongue.

“keep your eyes on the road, baby.” you say, making eye contact with him as you fingers wrap around his cock.

hamzah thinks he might have just died then and there.

he grumbles as he follows your orders, sweating as he locks his eyes on the road in front of him. it’s almost a little funny, knowing how desperate he is to see the scene below him. you giggle at his obedience before you flip your hair over your shoulder, mouth sinking onto his cock.

“fuck-“ hamzah jolts, feeling your lips drag across his length. “you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.” he lets out, shuddering.

you let out a laugh around his cock, and he decides he can’t take it anymore. eyes still locked on the road, he moves a hand down from the steering wheel and gathers your hair with it. before you know it, he’s created a makeshift ponytail in his hand, tugging at it and pushing your head down.

you gag a little, his cock being shoved down your throat from the mixture of him pushing your head and thrusting his hips upwards. it’s uncomfortable, but watching him take control like this is so euphoric to you - it cancels out.

you hollow your cheeks, letting out a content hum when you feel your nose make contact with the bushy hair around his cock, buried as deep as it possibly can be inside the warmth of your mouth. hamzah isn’t that mean though, so he uses his grip on your hair to pull you off for a breath.

you use your break to gather the saliva in your mouth from the intrusion of his dick, spitting it straight onto his cock, and using your hand to jerk him off with your self-made lubricant. he stays verbal, moaning as the grip on your hair gets tighter.

“didn’t know you were this much of a fucking slut.”

huh.

you like that-

you like that a lot.

his words motivate you to take control, sinking your head back down onto his cock. he moans, then lets out a low chuckle.

“y’like that, huh?” he asks, taking a glance down as he watches you nod, dick still shoved down your throat.

“such a fucking- god,” he stops himself, rocking his hips against your mouth. “such a whore, can’t have her lips off of my fucking cock for five f-fucking seconds. has to suck me off in the car, couldn’t wait until we got home-“ he rambles as his hips buck into your lips.

“fuck- baby.”

you can feel tears building up in the corners of your eyes as you continue working your tongue around his cock while it stays warm in the deep cavern of your throat. you’re shocked at how hamzah hasn’t given up and just crashed the car at this point, from the way his hips slam up into you, silently begging for stimulation.

“gonna fucking cum- shit.” he warns, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you bob your head up and down his shaft faster - he takes it as a silent invitation.

Before you can process what’s happening, there’s a twitch followed by a warmth hitting the back of your throat. it makes you gag a bit before you’re able to regain control and swallow, pulling off.

you’re immediately met with the sight of a disheveled hamzah, sweaty and fucked-out, blankly staring at the road in front of you. it’s not until you process that you’re on the road, which immediately moves your eyes to the speedometer, going a solid 20 above the speed limit.

“hamzah, holy shit, slow down.” you giggle. he needs to take a breather before he slowly nods and complies, slowing the car.

the next thing you notice is the way his cock is still out in the open, covered in a mix of cum and slobber. you wipe your mouth on your sleeve and then carefully shove his half-hard cock back into his pants; it elicits a small shiver from the boy. it’s kind of cute like this, watching him so fucked out of his mind he can barely communicate.

he fixes his posture as he begins to come back to life, rubbing his furrowed brow with one of his hands.

“holy fuck, baby.” he trails off. it’s what he says next in that blissed-out tone that really gets you.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

now that you’ve cleaned up after him, your only responsibility is to make sure he feels comforted. you rest your head on his shoulder from the passenger seat, snuggling up to his lax arm while watching him drive.

“remind me to buy you shit more often.”

[chowdersinterlude]

Teeth

Izuku Midoriya x Bakugou’s Sister!Reader

Contains: fluff, you and bakugou get into a argument, spice (just kissing and dry humping)

summary: Being bakugou’s sister means you have the attitude of him, but it’s kinda hard to when his rival is really cute.

