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anantaru · 7 months

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DAY 16 — DUMBIFICATION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. dumbification — dumbing down one's intelligence, treating you like their personal, little airhead who likes nothing more than to please them

𖧡 — including — tighnari, dottore, scaramouche, childe

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, petnames: toy, cocksleeve, princess, baby, cockwarming, mean but only a little i prommy, dry humping, oral (male! receiving), both parties are consenting

𖧡 — TIGHNARI

you encounter a bitter chuckle and it pelts over your natural sensors when tighnari folds one arm around your waist as you straddle him— you're quick to swallow down a suppressed whimper when he swiftly rides your shirt up and rests it above your exposed breasts, revealing the glow of your juddering skin to his famished, gluttonous eyes.

"you're not allowed to move, okay?" he orders, his jaw tensed and constricted before adding to his somewhat condescending choice of tone, "just keep still while i continue my work load."

"you can do that, right?" and you nod all bubbly at him, quite excitedly, the untroubled feverishness that had been enclosing you from the inside now burned brightly and manifesting into something much more intense— your flailing hole clenching around nothing as you claw around his chest, you're so obedient to his orders it's almost unfathomable, or at least that's what tighnari always seems to think.

he gestures you to lift up your hips a little so he could line himself with your slit, your legs growing achy at the intentional, almost beguiling idleness on how tighnari took his sweet moment with you even though you could barely wait to feel him prod inside.

before at last, he rubs his bulbous tip over your aching pussy and aids you in taking all his inches down. he paws around your chest with one hand, cruelly trapping one erected nipple against his pointer finger and thumb before twisting it ever so slightly— again, this time with a tremor of judders spreading on your tit before your eyes toss back into the remotest part of your skull.

tighnari heaves out a satisfied hum at your obedience, the vibrations of his voice soothingly reverberating through your trembling skin as you swathe your arms around his neck, "fuck— so good, who would've thought, huh?" he praises, the sloppiness of your pussy making it quite easy for tighnari to sheathe himself entirely inside.

"but what else is expected," he heaves a shrill noise and stops himself in midst sentencing when you gush around him, his dick twitching and hardening when your slit oozes of your arousal and dribbles along the slopes of his balls, "—from someone, fuck! who has nothing else to offer other than this."

for reasons unbeknownst to you, this particular sentence didn't hit you as hard as you originally thought it would because, frankly— you really do give him everything he wanted, but so did he, occasionally, fulfill any wishes you had. call it a equivalent exchange, or you being way too air headed to realize that tighnari was using you for your body, a quick fuck so he could get rid of the aching pain in his groin and was able to focus on his piling work.

now, tighnari's heavy erection was making you feeling weaker and you swear, you can feel him throb inside your lower belly by how deep and thick he buried himself in, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his back when all you needed for was for him to finally move, or at least finish his jarring work load so he'd perhaps become a little more relaxed, and relatively nicer before pleasing you in a correct manner.

you furiously throb whilst gushing on his length and the man tosses his head to the side, his ears twitching of sensitivity due to the chain reaction of his groin receiving way too much overflowing pleasure before eyeing his work load up and down in an annoying glance, biting down hard on his tongue as he feels you writhe and twitch around his length— all the while shallowly thudding over his soaked shaft, his tip pressing into one tantalizing patch inside of your walls and ugh, what a bummer, finishing his task will be one difficult duty to fulfill.

however, you would never leave nor complain, you're way too excited and delighted to have a cock overbrim you to the hilt, your sticky walls peppering kisses around his shaft and warming him up as tighnari can leisurely carry on to finish his work for the night.

𖧡 — DOTTORE

dottore thinks it's amusing how much you liked for his cock to be warmed up inside your mouth with his velvety tip repeatedly prodding at the back of your sensitive throat— the harbinger was mischievous on his own accordance, and it's one of the reasons your attraction to him was like an intoxication, proceeding to do whatever he wanted you to do without pondering around his requests at least once.

"you're not crying, are you?" the man chastises with his eyes locked down on your body being slotted between his parted thighs, "it's not too much, right?" and his large palm soothingly trails over your cheek to brush the single droplet off your face. it was apparent that with his thick shaft being enclosed by your mouth, it was growing more difficult to breathe out nor answer him without muttering incoherently and making an even bigger fool out of yourself— yet despite that, for you, it was never too much, never too rough when he fucked your mouth or your sweet, perfect cunt for that matter.

because you see, you adored him, all of him and yearned for dottore to fuck you stupid, call you his airhead or precious cocksleeve, until you're nothing but a hiccuping mess of a person around his length with a mixture of saliva and his salty pre dribbling down your chin and gathering on the cold, office floor.

you swallow around his groin before hollowing your cheeks, your head spinning into a cloud with the feeling of him charging into your mouth without a single inch of remorse, your big puppy eyes fluttering up at him behind doused lashes as he brushes a large hand through your hair, your eyes brilliant of exclaimed trills happily pummeling at your affection for him.

it's a perfect situation in your eyes and there was nothing better than being used by the second harbinger, and so was he ethereal to you, the sounds of him talking in such low manners, for one without a threatening tone lacing the beginnings of his sentences has the reactive pearl between your folds throbbing, the wetness of your sticky cunt splattering all over your panties.

you continue to shower his length with affection, parading your warm tongue around the underside of his shaft, always putting the pleasure there especially prominent because well— dottore has trained you adequately after all, had shown you how to tackle him so he could feverishly cum down your constricted throat and spit his milky whites down the aching, used spots in your used mouth.

bobbing your head up and down, you swallow back the drool budding inside your warmth, yet leaving most of it prancing on top of your tongue so it could act as a lubrication, a choked moan suddenly rattling above your head as dottore conceals his lips with the back of his hand before coughing out— his pale cheeks scarlet red, his face twisted akin to a wicked, indulgent countenance as you curve your palm around his balls to smear the trickling saliva on the flesh.

how adorable his enchanting toy was to him, being so unbelievably skilled at taking his cock all the way up to the base, your lips moving in tandem with his strong thrusts into your wet warmth— utterly aware that for you, there was nothing more pleasing than to end a night with his seedy arousal marking up the entirety of your throat, using you as his own dumb, little cock sleeve, his pleasure-seeking princess, instantly parting your mouth the moment he simply told you to do you.

𖧡 — SCARAMOUCHE

"i must admit, i have neglected you," scaramouche hums quietly into your neck, his cold hands soothing over the slopes of your body as you squeal when his cock first enters you— committed to the usual rhythm on his hips, he had long since engraved it in his very own memories, his large cock parting your slit as you squeeze around him, quick to angle your hips a little so he could press himself in deeper.

you whine, your juices running down your plush ass before you shut your thighs around his hips, growing more constricted, "ah— it's okay, kuni," you take a moment to lock gazes with him while he eases himself back and forth your warmth— ugh, you're so tight it's truly unfair, and his cock was weighing down around the thudding splotches of your pussy before throbbing and thickening inside, perhaps giving you a taste of your own medicine.

so you could manage feel him, so your hands could helplessly fly up to his hair and rush him into a feverish, messy kiss.

"I really did miss you," scaramouche was the first to speak out again, smitten and yearning for more, his voice muffled by your lips and the tone of his voice buzzing while his dick continues to add some faint, hasty pumps into your slit, the velvety feel of his shaft reaching so far up and shamelessly shaping your most, delicious sweet spots which had your eyes curve back into the deepest spots of your skull.

despite everything, despite scaramouche barely reaching out to if it wasn't for getting his cock wet— you always seem to welcome him graciously and without asking irritating question, the ecstasy running through your entire nervous system as you wait and wait fro him.

although mostly being left behind and forgotten, yet you still show up whenever he does reach out and call you over— when he all of a sudden, in under a dime, tends to be so charming and longing towards you, kissing the crown of your head before addressing you as his most beloved toy— not that he voiced it out loud but his choked whimpers spoke more than a thousand words ever could, consistently greedy to clamp hard around the curves of his cock that you force him almost out of you again, copious amounts of your juices oozing out of your cunt and soiling his trimmed pubic hair, a reminder that you truly belong to each other.

𖧡 — CHILDE

you're clumsily falling forward into childe's clothed chest as you straddle his waist, immediately intertwining your arms around his neck as your forearms rest on his shoulders— your pretty frame wiggling deliriously and needful before billowing your hips against his concealed erection scratching over the tight confines of his pants.

"you missed this, didn't you?" he shakes his head at you, finding your shape on top of him to be the most delicious and sweetest in all around teyvat, without mentioning how you madly force your hips down on his cock— desperate and even more shameless that ajax cannot even fathom just how clouded your rational thoughts had become sometimes, always there when he craves you, not caring about the red flags of him obviously just using your body, only the thought of his perfectly carved cock being nestled inside you remaining on top.

for now, you love bouncing up and down his erection, even though he wouldn't let it spring free from his pants so you could rest it on the top of your tongue— the tips of his ears flushing red when you frustratedly whine at him, every thrust of your hips progressively growing faster and rougher that even childe had to suppress a couple moans and keep them locked inside his chest.

"I'll make it up to you later, baby," he drawls before moving the fabric of your panties to the side, your slicked cunt had long since soiled the flimsy material to the hilt that they instantly stick against the bridge of your pussy and thighs, just heavenly to present him a enchanting view of your swollen folds itching to touch his silken skin, his angry tip throbbing behind the rough garments of his pants and childe can sense that he was already leaking clear pre.

"you need to make me feel good before, yeah?"

there's a hidden rasp in his voice that you weren't able to discern for what it was, and that particular shade of a condescending tone pummeling against your ear shells weren't much of help— no two ways about it but sometimes the eleventh harbinger did give off the idea that he wasn't taking you seriously enough, that he believed you weren't able to ponder over more meaningful conversations, only faultless when you aided him in his painful groin getting the best out of him.

now, he plants his palms around your hips to drag your naked pussy against his shaft himself— but considering the fact that you weren't actually stupid, you knew that this "special" relationship, as he called it, was more of a convenience for the young harbinger, never needing to worry himself about finding someone for a quick fuck when he could just call you instead, being aware that you would jump the second he orders you to come over.

his cock was just that good, always so utterly fine when slipping inside and battering your creamy walls, hammering into the most sensitive parts that lie hidden within your silky slit before it's getting too much for you to bear— trembly fingers clawing at his chest in search of stability when you hide your face in his neck, the slow burn on his shaft expelling electric ripples that caused a belting havoc on your sensitive sex, pushing a pitchy whine hand in hand with a moan of his name from the tip of your tongue, a breathless heave finishing the sinfulness of your noises.

oh, well, childe can use you for all you care— since needless to say, you're getting your fair share out of it too, keeping your ass in a precise trace on top of him as you begin to rock your wet cunt over his groin, understanding that whenever he was on the edge of tasting his strong climax prodding at the knot in his lower belly— it will be much easier to make him comply to a simple request from you;

hmm, lets take an example: perhaps a new, costly bag from fontaine or a hand crafted, brilliant bracelet from liyue? childe will unfailingly say yes and agree to whatever you whisper into his ear, he simply cannot deny a single request when you're, night and day, so hungry to comply to him.

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ellitx · 2 months

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Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down.

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away.

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

#hmm i love me toxic dynamic pairings #im quite surprised most of the fics i found were wholesome #which i admit are very cute #but the toxicity of alastor tormenting his darling??#mwah chefs kiss #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #elliwrites

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steddiehyperfixation · 5 months

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don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal.

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work.

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that.

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift.

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips.

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look.

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.”

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.”

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss.

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.”

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?”

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments.

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.”

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?”

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.”

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes.

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now.

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious.

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.”

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-”

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest.

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!”

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-”

“That literally doesn’t-”

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis.

He sighs wearily. “Your point?”

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests.

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?”

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-”

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!”

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-”

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.”

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open.

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his.

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves.

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again.

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset.

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you.

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it.

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.”

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.”

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens.

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.”

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit.

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars.

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.”

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.”

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth.

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it.

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile.

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted.

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven)

taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#giving steve mental breakdowns is my favorite hobby actually can you tell #one or two more parts i think i can't decide #should i resolve it in the next part or drag it out an extra chapter and write out some more of eddie's dream memories???#steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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soobnny · 4 months

Text

loving is terrifying — han jisung. best friends to lovers. accidental confessions (1.6k words)

in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you

“And if I burn the whole school down, would you bail me out of jail, Hanji?”

You’re still only a few sentences into the important speech you were asked to write, and you’re starting to feel agitated, chewed up pencil carving out your thoughts on paper before finding its way abandoned on your desk.

It’s been a few hours, and you’d chosen to put the pencil down lest you want to bring yourself to insanity.

Pretty lies usually come easy to you, but now they’re burning holes into your skull and flicking the ashes into your brain. In the reprieve, all you can think about is your anger for the authority.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t be your accomplice.” Jisung retorts from where he’s seated next to you on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he leans against his couch.

“There’s just so much wrong in the system. Their code of rules deprive students of their creativity. Only the top students have a multitude of opportunities waiting for them. And don’t get me started on how the authorities put so little value into culture and societal issues. Everything is wrong, just wrong in all ways!”

There’s a word count in Jisung’s head on how many times you’ve said wrong in one sitting, but he’s looking at you with a hint of something in his eyes. Almost adoration.

“And we can change it by burning the school down?” A tone of amusement is laced in your best friend’s voice, though you fail to search for a trace of judgment.

“We can start there. Then the world.” You take the pencil back and fiddle with it between your fingers.

“The world? That’s very ambitious of you.”

You glare at him.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t be by your side. I like ambitious.” Jisung smiles at you, making sure to lock his eyes with yours so you can see heavy genuineness where his pupils are. “What’s the next step then?”

“Climate change.”

Jisung throws his head back in quiet laughter, and the slight movement allows you a whip of his laundry detergent from the white shirt he’s wearing. “Okay, climate change.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” His lips quirk up into a smile, eyes morphing from crescents to a full moon as he struggles to defend his name. There is still laughter even in the way he licks the inside of his cheek and takes your hands in his.

You fail to copy his laughter.

“Your eyes are upset. Are they directed at me?” Jisung softens his voice, only speaking one his laughter has boiled down. He pulls you closer than you already are, and you don’t notice the way he grabs the pencil between your fingers in the process to set it down.

“Of course not.” You mumble. “I’m mad at everything else, at everything wrong.”

A tally adds to his word count.

You sigh when you let go of his hands to take the paper in your own, eyes leaden as they scan across the sentences you had bullshited earlier. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to write this.”

“Just scream it out.”

“What?”

“Scream out what you actually want to say.” He grins.

You gape at him.

“I’m not screaming in your living room. Your neighbors are going to think someone’s being murdered.”

“Then just say it. Whatever you want to say. Everything wrong.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay, I’ll start then.” He smiles, and it’s heart-warmingly encouraging. “I wish it was easier to ground myself. I live in my head most of the time, and opening up is hard, and I wish forming any form of relationship wasn’t so scary.”

“Ji—“

“Okay, now your turn.”

“We are not going to ignore what you just said.”

“I said, your turn.”

“Jisung.”

“Please?” He places a hand over yours, and it’s enough for your brain to short circuit.

“Alright, fine. But we are going to talk about it later.”

“Now, what about those things that are wrong?” Jisung asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Well, uh— our poor education system, that’s for one. And, the government. Blatant sexism too, how stupid the patriarchy is, how I still can’t parallel park for the life of me.”

You start with sporadic things, the ones that instantly pop in your head when you think about things that make you upset, and as you continue to talk, you dig a little deeper, and you don’t even realize you’ve stood up and your hands are flailing around like a salesman by the second.

“And, don’t even get me started on the transportation system. It’s so dumb how car-centered design came to be because how is it that the people who have access to private vehicles also have the easiest routes over the less fortunate who walk or commute? Like, why do we have to adjust to the roads?”

There’s a long list of things you want to say, finally letting loose and narrating all the things you’ve kept locked away in the back of your mind because you’re with the one person you can trust. When you meet Jisung’s gaze, he’s looking at you in awe.

“I hate how we’re branded as prodigies when we were younger. I hate the expectations that come with it, that we have to be great all the time, and, oh, this actually feels really good.”

Jisung chuckles at the way you come to a sudden realization, but he’s always known you were wiser beyond your years. “You’re brilliant.”

“Well, you have to say something too!”

Jisung fiddles with his fingers, trying to think of where to start. Though, the brilliance that is you and the opportunity of having this moment with you is enough motivation for him to follow suit.

“Uh, it’s so scary how superficial people are nowadays, and how so quickly they’re let down. It stresses me out how a single mistake could cost you so many relationships, but at the same time, who will stress out if not me? And it makes me realize how lucky I am to have the people in my life, and having an opportunity to talk like this really fuels my positivity in life, and it makes me realize even more how much I strongly feel like my life is for you guys, and there is nothing more important to me than being able to be a good person for you guys, like you. I wish I could be the bestest friend for you, maybe even more than that, but fuck, loving is so scary so I wish you’ll never find out how I’m so so in love with you— wait.”

