#marsh is still as calm as ever !

[rainhaunted]

*vibrating at incredibly high speed* I Am Normal About Marsh Mistborn

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— travel sickness | cookie monster saga

pairings: steph catley x reader

summary: reader experiences her first flight and unforuntately, the travel sickness that comes with it.

"Look, Mama. Look!" You excitedly point out the window, wriggling around in your seat which makes it incredibely difficult to buckle you into your seat, ahead of the plane taking off, "I can see everyone else gettin' on the plane!"

Your mama, Steph, chuckled at your own brimming excitement over seeing other people get on the plane, "I can see that sweetie, but sit still a minute, so I can buckle you in, okay?" She told you, gently.

"I'm excited, Mama!" You still continued to giggle uncontrolably, but allow your Mama to safely buckle you into your seat as you try and look out of the window, "We see the 'roos soon?" You questioned, excitedly.

"We will soon enough when we're in Australia," Steph laughed, settling back in her seat once she made sure you were content with your iPad set up to watch the latest episodes of Bluey, "Are you excited to see your aunties? I know they're all lookin' forward to seeing you," She wondered.

"Yeah, I want to see Kyra and Charli!" You squealed in excitement, you couldn't wait to see the two of them, and of course the rest of the Matildas' that you had previously met.

"Of course you want to see them pair," Steph rolled her eyes in amusement and shook her head, "I'm sure that they'll be looking forward to seeing you as well. Are you ready for the plane to take off soon?" She questioned.

"Yeah! Will it be bumpy though, Mama?" You asked, worriedly as your not sure what to expect on your first time flying.

"It will be when we take off, but it won't last that long," Steph told you honestly, "And don't worry, I'll hold your hand the whole time," She added, gently taking hold of your hand.

"Promise?" You questioned, wearily.

"When have I ever broke a promise to you," Steph joked as she brushed the hair out of your eyes, "I promise that Mama will be here the whole time," She told you.

"Mama, I feel scared!" You quivered in fear as you felt scared when you feel the sudden turbulence of the plane taking off the runway. 

"Hey, its' okay, sweetie. Remember what I said? Mamas' right here," Steph replied, pulling you into her arms the best she can do with the restriction of the seatbelt as she ran her hand gently through your hair.

"M... Mama," You continued to whimper when you feel the plane begin to pick up the speed.

"It's alright, I'm here. Just keep holding on Mama's hand, okay?" Steph told you, trying to keep you calm even though she could see the clear panic in your eyes.

"I... I'm scared! Wan' off!" You cried out, thrashing around in her arms as you feel the plane tilting in a different direction, "I don' like it, Mama! I don' like it!" You cried even harder.

Steph's heart ached seeing you distressed when she couldn't do much to help, "I know sweetie, I know. It won't be longer," She reassured you, feeling more than grateful when you were up high enough in the sky and the seatbelt sun finally disappeared, "Come here sweetie," She was quick to pull you onto her lap and rock you to calm you down.

You buried your face in your Mamas' chest as your sobs slowly subsided, "M... Mama, that were scary!" You sniffled with your voice muffled against her shirt.

"I know sweetie," Steph replied, kissing the top of your head, "Look, can you see the clouds now?" She changed the topic, motioning to out of the plane window to try and take your mind of your initial fear.

Your hesistantly lifted your head and peered out of the window, "Whoa, clouds-- They look like fluffy marsh 'ellows!" You exlciamed, shifting of your Mamas' lap to press your face up against the glass and stare at them in amazement.

"They do, don't they?" Steph chuckled, grateful that your attention has been turned away from your fear of turbulence.

Fortunately for your Mama, the flight to Singapore wasn't completely terrible and you were able to settle in your seat, occupied with much promised cookies & several episodes of Bluey to keep you entertained.

However, the same can't be said for the connected flight to Australia, with the tears spilling down your cheeks in fear once more when the flight took off the ground once again, but it was only intesified with a feeling of nausea shaking your body as well.

"Mama, I... I don' feel good," You whimpered, clutching a hold of your stomach while your face paled and your eyes widened in discomfort.

Steph turned to look at you in concern, "It's alright, sweetie. Lets' try and take in some deep breaths, hm?" She suggested, trying to keep you calm and hope that you don't get sick, "Can you follow what Mamas' doing? Just copy me, okay?" She told you, gently.

You nodded weakily and attempt to follow her advice, but the movement of the plane made it impossible for you to feel better, "Mama... It's bumpy, I... I don' like it!" You cried out, the fear of the plane partnered with the nausea overwhelming you.

Without any further warning for your Mama, you can't hold back the nausea any longer before you end up being sick, "M... Mama," You whimpered, upset about it.

"Oh sweetie," Steph gasped in shock and was quick to grab the nearest sick bag before she held it out in front of you in case you needed it again, "It's okay, just let it all out. Yeah? You're okay," She reassured you.

"Mama," You repeated quietly, the tears streamed down your face as you feel upset about it.

"You're okay, its' alright. Things like this happen," Steph told you, keeping the bag out in front of you as her other hand rubbed your back comfortingly as she looked to find the nearest member of staff on the plane, "Hi, would it possible to get some water, please?" She questioned, kindly.

"Of course," A nearby member of staff agreed and went to get the water as needed.

"It's okay sweetie, the nice ladys' just gone to grab us a bottle of water and then we'll get you cleaned up afterwards," Steph told you gently, continuing to rub your back in comfort.

"I feel icky, Mama," You trembled in fear, not liking the feeling of sick being on you at all.

"Here's your water," The member of cabin crew brought the water back and handed it over to Steph before asking if there was anything else that she could help you with.

"Thank you. Would you mind pointing me in the direction of the bathroom?" Steph wondered, wanting to get you cleaned up quickly as possible.

"Of course, its' right over there," The lady motioned in the direction of where the bathroom before Steph thanked her and she made her way in the other opposite way of the plane.

"Come on sweetie, lets' go and get you changed out of them clothes, hm?" Steph lifted you into her arms and carried you to the bathroom, making feeling grateful that she thought ahead to pack a spare pair of clothes for you just in case, "I know you feel icky right now, but it won't last too long and you'll feel better soon," She reassured you, gently.

"Don' like it Mama," You whined in protest, although your Mama was quick to help your face and change your clothes, placing the old clothes in a plastic bag and putting them in the bottom of the backpack to be washed when she next had the chance.

"There we go, is that better?" Steph questioned, carrying you back to the seats where she cracked open the bottle of water and poured it into the sippy cup that she'd also brought along in the backpack, "Take some small sips, sweetie," She encouraged, hopeful that the water may help.

"Better, Mama," You let a yawn slip out of your mouth as the overall exhaustion takes over your small body, "I'm tired now, Mama. How much longer until we 'dere?" You mumbled, snuggling your face against your Mamas' chest.

"Not for a while yet," Steph chuckled, wrapping your blanket around you to keep you cosy as you lounge against her chest, "Why don't you have a little nap? By the time that you wake up, we'll be in Australia," She suggested.

"Otay then, Mama, and we can see Kyra too? And Charli?" Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but you are still excited to see the two of them.

"Yes, we will see them in a few hours," Steph answered amusedly, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes, "Close your eyes and try sleep for a bit. I'll wake you up when we're there,"

You nodded tiredly, not having much energy to speak as your eyelids' begin to flutter shut, "Kay' Mama, night night," You murmered, allowing sleep take over your body.

"Night night sweetie. Have a good nap," Steph whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head as she leaned back in her seat while she kept a protective arm around you while you slept in her arms.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[margowritesthings]

BITE ME

pairing: Vampire!Arthur Morgan x Human!f!reader word count: 4091 words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, piv intercourse, fingering (r receiving), biting and blood play, vampire feeding authors note: happy halloween my loves! this is a day late, but time isn't real anyway so we can all just pretend it is yesterday... right?? anyway, this au is now living rent free in my mind. i'm obsessed.

taglist:@cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries@delilah-grimes@mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i @sickvictorianangel

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The wooden panels nailed to the broken windows of the manor allow for tiny slats of moonlight to invade onto your skin, bathing you in a white glow. Peering through the gaps, you can see the distant campfire those bastard Pinkertons set up down by the swamp, but you know they’re surrounding you, boxing you into Shady Belle like fish in a barrel. 

It’s been three days of a stalemate, the Pinkertons keeping their distance, brave enough to come with guns and firepower but just cowardly enough to not advance towards the monster they’ve heard only legend of, lest he rip their throats out and drain their life away. No, they’d rather wait around until they can drag his starved body out and be hailed heroes.

