#as if he doesn’t play with gender in BOTH directions

[purgatorily]

the jokey fanon portrayal of hannibal as this cunty slay serve effeminate guy is so tired i’ll say it. a male character likes a nice suit and cooking and you guys don’t know how to handle it fr

#as if he doesn’t play with gender in BOTH directions #as if men who care about their appearances are also always catty and feminine #like YEAH hannibal has good taste and he loves to be that bitch #but hes also like. extremely intelligent and STRONG and domineering and capable #he thinks of himself as GOD #u guys need to learn how to balance your perspective on him #hes not one thing or the other alone #and i’m sick of him being reduced to a few of his petty moments and his fashion sense

[kedsandtubesocks]

give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#I blame my heartbreak over Texas and Pedro losing but it’s okay cause I got inspired LOL #thank you to anyone who reads this I love you #Joel 🤎 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

[bobattea]

hii, i was wondering if you could write something with dazai x reader x chuuya, it can be swf or nsfw, i don't mind either. love your work btw <3

Pairing: Osamu Dazai x AFAB!Reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Warnings: Smut with no plot NSFW, Smut, Dom!Dazai, Dom!Chuuya, despite being gender neutral pronouns the reader does get called a 'good girl', pet names, dumbification, dacryphilia, oral (M & F receiving), overstimulation

Word Count: 1586

A/N: sorry for taking so long to get to this request :)

Chuuya kisses you passionately, holding you close to him as if you’re about to disappear if he lets go. 

“Chuuya..” you pull away briefly only to be pulled back in by him. 

“Shh, I barely ever get to see you. Dazai keeps you to himself.” He huffs as he continues to kiss down your neck. “He’s gotta remember you’re mine too.” He nibbles and sucks at your neck leaving a bruise and kisses it gently. You laugh slightly at his possessiveness, he never liked the idea of sharing you especially with Dazai and to make things difficult he had taken you with him to join the Armed Detective Agency but Chuuya still makes sure no harm comes to you from the Port Mafia and anyone who does doesn’t get let off easy. 

The two of you were so engrossed with each other that none of you had realized you weren’t alone. From the corner of the room a smirk plays on his lips as he watches his darling and his former partner kiss each other. At this point you were both gripping at each other's clothes haphazardly trying to take them off. Chuuya wears too many pieces of clothing, you only managed to push off his jacket and unbutton his waist coat half way. 

“My my, certainly going at it aren’t you two.” Dazai makes his presence known coming out of the corner. Chuuya’s face changed from shock then to an annoyed expression as he faced Dazai and shoved you behind him. 

“It’s my turn to have her! You get her all the time.” He hisses squaring up to Dazai, his eyes narrowing at him while Dazai looks down at Chuuya with an amused smile he then looks over Chuuya to see you all flushed and embarrassed, Dazai could have a lot of fun with this. 

“Well are you just gonna leave them like that, Chuuya?” Dazai nudges him in your direction. “Can’t leave my belladonna all needy like that.” He taunts with a wide and wicked smile. One that you remember from his Port Mafia days, he’s never shown that wicked smile since leaving them. A smile so devious that can send you on your knees in an instant. In all fairness having both of them here sent you excited shivers but also some nervous butterflies never had you ever done anything with them in the same room. 

“Tch. if you think I’m gonna take orders from you, you have another thing coming.” Chuuya grumbles.

“No but they will and that’s all I need.” You switch looks between Dazai and Chuuya, both men having completely different expressions. Dazai's smile doesn't change, he's still looking at you with his devious smile and Chuuya is just straight up annoyed. “What do you say Bella hmm?” he walks closer to you. “Would you do what me and Chuuya tell you?” You nod your head without any hesitation and he nods in satisfaction. “Told you.” He looks at Chuuya with a smug smirk who just gritted his teeth. 

“Dazai-

“Now my dear, why don't you undress for us and get on all fours on the bed.” You looked between Chuuya and Dazai then compiled. Slipping off your clothes until you were completely bare and vulnerable for them to see before carrying out your next command and getting on the bed on all fours facing both men. The nervousness ate at you, you had no idea what Dazai was planning and if Chuuya had anything in mind the anticipation was killing you making you more wet by the second. Dazai notices your nervousness so he makes his way over to you, kneeling to your height and placing a hand on your cheek. 

“Are you okay with this Y/n?” Dazai’s eyes softened, the last thing he’d want to do is make you uncomfortable doing something you weren't ready for. You lean into his touch and nod. “I’m gonna need to hear your words baby.” He rubs his thumb on your cheek lovingly. 

“I’m okay with this.” You smile softly. Dazai was satisfied and his mischievous smile returned. 

“Good girl, then you know what to do.” He stood up straight and when he was standing in front of you like this of course you knew what to do.  You made quick work with his belt and his trousers then Chuuya got the memo.

“Hey! No fair, that's cheating!” Chuuya stomped his way to the other side of the bed, taking off his waistcoat that you had tried to do earlier before kneeling down behind you and diving his tongue straight into your cunt. You moaned loudly, the surprise catching you completely off guard and your mouth falling open to which Dazai took advantage of and shoved his cock down your throat. 

You choked and gagged as the tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, Dazai was in full control of the pace barely letting you have time to relax your throat let alone breathe properly He would occasionally pull out all the way allowing a little air while drool would drip form your lips and down your chin, he would look down at you with  a satisfied smile grabbing your chin and wiping your own spit over your mouth and face before making you choke on him once again. You would squeeze your eyes shut and moan around him trying to use your tongue but with Dazai being in control it was hard to do. 

“Hey take it easy on them!” While Dazai had his way with your mouth Chuuya his his way with your pussy, he wasn't being as merciless as his former partner was he was being more loving and gentle with you. Taking his time to kiss and lick every part of your pussy while his hands squeezed the soft skin of your ass. The sweet sound of your muffled moans filled the room and Chuuya began to fuck you with his tongue at a quick pace determined to make you cum with his tongue. 

Chuuya’s efforts didn't go unnoticed by Dazai. He smirked and ran his hand through your hair before getting a good grip of it and dagging your head up and down on his cock to match Chuuya’s pace if not a little faster. A silent competition. You were close to cumming already. Both of them knew that Chuuya quickened his pace and that was enough to have you cumming all over his tongue. He pulled away from you wiping away his own saliva mixed with your cum from his mouth, Chuuya wasn't done with you no not yet he’s gonna make you cum again. He removed his trousers and boxers, already lining himself up and slamming into you causing you to jolt forward and choke again on Dazai’s cock.

“You did that on purpose.” Dazai hissed and loosened his grip on your hair and started to stroke your head. “You’re doing so well for us baby.” You continued to work your mouth on Dazai’s cock, swirling your tongue around the tip if you could you’d use your hands too but they are trying to keep you up and doing a pretty bad job if it wasn't for Chuuya’s hold on your hips as he constantly slams into you at a unforgivable pace. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks with every thrust the boys were giving you. “You’re so pretty like this, being absolutely ruined.” Dazai threw his head back and moaned then he watched Chuuya, he was close too struggling to keep up with the two of you. “Struggling to keep up?” Dazai gave him an evil smile. 

“Shut it.” Chuuya panted through gritted teeth and thrusted faster into you, your legs begin to shake and at this point Dazai was just using your mouth to pleasure himself. You are too over-stimulated to focus on everything. Drool was starting to  slip down your mouth and chin and tears falling down your cheeks you thought you were going to pass out before you even got to cum.

“Look at them Chuuya, they look like they’re gonna pass out.” He stopped fucking your mouth to hold your face in his hand. “Come on baby, you’ve got one more in you don't you? We’re so close, darling.” his words barely made it to your ears; it was just white noise. You couldn't reply, you couldn't form words. Anything you tried to say was just coming out nonsense babbles but the nodding of your head was enough for the boys to keep going and they did, chasing their own high at their own pace while you let them use you. You clench around Chuuya and he lets out a throaty moan and one final thrust as you both cum, you moan loudly the vibrations on Dazai’s dick allowing him to release into your mouth. 

Everything was quiet, nothing but the soft pants of everyone catching their breaths, you collapsing on the bed in utter exhaustion. Dazai chuckles softly and wipes your mouth, pulling you into his arms as he settles on the bed also. 

“You did so good for us, Bella” he kisses the top of your head as you relax. 

“Could you not forget me and hog them!” Chuuya grumbles and cuddles you from behind. “I guess we went a bit too far for you doll but you did great.” He whispers in your ear and kisses your temple. You were finally relaxed, maybe it wasn't so bad being shared by them both.

#bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs smut #dazai x reader x chuuya smut #dazai x reader x chuuya #soukoku x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfiction #bsd x reader #bsd smut #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #dazai x reader smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya smut #bungou stray dogs fanfiction

[irkimatsu]

God will never stop my sinful hand. More Husk/Reader! Clothes stay on but it's still spicy, gonna call 18+ on this one. Husk gets to nut his pants, good for him. You and Husk make out, you discover that his wings are an erogenous zone, and good times are had by all. Completely gender-neutral reader, nothing to point it in any direction gender-wise. This is about making Husk moan, that is all

Your relationship with Husk has progressed over the past few months.

What state it’s progressed to, you’re not quite sure. You’re far from the point of declaring undying love for each other; hell, Husk is hesitant about the word “love” in general. He doesn’t want to say it, and he doesn’t want to hear it. You haven’t had sex with him, either; you have no idea how you’d ask, and he hasn’t broached the subject himself.

But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t done anything together that could be construed as special. Even if he’s in no rush to define whatever it is you two have going on, he’s still shown you plenty of his romantic side. He likes taking you out for dinner and shows, events that are way too fancy for you to merely think of them as friendly outings.

The amount of times you’ve come home from a play to immediately make out in one of your rooms, before falling asleep in the same bed, made things seem even less “friendly”.

You didn’t even need the excuse of a date to start making out. Some nights, like tonight, all it took was some drinks and conversation at the hotel bar before you were both sure that the rest of the hotel was asleep or otherwise absent. As soon as he knew it was safe to close down for the night, the two of you headed up to his room for some soft jazz music and some tender, passionate kissing. He used to be so withdrawn with you, as if afraid you’d shatter if he touched you too firmly, but he’s gotten more bold recently, taking it upon himself to hold you close in his arms.

There’s no way you’d tell him, but you prefer cuddling with him when he’s dressed down like this, only wearing suspenders without a shirt. His fur is so soft and warm, and the fewer layers of clothing between you and it, the better.

You know to be careful with your compliments. He’s confided in you that he can’t stand what he’s become as a demon, and that he wishes he still had his human body.

But you can’t deny it. Some of your favorite parts of him, physically, are the parts that aren’t human.

His hat came off his head shortly into the proceedings, so you’re free to comb your hand through the tuft of hair on his head. It’s much more messy and wild than it is on your dates; he has zero reason to style it when he’s wearing his hat. You love it like this, though. It’s one of the softest things you’ve ever touched. Could human hair ever glide beneath your fingers this wonderfully?

You’re trying not to think of it as “petting” him. You know he hates that word. Perhaps “stroking” would work better for him? You stroke the top of his head, then move down to scratch the back. He stays calm, still kissing you like normal, so you keep moving until both of your hands reach the backs of his ears.

He jolts back from the touch.

“Sorry!” you cry out immediately. “Was that too far?”

“I’m sensitive back there,” he says, one ear still twitching from the contact. “Could you warn me next time?”

“Sorry!” you repeat. You know his irritability isn’t personal against you, but you still hate hearing that tone from him…

“It’s fine,” he says, quickly softening now that the shock is wearing off. “I didn’t hate it. You just gotta warn me before you do stuff like that.”

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask. “I can leave if you want me to.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He’s smiling again as he pulls you against his body. “Mind doing that again, now that I’m expecting it?”

You nod, and as he resumes kissing your mouth, you go back to scratching his ears. It’s a weird feeling, being able to touch someone like this during a make-out session; but you appreciate the novelty, especially when every inch of him feels so perfect beneath your fingers.

“Can you go lower?” he asks. “While scratching like that?”