The room falls silent and he’s thinking of a thousand different ways to die on the spot. He’s embarrassed. This is embarrassing, and he’s thinking it really wouldn’t be too late to jump off the bedroom window and hope for the best. A thousand different ways, maybe pretend he never said anything, stand still and maybe you’d think he wasn’t there in the first place. A thousand different ways.

“Han Jisung.”

“Soooo, haha, where were we in your speech again?”

Jisung doesn’t meet your eyes for the fear of rejection. He doesn’t think he has the heart to handle it right now, especially not after his accidental confession.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About how superficial people are? Of course, it’s so scary. Hey, did I tell you about the tim—“

“Is being in love with me something wrong?”

He falls silent, and you can visibly see him start to panic, and his hands are pressed together as if in a prayer as he’s shaking his head profusely. “No, oh god no, it’s not. Honestly, it’s one of the only things I’m sure of, and that says a lot because I’m not sure of anything. I’m not even sure I’m in the right course or the right school or if I’m spending my money the right way, or if I’m even gonna live tomorrow, but fuck, loving you and everything about you is something I will never question.”

You can feel yourself start to smile, and Jisung finds himself copying you. It’s one of the first things he knew he loved about you—your smile, and the way you think, and the sound of your laughter. Despite his erratic heart beating and his fear of this exact moment, he still finds himself smiling when you do.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“What?”

You can visibly see the gears in his head turn, and he’s writing a story he doesn’t know the ending to just yet, but the beginning is so beautiful because it’s with you. Then, he laughs. It’s breathy, and you can almost hear the relief. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I did.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I’m in love with you, Han Jisung.”

“I’m going to die.”

You laugh, and then he snaps back into reality.

“Can I kiss you?” His tone is so careful, but there’s a hint of something you can only recognize as a slight desperation—like he’s been thinking of it a while.

Jisung reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist, albeit a little shy. It’s a pattern that’s already so familiar. He isn’t a stranger to hugging you, in fact, he’s done it a million times, but the connotations to this one is a little different, and he can’t think straight at the possibility that you might actually consent to letting him kiss you.

“Okay.”

Words that haven’t left being translated into the motion of his lips moving against yours. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who went in for the kiss first. All he knows is his hands are gently rested on your waist and he’s actually kissing you right now, and you can feel the way he’s smiling into the kiss.

It takes a few minutes for you two to pull away, a little out of breath, and he leans in to try and kiss you again but your noses bump against each other’s, and the pair of you can’t help but laugh at how the events of the night had turned.

Jisung marvels at the way everything feels so simple, so right.

“I’m not dreaming, right? Like this is actually happening?”

You laugh even more.

Jisung’s always been afraid of venturing into the unknown, always kept his feelings hidden, and he’s always loathed his mouth for being so uncontrolled with the things he says. But now, with you in his arms, he couldn’t be any more happier about the slip of his tongue and how being with you feels like one of the rare rights among all the wrongs.

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parkerslatte · 6 months

Text

Overlooked | Part Two

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: smut. oral (fem recieving). choking. 18+

Summary: Y/N has been staying at the Autumn Court for a while and has been getting closer to Eris.

A/N: I apologise if the smut is awful, I haven’t written it in quite a while. But on a better note, this will have at least two more parts and I cannot wait for you to see what I have in store!

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

It had been six months since Y/N Archeron had made a home for herself in the Autumn Court. Her life in the Autumn Court was good, great even. Eris always made sure that she had everything she needed, sometimes he even provided more than what was necessary but it never felt like it was overbearing. He would always allow Y/N to leave whenever she wished and didn’t fight her when she wanted to be alone. He respected her in a way Y/N had never experienced before.

The mating bond was something Eris had addressed rather quickly, he didn’t want Y/N to feel as if she needed to accept it. He gave that choice to her and he never brought it up again. Y/N still felt the pull in her chest toward Eris but she wasn’t sure if it was just the mating bond anymore. Whenever she wanted someone to talk to, she would seek him out and he would always make himself available.

It was her first month of being in the Autumn Court when Y/N sought Eris out for the first time. Y/N would be lying is she said that she missed the Night Court. But she wouldn’t be lying if she said she missed her sisters. In her whole twenty-eight years of life, Y/N had her sisters by her side. Even if they hadn’t gone out of their way for her in the past couple of years, she still knew that they were close by. Now they were far away and Y/N realised the decision she had made.

The moment Eris had found out that Y/N wanted to speak to her, he left in the middle of his meeting.

“What’s wrong?” Eris had asked, concern etched into his brow.

Y/N was teary eyed as she explained to Eris everything she had been feeling. He even offered to take her back to the Night Court. Y/N refused, she didn’t want to go back. The Autumn Court had felt more like home than the Night Court ever did.

“I don’t want to leave,” Y/N told Eris. “I wish to stay, I am just finding it hard.”

Y/N remembered Eris nodding before walking her down the hallways and away from the meeting hall. He brought her to her room and asked the servant to bring two mugs of hot chocolate. She remembered how he sat and listened to her for hours and occasionally added in his own comments, to either offer words of comfort to just to make her smile. He sat with her until she fell asleep.

The more Y/N spoke to Eris, the more Rhysand was wrong about him. He might have had a mask up around everyone else. That impenetrable mask of intimidation, bluntness and rudeness. But around her, he let it melt away into nothing, letting Y/N see the real him. Eris was kind to her. He made her laugh in a way no one had ever before. He listened to her and made sure she was okay. He cared for her. Eris was the only person to prioritise Y/N. It made Y/N’s heart sing.

“It’s nearly nightfall,” Eris situated himself down on the blanket Y/N was laying down on, snapping her from her thoughts.

Y/N glanced at him and grinned. Something she had found herself doing more and more. “I know, I just enjoy being out here.”

The trees rustled with the slight breeze. It was chilly yet Y/N was warm wrapped in her soft thick jacket in the colours of the Autumn Court.

Eris smiled and laid down next to her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I will join you.”

The hand rested by Y/N’s side twitched. His hand was so close and she could feel its warmth. Y/N knew what Eris’s hand felt like but since the night of the ball, she had never felt them again. Eris respected her decision about the mating bond. Y/N wanted time to think about it, and he allowed it. He never touched her without directly asking her, he never did anything to make her accept the bond. He simply waited for her decision patiently.

“You don’t need to,” Y/N said. “It is quite cold.”

With a simple flick of his wrist, a fire road in front of the blanket, instantly warming the two. Y/N smiled. The warmth seemed to wrap around her body in a tight hug. Y/N only wished that it wasn’t the fire hugging her.

“I wish I could do that,” Y/N said, sitting up.

Eris copied her movements. “The cauldron didn’t give you anything.”

Y/N shook her head. “Nesta took it all, I think. I am just ordinary.”

“You are nothing of the sort,” Eris scolded.

Y/N shrugged. “My sisters all got wonderful powers and I got nothing. I was even overlooked by a stupid cauldron.”

“Who gives a shit if the cauldron didn’t give you powers,” Eris siad, frowning. “You are perfect the way you are.”

Y/N didn’t look too convinced as she started at the fire Eris had created. Eris didn’t look away from Y/N as he watched the expression on her face fall. His heart fell. With another flick of his wrist the fire was gone and Y/N tore her gaze away.

Y/N didn’t even have a chance to speak before fire began to creep up her arm. The way it moved was like a snake as it touched and caressed her body. It didn’t burn or set anything alight. It was soothing and warm. Y/N glanced at Eris who had a soft smile on his face. She smiled in response.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Y/N said as she raised her arm and watched the fire weave between her fingers in awe.

“Keep your hand flat,” Eris said and Y/N obeyed and flattened her hand, keeping her fingers together.

The fire seemed to take shape, slowly morphing into a small bird. Y/N gasped as it took flight and flew around her. Y/N tracked its movements, her smile bright. Eris only kept his eyes glued to Y/N. The joy in her face was an expression Eris wished to see her with more. She looked as if all of her worries had vanished and it was his doing.

The bird flew ahead of her before changing back into the roaring fire from before. Y/N’s joy didn’t fade as she looked at Eris to find him already looking at her. Y/N’s heart swelled and she was sure it wasn’t just the bond making her feel the way she was.

“That was beautiful,” Y/N said, her hand twitching once again, his hand was so close to hers.

The way Eris was looking at her made Y/N slowly move closer. She felt that tug in her chest and for once she followed it. After six months of her talking to Eris and feeling her heart being to mend piece by piece solidified her decision, and the final piece that was broken finally repaired itself as she sat with Eris on the small picnic blanket.

Y/N finally inched her hand closer to touch Eris. His skin was warm and welcoming. Still he didn’t move and allowed Y/N to lace her fingers with his. At the simple touch of their hands, the bond seemed to tighten and Y/N found herself physically getting closer to him.

It had been six months since the bond had snapped into place and Y/N had felt that for six months something small had been missing. Of course Eris had given her the space she needed to process everything but he was the missing part that she needed to fully accept everything. She had been happier than ever in the past six months but the bond within her always tugged her in Eris’s direction.

But eventually it wasn’t just the bond that tugged her in Eris’s direction. It was her own heart.

“Eris,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know you have given me space over the time I have been here. But I have felt a pull toward you these past couple months and I know now that it isn’t just the mating bond.”

Eris’s eyes scanned her face as he looked for any sense of her not telling the truth. There was none. Y/N felt his hand tighten around hers as he brought it closer to him.

“It was my own heart pulling me toward you,” Y/N confessed. “You have shown me nothing but kindness since I met you. You have spoken me late into the night, you have left in the middle of meetings for me. You have put me first before anyone.”

Eris brought her hand up and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Y/N, if you are saying what I think you are going to say, please say it.”

“I want to accept the bond, Eris,” Y/N replied, inching closer to him. “I have fallen in love with you in my time here and I want to spend my life with you.”

A smile broke out on Eris’s face. “You are telling the truth?”

Y/N nodded. “I am. You are a good male, Eris. Others might not be able to see that, but I can.”

Eris tugged her hand until she was pulled close to his chest. Y/N settled her arm around Eris’s neck as his other hand caressed the side of her face. The light emitting from the fire seemed to light up his eyes and Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. From up close she could count the freckles on his face. They weren’t extremely visible from far away but as her face was only inches from his, she wanted to spend all day counting them just so she could stay this close.

“Y/N…” Eris whispered.

“Eris…”

When their lips connected, the fire seemed to roar behind them, getting larger and larger. Eris’s powers seemed to amplify.

He kissed her harder and pressed her body against his. Y/N groaned as his hands roamed her body. The jacket she wore suddenly felt too constricting. Y/N shrugged it from her shoulders without disconnecting their lips. The moment the jacket was discarded next to her, Y/N’s arms wrapped around Eris’s shoulders and her fingers tangled in his hair.

“I have food with me,” Y/N broke away and mumbled against his lips.

Eris looked shocked. “You want to accept it now?”

Y/N nodded and rested her forehead against his. “I think we have wasted enough time already.”

Eris smiled as Y/N shuffled away from him to reach into her bag. While she was busy Eris noticed the fire had returned to its normal state, no longer did it roar with life, while reaching heights it never had before.

“It is only a small cupcake,” Y/N said, diverting Eris’s attention back to her. “But I think it will do.” Eris grinned at her as she straddled his lap, situating herself above him.

“Y/N, you must know that as soon as I accept it, I might not be able to control myself,” Eris said, brushing a hair away from her face.

Y/N leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m counting on it.”

The eldest Archeron lifted the cupcake to his lips and Eris took a bite, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. As soon as he swallowed the bit, Y/N seemed to flood with a burning need. She felt hot and ached for Eris.

“Y/N…” Eris growled as she lowered the cake and threw it back on top of her bag. “I need you.”

“Then have me,” Y/N’s voice was low and full of need.

Eris smashed their lips together and pressed his chest tightly against hers. The desire within Y/N was unlike any other. She had felt desire before in her life, but never as much as she was experiencing. She needed Eris more than she had ever needed anyone. Y/N throbbed as she ground her hips down, her core rubbing across Eris’s crotch. They were wearing too many clothes.

Y/N panted as she pulled away from Eris to grip his shirt and ripped it open, the buttons flying out before getting lost in the grass. Y/N’s mouth watered at Eris’s bare chest. His broad shoulders held a few healed scars, Y/N kissed every single one as Eris pulled the ripped shirt away from his body.

Their lips connected once more and Y/N whimpered as Eris thrust his hips up. His hardened length brushed her in all the right places. Y/N gasped.

“I need to get you out of these clothes,” Eris mumbled against her lips as he began to unlace the back of her dress, lips attacking her neck in many open mouthed kisses.

Y/N closed her eyes in pure bliss. It was almost animalistic how much she needed Eris to be buried deep within her. Thrusting his hips up and hitting all of the right spots to send her tumbling over the edge. She was almost feral. Y/N didn’t even care that anyone could come across the two fucking in the woods.

The fire roared beside them. The heat of it only egged Y/N and Eris on more. The flames nearly reached the top of the trees. Eris’s power seemed to be amplified as he kissed Y/N.

Y/N’s dress fell away from her chest and revealed her breasts and Eris kissed across her shoulder and down the valley of her breasts.

“Eris,” Y/N panted, pulling on his hair. “Please!”

Eris smirked against her skin and stroked his tongue over her left nipple. Y/N arched forward craving more.

He laid her down on her back and kissed down her body, savouring the gasps slipping from her lips as he spread her legs wide. She dripped onto the blanket beneath them. Y/N was sure she had never been this wet before.

A brush of his fingertips over her core, sent Y/N gasping, thrusting her hips into his touch.

Eris chuckled darkly. “You are a needy thing, my love.”

His words sent a tingle of pleasure throughout her body. “Only for you, Eris.”

“You are so desperate for me,” Eris said, his mouth nearing where Y/N craved him the most. “So wet.”

Y/N swore she saw stars as Eris wrapped his lips around that bundle of nerves. Her hand flew to his hair pulling his head closer to her as she fucked his face, taking as much pleasure as she wanted.

Eris moaned at the taste. He would never admit to Y/N but he had fucked his fist many times at the thought of this. His head buried between her thighs drawing out the small desperate sounds. His fingers prodded her entrance as he harshly sucked her clit.

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She couldn;t clamp her legs together as Eris had a firm grip on one of them, keeping her spread open for him. Deep down she knew that she should be embarrassed. Anyone could walk upon the two of them and witness Y/N naked and fucking the High Lords face as he fucked her with his fingers. But she didn’t care, her focus was on the pleasure Eris was giving her.

That feeling in the pit of Y/N’s stomach was building as Eris groaned against her clit as he ground his hips into the blanket beneath him.

“You taste so good,” Eris fucked her faster with his fingers. “And the noises you make for me are music to my ears.”

Y/N let out a rather high pitch moan as he kissed her inner thighs. The pleasure within her was building but Y/N didn’t want to come this way. At least not the first time. She wanted to come with his face between her legs but the first time she wanted to come over his cock and milk him with everything she had.

“Eris, I need you to fuck me now,” Y/N begged, her voice desperate. “I need it.”

Eris moved his mouth from her clit and removed his fingers and he slowly made his way back up her body, node brushing over her hot skin. He hovered over Y/N’s face as they panted, sharing each other’s air. Eris’s amber eyes were blown wide with desire and the fire reflected within them. Y/N cupped his face before smashing her lips onto his own. Is could taste herself on his tounge.

There was nothing romantic about the kiss.Teeth clashed and Y/N harshly bit Eris’s lip. A low growl emitted from Eris as he thrust his hips harshly against Y/N’s.

“Get on top of me,” Eris said and removed himself from Y/N and sat back.

Y/N looked up and watched as he shrugged off his trousers, letting his cock spring free. Y/N’s mouth watered. Eris gave himself a few pumps before Y/N pounced on top of him. A low chuckle came from Eris as he wrapped his arms around Y/N, pressing her body tightly against his.

Y/N was dripping with need as was Eris. Both of them needed one another, the bond connecting them flooded each of them with arousal.

“Take what you need, my love,” Eris said, his tone surprisingly gentle as he caressed her cheek.

One moment his hand was gently caressing her cheek and the next moment his was wrapped around her throat. A guttural moan left Y/N’s lips as Eris supplied the smallest amount of pressure. His rings dug into her skin, cool against the burning of her skin.

Inch by inch Y/N sat down on him, her mouth open in a silent scream as she fully sunk down on him. He filled her perfectly. Almost immediately, Y/N began to move her hips, drawing out the pleasure. The small noises that came from Eris only made her move faster. Y/N was sure she had never been more aroused at the sound of a male moaning than she had when she listened to the noises Eris made. She never wanted to stop hearing them.

The grip Eris had on Y/N’s throat tightened as he smirked. “Take it all, my love.”

Y/N moaned loudly and dug her nails into his broad shoulders. The feeling deep within her was rising and she raced to get there.