That “monster” sits mere feet away from you leaning against the wall, pale skin paler still, his chin tilted upwards as he fights the weight of his own skull. It’s killing you, watching your Arthur grow weaker by the hour. Three days of hiding out in Shady Belle, unable to leave for fear of being hunted for sport, but it’s been much longer since he last fed. They have you trapped, completely and truly. If Arthur held even half his usual strength, it would have been so easy to escape. He’d have overpowered them in seconds, no matter their numbers or firepower. But for that, he’d need to feed on the blood of another, which has made things much harder.

You try to relax your worried features when you see him start to wake, rubbing the crease out from between your eyebrows formed by the frown you hold whenever you watch him sleep, too scared to look away in case he stops stirring. 

“Arthur…” You whisper on an exhale, quickly moving to sit beside him on the little bed. As always, his skin feels like marble, cold enough to seep through his shirt and scatter goose pimples over your arms. You’re used to the cold, what you don’t like is the thin layer of sweat coating him. Vampires shouldn’t sweat, but they also shouldn’t go so long without feeding, and the thought of this being a symptom of time running out terrifies you more than any number of monsters out camping in those woods.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Arthur shuffles to make room for you, guiding you to rest your head on his hard chest. There’s normally more muscle here cushioning you from his ribcage, but with Arthur so sick you can feel every bone beneath you.

“You get any sleep?”

There’s always the option to lie so he worries less, but Arthur knows you too well for that, so only the truth will have to do.

You shake your head, “Was keeping watch. They haven’t moved, think they’re still shit-scared of you, actually.” 

Absent-mindedly, Arthur’s hand gravitates to the top of your head, stroking your hair in such a way that sends tingles down your spine. Even now, in the midst of perhaps the most danger you’ve ever been in together, his very touch has the power to calm you instantaneously. 

He huffs a laugh, though you notice the slight wheeze to his breath when he does and another pang of worry hits you, “Course they are. Call themselves goddamn hunters, couldn’t catch a cold in Colter…” A pause, where you fill the silence with that tiny little laugh you’ve barely been mustering lately, then, “You should get some sleep, darlin’.” 

“Not tired.” You protest, almost childishly, burying yourself further into Arthur’s chest. In truth, you’re exhausted, and even though he already knows it, you won’t admit it. You can’t tell him that you’re too scared to fall asleep in case you wake up alone, that there’s no point anyway because nightmares of him withering away to nothing here beside you will drag you back awake soon enough. 

You both know this can’t go on for much longer. Something has to be done, and you know you have to be the one to do it. It’s just the convincing… 

“C’mon, baby…” He starts, but you won’t hear it. You’re not going to sleep. You’re going to fix this.

“You have to feed on me.” You blurt out, glad to be nuzzled into your beloved’s shirt so you don’t have to see whatever expression your statement has pulled from him. 

It’s not spontaneous, no sudden solution that has sprung into your mind this very moment. You’ve suggested it before, albeit never so forcefully, Arthur brushing you off like the idea is unfathomable. Explaining that he would never feed from you, terrified he’d lose control and hurt you. He could never hurt you. If there are such things as absolutes, that is one of them, you know it.

“No.” He’s blunt, clearly hoping his tone had enough force to end it there. But you’re strong, your will to keep fighting for him an everlasting force enough to match his. 

“Arthur-” You unravel from him to sit up and meet his eye, yours pleading, his hardened. 

“Darlin’, I said no. I mean it. I promised you I would never hurt ya’, and shit have I broke a lot of promises in my life… but not that one. N-Never that one. No.” 

“You’re going to die, Arthur. If you don’t do this you’re going to die and you’re gonna leave me all on my own to face those bastards a-and,” Dammit, when did you start crying? “And I can’t do it without ya, Arthur you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can-”

“Well I don’t want to!”  You shout, bursting the bubble of quiet around the Manor, your echo riding the wave of birds flocking out of the trees. Sobs threaten to break your strength, but you have to say this. It’s the very last card you have to play. After a few moments, tension between you growing palpable enough to cut with a knife, Arthur closes his mouth, letting you continue. 

“Arthur, you’re all I have left… You think I’m a sharp enough shooter to get by them? Fine. But say I kill ‘em all, then what? Find somewhere to live and carry on? I ain’t… I can’t lose you, Arthur. But I can save you, if you let me. Please.” 

Time feels as though it stops entirely when you see Arthur actually considering your words. Tears streak your cheeks, but your boots could ignite right on your feet and you might not notice in this moment. He looks so tortured in thought, no doubt imagining the life you would lead if you left him behind. He’s sure you’re strong enough, he knows you can do anything, but his heart breaks thinking of you all alone. 

You reach for Arthur’s hands, feeling his cold skin tremble. 

“I… What if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sweetheart, you know what I get like when I-”

“But you won’t. You know how much blood I can afford to give you, and I know you, Arthur. You’d never hurt me.” 

You elect not to tell him that any blood that runs through your body belongs to him already, your heart pumping it through your veins only for him. 

You don’t tell him you’d die for him, because you know he’d never let you. 

He’s silent, contemplating. 

Please.

Please.

“...You start feeling faint or anything, you fuckin’ tell me, alright?” His tone holds an attempt at sternness, but it bothers you none. You can hardly hear him for the rush of relief flowing over you. 

“I-I will. I promise.” And you mean it. The two of you are two entwined souls, neither trusting the other to have enough will to keep fighting if anything happened to them. 

Arthur takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s giving himself an extra few seconds to back out of this, before sighing it out. 

“Alright.”

The breath that hitched in your throat an age ago releases and you wipe your tears away hurriedly with the back of your hand. 

“Oh, thank you, Arthur…” You’re so ecstatic, so grateful that he’s letting you save him that all you can do is launch yourself over to him, kissing him with all the passion the universe has offered you to gift him. Your hands fall to either side of his face, caressing his marble skin in a way that emits a tiny groan from him. Over the last few days, you’ve cuddled up to him a lot, but there hasn’t been much contact like this. Needy and wanting, loving and layered with everything from I Love You to Let Me Save You. Arthur is a starved man, but not just for blood. For you, body, blood and soul. 

Arthur snakes one arm around your waist, even with his reduced strength still able to pull you over to straddle his lap. You’d have protested, citing that he’s too sick to be holding your weight like this, but now that this is really happening you’re getting kind of nervous, and the thought of being so close to him, arms wrapped around your frame while he feeds on your blood, comforts you hugely. And there’s no backing out, not from this, so straddle him you will. 

Despite everything, Arthur’s cool touch sets you aflame. He trails his fingertips up and down your spine, his other hand firmly gripping your ass. His tongue teases your bottom lip until you open up to him, tasting him as he does you. He tastes…like Arthur. He might argue that he’s some monster, committing evil acts in the name of survival, but you know better. He’s your Arthur, he always has been. 

The world melts around you, leaving just you and Arthur, loving each other, saving each other. That one long kiss breaks into smaller ones, until Arthur is peppering your lips, cheeks and nose with tiny kisses, glistening red eyes welling with emotion.

“It was always gonna be you, wasn’t it? You were always gonna save me…” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.

“Always. And you’re gonna save me right back, cowboy. But first…” You look down between your two bodies, to the arm you’re holding out to Arthur. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Does it hurt?” You surprise yourself with your answer to his question, though you stand by it. You’re not scared, you could never be scared with Arthur. But nervous?

“A little. But I’m right here with you. And if you need to stop or take a break or you start feeling off, tell me or tap my arm.” You nod slowly, placing your hand into Arthur’s, “I need a yes, sweetheart… I can’t do this to you unless you’re sure.”

“Yes, Arthur. I’m sure. Please.”

There is one final, apprehensive glance in your direction, which you reply to with another tiny nod. He raises your flesh to his mouth, flashes of his white fangs visible now in the moonlight as he parts his lips. 

It’s… strange. A small scratching feeling when his teeth puncture the skin of your wrist that pinches your brows together. There’s a second of nothing, before Arthur starts to feed and steals the breath right out of your lungs. 

It’s like you can feel every vein in your body, all connecting and tugging your lifeforce through to your wrist for Arthur to feast on. You can tell the second the first drop hits his tongue, the shudder that wracks through his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes roll back in… pleasure? You’ve seen him feed before, usually such a violent affair, but this is different. You feel vulnerable to him, and as though you hold every ounce of control all at once. 