Bakugou was always a selfish human being, always wanting to succeed

This trait and his nasty attitude all crashed down on his sister

Y/N

you take after him so much that some people are afraid, but Mina and the girls help you see the good in yourself, that you don't always have to follow his footsteps to be the best. Bringing us to today, Bakugou’s Sister Herself, having a crush on HIS rival.

—

“Oi y/n give me a sec” he turns to his red-head friend, fanning his hands at you signaling you to move but stay close

“Yeah yeah” you groan in annoyance scouting for your friends, but you get a person other than mina

“Y/N!" The voice shouted after you

"What?!" You say as you turn around, Izuku? Why him of all people? Just his appearance makes your cheeks tint a light pink but you manage to hide it

"I was wondering if-" before the boy could finish, Bakugou turned around.

"OI DEKU" Bakugou's raspy and mean voice decides to ruin the moment

"Move from my sister or else"

Izuku scratches the back of his head awkwardly and waves to you while walking away

"С-суа!"

You roll your eyes.

And as izuku leaves you snap, "KATSUKI WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM" you angrily tug on his ear

"WELL?? YOU AND HIM WERE TOO CLOSE! WE DON'T WANT TO BE HELD BACK?!”

"WE HAVE TO BE THE BEST! AND DEKU OF ALL PEOPLE?”

His ignorance makes you wanna slap him right then and there, how dare he talk about Izuku like that? Deku? What an asshole.

3 hours later

What bakugou said is still in your head, what does he have against him? What's his deal? He needs to change his attitu-

"Y/n! I've been looking for you" Izuku smiles

"Tch, what for?" You scoff and turn away to hide the blush spreading all over

"So! I was wondering? If you would like to train or study with me?" "Please?"

his voice whiny and needy

“Mhm! In my dorm!” this time he catches a glimpse of your face, cheeks and nose as red as ever

“A-are you alright? You look sick”

He cups your face

And that does it! Your dead

you: X_X

When you wake up, the only thing you see is evergreen curls on your stomach, just slightly snoring.

He’s so cute <3

“U-uhm.. deku?”

You limit your movements to lay his head on your lap

“O-oh hello y/n” you look up to see, all might?

The pruned man bows slightly

“I was here for young Midoriya, I was told he’s in recovery girls office”

A faint smirk on your face “nope,I was in here, he must’ve waited for me” you look down at the boy and begin to stroke his hair

“Ah, so Young Midoriya and you are involved romantically?” the man smiles

“What? N-NO!” Your face flushes red as you shout, ultimately waking up the freckled boy on your lap

“Y/n?”

“Izuku you idiot! You left all might worrying for you” you roll your eyes and push him off your lap

“I just wanted to stay with you” he pokes at your thigh

Ugh why did he have to be so cute? He knows what he’s doing, he’s messing with you.

“Whatever”

You get up and leave the room, then as you close the door izuku pulls you by the waist

“Just wait a minute alright? Wait outside here”

izuku leaves you stranded outside the door, when Izuku comes outside, his focus is immediately on you.

“Y/n, can you please just talk to me?” His emerald green eyes never leaving yours

Great. Eye contact. Your biggest weakness ,,

“Yeah yeah whatever” you try to pretend he’s a nuisance, (failing)

You were slowly losing self control until..

“Hi babes!” You could already tell it was Mina by the way her fluffy pink hair bounces as she ran to you, giving you the biggest hug ever

Thank goodness you were blessed with a best friend like Mina

“Hey” you smile at her

“I need you for something!! Follow me NEOW” her ecstatic energy already means she is gonna bombard you with questions

“Mhmm” you follow behind her into the common room

“Sooo?”

“You and izukuuuu” she giggles

“What? There’s nothing going on” you turn your head away in embarrassment

She pouts at that statement

“Whattt???”

“You cannot tell me he doesn’t like you”

She smushes your cheeks together with her hands

“You WILL ask him on a date”

“Understand?” She smiles but her tone still demanding

“Whatever” you swat her hands away

“Now let’s go” you smile and walk away with her

This time, a furious bakugou is outside of the room, you can already tell he scared Izuku away.