“I need…” Y/N panted, completely absorbed in her pleasure. “Harder. Please Eris.”

Eris chuckled and laid down on the blanket and planted his feet firmly flat and thrust up into her, driving into her deeper than he had before. Y/N screamed as one of her hands fell from his shoulder and rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” Eris breathed. “You are so tight, love.”

Y/N attached her lips to his neck, just below his jaw. Eris let a loud moan slip past his lips as he gripped her ass, his fingers digging in harshly. Y/N already knew that she would be littered in small bruises.

The fire around them roared as it circled the two in a fiery cocoon, blocking off any view of them within the flames. It didn’t hurt, the warmth was pleasant. Y/N sat up and moved her hips furiously on top of Eris. She was close and so was he. His own thrusts were getting sloppier and sloppier.

Eris pushed her own hand away from her clit and he pressed his thumb against it and drew small circles around it. Y/N wined and scratched her nails down Eris’s chest.

Y/N spoke incoherently as she begged Eris. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was begging for exactly but she needed to come. She desperately needed it. And from the sounds he was making, so was Eris.

“Come for me, my love,” Eris said, gritting his teeth. “Come for me.”

Eris applied more pressure against her clit and after a few more thrusts, Y/N felt herself falling over that edge. She moaned so loudly that would have surely been heard if it wasn’t for the sound of the crackling fire drawing out the sound. The sounds that slipped from Y/N’s lips was enough to drag Eris over the edge with her, he spilled into her as his chest heaved up and down. Y/N rode him through his orgasm before coming to a stop. The fire around them died down until it was only a small ring of fire surrounding the two, barely a few inches in height.

The two panted and tried to catch their breath. Eris gazed up at Y/N as she finally opened her eyes. Their eyes met and they smiled. Eris’s hair was a mess and the ends stuck up in many directions, a complete contrast from his usually immaculately styled hair.

Y/N slipped off of Eris, his cum spilling out of her. If she wasn’t so exhausted, she would cringe at the feeling but she didn’t care. Eris pulled her down next to ehr and tucked her into his side. He brushed away the strands of hair that stuck to her sweaty face and gazed lovingly at her. Y/N curled into his side.

Y/N savoured the feeling of the cool breeze. Her breathing was evening out as her and Eris laid there in silence. The only sound came from the small fire and the rustling of the trees. There was no one walking around the grounds. If there were, Y/N was sure they would not have approached. Either from the cocoon of fire or the loud moaning and slapping of skin that echoed throughout the grounds.

“My mate,” Eris whispered.

Y/N opened her eyes and found Eris grinning at her. Y/N suddenly wanted to shy away from his gaze. It was intense and full of love and passion. She was sure no one had ever looked at her that way before.

Eris pressed a kiss against her forehead, his lips lingering there. “I am sure you do have some powers of your own.”

“What?” Y/N questioned. “How do you know?”

“Because I have never lost control of my power like that before,” Eris said. “I have been with females before and none of them have ever made me feel like that.”

“Isn’t it just the mating bond?” Y/N asked.

Eris lightly shook his head. “I don’t think so. My powers seemed amplified somehow. When you touched me for the first time all those months ago, I felt it then too. I did think it was just that mating bond, but it is definitely different.”

Y/N pressed a kiss against his jaw. “We can experiment with it.”

Eris nodded. “We can.” Eris pressed a kiss against her lips, full of tenderness and love. Their lips moved in sync as the kiss gradually got more and more desperate. “But first, I am going to fuck you again until you will not be able to walk in the morning.”

Y/N whimpered. “And what if I want to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Well, my dear Y/N, that can be arranged,” Eris said. “Because I will do anything you say. I am yours.”

Y/N smiled and smashed her lips against his. The fire grew around them once again.

#eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra smut

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thatfandomslut · 26 days

Text

Messy

Reneé Rapp x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: discussions of sex (no smut), insecurity

Request:

something inspired in Messy, like, renee being afraid of a relationship with r cause things don't end well to her and r comforts her

Reneé Rapp requests are open.

Other accounts: hoe4flo | ghostyanne

Discord Groups: Mean Girls | Mean Girls RP (in need of people)

“I want to be in a relationship with you,” Reneé’s words hung in the bedroom, breaking the silence between them. “I’m just scared of what this might mean for us. What would this mean for me?”

(Y/n) shuffled a bit, turning over to face Reneé. They were supposed to be sleeping, but it was obvious that Reneé had too much on her mind to commit to the idea of sleep. Therefore, (Y/n) was also not getting any sleep either. She didn’t mind though. Late night conversations with Reneé were her favorite. They were so deep, and they dove into topics they haven’t explored yet, like their relationship. It was a taboo topic for the two of them because Reneé has commented several times on not being ready nor is she looking for a relationship.

Although she tried to focus on Reneé’s figure, (Y/n) could barely see the vulnerable look on Reneé’s face in the darkness of her bedroom. “Well, we don’t have to jump into anything. We can take it slow and figure this out together. We can start by going on dates instead of just sex on the weekends after you’re done shooting your show.” (Y/n) teased softly, successfully lighting the mood as Reneé snorted out a soft laugh. She nudged (Y/n)’s shoulder with her hand before moving to the crook of (Y/n)’s neck. Immediately, (Y/n) allowed herself to rub Reneé’s back in a comforting manner.

“A part of me is just nervous this is going to be like my past relationships.” There was a beat of silence where neither of them spoke after that. (Y/n) knew Reneé wasn’t finished speaking, but she needed to figure out her words. She gave her all the time she needed as her thumb caressed Reneé’s back gently. “Every time you leave in the morning, I want to tell you to stay, but all of the fake scenarios in my head tell me not to. They remind me there are more possibilities than you staying with me. Instead, every situation I imagine, is you saying no. It’s you saying that you don’t like me like that, that it’s just my imagination.”

(Y/n) wasn’t expecting Reneé to feel this way. She thought that she had made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone else when last week, Reneé asked if they could only sleep with each other, no one else. If she wasn’t into Reneé, she wouldn’t have agreed. Still, she understood that this was a real fear for Reneé, so she thought about her words carefully to make sure she knew her feelings on the subject were completely valid.

She cleared her throat, shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position. “Reneé, there is no situation that I would not want to stay with you. Every time I get up to leave, I wish I could stay with you in my arms. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to stay. I just didn’t know you wanted me to. Now that I do know, if you want me to stay in the morning, I am more than happy to.” (Y/n) told the blonde, who laid there in her arms, tears welling in her eyes. Still, Reneé had to remind herself not to cry, she didn’t want to be overly emotional, no matter how vulnerable this conversation was.

Reneé swallowed the lump in her throat, pulling away from (Y/n)’s neck in order to press a deep kiss to her lips. She wanted to hide her feelings within this kiss. Even if it was just for a moment. (Y/n) was initially surprised by the action, but she was very quick to reciprocate as she kissed back. Reneé smiled softly into the kiss.

“What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?” Reneé questioned carefully, hoping that none of her fake scenarios in her head didn’t arise. She felt a bit anxious as she waited for a response. “I mean, it would only be if you’re okay with being girlfriends. I understand if you aren’t, of course.”

(Y/n) kissed Reneé softly to calm her down, which worked. “Reneé, I would love to be your girlfriend, if that’s what you want us to be, too. I’m already technically exclusive to you. I just wanted to be sure we were both ready before we put a label on who or what we were.” She said softly, reminding Reneé that they were technically exclusive. (Y/n) would be lying if she didn’t admit that she wasn’t excited that Reneé was ready to be more than just friends who occasionally had sex.

Reneé bit her lip to hide her smile, despite the dark effectively doing that for her. “I do want to be your girlfriend. I’ve been wanting this for a long time. I’ve just been worried about you not returning my feelings.” Reneé explained, happiness bubbling in her chest as butterflies fluttered every which way in her stomach. Normally, her relationships ended up messy because she couldn’t get over the fake scenarios in her head. However, (Y/n) never invalidated them. Instead, she let Reneé feel her feelings and comforted her fears. This was already different than any of the relationships she had in the past.

“Then, it looks like we’re girlfriends,” (Y/n) said with a soft smile, pressing kisses all over Reneé’s face. This, in return, caused Reneé to giggle at the display of affection. “And, if you ever feel like there is more than one possibility in your head about something in our relationship, just let me know. We’ll talk it out, like we did just now.”

Reneé felt validated by this as she established her spot in (Y/n)’s neck once more, smiling so hard that her cheeks began to ache. “Okay, I’ll let you know. Thank you for letting me know that my feelings are valid.” Reneé whispered, sleep finally threatening to take over her. (Y/n) mumbled a soft ‘of course,’ sleep taking over her as well. As the two girls slept, the trace of their smiles remained at the fact that they finally had this big breakthrough in their relationship.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp

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celiastjamesoscar · 6 months

Text

Wish I Knew You

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader, established relationship

Summary: Unofficial meant many things to people, but to college students it meant one thing: party. But unofficial takes a turn when you get into a fight, and Sam has to walk you home.

Warnings: swearing, destruction of property, breaking and entering, light mention of drugs, drinking

AN: based off of an idea I ‘stole’ from @p0rkbun, I love ya!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5K

“I know it’s unofficial, but please, you guys, be safe. Okay?” Sam pleaded as she looked at the group of kids before her. Technically, they weren’t kids, but in her eyes, most of them would still be those kids she used to babysit. Well, all of them but you.

You met Sam through Anika after she moved to New York, and you were instantly in love even though she wouldn’t even spare you a glance most of the time. Those big, brown eyes that held years of pain and agony brought you so much comfort whenever she would look at you. Her lips never smiled, so you made it your life mission to make her smile, even if it was just for a mere moment. And when you did make her smile after you went on a drunken tangent about how Isaac Newton deserved to die a virgin and how Dr. Pepper is the best soda, she knew that she was in too deep.

Dammit to hell with getting accepted into the best universities the country had to offer and all those scholarships you had received that paid for your schooling at Blackmore University. None of those things compared to the feeling you got in your chest when you saw that beautiful smile for the first time. It seemed like your entire world had stopped rotating and began to revolve around the single smile that didn’t last for more than three seconds, but it meant more to you than anything else.

After the night, the two of you grew closer, and after enough dinners together, you two started dating. It took you forever to break down all of Sam’s walls, but when you did, it was the most rewarding thing you had ever done. On late nights after she had worked a double, the only thing Sam wanted to do was come home and sleep. But when she pushed open her apartment door and saw you standing awkwardly in the hallway with a goofy grin on your lips and a bottle of wine, all the stress seemed to leave her body, being replaced with the need to be hold you.

You found it impossible to believe that people hated Sam: she was perfect in your eyes. Her soft, caring nature, whenever it was just the two of you, was something you couldn’t find anywhere else. Yes, Sam can be a bitch sometimes, but behind closed doors, she is putty in your hands. How she would sit next to you on the couch, softly tracing patterns on your thigh with her fingers, would make your chest flutter. When you two were in a group, she would always sit next to you- much to Tara’s disapproval, who is someone who doesn’t like sharing her sister- while placing a protective hand on your thigh.

The thoughts that ran around Sam’s mind were that she wished she knew you when she was young; maybe her life would be completely different. Perhaps she wouldn’t have started using drugs or ran away from home, but that’s all it was: what-ifs that might or might not have changed her life. Even though she wished for things to have been different, that she wished she would have met you at a different time, she was still glad that she had you in her life, and she refused to let you go any time soon.

So now, as you sit next to her sister getting ready to get plastered at frat parties for Halloween, Sam couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of anxiety crawling through her body.

“Yes, Sam, we promise to be safe. We will call you if you need anything,” Tara stated as she stood up from the couch, “Can we go now?”

With a small sigh, Sam closed her eyes and nodded her head. She just knew that allowing you guys to go out tonight would come back to bite her in the ass. “Please don’t drink too much,” Sam pleaded as she followed the group to the door, looking directly at you while she spoke, “I’m talking to you.”

You scoffed at your girlfriend’s accusation, “How dare you insinuate that I, of all people, would drink the most!”

“Because you will,” Mindy mumbled as she looked between you and Sam, unamused, “You always get out of hand when you drink.”

“No, I do not!” You shot back, but you knew arguing would get you nowhere.

Speaking up for the first time, Chad said, “Don’t worry, Sam. I will make sure that Y/N and Tara don’t drink too much; you have my word,” as he wrapped a loving arm around your shoulder.

With a small sigh, Sam nodded in defeat, “Alright, just be safe tonight, okay? No splitting up.” Before Sam could finish her sentence, Tara had shot up from the couch and left for the door. “Come on, you old people, the party’s not going to wait for us,” she exclaimed while opening the door and leaning against the door frame, tapping her foot with urgency.

The twins were quickly behind Tara, and when you went to follow, Sam grabbed your hand, “Hey, wait a minute.” When Sam spoke, the three noticed the way Sam’s dark eyes were pleading with you, so they decided to step out into the hallway to give the two of you some privacy.

“What’s up?” You asked with the softest smile that always made Sam’s knees weak. “Please, Y/N, be safe tonight. If you need anything, call me, okay?” The Latina asked as she gently placed her hands on your triceps, lovingly running her hands up and down.

“You know I will be, and I promise to call you if anything happens,” you replied while leaning forward, placing a soft kiss on top of Sam’s head, “Just think, this is a night to yourself. When was the last time you had that?”

Sam mumbled something underneath a breath that you missed. “I’m sorry, what was that?” You teased with a smile, watching as Sam rolled her eyes. “I said that I only enjoy my nights to myself when you are around,” the older girl admitted through clenched teeth.

“Damn, Sam. You can at least pretend to like me,” you joked with a small laugh.

“You know that I hate to admit these things, but you still make me do it.”

“You’re right! I love hearing my girlfriend give me constant affirmations about how much she loves me; it's the best!” You happily stated with a smile, and Sam laughed at your response.

“Whatever, just be safe tonight,” she said as her eyes looked you up and down, clearing having a distaste for your costume, “whatever the fuck you are.”

Naturally, you scoffed at her words, “I will have you know that I am one of the best historians out there.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Sam replied with a smile. It might not seem like much, but these small banters between the two of you were what she loved the most. She could be herself around you, and you would never judge her for it.

In the mood to be a smartass, you straightened your posture and pulled on your coat. You cleared your throat and began doing an impression of a Bolton accent, “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first-ever city, because I’m not. That’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.”

Sam stared at you blankly for several seconds before she shook her head, “You’re a fucking idiot, and I cannot believe you are going as that lady.”

“Excuse me, ‘that lady’ is Philomena Cunk, who is the best damn historian on this planet,” you defended while making your way to the front door, Sam following behind you, “And my costume is certainly the best.”

Sam hummed as she opened the front door, “Yeah because it's so hard to beat,” she quickly looked at the three standing out in the hallway, “a half-assed pirate, a scarecrow, and Jack Skellington.”

“Hey now, I’m a cowboy, not a scarecrow,” Chad replied with a bit of hurt. “She doesn’t care what you are. Now come on, we have a party to go to,” Mindy sat as she threw an arm around Tara the pirate and started walking down the hallway with Chad several paces behind them.

Before you followed them, you quickly kissed Sam’s lips. “I love you,” you mumbled against them, and Sam kissed your words.

“I love you too,” she replied while pulling away. You blew her kiss as you started to catch up with the group, and Sam felt her heart flutter at the small gesture. Words could not even begin to express the love she had in her heart for you, but she hoped that one day she might be able to tell you. She wanted to tell you how her entire being ached for your touch whenever you were away, and she hated watching you leave. But she simply settled for watching you leave with her younger sister, off to have the fun that was promised when you start college.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whenever someone tells you that college is supposed to be the time of your life, they are fucking wrong. Hours and hours of studying material that you must teach yourself because your professors are too incompetent to teach it while you still pay them thousands of dollars is not fun. There is nothing ideal about college, and you hated every single second of it, but the part you loved the most was your friends.

Of course, you had friends in high school, but none meant this much to you. You would readily lay down your life for Tara, just as you would the twins. So, that’s why for the first time since the semester started, you finally felt your shoulders loosen and stress leave your body, just for some dipshit in a mask to ruin it.

It all happened quickly, according to Chad. One minute, you were taking shots with Tara, then the next, you were on top of a random guy, beating him to a pulp. It took Chad and Mindy to pry you off the guy, yet you still fought against them, trying your hardest to get your hands on that fucker.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you slurred after Chad carried you out of the frat house, but as soon as he placed you on the floor, you tried to run back into the house. “Hey! Stop it!” He shouted, quickly grabbing you before you could make it up the front porch steps, “Sit down and breathe.” Your head was spinning, and you could barely stand, but you had to get your hands on that fucker.

Grumbling under your breath, you listened to the man and sat down on the grass as Tara came to sit by you. “What happened?” She asked while picking up your dominant hand, lightly tracing her fingers over your bloodied knuckles.

You didn’t want to worry Tara that the piece of shit man was saying false accusations about Sam; you knew it would ruin her night. So, you decided to lie. “He said that the only correct way to eat cereal is to pour the milk first, then the cereal.”