When he groans, deep carmine eyes locking onto yours, you feel it all over, your thighs clenching around your suddenly wanting pussy. 

… An unexpected side effect. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the blood rushing around your body, or even the downright ravenous way Arthur is looking at you while he feeds on your blood, but you seem to be physically squirming on the bed, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. Fuck, you’ve never seen anybody react to being fed on like this… Then again, you’ve never seen feeding look or feel like this.

From even the smallest drop of you, what little colour that remains after his change has returned to Arthur’s skin and he looks much closer to alive than just minutes before. He looks himself again, right down to the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It does maddening things to you, not at all helping your growing state of arousal. 

When his teeth sink out of your wrist, you watch crimson beads pool at two tiny punctures. Without breaking eye contact with you, Arthur lifts your hand back up to him, running the very tip of his tongue agonisingly slowly over the skin, pulling an honest to god whimper from your parted lips.

“You did so good, my good girl…” Arthur coos, an undeniably pleased look upon his face. He’s told you before, that with his heightened senses, Arthur knows when you want him. You also know how energised he gets after feeding, and how all of these factors are leading to a tension so intense between you you’re almost scared of the outcome.

There’s a smudge of blood on Arthur’s lip, one that you reach out to rub away with your thumb. Quick as the predator he is, he grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping your thumb into his mouth and sucking the blood gently off. Upon release, he drags one sharpened fang across the pad of your thumb and you shudder, craving that feeling of the bite more than you truly understand.

“A-Arthur…” You whimper, shuddering in pure anticipation and need. 

“I know, sweetheart… Christ, I knew you’d taste good, but this? Fuck, you’ve ruined me, baby…”

You can’t wait a second longer, certain you’ll perish unless he is kissing you in the next moment. Entangling your grip into his collar, you find Arthur only too malleable to your touch, all but pouncing on you, locking your lips together. His tongue demands entrance as he easily positions you to be laying under him, Arthur covering the entire length of you and thensome. 

“How do you feel, angel?” He asks between kisses, large hands roaming your body, tugging your clothes out of being tucked into each other to make it easier to take them off, “Y’alright? Don’t feel faint?”

“I’m okay. I just- I-I need you, please.” You’re pleading again, this time for very different reasons, “Did you get enough?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, sweetheart…” He growls, pulling the buttons of your shirt open feverishly. And then his lips are back on your skin, kissing your neck, licking at the skin whilst his hands work your zipper. You moan again, some wanton part of you wishing he would bite down again, marking you all over. 

Arthur is losing control in the best way, growling and grinding his erection against your leg as he tries to pull your jeans down. With a little help, he manages, tugging your undergarments with them so you’re completely bare for him. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful… my perfect little feast. Fuck, I’m tortured by every second I’m not buried deep inside that weeping cunt of yours,” At that, he runs a finger over your slit, drenching the tip of his finger in your slick, “but I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl for me…” 

There’s no time to consider his offer as he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them, curling them to hit that sweet spot he knows so well. You scream, absolutely loud enough for any Pinkerton vampire hunters to hear.

“That’s it, huh? That what you needed? That pretty little cunt filling?” He taunts, thumb swirling over your already soaking clit. You can’t speak for crying out, but you manage a nod, feeling yourself stretch around a third finger in a way that has your heart racing even faster.

With your pulse pounding, you can really feel the wounds on your wrist starting to ache and burn. It's a strange sensation, but one that seems to blend into everything else in some twisted bout of pleasure.

Arthur must notice your eyes flickering to it, as he guides your hand back up to his lips with the hand not inside you, pressing the softest kisses over the holes in your skin. 

“Look what you did for me… My saviour, my perfect girl…”

“I’d die for you, Arthur.” you confess, the sweetness of his kisses and the languid circles of his fingers pulling you so close to the edge you can feel tears forming behind your eyes.

“It’d never come to that, beautiful. I’d burn the world down before I let your life ever hang in the balance.”

You believe him, too, and the emotion is suddenly too much. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you need him closer and all you can seem to think to do is untangle your wrist from his grasp and slip your thumb into his mouth.

He knows what you’re asking for instantly, and you swear you see his inky pupils blow until his eyes are nothing but a reddened void. 

“Oh, my pretty little feast…” He groans, pricking your thumb with a fang and sucking gently at the blood. It isn’t nearly as intense as your wrist, but you still feel that tugging everywhere and you can’t stop the lewd moans that fall from your lips as you come undone. 

Writing, screaming his name, you feel Arthur suck harder on your thumb, moaning himself at the taste of you. It’s not nearly as much as he was taking before, but enough that your blood blooms over his tongue and fills every one of his senses. He is a man obsessed, and it’s the most beautiful sight as you cum for him. 

The waves of euphoria crash over you, each more intense and wonderful than the last. Arthur orchestrates your orgasm through his own pleasure, drawing perfect patterns on your clit in time to his thrusts. 

When you come down, he’s there, releasing you from his fangs again to free his lips for yours. Your lips lock together, his body crushing yours into the mattress. You love the feel of all his weight on you, especially when you can feel every pulse of his throbbing cock through the denim of his jeans. Jeans that must go, so you snake a hand into what little space you can between your bodies to reach for his buttons. Arthur helps you, and he’s soon naked on top of you. Wrapping nimble fingers around his shaft, you run your thumb over the rosy head of his cock, swiping at the bead of precum already leaking. He’s desperate for you, and it drives you wild. 

You’re already guiding him to your soaked entrance, grinding your hips pathetically, needily. Arthur chuckles softly, taunting you with the smallest of hip movements to slide his tip into you, but stopping there. 

“Arthur.” You whine, eyes pleading, cunt dripping for him. Your hands roam the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle twitch under your touch, scratching at the cool skin like a cat in heat. 

“I know, baby, I know… I’ll make it better.” He purrs, finally sliding the entire length of his cock into your heat. It stretches you in that beautiful way only he can and you moan, deep and visceral. Your nails leave white scratches across Arthur’s back as your hands float up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss as his groin presses hard into yours.

“Oh, my beautiful girl… I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’re gonna hear you up in Saint Denis… them Pinkertons out there are gonna think I’m draining every last drop of that sweet blood out of your precious little body.”

Such a violent image, but somehow… you enjoy the thought. You’d bleed for him till the end of time, gladly… you’d lay down your life on a slab and be Arthur’s for the taking. 

You can’t think of the words to tell him how much you want what he’s telling you, letting the passion guide you to bite down on Arthur’s lower lip. A taste of his own medicine. He has no blood of his own to give, but you’re biting down hard enough to have drawn some if he did, dragging another feral grown from the depths of his throat. 

True to his word, with just a few perfectly timed thrusts, you’re screaming his name, cunt fluttering around his thick cock and squeezing every inch of it. That full feeling is so wonderful, so bone-deep and euphoric you’re on the precipice of another orgasm in seconds. He can tell, slowing down and hanging you right over the edge with a wicked grin on his face. You whine and whimper, clawing at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.

“What do you want, little feast? Use your words.” He pushes, still dragging his cock up against your walls in the most torturous of ways. 

“I want… I-I need… I-I… urgh!” You cry out in frustration, each syllable leaving your lips earning another thrust that dizzies you to the point of cock-drunk stuttering. Fuck words. You’ll show him. 

With a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull Arthur closer, guiding him to the crook of your neck. 

“Angel, I don’t know if I can control myself if I taste you agai-”

“Please…” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet Arthur’s movements, clit grinding deliciously against his pubic bone. 

Arthur’s eyes meet yours and you’re lost in them, convinced you’ve never been held so close to climax for so long before, but your body knows what it wants, what it needs to get there with Arthur. 

“Fuck, if I could die, you’d be the death of me…” Are the last words he speaks before sinking his teeth into your neck, in perfect time with a deep thrust of his cock. You scream, in pain, in pleasure, all of it, finally falling over that cliff and crashing into the waves below. You drown in your orgasm, dragging Arthur down with you as he sucks the sweet ichor out of your veins. With your blood on his tongue and his name on your lips, you cum together. The vibrations of his carnal moans tickle your neck, layering yet another juxtaposing sensation onto you. 