You accept his request, scratching your way from his ears to his cheeks. His fur is so thick here, and it’s hard for you to pull your hands away from how divine it feels, but you have so much more to explore. You continue your scratches down to his neck, then to his shoulders. One of his suspender straps slips off while you’re scratching, and you’re dying to see how he looks when he’s slightly disheveled.

But looking would require you to stop kissing him, and you’re not ready to stop yet.

You’re so eager to feel even more of him. You touch him lower, reaching the small of his back and rubbing the spot where his wings meet his body.

He gasps and pulls away from you again. It takes him a moment to catch his breath.

“Husk?” you ask, not entirely sure what you did but already regretting it.

“...shit.” He exhales heavily. “Shit. Haven’t been touched there in a long time…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Uh…” he laughs nervously. “Not wrong, but… you probably shouldn’t do that. Not unless…” He stops himself and shakes his head. “No. You shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” It didn’t look like it hurt him…

“It’s… an intimate spot.” Even through his fur, you can see him blushing. “Wings are sensitive. You shouldn’t touch them unless you want to turn somebody on.”

That information, combined with the sight of him with his suspender straps hanging off his shoulders, is turning some interesting gears in your head.

A playful smile grows on your face. “So what you’re saying is, if I want to turn you on…” You lean in closer, but don’t touch him yet; it’s up to him to close the gap if he so chooses.

Husk swallows. “If you want to…” He places his paws on your sides, holding you as timidly as he did when things first started. “I don’t wanna rush you into that, though.”

“You’re not rushing me.” You gently kiss his nose and scratch one of his cheeks.

You think you hear a purr in his throat, but you know better than to bring it up.

“Then go ahead,” he says, uttering it quickly to reduce the amount of time he has to spend not holding and kissing you. You quickly get back into the rhythm of things, repeating your hands’ earlier motions. He remains calm as you scratch his ears, his cheeks, his shoulders…

His waist bucks up into you when you touch the base of his wings, but he doesn’t pull away.

You start out slowly and fleetingly, not sure how much pressure he needs to feel the effects of your touches. Clearly it doesn’t take much. Within seconds, he’s squeezing you tightly and moaning into your mouth.

Where else is he sensitive, you wonder? You slowly run your fingertip along the edge of one of his wings, and his whole body shivers against yours.

“Fuck…” he mutters beneath his breath before kissing you again. “Gentle…”

You follow his request, lightly petting his wing with a single finger. It’s still enough to get him to kiss you harder and keep cursing under his breath. You run your finger back down to the joint and start pressing, steadily becoming more firm in your touch to test his reaction.

You eventually reach a point that makes him cry out, then breathe too heavily to kiss you anymore.

“Fuuuuuck…” His eyes are unfocused, and he seems unsure of what to do with himself. “Give me a second…”

You take your hands off of his body to let him compose himself. Once he’s finally aware of his surroundings again, he rests his head on your shoulder and squeezes your waist in his arms. He’s nuzzling his soft cheek against your neck, and you don’t know if it’s making you feel more ticklish or aroused.

Both? Fuck, definitely both.

“Could you scratch under them?” he asks.

You place your hands beneath his wings and begin to scratch the joints from that angle. His feathers brush against your hands as he lightly flaps to your touch, and his hot breaths on your neck are rapidly increasing in strength and tempo.

“Harder,” he moans through gritted teeth, and you comply. The sounds he’s making now are downright lewd, mixed with the occasional inhuman growl. He’s grinding his waist against your leg, and even with his pants still on it’s obvious how excited you’re making him. His current behavior is so undignified for the gentleman who’s been taking you on dates and playing you songs for the past few months.

It’s a side of him you want to see even more of.

“Fuck, I can’t stop…” he squeezes your leg between his own and grinds furiously, his rapid breaths turing into high-pitched whines. “Fuck, fuck-”

You keep on touching him, delighting in how badly it’s making him squirm. 

“Gonna- fuck-” He lifts his waist as if he’s trying to pull away from you, but the death grip his legs have on you won’t allow it. “I can’t-”

“Go ahead,” you assure him, rubbing his wing joints just a little harder.

Whether it’s from the touch or the permission, you’ve awakened something inside him. Still a mess of growls, moans, and whines, he latches his mouth onto the side of your neck and starts nipping while his hips grind furiously into your leg. You moan along with him, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself stable just as much as they are to please him. It’s not long before he’s moaning against your neck as a wet spot pools in the spot where he’s still humping you.

He falls limp in your arms, and you immediately relieve the pressure on his wings, instead choosing to gently stroke his lower back. His breathing is heavy, but steady as he nuzzles into your neck again.

“Fuck…” His vocabulary isn’t the most varied right now.

He seems so spent after that, so you carefully lay him stomach-down on the bed, making certain not to give his surely-sensitive wings the slightest bit of stimulation. He folds his arms beneath his chin, and he laughs.

“Haa… gotta do that again. It’s been forever since I felt that good…”

You’d love to cuddle him in this state, but until you can figure out how to do that without disturbing his wings, you’ll settle for sitting next to him and watching him relax.

“Hey… Husk?” You ask. “I wanna ask you something…”

“Hm?” He doesn’t open his eyes as he answers.

“Would you have let someone else do that? Would you have enjoyed it as much?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s frowning in concern, forehead creased, but still not opening his eyes.

“It’s just… I don’t know what we are. Are we together, or…?”

He reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. “I don’t like putting names on this stuff. It’s just asking for trouble. All I know is that I only want to be touched like that by someone I really trust, and right now, the person I trust that much is you.”

“And if you trusted someone else…?”

He’s laughing again. “Someone else, when I have you already? Not happening. Come on. Lay down with me.”

You lay on your stomach beside him, and he drapes his arm around you and pulls you against his side. His wing descends on you, and he winces slightly from the touch, but it’s not enough to keep him from covering you like a blanket.

“And you know…” he continues. “Not that I wanna control you… but I’d like knowing you don’t touch anyone else like that.”

“Someone else, when I have you already?”

He makes a low, amused noise as you parrot his words back at him. “Okay… good.” He squeezes you close and kisses your cheek. “Now, tell me something else.”

“What is it?”

“I wanna return the favor. Where should I start?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts #there i have a tag for him now

[yurinaa-world]

Hii! I really love your work! I was wondering if you could do a Dan Heng, Blade, Jing Yuan and perhaps Welt (if you want) with a Venti reader? (From Genshin Impact of course ^^)

Characters: Dan Heng, Gepard Jing Yuan, and Blade x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: reader that’s like venti

Warnings: Fluff, spelling mistakes

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You wrote songs for everyone and anyone; what is your reason? Everyone deserves to have a song woven and sung, even Dan Heng’s story, not “his” Dan Feng only. You insult and don’t even have any of the consequences that come from your actions. Example A: You insult someone, and now you have a gun to your head, but! What are you going to do? Duh, poke the bear with a knife.

You’re popular around the galaxy and very popular at every pit stop. People run up to get your autograph or picture. Every bar wants you to perform for them, since having you there will get them thousands and thousands of dollars.

But you really shouldn’t take up the offer of drinking with other people; it never ends well. Whenever you do that, you end up betting or doing something stupid, which has you coming back to him, drunk out of your mind, and 10 dollars away from being broke. Was it worth it? 100% since the alcohol was free.

𝒢𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓊

Oh dear… You both together are the first thing in the newspaper since you're both popular, with him being the captain of the Silvermane Guards and you being a 5-star musician, getting booked for so many venues, but especially bars. There are a lot of downsides to doing shows at bars, mostly for him.

Having to pick you up from bars all drunk and unable to even lift your head from the table since you were basically asleep, he’s afraid that you might get hurt while you're drunk since he has to carry you on his back while blushing a little since everyone can see, and the next day that moment is on the newspaper.

You love to make songs about him but never sing them until he shows up to watch; he just blushes while listening to your music, yet while you sing, you keep your eyes on him and only him the entire time.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

Humor him or humble him with your direct insults (which aren’t really insults), and only you may get away with it since you're together and he’s madly in love with you. You both have something in common. You both influence many people—him with his title and you with your music.

Sneaking away to get the sight of you perform for a whole bunch of drunks, he, of course, is going to stay sober for this moment, watching you like this doesn’t come every day since you're such a shining star, watching you with all his attention on every little detail you do on stage.

But watching you perform isn’t the only thing he’s come here for; you’ve had a bad habit of drinking since the places you perform give you free unlimited drinks since you're their prize guest and they want to come back again to have another show. That doesn’t end well since you come back so drunk. How about he stay with you?

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

You bother him with your songs, and even while he’s resting, you just begin to play with your instrument, and he just looks at you annoyed, 😒 like you are being fr right now He grabs your instrument from you and doesn’t give it back to you, saying sorry, then you're not getting it (doesn’t matter you would get either, even if you say sorry, you're not sorry, he knows your not).

He picks you up when you're drunk, over his shoulder, dizzy and drunk, feeling like you're losing your mind. You couldn’t walk properly because of how out of it you were, but you were laughing and giggling the whole time, teasing and making fun of him, which was so annoying.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #star rail x you #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #dan heng x you #honkai blade x you

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting. 

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens. 

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen. 

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business. 

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts. 

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux. 

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic. 

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes. 

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair. 

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest.  “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him. 

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah. 

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm. 

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage. 

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires. 

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-” 

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying. 

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen. 

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile. 

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.” 

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater. 

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.” 

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out. 

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication. 

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?” 

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks. 

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.”  Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time. 

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet. 

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips. 

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist. 

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges. 

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped. 

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples. 

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them. 

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met. 

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change. 

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about. 

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore. 

With Eddie. 

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger.  “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens. 

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff. 

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right. 

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #thank you all for reading along on this series! #ao3 has alllll the tags if you're curious before reading #have a lovely day! xx

[delphi-shield]

Close in the Distance // Poly Drabbles

multichara x gn!reader wc: ~1650 characters included: jill, leon, chris, claire, rebecca, carlos, ada pairings highlighted: jill & leon, jill/claire, jill/chris, jill/carlos, chris/leon, chris/rebecca, leon/ada, leon/claire ada refers to the reader as gorgeous but i consider that a pretty gender neutral expression, ymmv. i'm kind of throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks with this, but i hope you enjoy it! i know i had fun writing it. i'm gonna go see fnaf and play splatoon until my eyes bleed lmao

Ada & Leon

Ada runs just as easily as she pulls you down to her bed. Leon leaves you with much more reluctance, but he leaves all the same. The note he leaves pinned to the fridge with a fish-shaped magnet from your last vacation (Roatán, blissfully uninterrupted by Leon’s work. Ada’s shadow darkened your doorstep two days before your flight home. She arrived in the night; you think you dreamt her arrival, her muted argument with Leon, but when you wake it’s with her arm draped across your waist. "Stay put, gorgeous," she tells you, her voice a sleep-addled rasp at your ear, "Leon's getting breakfast.") dripping with remorse and guilt.

On a rare reunion, you slip away to give them time to themselves and Ada reels you back in with an arm around your waist, tucking you securely between the two of them. They race for the same cheesy joke just to hear you laugh and exchange warm glances over your shoulder. You pray one day you will wake and they will both be there. You pray that one day you stop collecting the pieces they leave behind to remember them by.

Claire & Leon

Claire and Leon are in and out of each other's lives so often that you could tell time by it. Thanksgiving together and Christmas apart, a New Year's reunion obfuscated by the fizzle of fireworks overhead. Claire holds your hand in the crowd, Leon’s hand at the small of her back to guide the both of you. She leans close to be heard over the cheering of the crowd, promising to kiss you first at midnight. Leon doesn’t seem to hear, but he spins you away from her when the clock hits midnight, stealing the first kiss of the year, smiling against your lips as Claire whines and smacks his arm.

Days later, Leon tells you, "we're both in the doghouse now," when you come home to an argument and refuse to pick a side. Centrism is the biggest crime of them all to Claire, and Leon’s apologies are in short supply. You fall asleep with him on the couch, and when you wake with a pillow under your head and Claire’s humming drifting from the kitchen, you know that you are absolved.