“You will NOT be asking him on anything”

He grabs you and drags you towards the dorms

“Bakugou why do you have to be such a killjoy?!” Mina yells at him while he’s walking away

“Shut it pinkie, this has nothing to do with you” he grips onto your hand harder

“Katsuki.” You stand still head tilted down

“Why do you always meddle in my life?”

You manage to break free from his grip

“I never get to experience anything, I always take after you. Your Attitude is the worst part.”

When you look up him, he notices tears swelling in your eyes threatening to fall down

“Y/n” he tries to reach his hand out but you just brush him off

“NO! Leave me alone katsuki”

You walk into the dorms wiping your eyes and locking your dorm behind you

Stupid older brothers, are they all like this? Ruining your life? Especially love life.

As wash your face with water, there’s a light knock at the door

“Y/n open up”

“It’s me”

He didn’t even have to say his name, you could tell by the whine in his voice

You get up and open it to see greatest treat you’ve set your eyes upon,

Izuku, you could tell he was fresh out the shower due to his half wet curls and chapstick slightly staining his lips.

“Woah.” Is all you mudder out

“Huh?” He chuckles raising one eyebrow

“Is that your way of saying hello?” He smiles, but all you are staring at is his lips

“Anyways.. can I come in?”

“Wait what” you eyes squint in confusion

“Remember? The studying?” He sighs

“Y/n. You know you don’t have to hang out with me or talk to me because you wanna make your brother jealous.”

He rolls his eyes

“N-no it’s not that”

“Just come in and let’s get to work?”

You pull him in and lock the door

“What were we studying for again?•

You look in your desk for a pen

“U-uhm”

His face starts to grow hot as he watches you bend over

“Uhm?” You get back up and turn to him, making his eyes shoot back to you

“Math..” he shifts his gaze to the book in front of him

While you guys are studying, the only thing you really care to look at is him

The way his eyebrows furrow coated with concentration

The way his lips look stained light red, having you question the flavor

Therefore your intrusive thoughts get the best of you

Pushing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him

“Y-y/n.?” His cheeks are a crimson red shade as his eyes follow your every movement

“Just shut up, little idiot” you lean down and kiss him, cherry , he’s practically whimpering into the kiss

He’s the first to break the kiss putting one arm over his face breathing heavily

“You have such pretty scars, yknow that?”

“You got hard just from a kiss?” You let out a faint chuckle as you tighten your thighs on his waist

“Your so weak..” you grind your clothed cunt onto him, leaving him with a gasp

“Aah.., fuck, y/n..” he whimpers and throws his head back, laying his hands on your hips

“You make such pretty noises izu” You coo, making his cock throb even more at your words

“M-mph.! Y/n..” he digs his nails into your hips

“Keep it down.. you want to get interrupted?”

“N-no.. please.. mmph..” he continues to whimper, (music to your ears :3)

“Please what izu?” You start to place kisses in his neck

“Please let me.. c-cum”

“pleasepleaseplease”

“Go ahead Izu”

he obeys. his body shuddering as he finds his release, his cum spilling all over his stomach and soiling his boxers.

“Go clean yourself up alright?” You smile at him while placing a final kiss on his lips as you get up

“W-where are you going?” He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes

“You were moaning and whimpering pretty loud, it can only attract a pervert” you unlock and swing open the door to see Mineta placing his hands in a motion to emphasize his ears

“Oh um,, I’ll get going” the little purple haired midget runs away

“Stupid fucker” you groan opening the door for Izuku

As you’re about to close the door ,,

“Y/n!” Izuku calls out

“What?” You peek your head out the doorframe

“will you be my girlfriend?” He does his signature scratch on the back of his head

“You need to take me on a date fucking idiot” you shout and smile

“Sure thing! Tomorrow 6pm!” His face turns red

“Mhm yeah”

You contain your happiness as he leaves, then when you close the door all you can do is giggle and sway your feet

DING ! ,, a notification?