He releases, only to whisper sweet words of praise into your bleeding skin, “Look at you, giving me this… you’re doing so good for me, ain’t ya? My little angel, my good girl…”

And he’s biting down again, and you’re chanting his name, legs wrapped tight around his hips, tears you don’t remember shedding streaking down your cheeks. It feels like you stay there for an eternity, connected mind, body and soul. You would stay there for an eternity with him, if he’d only let you. But that’s another story…

It stings a little when Arthur unleashes his teeth from you, and you wince. His hand is there instantly, caressing the surely reddened skin as his brows pull together, “You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I? Y’feelin’ alright?” 

You shake your head softly, a blissful smile gracing your lips, “I’m perfect.” 

“Damn straight you are.” He remarks, slowly sliding out of you and lowering his weight onto the bed beside you. 

“What about you? How are you feeling?” You ask, entwining your fingers together and holding them up into the moonlight. There's a streak of your blood crossing over a few of Arthur’s knuckles. It suits him. 

“Never better.” He says honestly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to thank ya’ enough for what you did, but I promise you I’ll get us out of here alive. Well… y’know what I mean.” 

You giggle, sure you may never get used to the fact that the love of your life is dead. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Arthur. You’ve given me your life a million times, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

And you mean it. You would do it a thousand times over, giving your life to Arthur while he gives his afterlife to you, saving each other until the end of time. 

[alornights]

⟢ you took my soul.

➜ in which ! your beauty took their breath away.

💌 ﹫main 4 + butters stotch.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.

🍓 ⟡ notes — me when subliminals start working, tehehe. based on the jimmy & kyle pretty people drabbles i did. idk what im doing tbh.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ eric cartman.

hates you.

the guy was so confused about why you looked like you were glowing and why his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

death stared you the entire first week you moved to town.

he later confronts you asking if you do witchcraft. you obviously answer you don't. he thinks you're lying and got plastic surgery.

you say you didn't with like the prettiest smile he's ever seen. he takes your word for it and everyone was shocked.

since then he's been like a parasite who always seems to be stuck with you always there to shoo off anyone irrelevant.

thinks he has asthma bc every time he sees you his breath cuts short and fucking hates himself for "having" asthma.

has tried on multiple occasions to "get rid" of people who bothered you even in the slightest way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kyle broflovski.

is actually so fucking flustered around you.

when he saw you in the cafeteria walking in he couldn't take his eyes off you the entire time, even with his friends calling for him.

if you even give him the slightest hint you're into him, he will take matters into his own hands and just brag to everyone.

for funsies of course.

deffo helps you away from any unwanted eyes, help meaning may literally threaten them in the worst ways possible.

when he's around you its like he's in a daze for him, he just feels like he's on cloud nine and is living the best life ever.

suddenly becomes the most romantic person ever, not that he wasn't already. but like hella cheesy hopeless romantic.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ stan marsh.

the classic and boring response is a throws up. but he actually doesn't do that contrary to popular beliefs.

he faints instead!

he thought he died since he saw an angel and then his vision went black but he thought hey at least that meant hed be in heaven.

he is stunned when he wakes up in the nurse's office and sees you worried about him of all people.

is like a stuttering mess but he starts slowly but surely relaxing around you, still very nervous talking to you though.

has bragged very purposely in front of wendy that y'all are friends.

while he may not be good at romance, he does try. and by trying i mean he makes u a picnic and brings takeout.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kenny mccormick.

ay, he has a heart attack because of you.

kidding. but bro does feel his heart like- stop when he sees you walking down the halls like it's some rom-com movie.

instantly starts making moves on you, no hesitation.

doesn't matter whats going on, if he has the chance, hell take it.

at one point thought you were like his actual guardian angel because he had yet to die after meeting you.

still thinks you are and worships the ground you walk on.

very much one of those "ill do anything for you" but he actually will do anything for you, like seriously. just ask.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ butters stotch.

surprisingly the most normal of the bunch.

treats you like a normal human being thankfully.

though he does like stutter around you a lot but that calms down and he's usually back to his normal self in like a day or two.

is very much attached to you especially since his parents have

brags so much to the guys and tells them to "suck on these nuts bitch" because you don't hang out with them, ever.

has tried, and failed, to set up a date with you two. cried himself to sleep, and repeated this process for like a week.

it did work. at his house, in front of his parents! but it was kinda fun, you surprisingly got along with them very well.

[spiderrmax]

main four + arachnophobic!reader

request: [...] i really like your work and was wondering if you could do a Main 4 x arachnophobic reader? author's note: sorry for the wait nonny :) i hope this is what you wanted!

Stan Marsh

Consistently, Stan is shown to be an animal lover, empathetic to their struggles. He doesn’t fear animals, and wants them to thrive when the world constantly abuses them.

So, he doesn’t really understand your fear. Not to say he’s apathetic, and won’t help calm your nerves or remove the stressor, he just doesn’t get it.

Before he knew about it, he never really felt pressured to remove spiders from his room. He definitely thought that since they weren’t bothering him, they were okay to stay.

Seeing you freak out over a spider in his room made him panic, and he was quick to slide the spider under a cup to remove it from your sight. 

Even after that, you are still freaking out and he isn’t sure what to do. He asks if it’s okay for him to hug you, and once he gets your confirmation, he has you pulled into him.

You need to express to him your fear and its severity, because Stan tends to be a little dense. He doesn’t mean to lack care, but he tends to miss the small things. Communication is vital to keep you relaxed and for him to continue to remove the threats.

After you talk, he buys bug spray, and carries one on his key ring. He doesn’t make a big deal about changing his routine for you. Now that he knows the extent of your fear, the extra weight doesn’t bother him; especially when he compares it to how heavy your fear is.

Will always hug and comfort you after he’s carried out a spider. (He doesn’t have the heart to kill them).

Kyle Broflovski

Kyle is very apathetic to spiders. Sure, he knows they are vital to the ecosystem, but he doesn’t want to be sharing a space with them. Sue him.

So, already, he is keeping his room tidy to remove the potential of spiders trying to make home in his room. On the off chance they do get in, he shows little hesitance to kill them.

He probably has noticed your fear before you tell him. Seeing how you tense up occasionally, the way your eyes scan an area before you sit down. He probably eventually asks you about it – especially if you’re dating. The guy probably thinks it’s something he has done, and wants to find a solution.

When you admit it to him, he is relieved that he didn’t do something wrong. However, he is quick to backtrack and say he isn’t thankful for your horrendous fear, and will do whatever it takes to keep you safe from your fear.

Kyle’s house is already stocked with bug spray due to the nature of his mother, and since it is rarely used, she doesn’t notice when he relocates it to his room. He doesn’t say anything to you about it, not wanting to make it a big deal. He

Kyle holds no hesitation with killing the pests. He tries to remove them humanely, but if there are no cups or plates he doesn’t think before using a tissue to grab the thing and squeeze it between his fingers. He just wants to get it out of his room swiftly before your panic can rise.

If he isn’t fast enough and you are nearing a panic attack, he will do his best to comfort you. He will hold you close until you aren’t breathing as heavily. He tries his hardest to be what you need. 

If you were ever mocked for the fear (something you would be vulnerable for with being so close to Cartman) he would jump into your defense. He won’t let others make you think you’re being overly anxious.

Eric Cartman

I am so sorry for how this man originally treats your fear. In his mind, it’s something to make a joke about. He probably has evil plans to put fake spiders in your locker and will laugh anytime you spot a spider and freak out.

However this does eventually change when his feelings for you grow. Many of the South Park Kids have no issue with helping you out by killing/removing the bug, and Eric has never thought to step up.

Until Kyle does it for you, with a stupid smile and a gentle, “don’t worry about it.”

It’s jealousy, but also, Eric has grown a soft spot for you and no longer finds as much amusement in tormenting you like he did in the early days of your friendship.

Eric will not let anyone kill a spider for you. It’ll prolong the process, but he is your knight in shining armor. No one else gets to save you.

He makes a grand deal about it, as he uses a tissue to grab the bug. It’s a better alternative to the cruel pranks. Eric also expects a thank you for his work (often, a kiss or some other type of affection. Occasionally, he wants you to buy him a snack.)

One time, he was too slow grabbing the bug. And he’s not too afraid of insects, but after that he was also screaming and Kyle had to step in again which was a heavy blow to Cartman’s ego.

After that he buys bug spray. Unlike Stan and Kyle, Eric is apathetic to spider’s and what they do for the ecosystem. He prioritizes your safety and his appearance over the bug.

He doesn’t get the severity of it until he draws out the process a bit too long and you’re hyperventilating and sobbing.