A small laugh came from Tara’s lips as she let go of your hand and pulled out her phone. “You know, I don’t know what’s worse: how crazy you defend cereal or that you nearly killed a man dressed up as Philomena Cunk.”

You chuckled beside her and sat in silence as you watched her call her sister, asking the older Carpenter to come pick you up. You felt bad for not being the one to call Sam, but you knew that if you called her, she would ask what happened, and you couldn’t lie to that sweet and kind woman. Those soft, dark eyes that smiled for her would break if you ever were to lie to her, and you couldn’t put her through that.

So, you sat in silence with the younger Carpenter as Chad and Mindy went back inside the frat house. Once they were out of earshot, Tara spoke up. “I know you lied to me.”

“About what?” You questioned, but you knew what she was talking about. “Tell me why you beat the shit out of that guy,” Tara pressed.

You shook your head and sucked in a deep breath, debating on if you should tell her or not. With a sigh, you down while speaking, “He was saying some shit about Sam, and I lost my cool. I’m sorry that I ruined your night.”

Several beats of silence passed before Tara grabbed your hand and interlaced her fingers with yours. “You know, When you and Sam first started dating, I was skeptical. You’re one of my closest friends, and Sam is my sister. But oh my god, after seeing how she looks at you, I knew that the two of you were meant to be. I’ve never seen Sam look at anyone the way she does with you and the way she smiles around you, Y/N. It's unbelievable; I’ve never seen her smile that much. What I mean to say is that Sam has a hard time with words, but that woman loves you so much. So thank you for defending her name because I know she would do the same thing for you,” Tara admitted with a soft smile, and before you could respond, the both of you saw a tall figure approaching you.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked with worry laced in her voice as soon as she got close enough to see your hand. She crouched beside you and took your hand out of Tara’s as she lightly traced her fingers over your knuckles, more worried about you than whoever you beat the shit out of.

“Your sweet, little Y/N who would never do any harm went apeshit on someone. It took both twins to pull her off of the poor guy,” Tara said as she stood from the ground and began walking into the house.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Sam questioned while eyeing her sister, who didn’t even look behind her as she shouted, “Back to the party!”

You laughed as you watched the younger Carpenter disappear into the house, “she’s a little shit, isn’t she?” You joked as you looked back at Sam, who glared at you, “What?”

You knew it was terrible, but you couldn’t help but find Sam extremely attractive whenever she was angry; it was probably why you liked to piss her off so much.

The older girl huffed as she stood up, pulling you up with her as well. “Don’t ‘what’ me; you know exactly what I’m mad about,” she said as she grabbed one of your arms and threw it over your shoulder. You just shrugged, not wanting to argue with Sam over the reason for your fight.

“I’m not that drunk, Sam. I can walk by myself,” you declared, but once Sam let go of your arm so you could prove your point, gravity seemed to have a vendetta against you, causing you to begin swaying from side to side.

“Mhm, yeah. Come on,” Sam sighed as she grabbed your arm and threw it over her shoulder again.

Naturally, the entire walk back to the apartment, you complained about Sam not needing to carry you, but you would never admit that you enjoyed seeing this softer side of her.

“So,” Sam asked when you two got away from the frat house, “What happened?”

You shrugged as you continued walking, “The guy was saying false information about how to eat cereal properly. That’s all.”

Now, Sam wasn’t an idiot, and she wasn’t born yesterday. She knew when you were lying, and she knew that you were. In your relationship, Sam always knew that you would be truthful, and her heart began to break at the thought of things changing between the two of you. She knew it was stupid, but she couldn’t help the anxiety at the idea of you no longer being honest with her.

As if you could sense her doubt, you spoke, “Sam, you know that I love you, right?” The Carpenter nodded her head, silently ushering you to continue. “Well, then you know that I would do anything to protect you, anything at all,” you proclaimed as you leaned over and placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

Several beats of silence passed as Sam was thinking about what you said. She knew that whatever happened between you and the dickhead was about the online controversies surrounding her, even though you didn’t say anything about it; she just knew.

A part of Sam felt guilty that you had the feeling of constantly needing to defend her name, which got you in a lot of trouble. But she also loved the idea of having someone who loved and cared for her enough to start fights over her, no matter how petty they were.

So, instead of asking you any more questions, Sam simply said, “I love you too,” and pulled you closer to her.

Falling into a comfortable silence, you walked for several minutes before you stopped dead in your tracks. “What the actual fuck is that?” You asked with a slight hint of venom in your voice.

You had stopped just outside a Barnes & Noble, glaring into the store’s display case. In that case, there was a small cardboard cutout of Gale Weathers, and behind her were copies of her notorious book that worsened Sam’s public image.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you unwrapped Sam’s arm from you and walked up the glass window, pushing on it but getting nowhere. “Y/N, come on. It’s closed, and you’re drunk,” Sam said as she gently grabbed your hand, but you shook it off.

Without saying a word, you walked to the side of the store to pick up a brick. Before Sam could stop you, you threw the brick through the window, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Sam whisper-shouted as she tried to stop you from climbing into the store, but you were surprisingly strong in your intoxicated state. Once you entered the display area, you grabbed a signed copy of Gale’s book and ripped out several of the pages. You then began doing that to the rest of the books you could see, and once you were done, you moved to the cutout.

“You fucking bitch,” you hissed as you pushed the cutout, causing it to fall, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fucking fuckass loser.”

Now, she knew it was terrible to be imagining this, but Sam couldn’t find it within herself to stop you from destroying Gale’s books. Truth be told, she wanted to join you, but she felt like you deserved to have this moment to yourself.

“I’ll fuck you up, little bitch,” you stated as you picked up the cutout and put it underneath your arm. “What are you doing?” Sam asked with a small laugh as she watched you carry the cardboard Gale Weathers from the store.

“Taking her home,” you slurred once you stepped onto the street, then you began walking toward Sam’s apartment. “Wrong way, dumbass,” Sam stated once you got halfway down the sidewalk.

Without saying a word, you turned on your heels and walked back to Sam. “Thank you,” you replied while the two of you began walking back in the correct direction, still holding Gale.

“Are you taking her home to kill her?” The Latina asked while looking down at the cutout, struggling to keep a straight face with this unusual situation.

“What kind of fucking animal do you take me for? No, I'm not going to kill her!” You exclaimed, “But I am kidding her.”

The sound of Sam’s laughter caused an eruption of butterflies to flutter throughout your chest. Even though you were drunk and probably wouldn’t remember most of this night, hell, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even remember ‘kidnapping’ Gale Weathers, but you knew you would never forget the sound of your woman’s laughter.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you home so you can torture Gale,” Sam joked as she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

She didn’t care that you would be on the news tomorrow morning for the destruction of property; she was just glad you were happy while doing it. It wasn’t every day that Sam got to witness you lose your shit, especially on an inanimate object, but she loved seeing this side of you. She wouldn’t change your relationship for anything, no matter what it was. Sam loved you with her body and soul, and she would never give that up.

The only thing she wished was different was that she knew you when she was young. She would stay up most nights wondering how different her life would have been if she had met you when she was 18, a fresh runaway from home. Before she got into all the hard drugs, she still struggled despite being three years sober. But as she listened to you threaten fake Gale while stating how much you loved the woman you were dating, Sam couldn’t be happier with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @maskthedwarf @canvascoloredin

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x fem reader #sam carpenter x female reader #Tara carpenter #melissa barrera #Spotify

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periprose · 6 months

Note

Playstation Spidey is sooo blorbo- I love himmm. May I request something where Pete and Reader have been too preoccupied with studying and taking exams all week that when their date arrives on Saturday, they don't do anything but makeout instead cause they miss each other so much?🥲 (I just wish I had a Peter Parker to kiss😔)

I love him too and this idea is just 🤌🤌. I hope it's okay I made this a friends to lovers instead? :)

Your phone buzzes with a new message from Peter.

Peter: hey we still good for Saturday? the study date at the library?

Peter: sorry for not picking up earlier. Phys 403 is kicking my ass 🥹

You giggle to yourself. Peter had been so excited to see you this week- he was terribly busy with internships and FEAST and every single exam that was assigned this week.

You had half the workload he did, and you struggled to finish things, so you had no idea how he did it. It was quite irritating, not being able to catch up with Peter as often as you'd like, but you were hanging on for Saturday.

Even now- he strangely missed your calls and would usually pick up ASAP- and May's told you he's not at FEAST, so it's really confusing to you where he'd be. But you're not concerned, because you have exams to study for.

You: Yea we're still good pete

You: don't stress about it. worry about your exam

Peter: 🫡 will do ma'am

You laugh, picturing Peter saluting to himself.

The timer for your Shakespeare exam just rings as you hand it in to your professor, who gives you a firm, steely nod. You know how strict he is- he doesn't always allow for students to hand in things after the time's up, and even as you leave the classroom, you hear students pleading with him to let them hand in their exams.

You shrug to yourself, and turn the corner of one of the many hallways of Empire State University- bumping straight into Peter.

"Oh-!" You topple over, and although at your trajectory in the air you should've fallen over Peter, he somehow has enough strength to keep you upright in the air, holding you gently by the waist, and before you can think too much about his surprisingly strong capabilities, he's set you down again already.

"All good?" Peter asks, and you nod bashfully.

"Yeah. Just finished my Shakespeare exam. Not sure if I did all that well." You tell him, and Peter raises his eyebrows.

"With Strict Dr. Powell, huh?" Peter gives a wary glance past your shoulder, and then leans in extra close, seemingly not noticing how you fail to maintain eye contact. "Just between you and me, I'm pretty sure he's not actually tenured."

"What?" You stare up at him in surprise. "How else would he be qualified to teach a fourth year English course?"

"Well, let's just say I did a little sleuthing after getting a C- on my last essay. I know, I know what you're going to say-" Peter shushes you as you laugh, taunting him about an unusually low grade. "It was on Asimov, you know? Father of Science Fiction?"

"I think that was H.G. Wells, Pete."

"Right, whatever." But Peter's features bristle with that familiar fondness for you, and you smile softly at him as he continues. "I knew even if my essay wasn't perfect, a C- was really lowballing what it should've been. So I searched some of the school records, and he's actually named Powalski. ESU's letting him stay tenured even though he's only been a professor for five years. My guess is that they owe him some kind of favour."

"And that's why our poor student body has to worry about failing English classes this year, when they should be easy. Because of one crazy professor." You surmise, and Peter nods. "Still, I can't believe you went through the school records! How did you even access them?"

"Uhhhh..." Peter shrugs as he starts backing away, a slightly flustered look on his face. "Parker luck?"

"Peter, I thought that was supposed to mean bad luck." You retort, laughing over his antics.

"Yeah, I never said I wasn't in hot water for doing that." Peter jokes, and he flashes a peace sign at you. "I gotta head to my Physics exam. Talk to you later?"

Before you can respond, Peter suddenly squeezes your shoulder in a quick move, and he takes a moment, staring at your face, and your mouth, before dashing off. "I'm sure you did great on your exam, regardless!"

"Thanks." You're left with a sheepish smile that you shake off your face when Peter's far in the distance, unaware that he's got the same expression on his face.

Peter's kind of struggling a little bit with physics.

Sure, he's a total brainiac, and he's sure to ace it even with his current mood- he's just terribly distracted.

You smelt really good today. Like warm, vanilla-cinnamon goodness. Peter's heightened senses tell him you've got a new perfume.

But he's more focusing on your lips for some reason. Ugh, no. Peter knows why he focuses so much on your lips- you just happen to smile in the cutest, sweetest way.

And just now- you had laughed in the funniest way, your lips curling into a pout that Peter was sure was seared into his mind for good.

Oh, no. I'm a total goner. He gets back to his exam, ignoring this urge to kiss you.

There's a knock at your apartment door just as you're finishing tidying up. Your living room tends to be pretty ugly, and the last thing you want is for Peter to think you're a slob.

Peter calls your name through the door. "I'm not going to think you're anymore messy than I am. Stop cleaning! We gotta leave soon if we want to make it for our allotted study room time, and I just need to use the bathroom."

You shake your head, give yourself one last glance in the mirror, and then open the door.

"Finally. God, dude, you would think your apartment is a pigsty or something. I'm only going to be in here for five minutes." Peter jokes. "You would hate to see mine."

"Is that why you've never invited me there?"

"Uh, yeah. Otherwise you could crash whenever you wanted to there." Peter suddenly turns red. "I mean... you know, you're always tired after class and your apartment is further away from ESU than mine is."

"It's fine, Peter. No need for rambling." You reach forward, wanting to take the books out of his hands- you notice a slight scar on his palm. "Hey, what's that?"

"Ah, just an accident at Octavius' place. No big deal, it'll be gone before I know it." Peter randomly opens a door. "This the bathroom? No, it's a closet. Darn these misleading doors..."

"Down the hall, to the right, Peter."

He nods, and you suddenly feel a wave of giddy energy as he's gone. Yes, you've crushed on Peter for a while- you just don't think it's going to go anywhere since you're both so busy.

You're reapplying your lip balm when Peter wanders back to you a couple minutes later.

"Ah, should we go?" You say, slightly muffled as you continue reapplying. It's a delicious honeydew flavour- you can't help but eat your lip balm off your lips from time to time.

"Yeah..." Peter struggles to say something, anything, and you catch his eyes drifting from yours, to your lips.

"Is something wrong?" You look up at him uncertainly. "There wasn't enough toilet paper, was there?"

"Shoot. Might've used the last bit, sorry." Peter jokes, but he turns quiet, and he grows a little pink.

"Well, if that's all, let's get going." You put your lip balm back in your pocket, and move to get your coat out of the closet, but Peter grabs your arm with that too-quick motion he always seems to possess.

Peter wordlessly cradles your face- there's something echoing through his expression right now, affection, the kind, softness you've always known him to possess, but something else, too. Yearning.

You can't help but smile up slightly confused at him, not sure of his intentions, and while you're not stupid, you're not going to assume anything.

Peter doesn't hesitate and simply leans in and kisses you, a soft kiss that turns a lot more firm as you're pulled inwards by his hands, and you eagerly kiss him back, and you feel him grinning widely when he knows that you've wanted this as much as he had.

It's easy, it's always fun when it's with you, and he figures you both need stress relief anyways. Rather than studying chemistry in the library.

You reach upwards, and run your fingers through his brown, soft hair, and Peter groans ever so slightly against your mouth, which pleases you.

Suddenly he lets go, deeply red and looking a little woozy, but he still holds you close. "Sorry, I- I got a little carried away there."

"Don't be sorry. I wanted to do that too." You admit, a little shyly. "Are you okay with not studying?"

"Really? That's what's on your mind?" Peter looks genuinely a little aghast, even if he is joking. "I must've not kissed you hard enough."

Peter brings you to your couch, where you kiss him again, taking the lead in a way that makes his stomach flip-flop, not dissimilar to the way he feels when he free-falls off a building. You clamber onto his lap, trying to be gentle- and he pulls you down fully on him, wanting to feel every inch, every millimeter, even, against his body. There's an excited thump in his body for every squeeze he makes against you, and he feels his restraint leaving him when you suddenly sweep your tongue into his mouth.

Even when you leave room for air, Peter is insistent, reaching forward with more little kisses all over your cheek, and you reach back again for him, pressing your lips against his, feeling like there's no need to ruin this time with talking.

He really likes that. These are precious moments, few to be found considering how busy you both are, and Peter intends to make the most of it.

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steddie-there · 1 year

Text

Eddie notices it first at Dairy Queen.

It's the first time since leaving the hospital that he's been somewhere with the whole party that isn't Steve's house or the Hoppers-Byers cabin. The younger children crowd the counter, talking over each other as they count their money and decide what to get, while the older teens and adults hang at the back, looking at the menu. Then Erica steps over to Steve and says something Eddie can't quite make out. He nods, winds his way through the gremlins, and places his order. When his name is called, he picks up two cups of ice cream and hands one to Erica, who takes it with a smirk and a comment Eddie can't make out, although it has Steve laughing and shoving playfully at her shoulder.

Eddie turns then to look at the other kids but none of them even seem to notice that Steve has seemingly paid for Erica and not them. It's confusing because Eddie is sure Henderson, at least, would be kicking up a fuss about it. Not even Robin says anything.

But, then again, maybe Steve owes Erica money. Or he lost a bet. Eddie is aware how fierce the younger Sinclair is in collecting on her debts, having made the mistake once and once only of asking her to buy him a soda. So, if no one else is bothered, neither is he. He shrugs and enjoys his sundae.

But then it happens again the next week at Baskin Robbins.

And again two weeks later.

When the last ice cream truck left in Hawkins comes through Steve's neighborhood and the only one to get anything is Erica - at Steve's expense, of course - and the other kids don't even grumble beyond wishing they hadn't blown all their allowance at the arcade, Eddie decides he's had enough.

"Okay, what is it with this ice cream thing???" he bursts out as they all settle back down next to the pool.