Chris & Leon

Chris and Leon thought this arrangement was fine until their own unresolved feelings bubbled to the surface, their entire friendship recontextualized in the span of seconds over cheap beer. You lean against Chris’ shoulder, watching the gears in Leon’s head turning. A realization years in the making happens in the span of minutes for you, and it takes only a little bit of careful probing to understand that it’s mutual. 

They both drag their feet, men who know how easy it is to wreck something as fragile as this, neither willing for their hands to be the ones that break this time. To be direct is to be dismissed. Chris brushes off assurances that you don’t mind and Leon has told you in no uncertain terms to drop it. You feign tiredness one night and slip away, leave them to themselves, and like clockwork, they ask to speak with you about something the following week. Smug is an understatement. Your playful ribbing is worth putting up with if it means the three of you can move forward together - even if it means the porch swing is a little more cramped from now on.

"Don't let that one go," Chris teases, his eyes squinting in a smile.

"I don't think I can," Leon says. He means it to be a joke about the way you cling to his arm, but his voice too soft, too enamored for the intended effect, his eyes too warm.

Jill & Leon

Jill and Leon see too much of themselves in each other to ever understand the appeal, but god, do they love you. For a long time they operated on separate schedules. You had called it a custody arrangement once, a joke that you came to regret with every fiber of your being because the both of them had latched onto it and neither of them know how to let a joke die with dignity. The first sign of change is a text from Jill, sent at three in the morning (a difference in timezones she didn’t bother to calculate, you’re sure). An offer, their stupid custody joke to break the ice -  I know it’s your weekend, but that movie they want to see is coming out Saturday and I’ll be stateside. Do you mind if we go? You can come too.

It hadn’t been a good movie, some forgettable action movie you had laughed about all the way home, but ever since that night they had been more open to nights together. That’s how you wound up with your legs over Leon’s lap, your head against Jill’s thigh, Leon’s thumb tracing a lazy pattern against your ankle and Jill’s fingers carding gently through your hair. Their hands meet in the bowl of popcorn and Jill relents. Leon insists, no, after you, his tone as dramatic as the sweep of his hand. You can envision the way Jill rolls her eyes without picking your head up, and before they can devolve into a familiar back and forth, you chime in sleepily. "What, are you guys five? If you were going to get cooties, you’d get it from me."

Jill & Chris

“Wrong side,” Jill reminds you, indicating to her own ear. She doesn’t even need to look up from her breakfast. You click your tongue and move to Chris’ left instead, repeating your question louder, clearer. They move so fluidly around each other, nearly two decades of trust informing every word, every look, every action. At times it feels like they inhabit the same body. It's all you can do to try and fall in step with them. They make space, slow their pace, guide you where they have to. Chris is ever the worrier, but it’s Jill who watches you like a hawk when the three of you are out, who grips your wrist loosely and nudges you up with them, never letting you fall behind. Unhurried time together is short on supply, but you cherish every moment of quiet, every laugh, every old story they have to explain to you, you cherish the hurt and the pain, the grief that they try to borrow from each other, all the things they would rather forget yet choose to trust you with.

Jill & Claire

Jill is an expert in handling Redfields, but she can take them apart just as easily. She says she’ll teach you one day. A well-placed ‘got it out of your system’ during an argument starts Claire’s rant all over again. A hand at the nape of her neck, curling her into Jill’s side to calm her. Jill’s methods are effective, but they’re hers. You weave your own way between them, fingers interlocking with Claire’s, palm flat against Jill’s, the way each of them prefer. Jill will drink her coffee anyway she gets it, things like preferences and personal taste feeling like an afterthought to her after so long of nothing but survival, but you see the scrunch of her nose when it’s too dark, too bitter. You slip sugars and cream one cup at a time until you find the perfect blend, and it doesn’t take Claire much longer to catch on to your discovery. There was peace before, and there can be peace again.

Jill & Carlos

"Not that one," you tell Jill, swatting her hands away as she tries to pack one of your many stuffed animals up, the small army having taken over most of the bed. "Carlos got me that one." Jill rolls her eyes, muttering that they're all from Carlos. His absence is filled with plush toys, cheap, soft substitutes for his presence - but at least he tries to fill the void. Jill becomes a ghost when she's away for work, insisting her silence is for your benefit. She comes back to you battered, vacant, and she asks you what you've been up to as if she might fill herself with your memories instead.

If it weren’t for Carlos, you would have no idea how she’s really doing. He has her back, he assures you, and you wonder if he’s reminding himself as well, if the distance she forces (for your own good, she repeats, her tone firmer) bothers him as much as it bothers you. Pulling her back to you isn’t always easy, but Carlos is a steady presence at your side. His gifts for Jill are fewer and farther between - Jill told him to cool it, by his own admission - but you notice as she thins out the stuffed animal militia, she leaves the dog plushie he had gotten her right where it is.

Chris & Rebecca

Rebecca drags you through the aisles of a department store, stuffing colorful paper decorations into the cart you push. Chris is coming home - properly coming home, not just a quick stopover between flights. Rebecca wants to surprise him, and you worry he’ll be too tired. You worry his assignment took a turn for the worse, that the last thing he needs is a fuss when he’s barely had time to process the aftermath. Rebecca assures you it’s fine. She insists she wouldn’t be doing this if everything hadn’t gone well. You reach for the pink and blue streamers on the top shelf, dropping them with the mish-mash of other supplies in the cart as she tells you more and more about the assignment. “I think that’s supposed to be classified, Becca,” you remind her. She shushes you, a finger pressed to her lips. You make a detour to pick up a case of beer, making a bet with Rebecca on how long it will take Chris to ask for a cold one. Chris arrives on time for once, no delayed flights, a blissfully short debriefing at base. He drops his duffle bag the second the door is shut, eyes cutting to the fridge. His arm winds around your shoulders, tugging you into a hug. 

“Guess you missed me,” he says, taking in the decorations. Rebecca patters in from the kitchen, spreading her arms wide to gesture at the apartment, transformed briefly into a discount Party City. He’s tired, it’s clear, but he laughs all the same. It only takes five minutes - as you predicted, shooting a successful smirk at Rebecca - for him to ask, “Hey, any beer in the fridge?”

#resident evil imagine #resident evil x reader #jill valentine x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #chris redfield x reader #claire redfield x reader #ada wong x reader #leon kennedy x reader #rebecca chambers x reader #poly fic #resident evil #i have no idea what to tag this im gonna be honest #the temptation to add leon & hunnigan was strong but i resisted. you're all safe from my hunnedy agenda. FOR NOW.

[beautifulbows924]

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

#bg3 #Astarion x unnamed reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #baldur's gate 3 #vampire spawn astarion #gender neutral reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #trigger warning: sa #fluff and angst #bg3 fanfiction

[urhoneycombwitch]

shelter thee to me

foreword: apparently I just love putting Steve in Situations™️ since this is the second back-to-back sick fic I’ve written for him. Hmm. Cheers to all u other hurt/comfort lovers this one’s 4 u <3 this piece was finished thanks to the inspo I got from Syl @thecreelhouse - she has a GREAT fic called Accident Prone that you totally should check out if you’re interested in this type of subject matter! ❤️‍🩹

cw: descriptions of a migraine, Steve is a bit of a depressed mess, there is comfort tho I promise, alcohol consumption, Steve actively does things to worsen his pain (but it does get addressed), gender neutral reader

wc: 4k

___

It’s the first warm spring day of 1987, and the Munson Bar-B-Q Bash is in full-swing.

Wayne flips burgers and rotates hot dogs dutifully on the grill, cigarette perched at his lips wiggling as he talks to El. Her doey eyes are wide with rapturous attention, like she’s never seen someone cooking outdoors before (highly likely; the world holds so much newness and wonders yet-unseen for a kid who’s been recently liberated from her windowless underground existence).

A few of the other Party kids are playing a raucous and complicated game of multi-player checkers, Dustin and Lucas kneeling in the grass while Mike and Will oppose, pressed in close around the small board. Max (inexplicably and suddenly) declares her piece as “knighted”, the chorus of boyish complaints quickly silenced the moment her hand flexes around the handle of the black cane at her side (in every possible alternate universe, you hope Max Mayfield always has a cool weapon to defend herself with).

The adults of the group are in various forms of relax around Forest Hills park- Joyce stacks paper plates at a nearby picnic table while Hopper is close behind, muttering things that make her laugh, earning playful little swats from her free hand; Jon, Argyle, and Eddie gave the classic “taking a walk” excuse to Mrs. Byers about twenty minutes back, the heady smell of weed drifting from the sparse forest nearly imperceptible over the smell of cooking meat.

Robin’s at your feet, the length of your legs supporting her torso as your fingers work to tie off the neat braid you’ve just finished on the left side of her hair. She’s been letting it grow, since the shitshow of last year- tawny brown locks swing just past her upper shoulders now.

“And I really mean it, this time- Keith’s out to get me,” Robin is saying, wiggling despite your instruction to “Sit still, or your right braid’s gonna be all fucked up,” gripping the strands of her hair a bit tighter in warning. She complies, then huffs out- “Steve, are you even listening back there?”

Steve hums. He’s by your side on the bench, a spot that you’d snagged early on for the both of you- under the comforting shade of a big willow tree, slightly on the outskirts of all the activity. Heat and direct sunlight can sometimes mess with Steve’s vision, loud noise has the potential to fuck with his hearing- facts of life he hasn’t so much told you rather than the result of many quiet observations about your partner over the course of a year.

Steve doesn’t like to talk about it. He’s not interested in rehashing the past, tunes out Eddie’s dramatics whenever the curly-haired boy’s story-telling nature arises; the only thing Steve hates more than remembering is being remembered- by Joyce, tearfully thanking him for being brave and saving her boys; by Hopper, with a firm pat to the shoulder and a stilted speech of unsung heroics; even by Robin, who gets in on the recollections in defiance of Steve’s glare, her hands arcing through the air to recreate the whoosh of his wooden oar.

Alcohol also tends to affect Steve differently, in this post-fight world that you all now live- but he’s taking sips from a cooler-chilled can of beer, thick-framed glasses resolutely off and buried in that nest of hair. You’d given him a look, earlier, when he’d walked back to give Robin a soda, hands still wet from digging around in the ice- but if Steve noticed your worry he didn’t respond to it, instead pressing a freezing can of Coke to the bare skin of Robin’s leg, backing down with a laugh when she squealed and got one good smack in against his arm.

“I’m listening, Robs,” Steve says, leaning forward to rest elbows on knees, condensation dripping off the can of Coors Light between his hands. “Keith’s been on one lately. I’ll fight him for you, if y’want.”

Robin snorts. You fit another elastic around her second braid, just as she brings her fist up to bump against Steve’s. “We’ll tag team him. Out back by the dumpsters. Great place to hide a body.”

“Jesus, Robin,” Steve chides, over the sound of your giggle.

She pushes herself up from off the ground, smoothing hands over her fresh braids as she thanks you, then turns to walk towards the huddled group of teens, winking over her shoulder- “Gotta show the kiddies what a real Checker Champ looks like.”

There’s a din of excitement as Robin joins, cheering and clapping echoing across the lawn- beside you, Steve stiffens, just slightly.

You pretend not to notice, instead scooching over until your shorts-covered thigh is pressing against his leg. Steve makes a happy noise in the back of his throat, wraps the arm not impeded by a beer can around your shoulders, tucking his nose to the top of your head.

“Feeling okay?” You try to keep your tone light, neutral, plucking a stray thread from Steve’s jeans absentmindedly.

He nods into your hair, squeezing your opposite shoulder- “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

Ignoring his immediate deflection in the form of a question, you spread your hand flat over his thigh, thumb running up the side seam of denim, a bit more earnest in your questioning- “It’s just- are you okay? You’d tell me if you wanted to go home, right? You know I’m always happy to make some excu-”

“I don’t want to go home. I’m fine.”