Eric is super awkward with comforting others, and will need you to guide him if you want affection or proximity. Giving credit where credit is due, he is very good at hugs and will keep you close, helping ground you. Don’t expect a lot of sweet words or an apology, they are not his area.

However, the next time you encounter a spider, he doesn’t kill it in a drawn out way. It is swiftly removed. He still expects a kiss and hug for his troubles, though.

Kenny McCormick

Kenny does not understand your fear at first.

Due to the messy nature of his house, he has grown used to bugs and spiders. He never cared to remove them, and like Stan, is a big believer in not killing them since they aren’t typically bothering him.

That’s not to say he’s an asshole like Cartman! Karen used to be scared of bugs, and as her older brother, would remove them carefully. He’s not super sympathetic to the spider, either, and may try to save them, but in most cases he’s using a paper towel.

He probably doesn’t make it as big of a deal as the other boys. He doesn’t see a need to go out and buy bug spray, and whenever it is needed, will use a napkin or his shoe. If you have bug spray, and would prefer he’d use that, he will listen to your request. He just won’t go out of his way to buy it.

If he isn’t fast enough at getting rid of the bug, and you are severely panicking, he will be a little lost. Again, he’s not that afraid, and Karen probably wasn’t either. He will try his best!

Will probably use physical affection as a way of comforting, if you are comfortable with that. Pulls you in close, and will just be quiet until your sobs have quieted down. May run his hand through your hair, or up and down your back. Won’t pull away until you do.

When you are okay, he’ll make a joke about how he knows how to handle bad guys due to his superhero alter ego to try and make you laugh. It’s often a lame joke, but it’s enough to ground you back down after a panic attack.

Kenny might not get it, but he won’t ever make you feel bad.

[cixl-writes]

selcouth — danielle

SYPNOSIS — `` | danielle loves to see her members smile, especially a certain someone.

REQUESTED — `` | yes

PAIRING — `` | danielle marsh x 6thmember fem!reader

GENRE — `` | fluff !

danielle disliked how unappreciated y/n was.

in her eyes, the girl is the most talented and most beautiful person she had ever seen. she didn't understand why y/n was named as the 'most underrated' member of newjeans.

in fact, every member of the group didn't know why there is even the need to give her a nickname like that.

danielle has always disliked the sight she was seeing right now, though she never voiced it out loud.

y/n was overworking herself again.

usually, someone like minji or their managers would stop her and if they failed, danielle would always be there to put a stop on it. but both of them failed, and danielle was absent in that practice for a schedule.

danielle had a rather late schedule that day, and when she came into the practice room out of curiosity, she had stumbled upon the panting and obviously frustrated l/n.

the korean-australian froze in her spot for a moment before she was gasping loudly, startling the girl on the floor. "y/n?! why are you still here? it's 4 in the morning!" the l/n sat up in a flash, eyes wide with undeniable panic.

"dani? wha—"

"oh my god, why didn't anyone stop you— oh gosh! pack up, we're going home."

the marsh's tone was strangely firm and left no room for further argument, making the l/n's mouth to close. "...just a few more minutes, i'm getting close to perfecting the choreography." danielle raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her with a frown. "y/n, practice started at 5 pm. you've been at it for 12 hours! we're going home, no more but's."

y/n looked down on the floor before she was sighing after beats of silence, standing up— only to wobble a little at how sore her muscles feels. danielle immediately softened at the sight, sighing softly. "what should i do with you..."

the overworked girl stumbled towards the open arms of the other with a tired smile.

she always felt warmth, comfort, and an unknown feeling whenever she was around danielle; the girl always manages to make her calm and everything, it was incredible.

y/n almost fell asleep right there and then, but she can't do that— danielle just finished another schedule. she can't possibly burden the korean-australian more.

"let's go home, y/n."

oh, that was the term she was finding.

danielle marsh felt like home.

the others were live in phoning.

y/n was nowhere to be seen, fans had been wondering for quite some time now. danielle was quick to notice a few questions about her whereabouts, answering it with a smile. "where is y/n?— y/n is busy, everyone."

hyein perked up at the mention of her favorite member, sparkling a little. "i saw y/n unnie earlier before i came here, she looked happy about something." haerin hums a little, questioning. "did you ask what's the good news?"

danielle also wanted to know, but then, it hit her. "oh right! y/n gets her royalties today!" the others gasped a little before they were looking at the opening door of the practice room.

"y/n!"

danielle was first to greet, smiling at the same aged girl. "y/n produces songs?— y/n is always involved in producing all of our songs. bunnies doesn't know? that's sad." hanni read and answered out loud, shaking her head in real disappointment— though, fans perceived it as playful disappointment.

"what's up? i heard my name earlier." the l/n greeted as she was pulled to sit in between of danielle and haerin who smiled at the sight of the late older one. "unnie, we were just talking about how you co-produces our songs!"

hyein enthusiastically informed with a grin, minji chuckling after she elbowed hanni's side. "yeah, are we getting treated out on a fancy restaurant by you? you received your royalties, right?" the kim suggested playfully, getting a laugh out of the l/n. "yes, i did. and sure, if you guys want to."

the group excluding y/n cheered, danielle latching herself on to the producer's side with a huge smile. "y/n is the best, everyone! her songs are so great! she's so talented that it's unbelievable!" the marsh's words was beginning to fluster the mentioned girl.

"and she's so humble too, on top of all that! she's so pretty, and smart, and—" the other members all nodded in agreement, smiling brightly as the 05 liner continued on spouting praises about her blushing and flattered fellow 05 liner.

"dani!"

y/n whined as she leaned onto the slightly younger one, completely red now. "please stop." the l/n could barely hear the laughter of everyone, the only thing she could hear was danielle's own laughter.

it was pretty, though, she'll never say that out loud.

y/n has always saw the world as black and white, everything was dull in her vision— well, that was until she met danielle.

danielle had always been the best person she can be for y/n. she always cheer her up when she notices that something was wrong, hypes her up when she's doing something, comforting her when she breaks down.

danielle also gave her a strange feeling— but y/n was certainly sure that it wasn't the bad type of feeling.

in fact, y/n knew that it was a marvellous feeling and that only the danielle marsh could ever give her that type of feeling.

they're like soulmates, no?

[steviewashere]

A Relief

Rating: General CW: Whole Thing is About Bipolar Disorder, Mention of Taking Medication for Mental Health Tags: Post-Canon, Mild Angst (so mild you barely taste it), Comfort, Mental Health, Steve Harrington Has Bipolar Disorder, Steve Harrington Goes to Therapy, No Actual Therapy Session Depicted, Relief, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Gets a Hug, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington's Friendship, Robin Buckley Goes to Therapy, (But that's sort of background here), Roommates Pairings: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (Pre-Relationship)

Based on experience. And also this is such a half-assed thing, but I'm fighting my way out of a really low point right now and I will not let myself succumb, so. <3

🫂—————🫂 The therapy was his choice. He’d hear about it from time to time; mostly from Max and Nancy showcasing how it’s really helped them process grief from the last decade or so. But it had never been something he was entirely intrigued by. There were unsettled issues he had, that he was one hundred percent aware of. But a guy going to therapy? That seemed as folklore as Bigfoot disappearing behind trees.

It wasn’t until Robin began to go that he was convinced.

“She walked me through these breathing exercises, Steve,” she had murmured late one night. They were living just outside of Chicago at the time. He was twenty-six, no longer baby-faced and finally settled in what was normalcy for him. She was just a year younger. Still talkative and mouth far away from her brain, but the way she began to carry herself in the middle of that year—things were changing and Steve began to realize why. “I’ve never felt so calm. So…in tune with my own brain. For once, it felt like the world wasn’t going to end with every sentence I spoke. Who knew that there was mellow under all my marsh?”

He snorted at that. “Don’t tell me this is the end of Robin’s Ramblings.”

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Robin had tutted. “You and I both know that that’s going to continue regardless. Maybe it’ll be like torture now since I’ll be all slow about it.” There was a slow lull of silence. Then, realizing what she had just said, Robin hissed. “Too soon?” They had cackled themselves into a new noise compliant from their downstairs neighbor—and Robin, in that way that she does, convinced him to try therapy out.

It wasn’t until a few years later that he’d go. Both due to insurance reasons and his impoverished motivation. But he was going now, that’s what’s most important.