The burble of conversation stops as everyone turns to look at him, then glance around at each other.

"What ice cream thing?" Mike finally asks, genuinely confused.

"What ice cream... the ice cream thing!" Eddie splutters. "The thing where Steve always buys Erica ice cream and none of the rest of you munchkins seem to care!"

There's a collective ohhhh of understanding, but Eddie is still completely in the dark. He gestures for someone to explain.

"It's because of Operation Child Endangerment," Dustin answers, casual, like it's a normal, non-question-inducing answer.

Eddie scrunches his brows together and lets out a confused bubble of sound at the same time that Steve buries his face in his hands and groans, "I thought we agreed not to call it that."

Erica laughs and wags her finger at him. "Uh, no. Just because you demanded we change it doesn't mean we agreed to."

"...little lost here. What's Operation Child Endangerment?" Eddie asks, glancing sideways at Steve. He can see, between his fingers, that the other boy's face has gone bright red.

Steve groans again and sinks forward to let his head hang by his knees.

And so Eddie finds out everything about the summer of '85 and Starcourt mall. He already knew the basics, but he's still fascinated. Horrified. Impressed.

He watches Steve through the whole retelling, jumbled as it is by the kids all interrupting each other to add something they thought was being forgotten, and feels his heart ache inside his chest for the beautiful boy across from him. Watches him hunch his shoulders when Erica explains the deal they made, the one that's got her free ice cream for life. Watches him puff up a little with pride when Dustin describes him knocking the Russian comms operator out cold. Watches him squeeze Robin's hand when she mentions the Russian torture and drugs. Watches him tug El into a hug when Jonathan talks about having to cut into her leg.

Eddie watches Steve - brave, loyal, loving Steve, who won't break a promise or a deal even after he most certainly could - laughing with their friends, taking their ribbing and teasing them in return, ruffling Dustin's hair and splashing Erica, almost starting a party-wide splash fight.

Eddie waits until everyone is distracted by Max chasing Lucas across the pool after his cannonball knocked her from her floaty, various advice being shouted to both, then moves to sit next to Steve on his pool chair.

"That was, uh, a lot," he says quietly.

Steve bites his lip, turns a little away from the chaos in and around the pool, although his eyes still track the chase, Max having almost cornered Lucas. "Yeah, yeah it was," he replies, just as quietly.

"Pretty impressive," Eddie tells him, knocking their shoulders together.

Steve shrugs. He snorts as Max finally catches Lucas and dunks him a couple times before they both dissolve into laughter.

Eddie bumps his shoulder again. "Seriously, dude, you gotta know how cool you are."

"I guess," Steve says, still not looking at Eddie, fidgeting with his hands instead.

Eddie thinks he knows what thoughts might be running around inside Steve's head, so he puts a hand over Steve's. The jittery motions still under his touch. "Hey, you got them out of there. You didn't know what you were walking into and you all got out alive. I call that pretty badass."

Steve finally turns to him. The look in his eyes makes Eddie want to pull Steve close, hold him until that look disappears. But he doesn't, just squeezes Steve's fingers.

The corner of Steve's mouth ticks up, just a little. "Thanks, Eddie." He looks like he might say more, but suddenly Dustin lets out a whoop and they both turn to the pool. Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, and Argyle have started a game of chicken, Nancy on Jonathan's shoulders and Robin on Argyle's.

They watch, laughing, as the girls wrestle until they both go tumbling into the water together and come up spluttering. Steve's head is thrown back, his shoulders are shaking with giggles and Eddie feels a grin stretch across his face.

He leans forward to rest his chin on Steve's shoulder, his hand still over Steve's, a teasing tone in his voice when he says, "So, hey, I was wondering. What would it take for me to get free ice cream for life from Steve Harrington?"

Steve turns his head and Eddie pulls back so they can look at each other. And that's all they do for a long moment, Eddie's breathing speeding up when Steve's gaze drops to his lips.

But all Steve does is turn his hand in Eddie's grip, so he can tangle their fingers together. He squeezes Eddie's hand, then stands, grinning, tugging Eddie up with him.

"C'mon," Steve says, pulling Eddie over to the pool before jumping in with a splash. Eddie ducks away from the water, grinning like a fool. When he catches Erica's knowing smirk, he just shrugs helplessly and follows Steve in.

Maybe he owes Erica some free ice cream, too.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #erica sinclair #dustin henderson #robin buckley #steve absolutely still buys erica all her ice cream and probably will for the rest of their lives #eddie thinks it's charming #and this further confirms for him that steve is badass #also this got way more serious than i was expecting 😅#and sometimes the characters take over #yeah i really have no idea what happened cuz this was just supposed to be funny 😅#oh well #enjoy

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starshipsofstarlord · 10 months

Text

Possession

klaus mikaelson works other tvd works masterlist

Summary -> klaus hates watching you talk with another man, even if it is his brother. and it his duty as the man that owns you to remind you of whom you belong to (1.4k)

Warnings -> 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, possessiveness, some toxicity, jealousy, brief mentions of death and turning, crying

Venom was poised on Klaus’ tongue as he watched his beloved, glaring daggers at her form as she watched Y/N laugh at something dismal that one of his brothers had said. She was supposed to remember that she belonged to him, she was his mere little human that was his own personal slave for affection.

He sat there, nostrils flaring, as he sipped out of the rich flute, placing it upon the side table before he hauled himself to his feet, stalking toward his girl. She was his, and she wasn’t allowed to forget that, he didn’t care if she was just being friendly, any niceties were reserved for him alone. Elijah sensed the homicidal distress radiating from his sibling, and chose it best to remain by Y/N’s side as Niklaus reached them. “Brother.” He greeted him, bowing his head respectively at the younger one of their family.

Despite the politeness, Klaus wished to scorn the smile that Elijah had caused from Y/N’s face; he had grown more possessive since becoming a hybrid and unlocking his werewolf side. “Get away from my woman, now.” He spoke slowly, reaching towards Y/N and dragging her into his arms as she gently shook. “It’s okay love, I’m here now. Cling to me all you want.”

And she did, her hands balling up the fabric of his shirt as her face rested lowly on his chest, remaining silent as Klaus forbade his brother from sharing the presence of them both in his art room. Because she was his little masterpiece that he had trained to mould around himself, he raised her chin so she was forced to look up at him, their eyes strongly meeting. Y/N knew that she would be in trouble if she broke the visual contact, she had to obey him, he was the one that controlled this relationship, and most times than not her too.

“You belong to me, do you understand that Y/N?” His interrogative enquiry made her physically gulp, but respectfully she nodded at the Original, allowing him to cradle her jaw in his powerful hands until they drifted down her neck, posing a little pressure to the area. “That’s my good girl.” He praised her, which made her utter an almost inaudible whimper, that made him smirk to himself. Oh, how he should have made Elijah stay so that he could witness how she folded under his demeanour, and how she knew that she was all his.

“Klaus.”

“That’s right, I want that to be the only name that every slips out from your pretty mouth.” He responded, leading her backwards until her back hit a wet canvas, the stroke of his artistic touch adorning the back of her clothing. “Can you do that love, can you only say my name for all eternity.” He still had yet to turn her, he was waiting until they were both ready for that level of commitment, but for now he was content looming above her, blocking her shadow from the eyes of anyone else.

“Yes. Of course, it shan’t be a problem.” He allowed her hands to trail up upon his shoulders, he walked his stature farther into her, trapping her against the material of the splattered canvas. “That’s my girl.” He smiled adoringly at her, meeting her lips lightly with his own before his actions escalated, and he grew hungrier for her touch. His tongue swept within her gasping mouth, holding her still so that he could execute his calculated attack.

Without need of any compliance from his little object, he raised her dress over her head, finding her completely nude underneath, just the way that he liked her to be. And perhaps that was a reason of many as to why he was startled by the sight of her and Elijah harmlessly conversing. He knew that whenever he wanted, her body was conveniently always prepared for him to take her as he pleased, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

Klaus tossed off his long sleeved shirt, exploiting his exterior to his girl who could only trail her hand down his toned stomach, but he grasped her wrist, shoving it away as he continued to strip down to his birthday suit. And now they were both undressed and ready for what he wanted, Y/N moaned surprised yet not by how he effortlessly hoisted her into his arms, and swooned her body against the wall beside them, his fingertips slipping down and down until they were teasing at her wet entrance.

They easily glided into Y/N’s walls, probing her insides with his long digits, two precisely, as he rested his nose into the crook of her neck, smelling how her blood boiled with arousal and finding it relaxing at how her pulse harshly raised from the contact he granted her with. “Look at how ready your body always is for me, it’s like you were made for me. My pretty little thing.” His words did something to Y/N, made her insides twist as he supplied her with the most sufficient way that he could show her his love.

A whine tore out from Y/N’s throat as he respectfully removed his fingers, leaving her feel empty and dismal in his predator like grasp. However the emptiness was soon filled as he pushed his cock into her cunt, stretching her until she felt perfectly full. It must have been some sick joke, he thought to himself and hid his deviant chuckle in the rasp of a groan; it was really as though his mother had endured she was born into the world in the time he needed her most. He was all he wanted, and it was his duty to ensure that Y/N felt the same way about him.

If she didn’t then there would be nothing to stop all hell from breaking loose, sincerely by the hybrid of course. But he was convinced he had nothing to worry about considering the present as he fucked her without an inkling of guilt or compassion for the fact that one day he would make her like him. “Klaus, holy fuck.” Her head collided back into the wall, no doubt giving her an ache within her head, but he only found it that much more attractive as she became significantly more dazed from the hit on her noggin and the strength behind his starved thrusts.

“Hardly holy.” Klaus corrected her, he was the deepest sin that she had ever committed, and ever would. She was wrapped around him like a shawl, clinging onto dear life until she allowed him to take the humanity of it away. She passionately kissed his neck, biting it as though she was growing her vampiric appetite before she actually turned. “Though your cunt feels like heaven.” He muttered, smirking as he thought that nobody would every see her in this state. This was his Y/N, the goddess of his greediest desires, and he would never allow her to slip away.

“Can I cum, Klaus, please?” There were tears of diamond stimulation in Y/N’s gorgeous eyes, it was as though she was compelled by his swift and jarring movements, pleading for his permission to let her release the sparking build up that was daring to explode within her body. “Please, please, please. Want to cum all over your perfect cock.” Oh did she now? Well that was no surprise, it never was, and she always held it together until he allowed her to release, as she knew the consequences if she didn’t. It wasn’t her orgasm, it belonged to him, and she wasn’t allowed it unless he granted her the lustful wish that was laced elegantly in her mind.

“Cum for me Y/N, I want to feel you cum all over me love.” Not even an instant passed and he felt her walls contract gratefully around him, washing her everlasting attraction for the man that owned her onto his length. Once she had finished her orgasmic bliss, he only fucked her harder, causing tears to dribble from her eyes, not stopping until he filled her to the hilt and emptied his cum deep within her. And although they had both finished he refused to put Y/N down, he just wanted to hold her, in this haven alone, sweetly stroking her hair as he thought that he was the luckiest man undead. He had her, and she was all his.

#klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x reader #klaus smut #tvd smut #to smut #the originals x reader #the orignals smut #vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries x reader

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 19.

Summary: We follow Oliver Quick in the aftermath of that night in the bathtub. In the days that follow, however, and the Arts Collective dinner drawing ever closer, you seem unusually upset. However, once he meets your mother at the party, a lot of things start to make an unfortunate amount of sense.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, fantasies and memories of bathtub activities, pervert/enabler dynamics. Also reader's mum is in this chapter so we have warnings for implied child neglect & family trauma, as well as reader talking negatively about themselves a lot.

A/N: 8997 words. OLIVER POV and a huge chapter to sink your teeth into. goes many places, and we finally get to meet at least one of the reader's parents. i believe this is what the kids call 'conflict' in a narrative. Also the reader's parents now officially have names; Pearl & Andreas. Also nana's name is Bijou. let me know what you guys think ! <3

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Every time Oliver closes his eyes, one of about seventeen million different, lewd images pops into his head of either you or Felix. It seems his mind literally will not allow him to think of anything else, which is fine when he's alone in his room - your room, your bed - but less than ideal when he's sitting across from the two of you over breakfast. Nothing about the way either of you interacted with him was at all different from any other morning. Part of him feels like he's going crazy when you give him a sleepy smile and drop a kiss onto the top of his head in passing on the way to get yourself breakfast.

"Morning Ollie," mumbled affectionately, like it always was from you.

Though it should be noted that Oliver isn't often at breakfast before you and Felix. Both of you are reasonably punctual, and usually seem far less tired than you both seemed to be, so that at least pointed to what happened last night not being a dream. That, and Felix grinning at him as he sat down, placing a mug in front of your setting at the table, and held his own.

"How'd you sleep, mate?" With mirth shining in his eyes; he knows. What he knows and how much, Oliver isn't sure, but there's no way he'd be smiling like that otherwise. What does it mean for him if Felix knows? Where do they go from here?

"Bit restless," Oliver hears himself saying, and trains his eyes on his breakfast, feeling the heat creeping up his cheeks already. Felix makes an apology that sounds completely insincere, and punctuates it with a loud yawn, stretch, and groan. Eyes drawn to Felix, the response almost Pavlovian, and most certainly desperate, all Oliver sees is the pleased little smile Felix wears, still watching him. In the next moment it's gone, turned on you as you place a plate of food in front of him and then at your own place, settling down beside him, as you always do.

The talk over breakfast seems to be the same as it ever was. Plans for the day, with you sighing and declaring that after spend the day before in the garden, you'd be doing quite the opposite, and leisuring in the library, watching something yet to be decided if anyone wanted to join you. He could have sworn there was something pointed in your eyes as your gaze swept over the whole table, landing on his briefly. But then the conversation was moving on, and Oliver had to act like he had any room for decent thoughts in his head at that moment.

Breakfast has become unappealing. He already misses the taste of your blood.

He has to excuse himself, despite having barely eaten half of what he'd served himself. Everyone else enquires after him, asking if he's okay, and he hopes the smile he wears is good enough to stave off further questions.

"Just not hungry this morning is all."

He wishes he'd been as lucky as you, wishes you'd drawn blood; a scab he'd pick forever, a reminder of how thoroughly you'd gotten under his skin. Something in him burns to be scarred by you, marked by you both, a want so violent that you're reduced only to instincts. Bite and touch can be one in the same.

Oliver wasn't stupid. He knew what had been happening. It had been hard enough before last night with this game you'd been playing, the show you'd been putting on. A thrilling chase, tension stretched thin, waiting for Felix to finally make a move to prove that he wasn't just stringing Oliver along. The things he's seen you and Felix doing, the noises he'd been hearing -

Back in his room, he doesn't even realise how hard he's breathing until he slams his door shut, slumping against it, his heart racing.

He never thought it would have been you who broke the rules of this game you've been playing. But now Oliver's left picking up the pieces of his understanding, trying to figure out what the fuck it all meant. He locks his door frantically as he recalls something Venetia had once said to him on one of the few nights he's joined her for a cigarette outside before he would head up to the study -

"Felix hasn't needed since he was ten years old," Venetia's eyes flash with something more than amusement in the moonlight, "he was a desperately needy little brother growing up, clinging to me if mother wasn't clinging to him." The two fingers not holding her cigarette curl into a half fist. With a sly smile, she cocks her hip and leans against Oliver, "he wants, though."

A strange spark of desire arks through Oliver at her words, her knowing, teasing tone, like the flare of a starting gun, a confirmation of what he knew he'd already been working towards. It was nice to hear nonetheless. He tries to act like it doesn't effect him.

"Don't you all?" He glances at Venetia out of the corner of his eyes, tone smooth and unwavering, "you Cattons are the kind of creatures who all seem to want." Then, wetting his lips, "that's what that butler is for after all, and Y/N?" Venetia smiles broader, faint laughter escaping between her teeth.

"Oh, we all want, Ollie," with unrestrained condescension, "but so does most everyone; I know you want, I've seen your eyes. But we Cattons always get what we want, that's the difference you can sense."

"I get what I want, Venetia, I just have to work for it," he says eyes flashing as he looks at her through his lashes. Charming Felix's sister was more habit than actual desire, but he wasn't above using underhanded tactics to win over the Cattons as a whole. Even in the moonlight, he catches sight of Venetia's faint blush. Again she laughs, but her gaze drifts over the grounds.

"Then my brother's mutt must not like you that well," she mused, and takes another drag from her cigarette, "if you still have to work for what you want." The remark catches Oliver off guard for several reasons. After a moment he has to confirm that it's you that she's talking about; Venetia's look says obviously, "haven't you noticed that they can't want for themselves?"

Curled up on his your bed, hand wrapped around his own cock in what's become something of a ritual since he'd arrived and you'd begun playing this game with him, he wonders, not for the first time, if Venetia was right. It seemed as though you'd confirmed as much the other night, that you simply loved him, perhaps even wanted him, because Felix was so fond of him. Even when you'd first slept together you'd danced around the idea of what you'd really wanted, even as he pressed, insisted.