Steve rarely ever interrupts you, even more rare that he speaks to you with any sort of anger, which is why the sharpness of those short sentences is enough to have you pulling back to look at him, incredulous and a little wounded (though you do your best not to show it).

He seems to realize his mistake as soon the words are out of his mouth; Steve winces, palm still warm over your shoulder blade, comforting squeeze as he cuts in, quickly- “Honey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just- I’m good, okay? You don’t have to worry about me.”

Your eyes roam over his face: the deep-set apology in those amber eyes, the soft lock of hair flopping over his forehead, the twist at the corner of his mouth. You fit your thumb to it, and the shape changes, your heart lurching as he smiles against your touch. “Steve-”

“Steve!”

The moment you say his name softly there’s a louder, more piercing version being yelled from a few yards away, Dustin waving frantically amidst Robin’s triumphant cackles- “Steve! Stop making out and come help, Robin’s whipping our asses!”

Steve blinks, and you can pinpoint the exact second he gives in, shuttering those walls back up with a straightened spine. One tender kiss to your palm, then he rises, leaving the beer in his empty seat- “Duty calls.”

After a robust round of Crazy Checkers surrounded by shrieking children, Steve’s energy is waning, you can tell- there’s this certain way he holds himself, little indicators of pain and discomfort that you’ve learned to pick up on; his finger taps mindlessly on the rim of his plastic water cup, the space between his neck and shoulders is one tight line, and his silence has been absorbed by the miasma of noise all around.

No one else seems to have noticed, too absorbed in eating and joking with mouthfuls of food, everyone crammed around two shoved-together picnic tables.

Robin jostles into your side reaching for the ketchup, which in turn makes you bump into Steve on your right; when you hear the sharp intake of his breath, you lean in, careful to keep up appearances, making it seem like you’re whispering a sweet nothing, hand cupped around his ear to dampen all the other sounds.

“Will you let me take you home?”

Should’ve known that wasn’t gonna work. Steve squeezes your leg under the table, his hand wracked with tiny tremors, smile tight and not reaching his eyes as he turns to whisper back, “Quit asking. Stop worrying. I’m fine.”

So goddamn stubborn. Well, so be it, Harrington. You scoff, as if he’s just told a joke timed to the beat of overlapping conversations, and peel yourself off of his side.

Cool air seeps up your bare arm where it had been kept warm in the crook of Steve’s own arm. It feels strange, to not have some sort of constant contact- but if Steve is playing the obstinate game, count you in.

Twenty minutes later, lunch and its accompanying mess has been cleared away, many hands making light work, and Eddie has brought out his stereo system to try and goad the anti-dancers of the group to join a makeshift dance floor.

Jonathan’s playing at being too post-meal sleepy to move off the bench, while Will and Eddie tussle and pull at him, and everyone’s laughing but you can’t focus on anything other than Steve- silent and stiff at your side, doing the bare minimum of human interaction to fly under the radar of suspicion.

Your radar, however, is finely tuned, and you know he’s minutes away from needing to be horizontal; it’s physically painful to keep your hands to yourself as they long to soothe, hugging arms-crossed around your own middle to keep from reaching for him.

Jonathan joins the dance circle with shambling reluctance, and when everyone cheers, Steve’s voice is at your ear, faint and sounding like a shadow of himself- “Gonna use the bathroom. Save me a piece of pie.” And with a final squeeze to your shoulder, he starts back down the path to the Munson’s new trailer.

Two minutes is a rather generous amount of time, in your opinion, to stay seated- until Robin splits from the jumping, dancing fray, light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she bends towards your seated form- “If you wanna go check on Dingus, I’ll make up a good excuse for you both.”

Overwhelmed with gratefulness and anxiety, you pull Robin into a quick hug, then make a smooth break for the winding gravel path.

The noises of the party fade as you walk through the door of the trailer, wiping your feet on the Welcome mat but keeping them on in case you need to make a quick exit with a sick partner in tow.

“Steve?” You keep your calling quiet, rounding the corner of the sun-warmed trailer walls towards the sliding bathroom door, then pull up short- Steve’s sitting against the closed door, on the outside of it, shoes planted on the rug, hands in fists at his side.

His head is tipped forward, resting on bent knees; his glasses are tucked by one arm into the neck of his collared tee, bellows of his breath coming shallow and quick.

Sinking to your knees beside him, you press a hand to the back of his neck, firm pressure against the taut muscle, attempting to bring some relief; Steve makes a choked, whimpery noise, and it almost breaks you.

A wave of helplessness washes through your veins; in defiance of the feeling, you suck in a steadying breath, grasping at adrenaline-fueled resolve as you run through the mental checklist of warning signs.

Thanks to Doc Owens (and the one-and-only appointment you forced Steve into last year, when you found him passed out on your kitchen floor from overheating in the summer sun), you know what to look for, and it gives purpose to your movements.

Steve’s breathing is rapid but not emergency-levels; he’s sweating, but not entirely through his shirt, yet; you get him to lift his head with murmured encouragement- thick lashes rimmed with tears, flushed cheeks reflecting heat back into your palms, and you find what you’re looking for- the black of his pupils equally dilated, twin moons almost eclipsing the almond-brown of his irises.

Last time Steve got a migraine, it lasted for hours, a whole sweltering afternoon of him pale and in pain on your couch, arm draped over his eyes while you kept a rotating supply of fresh ice packs to his temples and top of his spine.

The worst part of all, besides seeing Steve in pain, is the fact that he so resolutely denies himself the help that he would give others, in a heartbeat. Years of putting himself on a back burner, of making sure his nearest and dearest are taken care of before he even thinks about his own needs, have stuck firm.

Steve doesn’t have any heels left to dig in, now, as you feel the slide-grind of his teeth beneath your hands; you let your thumbs brush down his cheeks, a small movement to say I’m here, I’m not leaving you, and his eyes flutter shut.

“Gonna take you home,” you say, soft as your hands that drop to the broad width of his shoulders, “And this time I’m not asking.”

“Okay,” Steve manages, voice thin and strained, and you hate how much that single word is soaked in defeat.

Moving slow, you manage to get Steve on his feet- he leans heavy against you, waving off your offer to get Robin or Eddie to help with a simple and devastatingly earnest “Please, don’t, just want you-”; at a snail’s pace down the hall, in tandem down the front steps, Steve’s eyes slamming shut to block out the waning light of the sunset as you guide him to the Beemer, thankfully out of sight from the party.

You get him settled in the passenger seat, pocketing his glasses and sliding the seatbelt into place across his chest with a click; while you don’t want to make Steve feel any more childlike than he already probably feels, you can’t stop from pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away, adding in a voice that you hope is quiet enough-

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it in the glovebox, okay? This is my boyfriend’s car, and I can’t have him knowing I’m taking strays home. Especially since you’re so handsome.”

Steve smiles weakly at your joke- his eyes are still closed but he catches your hand wrapped around the seatbelt, brings your knuckles up to his lips- “Sure thing, honey.”

There are footsteps crunching up the gravel, and you straighten in the tight space of the partially open car door to find Robin approaching.

She stops a few feet away, hands planted on her hips with a shake of her head. “Jesus, Harrington, you look like shit.”

Steve, eyes still closed and leaning back on the headrest, says to you in an obvious, scratchy stage-whisper- “Maybe if we stay reaaaal still, she won’t know we’re here.”

“If you didn’t look ready to keel over at any moment, I’d punch you for that,” Robin snipes, rocking heel to toe in her converse, locking eyes with you- “Need a good excuse?”

Relief washes out any remaining traces of helplessness. You breathe a sigh. “Yes. Please and thank you, Robs.”

“I got you covered. Emergency at the office, sink sprung a leak, a goldfish death in the family- got ‘em locked and loaded.” She shoots you two exuberant thumbs up, then sobers a bit, expression dropping. “Just. Take care of him, okay?”

You shut the car door with the least amount of noise you can manage, bumping your hip into the handle so the inner latch catches, then squeeze Robin’s hand on your way to the driver’s seat. “I will, Robin. I’ll call your landline later, let you know if he’s up for visitors.”

With a final salute, the ends of Robin’s hair fan out as she jogs back to the party, outdoor sounds disappearing as you duck into the car.

The ride home is mostly silent as you listen for Steve’s breathing, taking each stop sign and turn in the road with measured slowness. Brake, check for signs of life, and creep onwards.

You’re less than three blocks from Loch Nora when Steve leans into the sling of his belt, one hand flat against the dash, the other to his stomach, and you’re quick to swallow down panic, asking in what you hope is a calm voice, “Are you gonna throw up?”

“No,” Steve says, chin dropping to his chest, huffing- then, quietly, “Maybe.”

You’ve already pulled off the main road, throwing the gear shift into park before unbuckling and scrambling around in the seat pocket behind you, plastic grocery bag you’d stashed months ago for occasions such as this crinkling in your fist.

Steve’s fingers on the dash curl into a fist. There’s a spike of alarm you claw at, capture, and shove back, unable to quell the rush of murmured comfort as you lean across the middle console- “Here, baby. ‘S okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe…”

Steve doesn’t take the bag that you press into his left hand, still in a fist at his abdomen; his eyes are squeezed shut under slanted dark brows, and tears begin leaking out, coursing in rivulets down cheeks gone pallid. His voice is barely more than a croak when he speaks.

“I just want to be normal.”

And then, Steve’s crying in earnest: short breathy sobs and strung-out whimpers, like the only thing that hurts more than the act of crying itself would be to hold it all in.

The plastic bag gets shoved to the side as you pull Steve in, hands soothing down the shuddering planes of his back, your voice soothing and breaking in equal measure- “I know, baby, I know, I’m so sorry…”

Hot tears drip down your neck as his forehead rolls against your shoulder. Steve’s hands ball into fists, fabric of your shirt caught in his desperate grounding attempt, fighting through the wreck to speak broken secrets against your bare skin-

“Jus’ wanna be normal. Just want to drink a fucking beer without getting a goddamn headache afterwards. I wanted to stay at the party, wanted to…”

Breath catching, a fresh jolt of pain, and Steve’s whimpering like a child against your chest, unspooling a release that’s been building for over a year- Steve never affords himself time for a breakdown, and it’s all coming to a head now.

“It’s not fair,” Steve grits out. He’s doing his best to ride the wave but it’s threatening to pull him under; you can tell by the sinking weight of his head at your collarbone, the way his hands loosen and go lax at your sides, sobs giving way to gritting teeth and steel-tight jaw as Steve battles back the slicing pain in his head.

You know this is a purging, of sorts, and you’re grateful that your boy feels safe enough around you to let go and feel, but you also know that him getting worked up is just going to prolong an already-bad migraine.

So you let your hands drift up again, take his face between your palms, let his forehead rest against yours, speaking low, stripped raw with honesty.

“You’re right, honey. It’s not fair.” Your thumbs smooth gentle against his cheeks, under the dark lashes that flutter into your touch. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, and you’re allowed to be upset- but right now, I need you to just breathe, okay, Stevie? Can you do that for me?”

It gives Steve something to focus on, instead of spiraling out- he’s obedient, clutching at your shirt again, eyes shut in concentration, trying to match his too-fast breathing to your steadied tempo. Your fingers wind into the longer pieces of hair at the base of his skull, notching against the pressure points Doc Owens instructed you on ages ago.

Steve shivers. Lets out a dry, choking laugh that sounds nothing like him. “Couldn’t even last one full afternoon.”

He sounds so disappointed in himself. It makes your heart ache, tears stinging at your own eyes as you respond, still gentle despite your first instinct to bite back against his self-loathing. “Steve, give yourself some credit. You’re doing remarkably well, considering the circumstances.”

Steve scoffs, makes to lean back and away but your hands stop him in his tracks, nose to nose with you now as you insist, “When you had to drive Max home because her leg was hurting during Will’s birthday party, you didn’t judge her, right? Didn’t question why she needed a ride home?”

With this proximity, you can see the light dusting of freckles spanning the width of his cheeks, color returning slow but sure. He doesn’t try to pull away again so you keep speaking. “And all those times you’ve taken care of me during a nightmare, or had to come home early ‘cuz I just couldn’t stand an empty room. Remember?