There was a certain doe-like awkwardness to therapy, he was realizing. He was walking into his appointment with shaky legs and leaving with the first few bumps of his antlers coming in. Sometimes, he went having shaved his antlers down. And other times, they remained. Steve thought that by this session, what had to have been his seventh or eighth time, that he’d stop realizing new things about himself, his family, the growing up before the apocalyptic growing up.

“Your lore,” so Eddie had eloquently put it.

That was a new thing, too. With these last few years brought on a lot of change. Everybody was aging, expectedly so. Their dreams shifting and new ones taking place. And somewhere within all that, between therapy sessions and failed dates and three minimum wage jobs that Steve didn’t bother trying to fight for, Eddie Munson became more persistent in his day to day life than ever. Especially when Robin wanted to move apartments, so Steve went, and Eddie came from the shadows of Hawkins to ask, “Is there room for one more?” Not that his presence was unwelcome, but there was definitely a trace amount of surprise Steve put himself through every morning.

It was coming out of his bedroom crusted with drool and slow with waking, spotting Eddie at the dining table with a chapter book laid out in front of him, humming something warm, clearly lost in some sort of far world. Sometimes, it was coming home with takeout in his hands, knowing one of the lo mein containers was Eddie’s. Or taking his shoes off at the front door and placing them on a low-level wire rack, those scuffed Reeboks unlaced and still warm from wherever Eddie had gone. And, the biggest surprise, was the way Steve knew he was drifting more and more into Eddie’s side—wanting to place his head on his bony shoulders, or willingly listen to a dramatic retelling of some four hour argument he had with Dustin, and the way he had to physically pull himself away so he didn’t do an oddball thing like run his nose against the softness of Eddie’s jaw, or even kiss him below the ear where he knew Eddie’s ticklish.

But aside from all of…that, a later thing for his lurching heart but assured bisexual brain to figure out, there was another thing that consumed him more than Eddie. And it was neither a pleasant nor wanted thing.

He began to have these “episodes”, that feels like the most appropriate word to him, where he’d switch between drawn out days of endless exhaustion and something entirely else. Sleep a full eight hours, wake up even more tired, become unmotivated to do anything—not even eat, not even to go to the bathroom—and then he’d take a nap, or two, fall asleep at the same time he did previously, and then the cycle would restart. The alternative to this was annoying, possibly even more annoying than the unmitigated tiredness. It was sleeping three hours at night. It was getting up wide-eyed and crystal clear, going and going and going, without stopping, without that need to stop. And it was eating him alive. This whole back and forth between the weeks of sleeping and the weeks of going because he can, it was wearing him thin and thinner and now he’s at his thinnest.

It’s his ninth appointment that he leaves with an answer.

And in his car, idling in the parking lot, radio silenced and windows rolled all the way up, he grips to the only thing tethering him to the cushion of his seat. The diagnosis, written in cursive scribbling, black ballpoint pen that caught between the hump of a ‘D’ and the dot of a lowercase ‘I’. His thumbnail presses hard into the blank white space below the written text, indenting and pinching the paper. And he tightens his left hand on the lower half of his steering wheel, leather unreasonably warm for a sunny mid-September morning.

Bipolar Disorder, the paper reads.

He knows that’s what it says. Has read it again and again and again and…again before he could even check-out at the receptionist desk. And it’s not like he’d be unable to read it now. There were glasses perched on his nose, smudged on the upper right corner of the left lens, prescription grade and anti-glare. He can read pretty damn clear.

Yet, for some odd reason, he’s not upset by what he’s looking at. The very first thought he had since hearing his therapist say, “It’s clear to me what’s going on. Have you heard of something called bipolar disorder? Maybe manic depression?”, was that he couldn’t be angry. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry that these are the cards he was dealt. Not even an aching.

Breathing slow in his car, like Robin had showed him a few years ago, he finds the only emotion he can place is relief. A deep, raw, freshly sourced like gold found in a pan, relief.

Steve couldn’t be happier with these words, oddly enough.

The next step was going home and thinking on it.

And the one after that was returning to his therapist to talk about treatment options. There were treatment options, he now realizes, and that brings forth some other pulsing emotion through him. But he doesn’t think he can feel it right now, not entirely, at least if he wants to make it home safely.

So he folds the paper up over itself three times, small enough to fit in his flannel shirt pocket. Turns the keys. Puts himself in reverse. And he goes home.

——— “I’m home!” Steve calls out, shutting the door with his foot. He chucks his keys into the dish by the door, slips his sneakers off by stepping on the heels, begins to wrestle with the sleeves of his flannel—not before taking out that sheet of paper. “I brought back some Chinese,” he mock-shouts, setting the bag down on the floor to hang up his shirt, and he picks it up to head into the dining area.

As he’s unloading their lunch haul, Eddie and Robin noisily enter from down the hall, careening into the dining room like two roadrunners. “Stevie, you’re a freaking lifesaver,” Robin moans behind him. She settles into her usual spot, the left most spot, Eddie across from her, and Steve between them. He pushes a few of the takeout boxes towards her.

“Sweet and sour chicken, pork fried rice, and fried shrimp for Robbie,” he says, “and lo mein, braised pork ribs, and an egg roll for Eds.” For himself, he pulls out a container of beef and broccoli, another box of lo mein, and orange chicken. And of course, a few plastic forks.

Eddie drags his containers towards himself. “Thanks, Stevie,” he says softly, “how’d your appointment go today?”

He hums, settling into his chair. “It went pretty good, actually. There’s something I wanted to share with you guys.” Instead of continuing to eat, Eddie and Robin look to him expectedly. Putting their full attention on him. In the past, it would make him want to slither out of his skin with this kind of attention, but this soft focus is nice now. He’ll actually be heard like this. He gets up to quickly grab the paper from by the door and then brings it back to the table, unfolding it carefully. “My, uh, my therapist listened to me about those episodes I get where I’m really tired all the time. And then, y’know, where it seems like I get stir-crazy or whatever. And she told me today that she knows what’s been going on,” he explains, cautious to not miss a word. Steve presents the paper slowly, laying it out flat between all three of them, text-up for them to read.

“Bipolar disorder?” Robin questions softly, looking up at him, “you think she got it figured out?”

“Yeah, I have full confidence in this,” he states. Sniffles, too. Which, that’s the thing that wanted to come undone in the car. With the relief came the overwhelming need to cry, and he supposes with the people he feels safest, he can do just that. So he does. His voice is strained, choked when he continues, “I thought I’d have to like search forever, guys. Thought that maybe it was some side effect from that demobat attack, y’know? But it’s not. It’s…there’s words for what’s been going on with me, can you believe that?”

Gently, Eddie reaches out to him. A hand on his right forearm. A soothing thumb over his exposed skin. “And how are you feeling about that, sweetheart?”

Laughing a half-sob sort of thing, he dislodges Eddie’s hand, only to scoop up both his and Robin’s palms into his own. Holding them tightly, knocking all of their knuckles against the table as he jostles them slightly. “I’m so relieved, you have no idea! Like I…I knew my mom had something, y’know? She’s like me and I knew she was taking medicine for something, I just never thought there was a term for it. There’s a term—a term!”

Taking care of him, Eddie and Robin move from their seats. His head is tucked into Eddie’s chest. And Robin wraps herself along his left side. But all in all, in their arms, he’s held, comforted. There are fingers running through his hair. Nails dragging gently up and down his forearm. He’s warm.

When he’s pulled back, Eddie holds his face between his hands. Thumbs tapping away at the tacky tracks of tears down his cheeks. Gentle to not jostle his glasses clear off his face. “What’s the next step, Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Robin adds on, “what can we do?”

“Well, I go back next week for my regular session. She wants to speak with me about ways to manage the disorder. Mentioned something about mood stabilizers. Which…” he trails, lets Robin squeeze him tighter. After a moment of careful, slow breaths, he adds, “I think I’m going to go ahead with the medication. With how low my lows get, I think that’s best.”

“Whatever you do, Steve-O, we’ll be here to support you,” Robin murmurs.

“Yeah, dude, we’ve got you,” Eddie agrees just as softly.

He sniffs again. “Thanks guys, I’m glad I have you both. Now, eat your food before it gets cold. I don’t want to hear you guys complain about how it congealed in the fridge.”

They laugh at that, brightly and warmly. And after such a daunting several years, Steve feels a little less heavy. Even has a new spark of hope in his chest for a future that he is looking forward to navigate, but not without his best friends at his sides.