He picked up early on - and told you as much - that you want to be wanted, but Venetia's words had shaken even that belief, or at least, it's origins. At times it seemed like Felix was the kind of creature who fed on the adoration of others, who's to say that you simply wanted to draw people into his orbit, to feed his ego, rather than for your own satisfaction. After all, Oliver couldn't imagine you without Felix, anyone who was drawn into your warmth would find themselves eventually in Felix's light.

And Felix was impossible not to love.

Did that explain last night? Were you afraid you were losing Oliver? Was it simply to keep that spark of desire in his chest burning bright? Except if you knew why he'd been in that bathroom in the first place, surely you could have intuited that his desperation for Felix hadn't waned.

His free hand goes to his own throat, fingers catching in the metal chain that rest there, tangling up the same way yours had last night. Cold, sharp pressure against his throat, he squeezes his eyes closed and sees Felix's head tipped back, steam curling, sweat and water clinging to his gorgeous skin as he gasps and moans and -

"Good boy," the memory of your voice in his ear. A mess of memories from the night before, of the lewd sloshing of Felix's bathwater caught up in the eroticism of the moment, leaving Oliver's imagination to run wild. The memory of how your breathing became stuttered, the way you'd shuddered, getting off to Oliver whimpering your best friend's name in your ear as he came. Were you too thinking of Felix, or getting off believing that Oliver was?

Can't want for themselves.

Except there had been a look in your eyes, in your smile, that dangerous, thrilling thing that lit you up as you licked his spend from your fingers like you were relishing the taste of him. Self satisfaction, a kind he'd never seen on you before.

Perhaps Venetia was wrong. Perhaps he could make you want him for your own sake. Perhaps you had already started.

The fantasy warps again, this time to something entirely new, flickering back and forth between debauched depictions of you and Felix, both coveting him for your own.

"My Ollie," possessive echoes of what he hopes to one day hear, until he's conjured an image of you both, lavishing him with affection without sparing each other a second glance. Wanted by both in your own right, "our Ollie," but still wanted as a collective. Loved by your shared love, not just by extension.

Then the fantasy returns to just last night. The fantasy returns to watching Felix and desperately hoping the man was thinking about him while making those noises. The fantasy returns to you, pressed against him, hand slick with Felix's bath water and both getting off to the idea of him. The fantasy returns to the taste of your blood on his tongue knowing his cum was on yours.

The fantasy returns to you both getting off to him.

Oliver finishes embarrassingly quickly. Again. As he does most days here; there's no shortage of memories to pull from, you and Felix have made sure of that. It's also why he finds very little shame in the act anymore; surely you both know that his mind wanders to you like this, why else would you continue to put on such a show when he still hasn't made a move. After cleaning himself up, and still not quite sure what to make of your intentions last night, he decides to put that from his mind for the time being, and enjoy the day he has with you at least.

In the library, it's you, and Felix, and a box set of Classic Doctor Who; the fourth one, Oliver's pretty sure, judging by the scarf. The smile you both give him is nothing but warm and completely innocent. Oliver grins back easily, and takes a seat. It feels the same as it always has. Like nothing has changed.

But Oliver learns quickly that they have.

That night, he finds you in the lilac study in only your underwear. Underwear too nice to be worn by pure chance. Feigning innocence you tell him you can change if you're making him uncomfortable, but that it's a warm night. It's no warmer than any other night has been thus far.

"Does Felix know you're in here with me, dressed like this?" Oliver leans in the doorframe, arms crossed, unashamedly gazing over your body. Instead of a real answer, all you do is grin, raising your eyebrows at him, as if in challenge. So this is for Felix's benefit too, Oliver thinks, perhaps showing off his willingness to share you, trying to coax Oliver into making the first move on the man as a way to continue using his most beloved toy? Wanting you, and by extension, wanting Felix.

For a moment, Oliver marvels about how easily you're able to catch and manipulate his focus according to your every whim, it seems. Who are you outside of the showmanship? Is there a real person under there? Maybe he should walk away, ponder this on his own or ask you in the light of day when you still at least pretend around the others and each other.

"I thought they were cute," is what you finally say, sitting forward, "I'm quite fond of blue," you add, snapping the waistband of your underwear against your hip. Blue like Oliver's always wearing, blue like his damn eyes, blue like he once told Felix was his favourite colour. Fuck. Fine, he's just a man after all, and a lesser man probably couldn't even hold out as long as he has against you and your gorgeous fucking body in the lamplight, and that look in your eyes.

It's not as intense as it was the night before, but he still gets you off through your underwear, and at his foolish encouragement, you leave a bruising hickey on his neck. Before you part ways for the night, you walk with him to his door, which rather unnecessary, just to let him know there's concealer in his shade in the top drawer on his side of the bathroom.

"You planned this all then?" He smirks at your nerve to be so casual about this all, pressing you against his door.

"You give me too much credit," you teased, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, "call it wishful thinking on my part," and you both know he doesn't believe you, but he still kisses you, grinning.

He tries to use this shift in the dynamic to find out more. Perhaps the physical intimacy meant you would be more open to emotional intimacy, even even he hears Felix in the back of his mind.

The day after he'd enquired about your father's work, the day after he'd pressed his ear to Felix's door from the bathroom and heard you sobbing about your parents, Felix himself had pulled Oliver aside with a tight smile shortly after breakfast.

"Ollie, I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier mate, but about yesterday; we try not to bring up Y/N's mum and dad much around here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't -" Oliver tried, but Felix waved him off easily.

"No, I know you didn't know, you didn't mean anything by it," he assured warmly, but as he went to leave, Oliver couldn't help himself.

"Why?"

Felix stops. For a very long moment there is absolute silence. Stillness. Felix's smile doesn't reach his eyes when he turns back. There's a practiced easiness to him, something about it rehearsed and unfamiliar compared to the levity with which he usually carried himself.

"Because they don't have a kid."

And Oliver has no idea what to say to that, what he could possibly mean by that, so he lets Felix leave.

So when he starts to ask more questions, he careful about them. But he can't seem to catch a break. He gets confirmation that you and Felix have known each other since you were ten, and you're more than forthcoming about your life since then, but for all intents and purposes, you didn't seem to exist before then.

Tensions are running high the day before the first event, for you especially it seemed, even though you'd made it clear you wouldn't be in attendance. When he overhears you speaking with Elspeth, he hears something in your voice he'd never thought possible; despair.

"Do you have to host them in my garden, Elspeth?" You sounded like you were on the verge of tears. The matron of the house's voice is soothing as she reminds you that it's one of the most beautiful spots in the Estate. Your garden? "But every time she's in there she breaks my statue -"

"No she doesn't," Elspeth tries to dismiss, but you huff a surprisingly petulant whine.

"She does! Twice now! The seeds, there should be six, and I know it's her, Farleigh told me -"

"I won't let it happen again, pet, I promise."

"She knows it's mine, I know it, she's doing it on purpose -"

"It won't happen again."

Oliver doesn't know enough about your issue with the Arts Collective that is coming over, or whoever this specific member is that has you so upset, so he has to bide his time to get the answers he wants.

And he's not getting them from you. Clearly.

You're withdrawn during dinner. No-one else comments on it; it's like they all understand whatever it is you're going through, and only Oliver's left out of the loop. Not even Felix seems particularly worried, and that's the bit that surprised Oliver.

In the lilac study, much later, Oliver finds you in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill. When he asks if you're okay, you bark a humourless laugh.

"By all accounts," you give a thin-lipped smile, fidgeting with the unlit cigarette between your fingers, "I should be completely fine." It's not even close to being believable. When he sits, chin gently coming to rest on your knee as it hung down the back of the sofa, you sighed, dropping the act and lighting your cigarette. 'It's nothing," you mumbled after a moment, dropping his gaze and taking a draft of your cigarette.

"It's not nothing," Oliver assured softly. Looking up at him, the barest frown creased your brow.

"I never went through the kinds of things you had to," you admit softly, unaware of the cogs suddenly turning in Oliver's mind, "my life is," you laughed without even a hint of humour, "blessed," but the word comes out bitterly. With your free hand, you reach out to run your hand through Oliver's hair, pushing it back off of his forehead, "you don't need to worry about me, Ollie." Shame pulses through Oliver all at once, his lie weighing heavily on his consciousness. He leans into your touch, lets his eyes closed, terrified you'll see the guilt there.

"I do worry 'bout you," he pushes, voice faint and demure, his eyes still closed. He lets the words hang in the air, lets you turn them over in your mind, won't overplay his hand. There's the sound of the cigarette sizzling, then a long, deep sigh from you.

"You don't know me, Ollie."

It's strange to hear you say it, hear you finally admit it. Oliver hasn't been imagining things, you've managed to evade his attempts to genuinely get close to you. Part of him wants to scream, wants to shout well whose fucking fault is that, wants to holler with some kind of vindication. Instead, he kisses your knee, and whispers that he'd like to.

"You'll get there, I'm sure," you tell him with what he's sure is an attempt at warmth, once more carding your fingers through his hair, "spend enough time with Fi and you won't have a choice." It comes as a surprise to hear the forlorn notes in your voice. But then, as quickly as they were there, they'd disappeared, and you start telling him about the guests that would be in attendance at the dinner the following night.

"Why do you know all this if you aren't going?" He's struggling to retain any of the information you've dumped on him - whose married to who, who are the artists and who are the appreciators, the scandals each have been attached to - but it seems to come so easily to you. You're on your third cigarette when there finally comes a lull in the conversation.

"So I can tell you?" You gave him a confused little smile, but he still doesn't understand.

"But what if I wasn't going?"

"But you are," you frowned a little, confused smile becoming more forced, as if his lack of comprehension almost pains you, "why wouldn't you be?" Oliver blinks, "I always knew I wasn't going, but I always knew you would, and I -" you shrugged a little helplessly, "I know things. Now you know things." This time your grin is genuine, as if pleased to be able to help him in your own way.

"Does any of this really matter?" He doesn't mean for it to sound as blunt as it comes across, but thankfully you don't seem offended. Instead you bark a laugh, leaning back against the windowsill and casting your gaze to the navy sky outside.

"They seem to think so," you groaned, as if you'd been subjected to these people and their egos one too many times, "and they love to feel like they matter. Taking the time to know people makes them feel like they matter, at least that's how I was raised." It's a crack, the barest hint to your past that Oliver will ruminate on for days to come. He remembers very sharply how you'd blurted out that you weren't meant to matter. Slowly but surely he's piecing together a picture of your past. So far, he's not liking the image it's coming to form.

So he steers from dangerous conversational territories.

"'s that why you let Venetia talk to you the way she does?" It's not hostile or judgemental, he makes himself sound as genuine as he's able. A thoughtful hum escapes you while you keep looking out across the Estate's gardens, "like you don't mind if she's mean because you know that at least she feels good about herself around you?"

"I adore Venetia despite her sharp edges," you say softly, "and she and I both know this, but she's..." looking back to Oliver, your smile is sad as your mind drifts to Felix's sister, "insecure," voice low, you give a tired shake of your head, "if I knew how to draw lines in the sand, I'm sure she would have crossed it long before now."

"All these Cattons need to be wanted, don't they?" Oliver grins widely, leaning back and reclining on the sofa, watching you crack a genuine smile.

"Why do you think they keep me around?" You joke, but Oliver takes this moment and locks it away in his mind for further pondering, along with all the other revelations you'd afforded him. At least you look brighter when you leave then when he'd walked in. The last thing you tell him is to be punctual to the garden the following night; Elspeth thinks highly of punctuality.

"Am I not going to see you before dinner tomorrow?" Oliver frowns, also standing.

"Oh," you stall by the door, something awkward in your tone, "I'll be around at breakfast, and maybe lunch, but I'm probably not going to be much company or conversation."

The next morning, Oliver finds your words to be true. At breakfast, your gaze is glassy, your movements robotic. Pamela appears to have overslept, but Oliver seems to be the only one who even notices. There's a strange air in the house. Farleigh's more terse than usual, while Felix and Venetia seem to have glued themselves to your sides, the two of them chattering quietly between each other despite how you don't even appear to be aware of their presence.

Over lunch, you too are missing from attendance, as is Pamela once more. Elspeth spends a good portion of the meal trying to encourage her children to adopt a lighter mood. Neither cooperate with her request.

"This might be the best you get from them," Farleigh glanced at Felix and Venetia wearing near identical pouts, both focusing entirely on their lunch, "unless you're planning to surprise us all with dropping a house on the wicked bitch of the -"

"Farleigh, please," Elspeth cut him off sharply, "don't call her that." Farleigh's sharp gaze flicks to his aunt, but his mouth stays shut, "it's one night, can you please just be civil?"

"One night for her," Felix says pointedly under his breath.

Oliver is at a complete loss. Trying to think back on all the guests you'd told him about, he can't for the life of him recall which they might all be referring to. It bothers him enough that once lunch is finished, he looks for you; he'd like a little more warning if he really was to be walking into some kind of lion's den that evening. When he asks Felix, all he gets is a sighed 'study' and little else.

The study door is locked, so he knocks. On the other side, he hears a sigh.

"Go away, Ollie."

How had you known it was him? But that was a question for another time.

"I have a question about tonight -"

"I don't want to think about tonight, just go away, enjoy yourself -"

"I need to know more about the guest list; there's someone who seems to really bother Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh, but I can't remember who it could be that you told me about." He lets himself sound desperate, sound a little helpless and lost; you'd gone so far out of your way to make him feel at home here, he knew you'd -

"Um," after a moment, the door creaks open. Barely. Peering out, you don't look quite right, "it's- um, I think -"

"'re you alright?" Genuine concern wells up in him, but you pull back when he reaches out for you.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine, I'm just- fuck, Ollie, I'm high; what are you, my -" but you cut yourself off with a soft, angry swear, as if mad at yourself for reasons well beyond Oliver's understanding. Gaze unfocused, you frown deeply as you lean heavily against the doorframe. Oliver bit back further concern, taken aback by your relative hostility, "there's this curator that really gets under their skin," you recall after a moment, unable to meet his gaze, "last I checked she was about Elspeth's age; Pearl L/N."

Oliver doesn't remember you even mentioning a Pearl last night amongst all the rest of the guests.

"What's she done that's so bad?" But his words curiously cause your expression to scrunch, "do you not like her either?" You shook your head so hard you almost lost your balance; this time you don't shy away from Oliver when he holds your shoulder steady, "what'd she do?"

"She's just vapid," your voice is so small; there's so much you're not telling him in this moment, Oliver can tell, "you don't need to make her feel like she matters, she knows she does," you swallow thickly, looking at the doorframe, "but if you compliment the work of Bijou L/N in her general area I'm sure she'll jump at the chance to tell you how she sold her Aurora triptych for the same amount that her mother's first house cost." You advised bitterly, lip curling, "she loves hearing herself speak," you spat as an afterthought, immediately trying to slam the door as if you'd forgotten Oliver was even there.

Catching the door, he asks once more if you're okay, and you finally look at him, pain in your eyes like he's never seen before, tears, unspilled, turning your gaze glassy.

"I do hope you have a good night," despite the sadness in your voice, you sound sincere, and Oliver lets you close the door once more.

As he's getting himself ready for the event, Oliver finds himself musing over the information he'd gotten from you. It's no surprise the Catton siblings aren't a fan of this woman; he can't imagine they enjoy being in the presence of someone who craves the spotlight even more than either of them do.

Your advice about an early arrival paid off at least, as Oliver finds himself in the fairy garden with Elspeth in her lavender gown, as always being an incorrigible gossip. With very little genuine care for her own daughter, Elspeth's gossip finds a home amid disparaging remarks. If he carefully files Venetia's insecurities and less noticeable flaws away in the back of his mind, he does so only in case of emergency. Despite their disagreements, Felix clearly loved his sister too; how Oliver would use the information Elspeth gives him to his advantage would remain to be seen, but he reasoned it was good to have.

When finally he's given the chance to comment on Pamela - indirectly, every possibly sharp remark was wrapped in layers of silk at Saltburn - Elspeth's guilt is unmistakable. So Oliver does what he does best; he tells Elspeth exactly what she needed to hear. He drives a wedge in her memories of the woman she'd kicked out, shut the door on the guilt and the thought of return, soothing the Catton matriarch in the process. Sometimes it really was shockingly easy to make the Catton Family Players dance.

"You know it's very good of you taking Y/N the way you did," Oliver adds for good measure, "eleven years I think they said?"

"Oh," Elspeth's brow creases for just a moment as she thinks back, "I suppose it has been that long, hasn't it?" There's a faraway look in her eyes, but Oliver sees an opportunity for information you and Felix were always rather evasive about.

"I would have thought it would be strange," Oliver offers, his tone carefully neutral, but of course light, "having so many people here all the time; Y/N, Farleigh, Pamela, me. You're very generous, very kind." Elspeth gives a gracious smile at the compliment, eyes shining in the twilight. The same grace with which Felix accepts Oliver's soft spoken compliments when it's just the two of them.