Mina/Pinkie💕 : I thought you said nothing was going on? 😌

[loveriotss]

Hii! Could you do some Mr.Compress headcanons pls? Tysmm! 💗

HCS OF HIM AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⸻ atsuhiro sako / mr compress

INCLUDES — gn! reader, fluff, headcannons, drabbles/one shots WARNINGS — reader is implied to be part of the lov/lives together with the

main masterlist — mha masterlist ༊*·˚

he lovess bragging about you to the other members.

literally will not shut up!!

atsuhiro leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his lips as he sipped his drink. across from him, sat twice who looked like he was being held hostage. "you wouldn't believe the day i've had," atsuhiro began, his eyes sparkling. "y/n cooked for me today! it was so remarkable and exquisite! they made this-" "listen man," twice interrupted, trying to put on a pleasant expression. "i'm really happy for you and i love that you enjoy your time with y/n! but..how long are you planning to keep talking about them? it's been like almost 4 hours."

dates with him are always unique and memorable. private magic shows, picnics in scenic spots or romantic candle lit dinners in secret places.

a HUGE gift giver!

he will go all out! oh you were eyeing a pair of cute shoes today? he stealthily compressed it and presented it to you proudly. or maybe you had to reluctantly leave a cute giant teddy bear behind at that one shop...only to find out that the marble atsuhiro left on your desk was actually the teddy bear!

yeah he's technically stealing them instead of buying but its the thought that counts! (he is a villian after all, what can you expect?)

he's not afraid to show you his love openly.

expect grand declarations of love, like surprise dates or writing you countless romantic letters as if he were a lovesick teenager.

the other lov members are sick and jealous of you two.

he always respects your personal space and boundaries and makes sure you don't get overwhelmed by his dramatic personality.

as much as he is confident and flashy in public, he's incredibly affectionate and sweet in private.

late night cuddle sessions while you two talk for hours on end, comfortable in each other's arms. honestly, that's his favorite part of the day.

he can be a bit possessive, but not in an oppressive way.

usually more dramatic and pouty when he's jealous, making the situation more silly than serious.

in the dim glow of your room, atsuhiro sulked dramatically on the edge of your bed. you were completely engrossed in your book, sitting with your back pressed against the headboard of your bed. "do you know," atsuhiro began, letting out a melodramatic sigh, "how dreadfully overlooked and unimportant i feel at this moment?" you glanced up, an eyebrow raised. "oh really? and what is that supposed to mean?". atsuhiro shifted, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. "well, it's not everyday one finds themselves overshadowed by a book of all things." you giggled softly, setting the book aside. "aww are you jealous of a book?" "jealous?" he scoffed, "whatever made you think such a thing? i simply can't bear to see my amazing presence overshadowed by..pages. that's all!" "alright, oh great one, i apologize for this disastrous behavior of mine. please forgive me" you reply, matching his tone playfully. his pout softened into a smile, the dramatic flair melting into warmth. "well, perhaps if you could indulge me with a bit more attention, i may consider forgiving you." "yes yes, my attention is now all yours." you reply, wrapping your arms around him as you place a soft kiss on the top of his head.

NOTE — omg i can finally make posts with the asks!! it used to glitch for some reason before when id try to make longer posts with it 😭. anyways i kinda giggled while writing this ugh im so delusional 🤭🤭. also added two drabbles/one shots (idk what to call it) just becauseee. sorry if this might seem a bit ooc, i referred solely to google to get an idea of his personality because honestly i dont rmb shit of what he said or did in the anime 🧍.

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. please don’t try to copy/steal my work. please do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[supernovafics]

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas 

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.” 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness. 

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch. 

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock. 

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be. 

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him. 

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.” 

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words. 

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other. 

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance. 

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.” 