🫂—————🫂

[beautifuldisaster88]

Forever by my side

A/N: After coming across the gif, this idea randomly came to me. If I get the inspiration, I MIGHT make a part two. I used the same McKenzie/Kenzie, but you can picture reader as yourself or whoever you want. The only description of reader is; female, 17, eye color (mentioned only once) Rafe always called her 'bunny'

Summary: Rafe's girlfriend is John B's twin sister and he tells her everything. She's seen a lot of bad shit, but swore to always keep her mouth shut because she loves Rafe. Ward on the other hand becomes Paranoid that the Routledge girl will go to the sheriff, so he takes matters into his own hands, causing his son to finally snap.

Warnings: mentions of murder, actual murder, violence, Rafe seeing hallucinations not knowing it's not real, cursing, mentions of torture. I think that's it?

Rafe's tall frame appeared in the doorway. The young man looked at his father, Ward Cameron, as he made his way inside his office. What the hell did Ward want from him now? He didn't have time for this shit.

"What the hell do you want, dad? I already told you that I need to find-"

The dirty blonde was cut off by Ward, clearly making Rafe grow even more irritated.

"That's why I called you in here, son. You don't have to worry about that anymore. It's all been ta-"

Ward was then cutoff by a breaking news report on the TV. The older Cameron man sighed, knowing exactly what the news report was about. He was hoping to be the one to break it to Rafe before anyone else.

"Breaking News. Kildare County Sheriff's department was called out to the marsh earlier this morning, witnesses claiming they spotted a body."

The news reporter began, immediately catching Rafe's attention. He ignored his father, giving the TV his full attention. Outer Banks wasn't a big place, so it was more than likely that Rafe knew whoever's body was found. The last thing he ever expected to hear came next.

"According to Sheriff Shoupe, 17 year old McKenzie Routledge's body washed up early this morning. It's still unclear how the young girl died, and the Sheriff's department is currently undergoing an investigation. If you have any information we urge you to call the Sheriff's department. We will update you with new information as it becomes available. McKenzie left behind her twin brother, John B Routledge, not even a year after the death of their father. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends."

Rafe stood there frozen in place, his heart breaking and ears ringing, as tears fell from his eyes. Not his Kenzie, please, anyone but her. Who would want to hurt her, she was always nothing but sweet to everyone and she had no enemies. That's when it hit him.

He violently jerked his body around to face Ward, Rafe's blood already beginning to boil as his heart shattered into a million pieces.

"What the fuck did you do!?" Rafe screamed as he began to pace, jabbing his finger into his own chest. "I-I loved her, dad! She fucking saved me, saw me for me! W-why would you take her from me!? She never fucking hurt anyone!"

"Rafe, I need you to calm down. I did what I had to do.. to protect us... Protect you. The Routledge girl knew too much, and it was only a matter of time before she slipped up and told someone. She had to go, son. I did this for you."

Now Rafe was beyond angry, his vision immediately turning red, blurred with tears. He grabbed Ward by the collar of his shirt and slammed the older Cameron man violently against the wall. Rafe got right in his face, seething like a rabid animal. His piercing blue eyes were now dark.

"You didn't fucking do shit for me! You never have! You fucking killed her for your own selfish fucking needs! She's not like the other Pogues and she would have never opened her fucking mouth! You took away my only happiness! The only girl I have ever fucking loved! I swear to you, I will fucking kill you, but first I'm going to make you suffer, just like you did to my Kenzie. You're not my father, you're nothing but a pathetic, scared piece of shit. The scum on the bottom of my shoe. It's fucking over for you, Ward! I will avenge my love's death."

Rafe had his hand gripped around Ward's throat so tight, that he looked at the man with a sinister smile, tears still running down his face. He watched as Ward tried to gasp for air, clawing at his son's hand as his eyes and face began to turn colors. Rafe was going to kill Ward eventually, but first he wanted him to suffer, until he was begging Rafe to kill him.

A dark laugh rumbled deep from Rafe's chest, a clear sign that the Cameron boy had officially completely lost it. Ward tried to beg Rafe to stop, barely able to speak from his airway being cut off.

"Did you make my Kenzie beg for her life too, huh? Is the last thing you saw were those beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears, begging you not to hurt her!? She was fucking innocent! Would've taken our secrets to her motherfucking grave... Which ironically enough, she did all because of you."

Rafe then began to repeatedly slam the back of Ward's head against the wall, over and over again, as his fist connected with Ward's face, jaw, nose, you name it. The Cameron boy beat the man he once looked up to to a bloody pulp, before literally dragging him down the stairs and into the basement, where he threw Ward inside the wine cellar.

Weeks went by, and nobody had heard from Ward. Rafe played the distraught son, acting like he was worried sick about his missing father, when the truth was he had him locked away where nobody would find him, Ward's days were numbered. Rafe had used every type of torture imaginable.

The worst part about the Cameron boy finally completely snapping? He held full on conversations with his Kenzie, as if she was standing right beside him, telling her that he was going to kill Ward for her. In Rafe's mind, Kenzie WAS there, even responding to him when he spoke.

"I love you, Rafey. I knew that I could always count on you to keep me safe. Once Ward is out of the picture, it'll be just you and me. We can finally leave this island and start our life together, away from everyone."

Rafe grinned like a maniac, looking directly at his Kenzie, when in reality he was looking at nothing. She wasn't there, she was dead, but he refused to believe that.

"I'll always protect you, bunny. This time next week, you and I will be on a private beach somewhere far away, sipping on cocktails and fucking under the sunlight. Ward is barely hanging on, and tomorrow is when we finally end him. I'm gonna marry you, Kenzie, yeah? Make you my wife and have a bunch of little ones running around. 'm gonna give you the world, baby."

Rafe caressed her cheek, actually caressing thin air, as he leaned his forehead against 'McKenzie's.

"I can't wait, Rafey. Now, come on, baby, we have a gruesome murder to prepare for. Don't listen when Ward tries to convince you that I'm not real. He's just trying to get you on his side, save his own ass. You can see me, touch me, feel me, you know I'm real, right baby?"

"Of course you're real, bunny. I don't believe anything Ward says, talking about he killed you. And they say I'm the crazy one? He's the one talking about you being dead, when I'm holding you in my arms right now."

The next night, Rafe murdered Ward, with his Kenzie by his side, cheering him on. He stabbed him over and over again, the same way that Ward had killed McKenzie, but in Rafe's mind both him and his Kenzie came up with the idea.

After disposing of Ward's body, the same exact way Ward had disposed of McKenzie's, Rafe packed his and Kenzie's bags and loaded up the truck. The two of them, in reality just Rafe, left the Outer Banks and never looked back.

[mayonnaise2004]

Meeting & Dating Patrick Hockstetter Headcannons

(This is one of my darker works, so I apologize in advance for letting my creative mind go.)

(TW for mentions of suicide, Patrick just being fucked up, masochism, intentions of a dog dying :((, slut shaming, manipulation, carving of the skin and let me know if I missed any.)

- The two of you met when you were Henry’s s/o. He wasn’t at all a fan of that.

- the mere thought of someone like you with someone like Henry made him want to rip his hair out. So he took it upon himself to save you.

- It took a lot of paying people, rumours being spread and innocent acts to get Henry to break up with you on the note you had ‘cheated on him with a freshman.’

- He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little bit aroused when you came sobbing to him, tears running down your face as you tried to understand who would do something like this.

- Rubbed your back as you cried into his chest, his innocent facade was.. somewhat comforting, you couldn’t go to any other kids. They’d just call you a ‘slut/whore’ and walk away.

- He knew you would be easy to manipulate like this. He could be your goddamn knight in shining armour! :)

- Came to your house every day after school to make sure ‘you were okay’ (and eyed up your dog.)

- He was there for you when Henry bullied you when you replaced poor Beverly Marsh on the so-called ‘practice girl’ list, when your dog went missing.

- So of course you said yes to a date! How bad could he be? He seems to have calmed down! (Stupid you.)

- Don’t expect to ever be in another relationship in Derry. That person will go through hell on earth and back. This goes for him too. He would rather take his own life than be without you.

- Life goes back to normal in the Bowers gang. Patrick freaks Victor and Belch out a bit, and Henry doesn’t care that you're dating his best friend. He still holds a grudge against you of course. So don’t expect to leave hangouts without a few bruises.

- Fear is a big factor in your relationship, the hairspray & lighter come out sometimes. But he would never use it on you. Burns are such a waste of time.

- Watching horror movies at his place while his parents are at the bar. He always keeps a hand on your jaw to keep your head to the screen (and caresses your jawline with his thumb.)