"Saltburn was built for company, Oliver dear, nothing strange at all," she tells him in earnest, "James and I have always welcomed our loved ones with open arms, and I am proud to have passed that sentiment on to my darling children."

"Venetia certainly seems fond of Y/N."

Something about Elspeth's expression tightens for the barest moment, and she takes a sip of her wine with a hum that almost sounds like an agreement.

"Y/N seems to believe as much," she says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, "and I suppose she hasn't run them off yet, though I suspect their loyalty to Felix has far more to do with that than whatever apparent kindness my daughter has afforded them."

"I'm sorry...?" Oliver tips his head to the side, confusion masking his intrigue.

"Lord knows I try not to judge my darling children and their friends, so I of course would turn a blind eye to their youthful trysts and experimentation, but really Venetia's been using the poor pet in bad taste for years now, treating them like a dog; you've seen the way she antagonises them, I can't imagine what she's like behind closed doors, nor why Y/N puts up with it!"

"You haven't tried to stop it?"

"Felix has come to me about some of the things Venetia's apparently said, but he seemed more miffed than anything, said Y/N wasn't at all bothered," Elspeth sighed, shaking her head, "I think they pity her, honestly."

"Sounds like Felix and Y/N have pretty inseperable, and you obviously care about them a lot too."

"Felix has always been wonderful at making friends," Elspeth gives a sweet smile, casting her fond gaze at Oliver for a moment, "but Y/N was this tragic, little thing; the first time they met us their parents enquired about whether James and I would like to host them for the Summer, of course I wasn't even aware I was talking to their parents when the offer was made, but Felix had taken quite a shine to them so of course we were more than happy to agree. Then," she gives such a dainty shrug, expression fond and blithe, "they called again as schools were breaking for Christmas, something about how fond Y/N had grown of us all; after that they didn't even have to call."

"So they've been coming back here all this time?"

"Oh the children would often holiday elsewhere during the break, but Y/N was almost always with Felix, wherever he was," she smiled wide, mind alight with memories of your shared youth, "their parents have always afforded us a generous stipend for allowing them to remain with us and Felix so consistently through the years, so it was never any trouble or burden to take care of them."

A long pause follows, and Oliver lets himself mull over all he'd learned, fascinated by it all. But he keeps coming back to one thought;

"You didn't know you were talking to their parents?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You said back when you and Felix first met Y/N, you hadn't known you were talking to their parents?"

"Well, no," Elspeth says, and takes a moment to think carefully about the past, about her next words, "but we were at a business event, I suppose they wanted to remain somewhat professional." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. There's something there, something more. Something about these memories has softened the matriarch, even more than discussing her own daughter.

"Well I know they love you," Oliver tells her, though he's only rarely heard you and Felix talking about the family, "and I know they're grateful to you, and your husband, and all you've done for them, the care you've shown." And there it is, that faraway softness, that hint of maternal love that almost looks foreign on her.

"We haven't done all that much," Elspeth admits gently, soft smile gracing her features, "just what anyone would do, I think."

"More than what their own parents did, it sounds like."

Elspeth's expression falls, her gaze dropping to her hands. She takes a long sip of her wine.

"They're lovely people, really, please don't take what I've said as any kind of inducement on them as people, I think you'd actually find them quite charming," she says, almost forcibly cheerful, "they're exuberant, fascinating people; they've been wonderful friends to myself and James for quite some time, long before we welcomed Y/N into our home, actually," she laughs a little, looking back up, apparently having shaken her just moments ago, "I will say it was quite the surprise to find out they had a child just the same age as Felix." It's an evasive answer, one Oliver doesn't want to let her get out of but doesn't quite know how to turn the conversation back. The silence is not uncomfortable, but Oliver is still grateful that it's Elspeth that breaks it once more.

"He's never been particularly fond of them," Elspeth somehow gives him an in without Oliver even needing to pry further. Her tone is dismissive, like her son's distaste is simply childish, "but Felix has always been loyal," she smiles warmly once more after shaking her head, "I really do think you'll like them; so much of Y/N comes from them."

"I'll like them?" Oliver frowned with confusion, to which Elspeth nodded, reiterating the sentiment, "you think I'll meet them?"

"Of course, darling, they're coming to dinner tonight," she shakes her head after a beat, seemingly correcting herself, "well, their darling mother. She was at Oxford with James, studying Art History, if I do recall -" but she's cut short as Duncan announces the arrival of the first guests, and Elspeth stands, smiles, slipping comfortably into the role of the perfect hostess.

Oliver feels like he almost understands. Like he's right on the edge of putting all the pieces together. There's too much new information, too many social rules he still doesn't know; part of your discomfort was almost definitely related to your mother being here, and that vapid curator Felix hated -

"You are going to need this," Farleigh presses a glass of champagne into Oliver's hands. He seems more irate than usual, but unusually, it doesn't seem to be directed at Oliver. As the guests begin to filter in, they stand side-by-side at the edge of the garden. Farleigh looks like he belongs there, long and elegant, hand in his pocket and his own champagne glass poised delicately in his grip as he glowered at the others.

"Not a fan of the Arts Collective either?" Oliver enquires, carefully taking a sip.

"Tell me that isn't Fredrika's boy!" Comes a call from across the garden, and Farleigh plasters on a smile as he nods and tips his glass to the gentleman who'd gleefully identified him. They both hear him exclaim to some others he was with, "look how tall he's gotten!" But thankfully the man makes no move towards them, choosing instead to blatantly discuss Farleigh, and-or his mother, with little regard for the man himself.

"They've always been kind to my mother," it's the most diplomatic and genuine Oliver's pretty sure Farleigh's ever been while speaking to him. Still, his discomfort does not seem to ease.

"So I suppose there's just a few bad apples then," Oliver muses, "Y/N warned me about Pearl." It takes several seconds of silence for Oliver to finally give Farleigh his full attention. There's a curious look in his eyes, one Oliver hadn't quite been expecting.

"Did they?" He says very carefully.

"The woman sounds like a pain," Oliver says easily, trying his best to ignore the sudden strange vibe that has picked up around them, "but I assumed all these rich folks have an ego on them, so she must be some kind of something since they barely mentioned their own mother and I know they're not fond of her either."

"You are an idiot," Farleigh looks like he can't even believe the words coming out of Oliver's mouth. There's that lost feeling again, like everyone knows some kind of secret that he's not allowed to, like they all want to keep dancing around the truth, afraid of giving him real answers. Farleigh shakes his head in disbelief, an unsettling, quiet anger in his eyes, "you are a fucking idiot -"

"Oh my god, wow!" Comes a bright voice from far closer than Oliver had been expecting, "I'm getting flashbacks, Elle, are you getting flashbacks? Doesn't he look just like Freddie making that face?" Farleigh, beside Oliver, freezes.

When Oliver turns, he sees Elspeth approaching him with a painfully familiar woman on her arm, saying that this is the one I was telling you about; Oliver -

Oliver recognises your mother by her smile. It lights up her whole face, so comforting, so warm and full of affection as her gaze lingers on him.

"Oh, Oliver, I'm sure you're darling, but I must say hello to Freddie's youngling," she enthuses with a laugh. Farleigh looks like his body is three seconds away from engaging in some kind of fight or flight response.

"I see you remember Farleigh, my nephew," Elspeth points out, and the woman wraps Farleigh up in a hug that he does not reciprocate.

"Of course," she gleefully identifies, and Farleigh makes an uncomfortable noise to the affirmative. When she lets him go, she doesn't do so entirely, holding him at arm's length for a moment as she looks him over, "you are such a marvel, darling, every time I see you!" Glancing over her shoulder at Elspeth, she wears a charmingly teasing smile, "never tell James that his sister got all the good genes," and Elspeth, despite the backhanded compliment, seems only endeared by this woman's antics. Finally she lets Farleigh go, stepping back and continuing to size him up, sparkle of mirth in her eyes, "how is your mother, darling?"

"Elsewhere," Farleigh answers shortly.

"Of course, is she still in New York?"

"For the time being," it seems to be enough for her for now, letting him go. Then, she turns her attention onto Oliver, letting Elspeth make the introduction.

"And this is Oliver, a dear friend of my Felix's who's staying with us for the Summer," Elspeth rests a warm hand on Oliver's shoulder, but the woman forgoes propriety to also hug Oliver tightly.

"Oh wonderful to meet you, Oliver - Ollie, can I call you Ollie? Do they call you Ollie?" She says as he awkwardly hugs her back, running on autopilot. Oliver makes some kind of noise, he's sure, but apparently your mother takes that as an affirmative. Pulling back, she smiles with such genuine warmth it's almost jarring to think about what he knows of her, "oh Ollie, so lovely to have you here, it's so good to see beautiful, bright, fresh faces as fans of the arts; you are a fan of the arts, I take it?"

"I suppose," he offers awkwardly, to which your mother gives a laugh. It doesn't sound like laughter should, there's something a little mean about it, something condescending.

"Darling boy you're with the Arts Collective, at Saltburn of all places; one would think to do their research before attending an event such as this -"

"Wine and cheese in the garden were we get high -?" Farleigh's snide aside that hopefully only Oliver hears as he mutters it under his breath is cut off by Oliver's quick apology.

"It's my first Summer here; I'm a fan of the arts but I thought it would be best to set expectations low considering the calibre of guest. I'm not much of an artist but that doesn't hinder my appreciation," he bullshits quickly, and your mother's eyes light up, taking the bait entirely.

"Nice save," Farleigh mutters under his breath while your mother all but swooned at Oliver's humility.

"Oh! Then I do apologise, dear, I'm glad to have you here, glad to see not all hope is lost for the youth," she shook her head with a fond exasperation, "your friend Felix has never taken much interest unfortunately," she chuckles, "one of his very few flaws, I'm afraid."

"I'm also friends with Y/N," Oliver adds quickly, and immediately feels Farleigh's hand on the small of his back, voice in his ear - don't.

"Sorry darling, I don't know who that is," your mother sounds completely and utterly sincere; nothing in her smile or her body language betrays it as a lie. Despite Farleigh's warning, Oliver pushes.

"Your kid, Y/N," he can feel Farleigh actually grabbing onto the hem of his jacket, voice a snarl now - stop.

"Ollie, dear, I don't have any children," she says with what appears to be complete earnestness. Oliver blinks quickly, stepping back, faintly apologising.

"Sorry, I must have gotten some wires crossed," he says weakly.

"Are you feeling alright?" She puts her hand to his forehead, sweet concern written all over her face. God, she looks so much like you, he really thought - "can we get darling Ollie some water?" She snaps her fingers at one of the servers insistently, rudely, directing Oliver to sit down. He did so, and Farleigh took a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," Oliver hears himself speak almost automatically, "I don't think I caught your name." Immediately the woman's expression morphs into a pantomime of apology, offering her hand.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so used to being known at these things - god, listen to me I must sound like I have such an ego, sorry, Ollie, darling," the woman's smile reeks of practiced perfection, "I'm Pearl L/N." Everything stops for a very long few moments as Oliver shakes her hand and processes this news. He blinks a few times, and Pearl laughs airily in the twilight, "oh, maybe he does know me; look," she tips her head to Elspeth, "the boy's starstruck." He's liking her less and less and the moments go on; he can see exactly what the others' problem is with her.

"Sorry, Pearl L/N?" Quickly retracting his hand, he tries to remember what you'd told him mere hours ago, "are you the same Pearl L/N who managed to sell Bijou L/N's Aurora's to..." he trails off, having no actual idea of where the paintings had gone, but banking on what you told him about Peal enjoying the sound of her own voice. As anticipated, she looks frankly delighted, throwing her head back as an uncannily familiar laugh echoes from her. In his peripheries, he sees the approving look Elspeth is giving him.

"My word, yes, they're still up at The Met," she tells him, "I suspect it will be a cold day in hell before they're taken down; they paid more than my mother paid for the house she painted them in."

"Your mother -?"

"I'll take care of him," Farleigh cuts him off with a cold smile to Pearl. It's enough to distract the woman, who coos fondly.

"Oh you really are Freddie's, she must be so proud of the man you are, Farleigh."

Farleigh gives a jerky nod, robotically thanking her for the compliment, and she swans away to greet some of the others who've just arrived.

"Sorry, I thought... she just reminded me so much of Y/N," Oliver mumbled. Farleigh extracts his arm from around Oliver's shoulders, something dangerous in his eyes as he watches the woman, now talking and laughing and socialising with such exuberance and ease.

"You are a fucking idiot," Farleigh bites out venomously, not even looking at Oliver. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest. They both watch for a moment as Pearl takes the arm of another guest, coaxing them and the group they're with to sit over on the picnic bench.

"Can you stop calling me that if you're not going to tell explain to me why?" Oliver finally snaps back, turning to level a glare at the tall gentleman beside him. Farleigh meets his unimpressed look with one of his own, gazing into his eyes as if his next words were of the utmost importance.

"Why exactly do you think that Y/N L/N has a problem with Pearl L/N?"

Oliver feels like a fucking idiot. All the pieces are finally in place, and the picture, Oliver realises, is much bleaker than he'd realised.

Farleigh looks back at the picnic table. The general chatter has died down now, and it seemed that catching up between members of the collective was in order. But his focus was captivated by the woman with your smile. Your mother. Everything familiar about her started to make his skin itch. Everything about you started to make a lot more sense.

There was an effortlessness to how she dazzled the collective, pouring affectionate praise onto the artists as they shared their creativity and triumph, offering support and suggestion to other curators and appreciators like herself who found themselves looking for advice.

Charming, exuberant, fascinating, just as Elspeth had told him she's be. Oliver just remembers hearing you weep about how, in the eleven years since you'd been welcomed into Saltburn, she'd never once asked about you.

"I'm in talks with the Vatican about doing a documentary on the Sistine Chapel," Pearl tell the collective airily when it's finally her turn to share. Chin in one hand, the other picking at the statue at the back of the table that's just behind her, Oliver remembers the argument you'd had with Elspeth just yesterday, "but it's been such a runaround," she groaned, reaching up for one of the stone seeds the sculpture was trying to eat, "so many legal meetings and all this red tape; I've got a meeting with the pope and several high ranking members of the clergy to see if I can get their blessing and bypass all this nonsense. I swear Michaelangelo would be rolling in his grave if he knew the effort one must put in nowadays to appreciate his work." A meeting with the fucking pope?

"Pope Benedict the Sixteenth?" Elspeth says with disbelief, the gaggle of women scattered around the garden echoing the sentiment.

"Has there been another one instated while I wasn't looking?" Pearl smiles, teasing edge to her tone that's uncomfortably familiar, but then there's a faint crack, and she looks up guiltily. Or at least, she looks exactly the way a guilty person should look.

"Darling, you do that every time," Elspeth laughs lightly, while the woman puts the stone seed down on the table before her.

"Surely it hasn't been that many times," she responded, though Farleigh's voice is in Oliver's ear.

"That's the third."

"Fine, let me get you another one," the woman offers, "a proper nymph for this darling little fairy garden, something pretty and fitting, not this..." She looks up at the statue, at the myth of Persephone gleefully eating what seeds are left, at the figure with your unmistakable likeness, "strange, sad little thing," she laughs, before adding that the garden itself was beautiful, and that Elspeth had to get her in contact with the landscape artist. Elspeth, surprisingly, suggests that they should head inside since it was swiftly approaching dinner.

Felix and Venetia are already sitting at the table, a mostly empty bottle of wine on the table between them, both cups far less than full. Farleigh takes the seat opposite Felix, and pulls Oliver down to sit across from Venetia. Neither of the siblings speak, but both are looking at Farleigh as if they can divine some secret message from his wordless expression alone.

"No, I take it back," Pearl's voice fills the dining room, drawing all attention as the others filled in around her. The way she's looking at Felix and Venetia is so painfully endeared; if Oliver didn't know any better, he'd say their glares in her direction were cruel, "Elle, I think Cattons are just cursed to have beautiful children," sighing with a teasing, faux disappointment to Elspeth as she passes behind the siblings to take her seat, she greets them both warmly.

"Children," Elspeth prompts, sharp look in her eyes like she's embarrassed by their lack of grace, both Venetia and Felix nod in greeting, her name coming out as a robotic mumble.

"How lovely are they," Pearl sits, fawning over the Catton siblings to the other guests, who all chatter in faint agreement. As expected, however, Oliver finds he can hear Pearl's voice over all the others, even though she sat herself across from Elspeth, at the other end of the table, "Elle, really I'm in endless awe of you and James, Saltburn has never looked so spectacular as it does under your care, I'm sure my home would go to ruin if Andreas and I ever attempted having a child, let alone raising one half as lovely as you've managed; twice!"

"Pearl," Elspeth told her, voice loud enough that it too carried, "I'm sure that if you had a child, they would be -"

"Oh you're just being kind, Elle, don't waste your breath on hypotheticals."