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.” 

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.” 

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?” 

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?” 

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs. 

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be. 

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday. 

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door. 

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.  

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care. 

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.” 

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve. 

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth. 

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve. 

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies. 

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.” 

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door. 

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.” 

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful. 

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that. 

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible. 

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you. 

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again. 

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different. 

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year.��

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning. 

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him. 

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.” 

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.” 

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.” 

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously. 

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.” 

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?” 

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.” 

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided. 

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.” 

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.” 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[crowsandkisses]

De-polute me - Astarion x reader

Note: Astarion means a lot to me as a character and this is kinda based off of my own trauma because I see a lot of myself in him. I also haven't written in a minute so pardon any weird phrasing.

The reader is as vaguely described as I could manage so any and all can enjoy

cw: Trauma, vomit, panic attack.

--------------------------

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Astarion knew he had to snap out of it. To come back to the present where he lay with his lover. But he couldn’t.

It was like watching the world through water. Everything was the same but somehow not. Like there was a distance and the other side held a place where he couldn’t survive right now. Where the air would leave his lungs with no way of replenishing itself. That he would choke on what he was faced with.

He watched how you slept, chest slowly rising and falling in the dim light of the fire. Still in a state of undress.

His eyes lingered on the bite on your neck. Two little puncture marks that had been reopened by his fangs so often they’d started to scar.

It made his stomach twist and turn, bile rising up his throat as he zeroed in on these tiny wounds. 

He felt filthy for having left them there, even though you’d assured him time and again that it was alright. Sometimes you even enjoyed it.

But he couldn’t think of anything but how much of a parasite he was. 

Leeching off of your goodwill and kindness, repaying you with his body because it was the only way he knew how. To lie on his back, purr some pretty phrases and slot into that old, familiar role of seductive pretty boy.

He had to give something back. He had to. Otherwise you’d likely come to demand payment regardless. Everyone always did. No kindness was just done for the sake of being kind.

His stomach turned again as guilt set in, draping over his shoulders like a heavy blanket. He knew he shouldn’t think these things of you but he couldn’t help it. 

Quietly, he rose from his spot next to you. A place he didn’t feel should belong to him. Hells, he had seen the way Gale looked at you when he thought no one else paid attention. He could give the gentle kind of love Astarion felt incapable of.

He could grant you warmth Astarion didn’t possess. He could cook for you, share a meal, not have to leech off your body to keep himself alive.

Astarion walked a distance further into the treeline and all at once, his body lurched and his last meal found itself on the forest floor. He gagged and retched, tears flowing down his cheeks from discomfort and humiliation. 

His pride felt wounded as he emptied his stomach, spitting after to try and clear the sour, copper taste from his mouth. He still stood bent over, vision blurred with tears as he fought a sob.

Suddenly he felt like a child again, desperately longing for his mother, who’s face he’d all but forgotten. He let himself cry, granting himself the luxury of it. His shoulders shook, his fangs sinking into his bottom lip as all the negative thoughts filled his head like a storm. 

Then suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, a soft voice taking him out of his head. He jerked up as if burned. He whirled around, furious he’d been caught unaware, without his knife. What if it was-

But whatever imagined horror he conjured up was nothing compared to the horror that the person who crept up on him was you.

His heart hammered against his ribs and he could hear his blood rush in his ears, vision going blurry at the edges. His breaths came stunted and he was only vaguely aware that you were speaking. But still, he felt like he was watching things through water, only this time he was drowning.

Like an animal fueled by instinct, he stepped back. He didn’t want you to touch him. For him to taint you further. He was trying to find words to say but the panic was too great.

For a moment, he thought he was about to die. That somehow, inexplicably, this would be the end of him. To die in a forest, in his own sick because he was caught in a moment of weakness .

A perfectly humiliating end to the life of a parasite of no consequence. A man who’d been so corrupt it nearly cost him his life only to be reduced to nothing but a pretty face and a willing cock. All to lead people into their untimely death, like the monster he was. A pretty face with a rotten core.