“You were there for me. Always have been, just like I’m gonna be here for you. Better or worse, Harrington. You’re stuck with me.”

There’s a puff of warm air against your lips, a half-laugh but you’ll take it, pulling him in by the elbows, nuzzling against the side of Steve’s tear-lined face for a close hug as you whisper, “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

Your nose follows the slope of his neck down, brushes at the rippled line of scarring, tissue healed but still lightly raised in a ring at the base of his throat.

“Really glad,” you whisper, fiercely.

___

Steve lets you take him home. Even lets you baby him, a bit; though you make a solid effort to not infantilize him, there lives in you a deep desire to swaddle Steve in a blanket and keep him there. Safe from all the swirling noise and light and too-bright colors of the harsh world.

You compromise. Get Steve stretched out on the couch, take his shoes off with a calculated swoop-tug, lay his favorite green knitted blanket over the length of his body.

There’s a pill bottle on the kitchen counter that you pocket, leaving his glasses folded in its place. Blue ice pack burning-cold until you wrap a thin dishcloth around it to take out the sting, you bring it to Steve’s side along with a glass of water.

He takes the pills you offer with a wince- sitting up causes the blood to pound at his temples so you help him back down, sliding the ice pack into place at the top of his spine where the pain is blooming.

From your place on the floor, you monitor Steve, one hand stroking soft at his chest to lull his breaths to normal. After a few minutes, his brows smooth out; a few more, and he’s taking careful blinks in the low-lit room.

“C’mere,” he says, voice still scratchy, doe-brown eyes pleading, catching your hand on the upstroke and giving a small tug. When you start to protest, he whines, sounding more and more like himself by the minute- “Come here, baby. Please.”

Another compromise. Keeping the jostling to a minimum, you settle into Steve’s side, ear pressed over the thumping beat of his heart, arms fit around his waist.

Steve holds you. Breathes. Says, “Thanks. ‘M sorry we had to leave so early.”

Nose tilting up, you kiss against his scar again. “It’s okay. I really didn’t want to dance, and Eddie was about to drag my ass out there against my will so really, you did us all a favor.”

Under your head, Steve’s chest dips and rises with a laugh. His lips press into the crown of your head, and you can feel his smile as he says, “You’re dancin’ with me next time. I wanna see some ass shaking at our next family barbecue.”

You exhale a laugh, too, kiss his jaw, his cheek. “Okay, Swayze. Next time.”

Eventually, you both fall asleep, winding down sleepy and safe in each other’s arms, Steve’s pain eased to near-extinction with the care you’ve given him.

Later you’ll call Robin, give her an update for her peace of mind, cuddle up to Steve some more and listen to a record.

But for now, you’ve got a boy in your arms and the warmth of his body as your anchor into the dreaming.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #cw migraine #steve harrington x gn!reader

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell au again because why not. so imagine with me that 141 fellas find you after a miserable customer has made you cry.

warnings: reader!character is experiencing the aftermath of a panic attack/distressing emotions when she’s approached by the boys, nothing explicitly stated but she’s feeling a bit vulnerable.

fem!reader and the use of gendered pet names (hen, love) and use of the word cunt as an insult to describe a customer.

also apologies, i’m english and my grasp on scottish slang/scots has mostly been informed by the wonderful show Still Game which is distinctly glaswegian in flavour and various scottish twitter posts.

so you’re hiding out in the smoking area (lmao smoking area, okay let’s be honest it’s where a bucket filled with sand has been dumped near an ex-display bench about idk 20 feet from the customer entrance) because you just need 5 fucking minutes to compose yourself…

gaz is actually coming back from his lunch break and spots you hunched up on the bench in a way that looks truly uncomfortable. he carefully sits next to you and offers a soft smile when you look over at him. “bad customer?” he’s gentle when he asks and doesn’t make a fuss when you make a truly gross sniffling noise and wipe at your eyes. “want a hug?” you shake your head no and hunch in tighter on yourself. “want a milkshake?” you shrug and he passes over a strawberry milkshake. surprisingly he doesn’t say anything and let’s you drink in peace. you like gaz, he’s always friendly and warm when you interact briefly on the shop floor. he always seems to know what to say or do to get the best out of you and everyone else around him. eventually you check your phone and see it’s been 10 minutes since you left the customer service desk with tears in your eyes and lump burning your throat. embarrassment and residual anxiety washes through you when you recall how you’d all but fled to the safety of the smoker’s bench despite not smoking yourself. gaz catches your shudder when you check the time and knocks his shoulder into yours gently. “don’t worry, i’ll let price know you need a few more minutes, alright?” gaz gets up and heads inside the building, you know he’ll speak to price so you unfurl a little bit and chew on the straw of your milkshake.

soap and simon find you next. soap’s chattering away about the most recent delivery as they both approach your bench. simon stops dead a respectable three feet away but soap throws himself onto the bench bumping his knee into yours “what’s the matter wi’ you then, hen? you’ve a face like a smacked arse”. you shift away from soap, usually you don’t mind his directness but it’s just rubbing you the wrong way right now. you’re still feeling raw and a bit sick from finishing gaz’s milkshake and lingering anxiety. “fucks sake johnny, leave ‘er alone.” simon grumbles and fishes a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. “how? am just askin’ what’s the matter!” soap’s hands swat the air near your face and you shuffle further along the bench to avoid being hit in the nose in his agitation. “johnny.” simon snaps and soap huffs and folds his arms across his chest. it’s quiet amongst the three of you while simon taps out a cigarette and pats down his pockets looking for a lighter. soap shoots a wink at you and starts playing with a lighter that apparently has just appeared from thin air. “give me my lighter back johnny.” “gies a cigarette an’ i’ll trade it.” “no.” “c’mon simon! wan little cigarette.” “fuck off.” “awright then you miserable bastard.” you shake your head at their bickering and hold out your hand. soap pouts but drops it into your open palm. you lob the lighter in a poor underhand throw to simon who plucks it out of the air easily and nods in appreciation. “aw c’mon hen, that’s no’ playin’ fair!” soap whines and knocks his knee into yours “i thought i was your favourite.” “favourite pain in the arse.” is simon’s dry response around the lit cigarette and you crack a wobbly smile. “there she is! didn’t i tell you si?” soap’s grin is blinding “i knew we could cheer her up!” your wobbly smile starts to resemble more of its usual cheer when you catch simon’s eye roll directed at soap. you open your mouth maybe to defend soap or maybe to provoke him, you haven’t quite decided, when a pointed throat clearing catches your trio’s attention. your smile drops off your face and the anxiety that had started to quiet down in the face of johnny’s cheerfulness rises again in your belly because price is aiming a stern look towards the three of you from only six feet away.

price gently sits next to you on the bench when you’re certain simon and johnny are back inside. johnny squawking about the injustice of having his break cut short and simon calling him an idiot in response as they both disappear through the doors. you open your mouth to apologise for skiving off and offer any reason or explanation that will help your case but your teeth click shut when price holds out a palm to forestall your inevitable word vomit. “i don’t want to hear it, love.” price’s tone isn’t unkind, he’s just shooting straight with you, it’s something you quite admire about him really. “that customer was a cunt quite frankly and i���m proud of you for handling her the way you did.” the praise creates a small glow in your chest and burns away the last of your dread. “but, a word of advice, as the duty manager for today?” price offers a small encouraging smile so you nod. “you’re not paid enough to put up with that shit, so don’t.” you grimace and blow out a breath, you want to argue, maybe even defend yourself and explain that it’s fine really that’s just how retail is. price chuckles “no love, listen. you aren’t paid enough, but i am. so next time it happens, send ‘em my way alright?” price offers another smile when you nod in agreement before pushing himself off the bench. “now, c’mon. i’ve got stock that needs counting down the plumbing aisle and you can give me a hand. no more talking to muppets on the customer service desk today.” you follow price back into the store feeling much better than you did twenty five minutes ago.

the rest of your shift passes by easily enough and you make a mental note to buy gaz a milkshake as a thank you when he shoots you a friendly smile as you pass him on your way out the store on your lunch.

#cod fic #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #retail hell au #‘p why do you refer to johnny as soap when other characters call him johnny and reader thinks of him as johnny?’ #because dear reader of my nonsense i am easily confused by johnny and john #‘but p you refer to john as price’ yeah i know i messed up there but here we are and now i’m too lazy to change it #maybe if i do singular character x reader interactions or singular character headcannons i’ll use john and johnny #also this got pretty soap and ghost heavy so apologies to any gaz and price fans #i just loved writing the ghost and soap banter that i couldn’t stop #jp #jm #kg #sr

[youthnighttarot]

Their Darkest fantasy 18+

💋💋❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥‼️Their Darkest fantasy 18+👯‍♀️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🚫🚫‼️‼️🔞🔞

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 2oSrv, Emperor, 9oWrv, 10oW

Ok so the first thing I’m picking up on is a highly playful energy. They really like to caress and stroke your body. They overall really like to tease you but more physically than mentally. They wanna play with you in every sense of the word 👀😋. If this is a female she really wants you to make her lose control of herself, she doesn’t want to be able to think or speak type of timing. (Dick brains🤣) She wants to be speaking in tongues, gibberish or both. Either way she wants to be mesmerized 🤤. If this person is a male, he wants to do a lot of bridge positions?? (Ok I see you must be flexible pile 1 👏🏾) Umm so I heard someone wants to be put in a cockhold 🫣 I- so yea. They want to have a lot of balanced energy where both of you equally enjoy yourselves and feel immense pleasure. They definitely want to stroke inside of you smoothly but hard. Like it will feel like a good kinda stroke for my bu**ies/pu**ies having people out there. If the person is a female she really wants you to do this to her (no holding back!!) Yea I’m feeling a really hard thrust but never rough unless you want it to be that way. Though I do sense that either they or you want them to slam inside of you every now and again. They want to be gentle with you and then turn into an animal once they catch their prey pile 1👄❤️. They either want to edge or they want you to edge them or they want to edge you. Whatever it may be, they want it to happen with you. They want to get you there to the point of climax and then just stop 🛑. Leaving you pleading and whimpering for them to touch you once more. Then the two of swords had the nerve to pop out, in the card I have the man is giving the woman pleasure but the card is in reverse. This gives me confirmation they do in fact want to pleasure you and give you neck…but they want to give you just enough until you can’t take it anymore and then stop. You may feel like they’re an imposter because of how they present in public vs inside your bedroom….though I see no complaints just astonishment. And when I say stop they are going to stop and refuse to keep going. Just letting you squalor in pure lust as they watch you and begin to collect themselves. You also can’t do anything about your horniness, no masturbation NOTHING!! They like to be in control and to dominate you in the best way possible. If you’re a female when I tell you they love your snatch👅, lick lick lick is all they want to do. Your natural scent/smells is enough for them. If you are two males that bu**y taste like pure gold. If you’re a male she loves the way your di*k feels in her mouth…she may really like to lick up the shaft with direct eye contact. Regardless of gender they want to lick everywhere all over your body. Over and over again. This person is freaky…freaky freaky freaky ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥. The emperor is at the back of the deck and legit there is a little jester sitting on the king….to me that brings me back to the playfulness of it all. They really are gonna be super playful with you at first but once that lust and aggression hits chileeeeeeee. This is having a daddy/mommy dom feel to it…very authoritative. They may possibly be into 3 ways or threesomes and would want to partake with you if you genuinely felt up to it. Maybe only once  with 2 men for some of you. This person also may like to slide back and forth between men and women. They definitely have a powerful (Go look at the guy from the recent law and order episodes the bald guy who is a detective ...that’s how he sounds) voice and agenda in the bedroom…they really want to choke you pile 1. Especially when you’re just about to climax they would want to choke you so you feel that moment of bliss as you climax. This person is really gonna like a lot of positions where they are in full control…they like doggy style and could love positions where they are behind you/ on top of you. On this nine of wands card the guy is hitting the woman from the back while she is pleasuring herself….however it came out in reverse. So to me it’s giving no don’t do that I only want to be the one giving you pleasure nothing more than what I give and no less. They want to see the seed growth of his labor ya feel me. They really want to have the power and control over you...this is what their dark fantasy would look like for them. Control, Power, Dominance. Not really over your person but really over your body. There is an overwhelming amount of passion between the two of you pile 1. This person wants a whole lotta passion and juices to be flowing. (super duper wet) They also want to put thought into the act....they may want to wear gimp masks. This person really likes to look at and admire your body...they may even like positions where they see your body which explains doggy style. AGAIN  I’m channeling this person wants to lick you up, down, sideways, all over....they can’t get enough!!!! If you’re a woman they love your breast if you’re a man they love your chest. They also want to be possessive over you... that is a part of their dark fantasy. To completely own you. They may even want someone else in the room just to watch your person take advantage of your body....subliminally showing that person that they own you and they’re the only one who can make you feel this way....woahhhh this is a lot pile 1 ngl. Again there’s a lot of passion for you and a whole lot of desire for your body...a lot of heavy moaning and groaning. They want to treat you like the center of attention while at the same time owning and dominating your body. You belong to your person, in this sea of other fishes they want to be the shark you choose. lol pile 1 so cute!!!!