Across the table, Felix looks like he's about to cry.

Oliver feels... unexpectedly hollow. Every word Pearl speaks reminds him of the state he'd seen you in that afternoon.

"I hate her," Venetia snarls, loud enough for only the four at the end to have heard. There's something about this moment, looking at the siblings and their cousin so completely united against this common enemy, that finally makes Oliver realise and believe just how deeply they all cared for you. Even Farleigh was regarding him in solidarity.

Somehow Pearl still hadn't noticed the black cloud that hung over the other end of the table, or perhaps after eleven years she was used to ignoring it. At least the rest of the collective didn't seem too bothered by it, making bright conversation amongst themselves and leaving the furious youth to stew in their collective anger.

"Why didn't you tell me Pearl was your mum?" Oliver heads immediately to the lilac study. The door opens right as he's about to knock, like you'd heard him coming; you look better than you had that afternoon, but his words have your expression falling.

"I'm sure she didn't see it necessary to tell you I'm her child either," you snapped back, hostile. Oliver goes quiet. You crossed your arms, gaze dropping to the ground, "exactly."

"I don't know you," voice faint, Oliver steps back. Finally it starts to hit him, everything that's happened, everything he'd learned and witnessed and heard. The ache begins in his chest and blooms as he looks at you and tries to reconcile all he now knows. How had he not realised that in all the time you'd spent together, you'd never even given him your last fucking name? "I don't know who you are."

"I don't owe anyone anything -"

"Especially not yourself, right?" Oliver cuts you off, at war with himself when he sees the hurt in your eyes. Still, he can't stand by and let you talk like this, let you become a secondary character in your own damn life, "don't owe yourself the chance to believe that someone cares about you, wants to know you, to make you feel like you matter? I want to know you, I want to I love you," the words sound so raw, and he aches, shudders with each deep breath in, "but there is something wrong with you."

There was no anger in your eyes when you'd closed the door, nor any kind of betrayal. Oliver wonders if that would have been easier to stomach than the guilt, the look of apology. You agreed; you believed he was right. Regret begins to claw at his gut the moment he stumbles back, towards his room; he should have waited, given himself time to think, to process before going to you. Fuck, he really shouldn't have gone to you knowing the state you were in.

Oliver is hollow with want, despite his outburst, desperate to be close to you. But there's no way he can come back from this tonight. All he has is the people who care about you. If Oliver had learned one thing tonight, it was the Catton children and their cousin all did love you, each in their own way.

And Venetia Catton was smoking outside his window in a see-through nightgown.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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laviefantasie · 3 months

Text

Patience

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Summary: It was just a childhood crush, right? If your heart skipped a beat every single time your eyes crossed or if your palms started to sweat with every lingering touch, it was just because of what you used to feel as a kid, right?

| Masterlist |

It was just a childhood crush. Nothing else. That’s what you’d heard all your life. And who could really blame you with how close you two had always been? No one. Truly, everyone around you both had expected one of you to grow a crush sooner or later.

You just wish it hadn’t been you. Everything would’ve been easier then. Cause nothing was worst than having a crush on THE Eren Jaeger.

If only he had never smiled your way maybe your heart would’ve been spared.

Tears started gathering in your eyes as you stared at your best friend dancing with another of your close friends. You couldn’t even find it in your heart to be mad. How could you when you knew how sweet and kind Historia was? You couldn’t blame Eren for choosing her, if there was ever really a choice to make.

You try to move your gaze away but all your strength was gone. It was as if your brain was unwilling to hide the truth from your heart, as if it had finally been enough.

A comforting arm settles itself across your shoulders and a body soon finds itself in front of you, shielding you from the heartbreaking scene.

“Don’t look, Y/N” you hear Armin say, he’s the one holding you safe under his arm.

“Let’s go home” says Mikasa, who’s shielding your view.

You can’t find your voice so you just nod weakly. Your best friends seem to understand though, and soon both are guiding you to the doors of your school gymnasium where the homecoming dance is being held.

Honestly, you knew this would happen someday. Eren had never shown any sign of reciprocating your feelings.

It still hurt though.

Armin and Mikasa keep quiet throughout the drive home, both allowing you to feel safe in their silence; neither asking you to voice how you’re feeling at the moment. You’re thankful for them, without them you’re not sure you’d even think about the possibility of mending your broken heart.

“You sure you don’t want us to stay with you tonight?”

You stare at them with a blank gaze, slowly shaking your head.

Mikasa and Armin share a look before nodding in understanding, promising to come check on you tomorrow. Waiting until you’re inside your home before even moving towards their car.

Only once you’re sure you’re safe inside your house and that they have left the driveway is that you allow yourself to crumble.

“Mom” you whimper “Mom! MOM!”

Your body is shaking and your voice is a dead giveaway that something is wrong, which makes your mother wake up alarmed and run downstairs.

The sight she is greeted with is one that breaks her heart in a way not even your father’s death could.

Your knees are wobbling and your whole body is trembling, it’s a miracle she reaches you in time before you fall down, gathering you safely in her arms as you allow yourself to break down for the first time that night.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Whatever happened it’s okay”

You sob, gut wrenching sobs that make your mother want to shed a few tears herself.

You spend the night in your mother’s arms, crying until sleep finally catches up to you. It’s your mother who greets Armin and Mikasa the next day, whispering how you need more time before you’re ready to see them. Both quietly explain the situation to your mom and she promises to let them know as soon as you’re ready to see them.

“Honey”

You hug your blanket tighter around your body.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart” she tries again, hugging you from behind “It was just a crush, it’ll be okay”

“It wasn’t a crush” you choke “Mom, I—I love him. I love him, mom”

Her eyes widen without your knowledge and she curses herself for not seeing it sooner. Of course it wasn’t a crush, at least not anymore.

The way you’d always cling to him since you were kids, the way you’d follow him everywhere, how you always helped him study so that he’d never fall behind, how you were at each of his basketball games screaming at the top of your lungs.

It may have started as a crush but you both had grown up, your feelings had grown too.

She should’ve seen it. You wouldn’t spend a whole night baking his favorite cake for his birthday when you could buy it just for a crush. You wouldn’t leave everything behind just to answer his call just for a crush. You wouldn’t be the first to clean his wounds after another of his stupid fights just for a crush.

You had fallen in love with him. With every part of him. Even the ones he, or anyone around him, was not proud of.

“Oh, honey” she soothes “It’ll be okay. You may not believe me, but you’ll be okay”

She sighs, holding you tighter.

“You’ll fall in love again” she promises “And it’ll be just as great and as painful as this time. But you’ll fall in love again”

“I don’t want this to hurt, mommy” you sob “Why does it have to hurt?”

“Because every feeling that made you go up has to come down sooner or later. Sweetie, the greater the love, the greater the pain. That’s the rule” she sighs “But it’ll be okay. You’re strong, you’ll get through this. You’re just one heartbreak closer to happily ever after, just have a little patience”

The next day, although still hurting, you get out of bed and answer Armin and Mikasa’s texts, asking them to come for a movie night. You ignored Eren’s.

JaegerBomb: Y/N you left homecoming early?? What happened?

JaegerBomb: You probably fell asleep. Text me when you wake up, doofus, got a lot to tell you.

JaegerBomb: Morning, sleeping beauty!!

JaegerBomb: Hey, I’m getting a little worried. U okay?

JaegerBomb; Y/N what’s going on?? Answer your phone.

JaegerBomb: I’m gonna file a missing person’s report!!

You hesitated before locking your phone. You weren’t going to answer. You couldn’t. Not because you were mad at him, you had no reason to be mad. You weren’t answering because you needed to move on. You couldn’t be there every time he texted anymore.

You had to stop being his person, cause you weren’t his.

Armin and Mikasa came to your house as planned and it was honestly what you had needed all that time. Having their shoulders to cry on was enough to mend your broken heart, at least a little. They made you laugh and smile in a way you didn’t think possible to do with the pain you felt.

You sometimes forgot that your life didn’t revolve around Eren. Being so used to always being at his side, to always call him whenever you were upset or happy, you’d sometimes forget that Mikasa and Armin always stood beside you through the path. Never once abandoning you. It was nice to be reminded of how much you still have, with how much your heart felt was losing.

Eren, meanwhile, was confused and worried. Carla, his mom, watched with a curious gaze as he paced back and forth in front of her, trying to argue with her about going to the police cause it wasn’t normal that you weren’t answering him.

“Eren, honey, she could be busy”

“No, mom, she always answers!” He almost screams “This is not normal! What if something happened to her? Mom, we have to go!”

It was truly an interesting sight. Eren who had grown up to hide his feelings behind a blank space was openly expressing his worry. Somehow you were always the one to let her catch a glimpse of her old sweet boy.

Carla sighs, “Can I at least call Y/M/N first? Just before you jump to conclusions?”

Eren grunts but nods. Carla sighs once more before grabbing her phone, dialing your mother’s number. Eren waits anxiously by her side, making her worry he’d run to the door any second with how fidgety he was.

“Hello. Carla?”

“Y/M/N! Hi! How are you?”

“Mom” Eren whines in a whisper, urging her to get to the point.

“Sorry to call, I just wanted to—”

A crash sounds through the phone, making both Jaeger’s jump.

“Y/N! What are you guys doing?” They hear your mom scream.

“Sorry, mom! I got scared and my bowl fell!”

Eren visibly relaxes in his place once your voice sounds through the phone. Carla eyes him with curiosity. He had his hand over his chest as if the relief of you not being in trouble was finally allowing him to breathe.

“Sorry, Carla. Y/N is watching some scary movie with Mikasa and Armin” she laughs “You know them, can never leave them unsupervised”

Eren straightens in his seat. Mikasa and Armin? You were with them?

He stopped listening to the conversation after that. Why weren’t you answering him? Since when did you text them before you texted him? Didn’t you know he’d worry? Even better, why didn’t you invite him? Didn’t you want him there?

That couldn’t be it. You never left his side. You were even more annoying than Mikasa when you were kids, always glued to his side. Although not as protective as the dark haired beauty, your presence was always clinging to his. That hadn’t changed throughout the years. You clung to him every step of the way. Always making sure to be at his side no matter what. Even when your grades were good enough to take higher classes, you stuck by him. Never going too fast, never going too slow; you always stood by him.

And he never pushed you away, not like he did with Mikasa. He never could.

He tries texting you again, thinking that maybe the texts hadn’t gone through. But he knows better. He just doesn’t want to know better.

When the weekend ends, Eren, for the first time ever, gets to school in time. Honestly, he just wanted to be there when you got there, not wanting to miss you by chance.

“Eren!” He hears Historia before she sees her “How was your weekend? I haven’t heard from you since the dance?”

“Huh?” Historia hugs him, but he’s too distracted scanning the hallway for you.

“Thank you so much” she smiles “I had a lot of fun. I was really sad Ymir couldn’t make it, but you help it be a fun night”

“Yeah. No problem”

Historia frowns confused, “You okay?”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Historia tilts her head, “Yeah, she was by Calculus with Jea—woah! Where are you going?”

He’s out of her sight before she can even finish her sentence. All he could think about was seeing you.

He just didn’t expect to see you with Jean.

He stopped midway. His heart tightens as he sees you laugh happily because of something Jean just said. His fist clenches when he sees the way Jean is smiling at you.

He didn’t like the way Jean was looking at you.

The bell rings and he moves fast, scared to lose you from his sight, as you walk to your class. Imagine his surprise when he goes in to find you sitting with Jean. He frozed for a second. Was he still dreaming? You always sat with him. Always had. What was going on?

“Y/N?”

You look up from your notebook to see Eren looking like kicked puppy in front of you. He looked lost. Which was weird. Never had you ever seen that expression on his face.

Jean, who’s at you side, frowns in bewilderment. He didn’t remember the last time Eren had shown so much emotion.

“Eren” you whisper before smiling faintly “H-hi, I didn’t see you come in”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Your teacher comes in before he can open his mouth again and he soon is obligated to sit behind you with Marco.

His jaw clenches. He didn’t understand. Had he done something wrong? Why were you not sitting with him? Why even though you smiled at him did he feel you so distant? Why did it hurt him so much to see you smiling and whispering with Jean when he knows he is your friend?

He didn’t really pay attention to anything their teacher said, too lost in his own thoughts to even bother caring.

The bell rings and he jumps off his seat, but before he can catch you someone grabs his arm.

“Mikasa” he moves his arm but she doesn’t let him go “Mikasa, let go”

“Leave her alone, Eren”

He looks at her with no expression, though the girl for a second could see how his eyebrow twitched.

“I need to talk to her”

“Her world doesn’t revolve around you” she scoffs “So don’t act like it does”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you just about to go ask her why she didn’t sit with you?” She raises a brow “She doesn’t have to be at your side 24/7”

He hates that she knows him so well. Hates even more that she is right. You don’t owe him anything, you can sit with whoever you want. So why did he felt the need for one?

He jerks his arm off Mikasa’s grip and scoffs. Maybe you just wanted to talk to Jean, things would go back to normal soon enough.

At lunch you didn’t say by him either, you sat in between Sasha and Mikasa. Laughing loudly while sharing your lunch with Braus. He naively waited for you to hand him the chocolate chip cookie you always made for him, yet this time you didn’t.

And it went on for two months.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. 62 days of agony waiting for you to turn to look at him first, just to never do it. 62 days of waiting hours before you text him back. 62 days of seeing you sit with everyone but him. 62 days of wondering if you’ll show up or not at his game. 62 days of being invited to movie nights at your house by Mikasa or Armin, never by you.

He couldn’t bare it anymore and it didn’t take long for his friends to notice. Emotionless and unbothered Eren Jaeger jumping out of his seat every single time you entered the room. Eren Jaeger who cannot stop clenching his fist and moving his leg when you haven’t made an appearance. Eren Jaeger who looks like a lost child every single time you don’t give him his attention.

They honestly grew tired of it.

“You need to talk to him”

You blink, confused, at Armin, “what?”

“It’s been two months, Y/N, and he looks like a kicked puppy. You need to talk to him”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just let him know you’re still friends. That you’re not mad at him” he sighs “Things don’t have to go back to how they were, but he deserves to know he did nothing wrong. He can’t stop pouting and, honestly, I feel kinda sorry for him”

You sigh. Armin is right, as always. It wasn’t fair for Eren, who is your best friend, to feel like he has done something wrong when he truly hasn’t. You needed to make things right. You needed to salvage your friendship with him.

That’s why you come to school the next day with a box of the homemade chocolate cupcakes he loves so much.

That’s why you stand in front of your school’s doors waiting for him to arrive.

Your heart clenches with how defeated he looks once he does. And when your eyes find one another, you can physically see the hope and relief that he feels.

“Y/N” he sighs.

“Eren” you smile “I, uh… I wanted to apologize. I know I’ve been a little distant lately and—”

“Why?” He begs “Why have you been distant?”

You open and close your mouth, your finger tightening around the box in your hands. You had to be honest. You had to voice what you had silenced for so long. That way you would be able to move on, that way he’d understand why you needed to keep him at arm’s length.

“I, uh, um… I sa-saw you and His-Historia at the dance” you clear your throat “It wasn’t your fault! I swear I’m not mad and I never was! It’s just—it just hurt… that’s why I needed space. I liked you and it hurt”

You sigh, and extend the box towards him before slightly bowing your head.

“I’m sorry!”

You stay with your head down for a few seconds. He doesn’t move nor answers and it makes you wonder if he is mad you didn’t just tell him sooner, if he thinks you’re immature for not talking to him before so he could understand.

You feel the box being taken from your hands and before you can react you feel him lower his body, making you stand straight. Yet his face still falls on your shoulder. You feel his body relax as soon as it comes in contact with yours, and you feel him breathe in relief once he can feel your lavender scent. You don’t move, you don’t know exactly what to do in that moment. Does this mean he understands? Does it mean he is not mad? Are you both okay?

“I missed you” he whispers “I missed you so much”

“I—I missed you too, Eren”

“Never do that again” he begs softly “Please. Never leave me again”

“I, uh—I won’t”

“It’s you, Y/N” he continues “It’s always been you”

Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the declaration, yet confusion follows.

“But Histo—?”

“Historia was just sad Ymir couldn’t make it to the dance” he explains softly “I went to help her forget about it for a while”

“Oh”

“It’s you, Y/N. Always has been, always will be” he continues “Promise not to give up on me? Please. I just—please, don’t leave me”

You find yourself wrapping your arms around him, and he hides his face on your neck with content and relief.

“I promise”

The next time your friends see you both, you’re no longer clinging to him. Instead, Eren has his arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. And, for the first time in a long time, he is smiling. That boyish smile they had all missed.

Your mom had been right. It was just one heartbreak before your happily ever after. She just didn’t know it would be the same person who’d mend it.

You just had to have a little patience.

#eren yaeger aot #eren yeager x oc #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x oc #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren aot #eren x reader #erenjaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger x femreader #mikasa aot #aot x reader #aot #attackontitan #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert

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