He didn’t realize he was saying these things aloud, nor that he was crying until your hand gingerly wiped his tears away. He flinched and he saw the heartbreak on your face, another twist of the dagger that had lodged itself into his chest. 

“Breathe.”

The one word cut through the fog in his head and somehow he willed himself to obey your gently spoken command. The first breath in was stunted, like a small child after a crying fit. But breathing was easy enough to do, a simple thing to focus on for just a moment as he found the hurt, humiliation and pain he felt.

In, out. In. Hold. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Out

He calmed down slowly, his vision sharpening, his heart slowing down.

And there you stood, eyes trained on him with a look of concern in your eyes. 

His first instinct was anger. He already had a cutting remark on his tongue but he swallowed it. 

You were worried about him. You were just trying to help. 

“Are you okay?”

Astarion found himself bristling again at the comment, righting his back and pointing his chin, as if he had any pride left to hold onto. As if you didn’t just see him in the middle of a panic attack because god forbid you saw him as weak.

“I’m fine.” He lied, hating how unsteady his voice sounded. 

You looked at him in a way that let on you were the farthest thing from fooled and he didn’t want to give up the game. To tear himself open, cry into your arms like a small part of him wanted to.

Eventually, you nodded.

“Can I touch you?’

The simple question knocked the wind out of him. A simple ask of consent disarmed him fully and he wanted to loathe himself for it again but couldn’t. He was so tired.

“Please.” Came his reply. Soft and pained as he finally stopped fighting himself. 

You had barely embraced him when a new torrent of tears came. He buried his face in the junction of where your neck met your shoulder. A place he was intimately familiar with, but right now it wasn’t about sating his hunger. He felt your hand gently stroke his back as you comforted him.

Years of habit made him wonder when you’d use this against him but he did his best to ignore the thought. Instead focusing on the here and now. On the smell of your skin, how soft and warm you felt against him, of the sound of your voice as you told him he was alright. That you were there.

And for a moment, Astarion allowed himself to feel it.

To feel safe.

He felt the urge to be sick again.

Despite himself, he breathed deep like he had earlier, his crying slowing to a soft sniveling. He untangled himself from your embrace, your eyes still on him. He couldn’t bare to meet your gaze, clearing his throat as he studied the forest floor beneath your feet.

“Is there anything you need?” You asked and the question seemed a little absurd to him. He quietly shook his head.

“If it’s all the same to you, darling, I would like to go back to bed. And not speak of this again.”

His tone was a little harsh but you seemed to not take offense. You merely gave him the ghost of a smile.

“Come. I have a waterskin so you can rinse your mouth.” you said, half turning to the campsite. 

Astarion nodded. He wanted to say thank you but the words rested heavy on his tongue only for them to die there. 

In silence, the pair made their way back to the fire. With that frustratingly soft look on your face, you handed him your waterskin.

Astarion rinsed his mouth, relieved to no longer taste blood for a moment. He handed it back to you before quietly settling in so you could sleep and he could close his eyes for a moment.

Then tomorrow you could both pack up your things and move on to the next place. Kill what needed killing and pretend to be heroes.

“Would it be alright if I held you?”

Astarion looked up, surprised because despite himself, he was already getting back into his own head. He deflected it, as he usually did.

“Cannot get enough of me, darling?” The words, even if they were meant in jest, rang a little hollow. You gave him a look and he simply nodded, almost reluctantly settling in your arms.

He focused on the sound of your heartbeat, the rhythm of it lulling him into something close to comfort. He heard your breaths slow, sleep dragging you back into the land of dreams.

Astarion’s own eyes grew heavy as he settled against you, And for a moment, despite the fact the gods had never listened, he found himself thanking them for making someone like you.

Because even if he still had a long road to go, you made him feel a little less like a monster, and a little more like Astarion Ancunin.