Extra Messages: 33, body language, under the influence, Dom, 444, 44, playful, Bug Bunny & Lola Bunny, 3 ways, Bisexual, let me lick you up and down till you say stop

https://youtu.be/LPnDCTqW7zw ~ Channeled Song

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: AoC, KoW, 2oPrv

This person wants to worship you pile 2. I’ll say it again: they want to WORSHIP YOU pile 2. They wanna carry you around and pick you up. They don’t want your feet to touch the ground. They want to be able to look up at you while you ride or while you’re on top of them and hold on to you. They feel like with you there are many opportunities and options....they want you to be their god/goddess and worship you as such. They want you to be cruel to them... they may have some type of slave/master kink or degradation kink where they want you to treat them like sh** both inside the bedroom and outside. They see you as something worth having and worth holding on to....they see you as a prize possession like a diamond or rare crystal. They feel you are worth being admired and praised for your talent/looks/body. They could have a foot fetish or just a specific infatuation with your feet. They could even want you to give them a foot job...they want you to step on them, kick them (omg pile 1)....they want to be treated like the scum they know they are (oop) Yea pile 2 this person definitely has a humiliation kink and wants to try this kink out with you and you only. They also feel like when they’re with you anything can and will happen... they’re so many possibilities with you. They want to offer you a cup of love because they love you pile 2....(awwwww I’m crying) This is heavy Romantic Soulmate vybz so cuteeee.  The only reason they want you to treat them like scum is because they love you not because they are insecure... I truly feel this person only feels comfortable doing this with you only for you. They genuinely love you pile 2 and they want to show their love for you by worshiping you by any means possible. When I tell you pile 2 this person wants to give you deep, slow, passionate strokes...they want to be so deep inside you or vice versa they can feel you in their whole body or you can. If this is a female she rides you very passionately and you can feel deeply inside of her. This feels so good for both of you not only because they can fu*k like it’s nobody's business but because there is genuine love between you two love birds. (I’m blushing) (you better pile 2) This is the reason they give you all this power and control over them. The knave of wands popped out the messenger of the deck....which I saw before. This confirms to me just how passionate this person truly is towards you and it comes out through their fantasies just as powerfully. They bring in the knowledge and the hidden puzzle piece you’ve been looking for....the search has finally stopped. This person really admires you pile 2 even if you are the one bringing pleasure to this person they will still be focused on your beauty and how much they admire you as a person pile 2. They like the way your butt is shaped the way it curves and bends as they contort you around the room....they like the curve of your di**/Pu**y mound curves...for my ladies they like to cuff your mound while they rub your cl**. If anything, when you give them pleasure they admire you more. Wow they really love you pile 2 like really love you. They definitely want to be deeply inside of you...you put this person off their game...you make them out of whack and you really don’t even have to say a thing. Just a look and they fall. Especially in this fantasy they want for you to make them confused and out of themselves...(”that’s the goal” I hear) They want to forget their name...not totally understanding the why and the how of what you’re doing to them but just knowing it feels good and they don’t want them to stop. They love to watch you doing whatever cleaning, cooking, baking, sewing, etc....it will have the wanting to bone all the time. Just one look from you and I’m your always. They want to give you pleasure more than they want for you to give them pleasure. They like it because that makes them more turned on and horny seeing you happy or in bliss. knowing they’re the reason you feel like this. Again long passionate deep strokes from the front, specifically missionary. They want to be so close to you they lowkey want to bond like an atom (lol) For the ladies they want you coochie wide open as they gently stroke in and out of you...saying how much they love you over and over in your ear till you reach your climax. They want to do a lot of lifting and carrying you like you are their queen. You are the prize and a fragile one at that...one that must not be tarnished so it must be carried. (I heard stand back fair maiden) (idk take it as it resonates lmlllll) I pulled and oracle card with a Scorpio on it and it reads awareness....in it the guy is behind the women and he almost looks like a priests or something but what I’m interpreting is...that the guy behind the women is worshiping her. The woman is sitting  being waited on while the man comes to her aid. They see you as better than them....maybe you two come from different social classes so they see you as above them. They believe you to be and see you as a superstar....like you are a king or queen and you are better than them. At least inside of the bedroom. A lot of 3s kept popping up in this pile.

Extra Messages: 22, 33, worship, feet, 1212, 333, beauty, admiration, The Notebook, If we were a movie (Hannah Montana), weak in the knees, Always and Forever (TVD OR TOs), Shrek the 3rd/ Shrek forever, 1233, 222, Scorpio

https://youtu.be/eKqN6mce1uY ~ Channeled song

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: KoC, Moon rv, 2oC, KNoC, 4oC

One thing for sure, two things fa certain...pile 3 you person wanna hear you moan all night long. They wanna hear you screaming to the top of your lungs the WHOLE ENTIRE NIGHT!!! For some of you this person may have a breeding kink and for others they definitely have a breeding kink. This kink is a major part of their fantasy. (so wrap it up because I charge a fee for babysitting lmlll)  They really want you to feel pleased but they also want to feel pleased as well. This person is very emotional either in general or just for you. Ok ok so pile 3 when this person has sex with you they’re going to make you feel and you will feel very much...almost like kundalini. You guys could both be into kama sutra...but anyway pile 3 you will feel them in every fiber, every bone, every vein, and organ because that’s how good they are. (Damn yea frfr pile 3 your partner has every right to be this cocky.....in the BED at least) The moon popped out at the back of the deck in reverse this is definitely someone’s secret fantasy or this may happen and this person will express their hidden feelings for you pile 3. This relationship itself may even be something taboo or hidden in secret or away from prying eyes. The acts that may occur between you could also be what is taboo or hidden so if ykyk. They or both of you may like the fact that this connection/relationship is hidden/secret/taboo....they like the fact that you both may possibly be taking a risk...a risk that if you got caught would shake up someone’s home life or both of your home lives. This person could have some disassociation between their emotions and their wants and needs. They may want/need something different but their emotions are constantly drawing them towards you. They definitely want you to be as loud as you want if you want to scream go right ahead. You guys may be having some type of affair with each other....this could also be that you both roleplay and have fake scenarios where you pretend to cheat on each other with each other.... I live for this so for some it may be real and for others this is just role play. If it is, be careful because there could be some dark energy around this person’s emotions. They may like when they’re penetrating you for you to close your legs....it makes it tighter as they enter in and out of you. For women he wants you to lift your pelvic bone towards the sky while he supports you underneath. This person adores your breast or your chest area...they love love the way they look. The man wants to squeeze them suck them....and play with them....the woman wants to lay on your chest and caress it lick it all over. For the guys ya girl or ya guy loves the way your but looks...they think it's juicy and big.....the woman or guy you’re with wants to hold on to your booty cheeks while in the missionary position....to feel you deeper. (wow I- just wow) Ok so for some of you this person wants the lights on all the time and they love doing it during the daytime...if it does have to be at night they want every single light on. They want to be able to see both your bodies collide into each other as you or they thrust over and over and over. They’re not insecure about their body and they love the way yours looks. (Side note if you are insecure about your body or a particular body part...know that you're sexy as hell and this person loves your body) They wanna see that body in the light at all times you look so good to them. You make them feel confused in less of a sexual way and in more of an emotional way. You both know deep down you’re not good for each other....but that’s kinda what makes it hot for you guys....the fact that you’re toxic and you know it. That sexual chemistry keeps you both coming back despite this. (Pile 3 it’s ok to have your fun but remember to but yourself and your needs first...don’t have this person stringing you along) Toxic love is hard to get away from so tread lightly....there is a lot of emotional attachment here pile 1...is this an ex? Then at the back we have the 4 of cups...so yea pile 3 for some of you this could definitely be an affair...and one of you are married to someone else or dating someone else....but you guys can’t stay away from each other. You guys could possibly be falling for each other or for some of you the lust and sexual chemistry is extremely powerful and binding between the two of you. Whatever is happening you guys cannot seem to stay away from each other. This person wants to pour wine all over...and I’m talking about expensive wine and drench you. They want to spend some coint on you my dear a pretty pretty penny ngl. (what are you doing to them pile 3???) I’m specifically getting when it comes to wine they will spend the dime. They like to spy or they want someone to be spying on the both of you. Like I said before the whole thrill of possibly being caught turns your person all the way on and this is apart of the fantasy. This person really loves your butt as well and those tities or chestcles got this person falling to the ground hard for you just to get to see the view. There is a lot of feelings and emotions that go into this relationship affair or not....you guys can’t just walk away from each not at this point...and you may not ever be able to....at least your person hopes for this. There is a lot of fire between the two of you beautiful yet toxic if you touch it too long. Right now the both of you are just having fun but be careful!!! This loves your body this why they always got the lights on and want to boonk during the day...(chileeeeeee I legit cannot) Their dark fantasy is to cheat with you and possibly getting caught whether this is real or role play is up to you pile 3. Some of you don’t like the fact that once you finish having sex the emotions seem to vanish once you get done. You could feel they lack romanticism. But there is tons of desire for you and between the two of you...you both have really strong emotions for each but you refuse to surrender to one another to deepen these emotions....you want to stay together but not surrender vulnerability.    

Extra Messages: Gentle Man/woman, Mary Jane, smoking, sex-tape, 11, 111, shoe game on point, sneaker-head, work affair, escape (pina colada song) has a lot of good messages for you pile 3, Clint Eastwood, juicy fruit, afternoon delight, break of dawn, 333, wish I never, 3, wine, 4

https://youtu.be/TazHNpt6OTo Escape

https://youtu.be/MucY5wRYByU Juicy Fruit

https://youtu.be/2Ws0VfqkhFc afternoon delight

https://youtu.be/O8ELJ_Eh8A0 break of dawn

https://youtu.be/wH8eQ2Mz8jM wish I never

#freetarot #18+ tarot #18+ #pac #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a photo #love #Divine Love #divine #tarot reading #freepac #divination #spiritualism #spritualawakening #spritual healing #spiritualpath #vybz #postiveenergy #understanding #clarity #Oracle Reading #synergy #Pick an image #tarot #tarot deck #tarotblr #tarot cards #tarotonline #life

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader

A/N: god I love a pining fic and Im not afraid to say it

Story Of My Life

It was a night like so many others, the team having returned from a case and arriving in Quantico at an hour in which they would all prefer to be sleeping. As Spencer would very much love to point out, you had actually been asleep on the jet; your head had been on his shoulder for an hour and he had been carefully regulating his breathing so as to not disturb you. He had never heard his own voice softer than when he gently awoke you from your slumber. His eidetic memory would never let him forget the way that the word “sweetheart” had so easily slipped from his lips, either.

And in your sleepy state, as is tradition, you stay with your arms holding onto one of Spencer’s, head still resting on his shoulder as he walks you both to his car and opens the passenger side door for you, which you slide into with a “thank you” that you never forget to give him for every little thing he does, even when you are struggling to keep your eyes open. 

The moment Spencer settles into the driver’s seat, your arms find his again, and he’s gently tugging a blanket he keeps on the backseat just for you, for nights like this, laying it over you and tucking it in around you. He smiles at your closed eyes, the tired smile on your face, your unspoken adoration for his care towards you. 

“You sleep, (Y/N), you’ll be home soon.” Spencer very nearly whispers to you, placing the softest kiss on your forehead. When you sigh deeply, pleasantly, his heart sings back to you.

The journey from the office to your apartment takes no more than 20 minutes, your own car disappearing in the rearview mirror as the parking lot fades out of existence. Spencer knows you are far too tired to drive yourself home, it’s a wordless agreement that he will always be the one to take you home on nights like this and that in the morning, he will be on your doorstep ready to pick you up and take you to work with a bright smile and a question of “Sleep well?”, when he will always look more tired out of the two of you. 

On the dashboard, Spencer’s car ticks away the minutes as he drives. 15 minutes pass, then 20, 30, then 40. Spencer has driven past your apartment block twice, but it doesn’t matter, it never does, not when you are fast asleep with your head on his shoulder and arms wrapped around one of his; not when he can look to his side and see you, so completely at peace, feeling safe enough with him to sleep like this. You are always too tired to check the time when you get in the car, so not once have you noticed how long it takes Spencer to drive you back to your apartment. To him, time is frozen entirely. 

He would drive all night just to keep you warm, to let you sleep without disturbing you.

But after an hour, Spencer’s own tiredness starts to kick in and he’s struggling to fight back a yawn. So, the next time he drives past your apartment block, he stops and parks outside. There’s a smile on his face before he’s even looked down at you, and when he does, his chest aches. You are still smiling, in your sleep, just from being with him.

“Sweetheart?” He coos softly, testing the petname out again after replaying the way you had smiled when you’d woken up to him calling you that on the jet earlier. And history repeats itself in the most beautiful way as he watches your smile widen, humming an indecipherable question up at him, in a sleep-induced daze.

“You’re home, (Y/N).” Spencer tells you, his voice just as gentle, having only ever sounded like this on every night that has played out in the same way this one has.

“Already was home.” You mumble sleepily, snuggling into Spencer’s shoulder and that, combined with your words, makes the butterflies that you single handedly bring to life within him, go wild.

“Well, alright,” Spencer chuckles lightly, face flushed. “-we’ve arrived at your apartment.” He amends

You nod, and Spencer has to use every bit of strength he has to release himself from your soft, warm embrace, to get out of the car and run around to the passenger side to help you out, too. He all but carries you to the door of your apartment block, and by the time you reach it, you have managed to open your eyes, smiling up at him in a way that makes his head spin.

“Thanks for the lift, as always, Spence. You really are the best there is.” You beam up at him, reciting praise that you often give him that never fails to knock the breath from his lungs. And then, you break from tradition, because you lean up to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, genius.”

Eyes wider than the first time he saw you and forgot how to breathe entirely, Spencer blinks rapidly. “G-Goodnight, (Y/N)!”

And as Spencer drives back to his own apartment with a dazed smile on his face, he knows that when he shows up on your doorstep tomorrow morning, he will look even more tired than he usually does after nights like this, because on top of getting less sleep than you after driving around for an hour, he will be staying up replaying the events of tonight for even longer than he usually does. 

In that moment, Spencer decides that in the grand scheme of the universe and its many mysteries, the heroes of the world and their legacies, he does not want to be remembered as Doctor Spencer Reid, a profiler for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. No, he wants to be remembered as Spencer, the man that loves you to the ends of the earth and has driven you around night after night, for hours upon hours, just to keep you warm, with no thoughts except for the smile on your face. If a story were to be written about his life, he would want it to begin with a night like this, and end with you, in whatever way you’ll have him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #x reader #criminal minds imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #imagine #imagines #Spotify

[dehydration-stati0n]

Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji Friendship HCs

Rules Word Count: 0.8k Spoilers: None

Luffy

Great friend but also not💀

Bro will show up uninvited to drag you into something possibly illegal

He’ll take your food too, your not safe

He will always be clinging to you in some way. Like he'll have his arms stretched around you or he'll carry you on his back.

He loves giving you gifts, but he's really bad at it

like he'll give you a box of leaves he thought were cool, or a really long worm he found in Usopp's garden

Sometimes he'll wander into your room and sleep in the room with you.

You'll wake up with him hanging off the end of your bed or snoring on the floor.

If you ever seem stressed or upset, he'll put his strawhat on your head. It's kinda his way of trying to comfort you without being pushy about what's bothering you

You'll pretend to be Zoro and he'll pretend to be Sanji and the two of you will jokingly fight with each other

He'll trade you his goldfish for your Capri Sun

Most things you do are gonna be a competition with him

The two of you tried to start your own band once but Nami said you were being too obnoxious

There's no chance he washes his hands so, for the sake of everyone else, please make sure he's somewhat hygenic

Your hype man

He'll find you before breaking into the fridge. You're the iconic duo Sanji despises

Very spontaneous friendship, it's very common for the two of you to be playing tag or hide n' seek at the worst possible moments on the worst possible islands

Zoro

He'll try to trip you when you walk by

You're one of the few people he wouldn't mind taking a nap with

Would ask if you wanted to work out with him and secretly be really happy if you agreed

He'd share his alcohol with you

You two would do drinking games with each other every other day

The crews gotta somehow separate the two of you and send you to bed cause you're both laughing wa too loud and none of them can get any sleep

I imagine his love language would be acts of service, so he might offer to help you with whatever chore you were assigned that week or just anything in general

He'd push you to be your best self physically and mentally

He would never admit it, but he loves spending time with you

Let's hope you're good with directions, cause the two of you are going to end up lost a lot. The crew eventually just appoints you to keep him from wandering.

You'll have to get a leash for him or something.

He's a very loyal friend and would never dare betray your trust in any way

Throw your trust and abandonment issues out the window cause you aren't getting rid of him anytime soon

He hates physical affection, it just makes him feel kinda uncomfortable

Although if you really needed it, he'd give you a very stiff hug and an awkward pat on the back

One time you were fishing together and you fished up a beer. Zoro now looks forward to fishing.

Sanji

Your confidence will skyrocket after hanging out with him

He'll give you the kindest and most genuine compliments you've ever received, regardless of your gender

Out of these three, he's probably the best to go to for advice

He’ll do whatever you wanna do. He loves talking to you and just spending time with you overall

You know that meme where it’s like “they asked for NO pickles”? That’s him. He’ll be defending you for absolutely everything

He’ll try to give you fashion tips, but it’s 50/50 whether it’s good or bad

Would probably cry if you gave him a gift

I feel like he’d really like watching movies with you. He just strikes me as a movie kinda guy.

He’s physically affectionate but also kinda not (?)

It’s almost as if he holds back on it cause he doesn’t wanna overwhelm you

When you’re out on the town he’ll be your self-appointed bodyguard

He’s gonna love cooking with/for you.

He’d be so excited if you wanted to learn to cook or were just a little interested in it.

Very concerned about your well-being and will constantly make sure you're doing good. He’s ready to solve all your problems even if it's completely out of his control

There’s gonna be a lot of times when the two of you are just hanging out in the kitchen as he gives you random samples of food he wants your opinion on before continuing whatever conversation you were having earlier

Your biggest supporter

You and he would team up to attack Luffy after he steals food from the kitchen

Would probably go to you for advice on how to approach Zoro women, even tho he considers him an expert

Overall, a very positive friendship :)

#luffy headcanons #monkey d luffy #one piece headcanons #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #friendship hc #friendship headcanons #zoro headcanons #roronoa zoro #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece platonic #platonic one piece #platonic luffy #platonic zoro #sanji headcanons #vinsmoke sanji #platonic sanji #op luffy #luffy op #op zoro #zoro op #op sanji #sanji op

[hedghost]

okay so you know how ella’s bf has a kid what do you think would happen if she asks lessi and her gf to baby sit while ella and joe are away how do you think it’ll go

ella’s boyfriend has a KID??! sorry imagining ella as a parent is sending me she’s literally like 12

anywayyy, back to it. (no clue how old joes kid is or what gender so i’m making it up) i think honestly, it’d go super well. ella would ask less and she’d agree immediately, mostly because she just loves kids anyway but also because she wants to get a look at how you act with children.

only then she’d panic a little on the way home - what if you don’t want to do it? what if you don’t like kids? and so she broaches the subject subtly, but of course you’d be immediately onboard.

ella would drop him off, and you’d be straight away thrilled. you’d have gone all out - buying kids snacks and games, planning activities or places to go. you’d take his hand and lead him into the living room, enthralling him with some game or something right off the bat. alessia would say goodbye to ella, and walk through to find the two of you lying on the rug, him chatting animatedly to you while you grin and and play with some cars or something with him.

alessia would lean against the door frame, smiling as she watches on. not for the first time, she’d imagine this scene in a few years, with a toddler of your own. her heart would melt, and she’d plop herself down next to you both, content to place a hand on your back and smile along.

as it continued though, she’d start to overthink. you were such a natural with him, but alessia started to hesitate. you were so good with kids, how could she compare? she’d feel a little awkward, too worried about the kid liking her to fully get involved with the game. kids of course pick up on this, so he’d gravitate more and more towards you. you wouldn’t notice, too engrossed in entertaining this cute little kid.

the more he seemed to prefer you - directing his words to you, holding out toys to you only, alessia would worry even more. kids were such a big responsibility- how could she ever do this? she knew she was renowned for being clumsy, and what if something happened when she was with a kid? what if she picked him up and tripped over, what if she broke one of his toys, what if she wasn’t paying attention and something happened?

eventually you’d start to notice that alessia seemed to be holding back a little. you knew alessia loved kids, so you’d be a little surprised how she seemed a little hesitant with him - she’d still be playing and chatting, but you’d know her well enough to sense a bit of unease in her eyes.

you’d go to the kitchen to fix him a snack, and you and alessia a cuppa. you’d mimic alessia’s earlier position, body leant against the doorframe, loved up smile as you watched him chat to alessia with ease. but still, you noticed how she seemed a little awkward, not quite the bubbly less you knew and loved.

the day would continue in much the same way. you’d make a note to check on alessia, but this kid is spirited as hell, and he’d keep most of your attention, which you honestly love. you don’t get much chance to be around kids his age like this, and so you’d relish the chance.

eventually he’d occupy himself with some toys, and you’d lean over to alessia and ask if she was alright - tell her that she seemed a little awkward.

alessia would hesitate, before confessing how she’s worried - worried she doesn’t know how to look after kids, worried the kid won’t like her. sure she interacts with children all the time - and loves it - but after watching how easy you interacted with him, how he’d taken an immediate liking to you, she was worried. her initial excitement had been replaced by doubt of whether she was fun enough, likable enough, - and then not to even mention the responsibility of looking after a toddler.

you’d give her a smile and roll your eyes . ‘it’s a three year old lessi, they love anyone’. she’d give a reluctant nod, and you’d realise the extent of her overthinking. you’d reassure her, tell her she had nothing to worry about, that the kid loved her already, that she was more than capable of taking care of a child. anything you could think of to ease her doubts.

‘seriously, i’ve seen you with kids - you’d be an amazing parent lessi’

she’d blush at that, and you’d realise the root of her worries - that she was really thinking about the future, with you, and the family you might build. you’d be able to read it in her expression, and even though you hated seeing her overthinking like this, you’d be thrilled to recognise that she wanted the same thing you did. sure, it’s a while off, but every day you were a little bit more sure that this, you and lessi and a baby in your home, was what you wanted. interacting with this kid was just the confirmation. lessi’s reaction to your comment would show you she was thinking the same thing, and you’d realise how she was worried you didn’t feel the same.

‘i can’t wait till we have kids’ you’d smirk, and lessi would just beam at you. you’d give her a few more reassurances, both of you never taking your eyes off the kid as he amuses himself with the toys, but your hands finding each other’s.

alessia would be calmer at that, more reassured, but you’d be able to tell she was still a little doubtful that the kid liked her. you’d decide on a course of action.

the walk to the park is short, and the three of you do it hand in hand. and then you’d bring out the secret weapon - a kiddie-sized football you’d purchased the day before.

watching lessi play football with this tiny excitable child - your heart would be on the verge of bursting. she’d relax into the familiar motions of a ball at her feet (much more gentle than usual of course) and before you knew it, lessi’s worries would melt away. with alessia like this, now carefree and fully invested in playing with him, this kid would become absolutely enamoured by lessi.

he’d be too tired to walk back, begging instead for a piggy back from less. she’d hold him super tight, grinning from ear to ear at the fact he’d asked for her specifically. the three of you would collapse onto the sofa, him curling up into alessia’s lap and falling asleep immediately. you and alessia would share a look, no words needed at all to know how the other was feeling, and what you were both envisioning for the future.

ella would turn up, letting herself in as she always did, expecting chaos, only to find the three of you cuddled up beneath the blanket, kids tv playing on low, lessi asleep on your shoulder with the kid asleep on her chest. you’d smile up at her, placing a finger to your lips and beckoning for her to sit down.

(ella would spend the next month begging to be godmother to your future babies)

#alessia russo x reader #blurbs #lessi blurbs

[goldennightengale]

Hello hello! I hope your college isn’t dragging you through the mud too hard and that you still get chances to relax (because my uni is not giving me that time 💀)! This is gonna be a fluffy request related to uni because I really need it. Could I request Riddle, Trey, Leona, Ruggie, and Jade’s reactions to having a study/assignment sesh with reader and reader falling asleep (on them/at the table/your choice!)? Sorry this is so long ahaha. Anyways, stay hydrated!!

Of course! Honestly, I really needed this prompt and it made me really happy to write such a cute scenario! Thank you so much for the request!

Gender Neutral MC

Falling Asleep On Them During A Study Session!

Upcoming exams were looming around the corner and everyone was scrambling to get in some last-minute studying. Having to juggle your study time with the dumbass squad was nearly impossible. They never stayed focused long enough to get anything done and constantly dragged you out of your room to play. So you did the only thing you could think of: asking for a study buddy!

Luckily, you were able to get some help from a certain upperclassman. As time flew by, you found yourself drifting off. The exhaustion of doing the headmaster’s chores and keeping your grades above the failing line was catching up to you. 

They wouldn’t mind if you closed your eyes for just a few minutes, right?

Riddle Rosehearts (Shoulder)

Normally he would have gently nudged you awake and scolded you for not sleeping properly

How could you possibly get any studying done if you didn’t take care of yourself? He knows from experience that sleep deprivation and exams are not the best combinations

He tries to be quiet and not move too much. He doesn’t want to wake you up!

Thankful that no one is in the library so he can look at you all he wants and not have to worry about others calling him creepy

Will move you onto his lap so you don't hurt your neck too much and he can use both hands to pack up your school supplies with magic

Riddle jolted when he felt your head land softly onto his shoulder. The two of you had spent the past 3 hours comparing history notes and quizzing one another without a single break, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d hit your breaking point. What he didn’t expect was for you to use him as a bed. 

Looking closer, the redhead noticed how tired you looked. Dark circles under your eyes, hair tangled and dull, even your skin looked less than healthy. To think you would run yourself this ragged and not ask for help sooner baffled him. 

Gently maneuvering you onto his lap, though not without an embarrassing flush tinting his face a lovely shade of red, he used his magic to organize your notes into a neat pile. He might as well let you get the rest you deserve after all your hard work.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t force yourself if you’re tired. I expect you to take better care of yourself from now on, prefect.”

Trey Clover (Back)

Will tease you and say that he won't wake you up but he will (on accident)

You fell asleep on his back while facing away from him and doing trivia cards to help you with memorizing the material

When he tries to adjust you, he slips and you startle awake

Reheats a slice of chestnut pie as an apology

He understands that you’ve been going through a lot (mainly since you deal with his underclassmen) so he will try to make a study guide for you

He won’t give you all the answers, but there will be obvious hints to lead you in the right direction

He can’t let the others think he favors you too much after all :)

The two of you had been trying to keep you awake via note card quiz. Facing away from each other, he’d ask you a question and you’d try your best to answer correctly. Occasionally he’d correct you, either by a light shove or challenging hum, but you were proud of the progress you made. 

It was only after Trey moved onto potionology that he realized you fell asleep, your body fully supported by his own and filling him with a gentle warmth. You always made him feel warm in moments like this when you rely on him for even the littlest things. 

When he tried shifting to a more comfortable position, you yelped trying to catch yourself and save your face from gaining a new bruise. What a rude awakening!

“Sorry! Now, now, don’t be angry. How about some pie as an apology?”

Leona Kingscholar (Stomach)

Is probably the reason you fell asleep, to begin with

He refused to study at a table and dragged you to his room to lie on his bed

You got back at him by laying on his stomach so he couldn’t get comfortable and so you could poke his face when he started drifting off hehe

Surprisingly a good study buddy! He won’t give you the answers outright but he’ll give you tips on how to connect the dots to the right answer

Only agreed to help you if you babysat Cheka the next time he came over (totally not bc he saw how much you were struggling taking care of the idiot trio)

When he noticed you fell asleep he gets this smug look before adjusting himself for a nap as well

He can’t let you get all the Zzzs in by yourself now!

Leona had corrected you a multitude of times by now. History in Twisted Wonderland was a tricky thing to remember, with multiple events happening within the same year or important figures being present in several events at the same time. You don’t even want to try remembering how many wars a single lion cub started when he claimed the throne…

Luckily, your lazy lion was good at helping you connect the dots. However, as much as he helped you with memorizing he was not a good aid in keeping you from falling asleep. His voice was soothing to listen to, although it was gruff and sharp, and you could feel the vibrations within his chest from where you lay. 

Eventually, you nodded off completely, snuggling into his chest like a kitten in a sunny spot. The smug bastard knew you wouldn’t keep awake long and we’re only delaying the inevitable. Taking the time to snap a picture (to gloat and use as blackmail ofc) he slowly adjusted you to allow him a more comfortable position. 

“Of course, a little one like you couldn’t care less about sleeping on a predator. Looks like I’ll have to keep my new prey all to myself~”

Ruggie Bucchi (Table)

Another one that would tease you if you fell asleep near him

Feels incredibly smug from the fact you trust him enough to lower your guard around a well-known thief

The coyest when it comes to tutoring you on certain subjects (especially animal language)

Overall will help you study but understands that you’re exhausted from taking care of the first years

Don’t tell anyone, but he definitely plays with your hair while you sleep

Maybe if he’s feeling brave, he’ll nuzzle your noses together too

It was only natural to ask Ruggie to help you in the language, especially after you caught him making deals with the campus cats in exchange for gossip. That and leaving you in charge of taking care of his dorm member. With a little bargaining and the offer of a few donuts, you finally had yourself a semi-reliable tutor!

Ruggie was thorough in teaching you what tones mean so you didn’t offend anyone, or cuss Professor Trein out by accident because you “mrrr” wrong. All the repetition was starting to make your throat hurt, so you asked for a break. 

When Ruggie returned from getting some tea and snacks, he found your head down on the table and sleeping away. For a second, he was tempted to doodle on your face as a prank, but looking at the dark circles under your eyes deterred him. So he simply sat beside you and began slowly running his fingers through your hair and detangling it. 

“I guess little birdie’s also got a lot on their plate… Well, at least I already got my payment! Shishi…”

Jade Leech (Arm)

Smuggest bastard to ever smug

Mistakes your asking for help as you want a deal with Azul, but are pleasantly surprised to find out you needed him instead

Brings you to Monstro Lounge after hours which is when most Octavinelle students take time to study

Very helpful, but his handwriting is hell on the eyes

I refuse to believe that the fish mafia has perfect handwriting, especially the twins

Will let you sleep on him for a price: he gets to do whatever he wants with you while you rest (you did not know of these conditions beforehand…)

Monstro Lounge is a surprisingly nice place to study. The subtle purple glow and the beautifully lit fish tanks create the perfect atmosphere to focus without getting overwhelmed by noise and bright lighting. A bonus? If you get hungry, there is a snack bar in the corner. Jade was right, this is the perfect place to get your notes together!

While trying (and failing) to read Jade’s handwritten notes on history, you felt the oncoming drowsiness hang heavy on you. While the underwater dorm is a great place to relax, it seems to be too relaxing. Your head was drifting side to side, swaying dangerously towards the table a few times. 

Just as Jade was going to guide you back to your dorm, he felt a weight settle onto his arm. There you were, sleeping peacefully away on one of the most dangerous students on campus. How brave, or in Jade’s words: interestingly foolish. A devilish grin spread across the eel’s face as he looked at you. 

“My, my, how fun~ They wouldn’t mind if I took my chances at a new experiment now, would they?”

I hope my work satisfied your fantasy! - GN

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #trey clover x reader #trey clover #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #jade leech x reader #jade leech #this was really fun to write

[pillow-anime-talk]

bubbly s/o.

request: can you do koshi sugawara, tsutomu goshiki and toru oikawa with a cheerful and bubbly s/o very similar to cat valentine from victorious/sam&cat, but thats it, take care.... 

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; fluff; a bit of crack too; bubbly!reader; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. tsutomu goshiki, koshi sugawara & tooru oikawa {hq!!}

— TSUTOMU

↘ Goshiki, just like you, is a real sun-kissed person and he loves the way you are, your everyday behaviors, all your little and big quirks and every joke you tell in his direction. You both get along really well and a lot of people see a lot of similarity in you (you two often notice it too!).

↘ You talk a lot and spend a lot of time together, so Tsutomu – unlike others – doesn’t see anything weird or goofy about your behavior. On the contrary. He always considers your happy aura and laughing mouth an asset and a reason to be happy.

↘ Although the dark-haired volleyball player loves spending time with his teammates, loves talking to them or doing short trainings and long sparring matches, he feels definitely the best, safest with you and feels that you of all people in the world understand him best and you will never judge him negatively.

↘ Of course, it works the other way around as well – when others only see you as foolish and down-to-earth one, Tsutomu thinks you’re the cutest sheep he’s ever met.

— KOUSHI

↘ Koushi is a fairly peaceful guy who very often calms people down, feels responsible for them all, and spends a lot of time having serious conversations with his loved ones. In most cases, he is your definite opposite, although he can also drop a dry joke or make a silly face in the presence of strangers.

↘ The blond teen often feels responsible for you, but he doesn’t mind. 

↘ You’ve been dating for so long that Suga has gotten used to your all antics, your mind wandering, your staring at one place for a long time, or sudden changes of topic.

↘ While many people would certainly be annoyed by such an approach to other people and the world, it doesn’t really matter to Koushi. 

↘ You are who you are and he will not allow anyone to change your behavior and the way you are.

↘ If he loved you the day you were wearing two different shoes, he will love you forever and that will never change.

— TOORU

↘ Oikawa is usually professional and focused on his goals. He thinks a lot, calculates, is alert and attentive, and also spends a lot of time on his passion and improving his skills. But that’s when he’s among teammates or family. He’s completely different with you.

↘ Your bright and cheerful personality always makes him smile broadly and want to squeeze your cheeks. You are a refuge for him and a person with whom he can rest and throw off his captain’s mask. 

↘ You do a lot of things together; you play video games, you spend a lot of time talking over board games, and you plan the future together, often intertwined with stupid but not impossible ideas.

↘ Thanks to you, Tooru’s life is definitely more colorful than before.

↘ Although sometimes you will say something incomprehensible or strange, it does not discourage the boy from you – quite the opposite. He likes to hear your point of view, even if he has a different one.

#— 🍓 #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanon #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa headcanons #tooru oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa x you #koshi sugawara #koshi sugawara headcanons #koshi sugawara x reader #tsutomu goshiki #tsutomu goshiki headcanons #tsutomu goshiki x reader #tsutomu goshiki x you