- Swimming in the lake at night

- Sometimes he can be somewhat normal when he puts the switchblade and diy flamethrower away and lays in bed with you.

- He probably carved something to do with himself into your flesh where everyone can see. Whether that be ‘P.H’ with a heart, or just ‘P’; “What’s with the tears? Hm? Look at your wrist, my love. Now you can’t run away.”

- Birthdays are overnighters at your place. You’ll either receive a switchblade or a piece of his jewelry everyone has seen that you complimented.

- quite a fan of PDA, loves to hold you close and whisper things into your ear knowing you can’t run away.

- ‘I would just break up with him’ you’ve tried. So many times. He always threatens you in some way, and being on Officer Bower's good terms he can get away with it.

- “You want to end up like all those people? Missing and forgotten by the world? I keep you safe baby. Remember that.”

- Being with someone like that takes a toll on your mental health. Your parents want you to break up with him but you just can’t.

- Mumbles praise into your skin while you cuddle

- Summer break is terrible for you, being forced to drive around with the Bowers gang feels like a punishment from god.

- But despite your attempts to run away, he loves you. Even if you're a bit difficult sometimes!

- The summer of 1989 was like a boulder being lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t know how to feel about Patrick going missing. Should you look for him? Or let him rot where he belongs after everything he did to you.

- his missing posters were eventually covered up with another, and you tried to heal. But those scars don’t heal. And they won’t go away.

[fayetape]

“Flame” by Fayetape

Finnick Odair x Reader

Word count: 1854

CW: Angst, typical THG stuff

Summary of series: Reader and Finnick met when they were very young. They experience the horrors of Panem together as they grow up. Throughout the years they fight for a happy ending. Whatever that may look like… Angst/Fluff/Smut/Series/Minimal use of Y/N!

Important note: The reader starts out very young but there is a time skip, don’t worry!

Hey everyone! My name is Faye. This is my first story I’ve ever published on here. I’m very new to this. This is the first part of my series “Flame” I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave any constructive criticism or suggestions in the comments :)

Chapter One: Promises

A short white dress was displayed on her twin-sized mattress. The dress was beautiful. White and lacy. Tied with small, delicate ribbons on the shoulders and in the middle of the chest. Any other day she would have been delighted to have found such a gift. She knew what it meant. Reaping day. Her first one too. All the people of district four get dressed up in their sunday-best to be forced to watch as two of their children ages 12-18 get sent off to the games, almost certain to die. This time her life was part of the draw. She had no other choice but to put on the dress. Against her own will she kept thinking about this process as if it was one of her last times ever to do such a simple thing. Last time undressing. Last time tying a ribbon. She sighed anxiously and put on a pair of white tights and black buckle mary-janes. It felt like she was preparing herself to die or dressing herself up for her own funeral. She heard the sizzle and cracks of her mom cooking in the kitchen. Her mother had been quiet lately. She had a thought. It’s because she knows her daughter has a chance to be taken from her, even when her daughter is all she has, the capitol spares no mercy. Disturbed by these thoughts, the girl walked past her mother without saying a word, only exchanging a sullen glance as she turned the handle of the front door.

“Y/N! Hey!” a recognizable voice yelled in the distance.

“Finnick! Hi.” She was excited to see him, but today there could only be but so much happiness in her voice.

He walked over to her and put an arm around her shoulder, “I like your dress.”

She didn’t say anything in response.

“Look, I know today is scary, but your name is only in that bowl once out of hundreds of other slips. You’re gonna be fine.”

Finnick was older. He had already gone through the horrors of being part of the reaping for two years now. He knew how to navigate it, at least more than she did. He took upon himself some unassigned duty to protect her from the moment they met. This was the one thing he couldn’t shield her from and it made him feel unsettled. The very least he could do is be realistic and try his best to console her. He looked down at her. She was still quiet. He let go of her shoulder and held her hand. He stroked her hand with his thumb and led her into a nearby field. They would go here when things got hard. Not that they would talk about it much. Not many people knew about it or dared to explore it. Technically it was off-bounds to district four and they knew they could get in a lot of trouble with the peacekeepers. Regardless, they both agreed that a little bit of risk was healthy. He checked in all directions to make sure nobody was watching before he reached ahead to pull branches aside to clear a path. The landscape never failed to hypnotize them. A luscious field with an array of diverse greenery and wildflowers sloping down a hill to the marsh. The sound of light wind blowing through the grass and the small creek bubbling instantly calmed their nerves. Even Finnicks, as much as he tried to hide his fear.

They pushed through the tall grass onto the path they carved out several years ago. Walking until they got to the bottom of the tall, gentle hill. He always loved the water. He let go of her hand and he sat down on the damp ground. He shot her a glance proposing her to sit down.

“I don’t want to get my dress dirty.”

“You mean your MOM doesn’t want you to get your dress dirty. Since when did you care about dirt?”

He was right. She lifted up the skirt of her dress and sat down on a patch of grass that looked cleaner than the rest.

He looked over at her, a few feet away, “Not gonna dare to get any closer, huh?” He always flirted like this. Bold enough to get her attention, but sly enough to give her plausible deniability.

“Today is the one day I can’t get messy. Tomorrow I’ll take more of a risk, okay?”

He laughed, “See? You do know that it is going to be okay!”

“What?”

“You said tomorrow. You know deep down that it’s gonna be fine.”

She rolled her eyes, “I just forgot about it for a second..”

That was good enough for him. They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the sounds of the bugs and frogs in the marsh.

“Hey,” he said.

“I’m not moving closer.”

“Fine.” He scooted closer to her.

Instinctively she put her head on his shoulder. He smiled.

“Finn? Can you promise me something?”

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll always take care of me like this ?”

“Yes.” He said without any hesitation.

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“I need to hear you say it,” she said.

“I promise. You know I’ll always take care of you. I won’t leave you alone, love.”

After that she just stared at him for a while, “Okay,” she said and looked back at the morning sky.

“Hey,” he said in a quiet voice.

She looked over at him and he nervously grabbed her chin and pulled her in. She didn’t resist. The two stared at each other with their faces so close before he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips before letting go.

They sat in silence for a bit. “Was that okay?” He asked nervously.

Through slightly labored breath she said, “Yeah. Of course.”

He smiled, “Was I your first?”

“No,” She giggled playfully.

Matching her demeanor, “Yeah right.”

“How would you know? Maybe I kissed that boy on Dove Street.”

“You don’t even know his name!” He exclaimed, “Plus I worked my ass off to keep those dumbass neighborhood boys

off of you.”

“Yeah whatever!” She said and swept sand onto his lap.

He dramatically put his hand over his chest, “How could you!” and splashed dirty water in her direction.

“Finnick!”

“You started it!” It was too

late, her dress was already muddied. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Sorry. Was that not okay?” he asked her.

“No. No. It’s okay,” she paused, “Are we dating?”

He laughed at her innocence. “If that’s what you want.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay then,” he confirmed.

Just as he was about to kiss her again, they heard the sound of the warning bell.

“Shit.” He pulled her up and they ran back up the hill away towards their town.

Once they got out of the field they ran their separate ways towards their houses, breathlessly exchanging goodbye glances.

Panting and sweating she ran across the railroad tracks towards her small house. Slowing down once she could see the white paint chipping off the frame. She heard the front screen door slam shut.

“Where have you been?” Her mother yelled, “What the hell happened to your dress?”

Catching her breath she tried to find a believable excuse. Before she could explain her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her inside.

“Were you with that boy again? He’s so disrespectful.”

Her mother was always one to hold a grudge. She couldn’t let go of the time that Finnick purposely broke one of her daughter’s toys when they were younger. Ever since then she thought of him as a bully, even though he was only eight at the time and wasn’t trying to be malicious.

“No,” She tried lying.

Her mother didn’t say anything in response and just continued to wipe down her dress with a wet rag.

Her mother smoothed out her dress, “Come on. Let’s go.”

They hurried their way to the town square.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Her mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

They separated and she was pushed forward by the peacekeepers before she could even look back. They pricked her finger and checked her into the drawing system. Her throat burned and there was suddenly a deeper hole of anxiety in her chest. Reality was setting in. Her eyes darted across the space searching for Finnick. Panicking when she couldn’t find him.

“Hey,” He said on the other side of the barrier.

Her shoulders untensed ever so slightly. She smiled at him.

The chatter of the crowd stopped as the stage microphone rang out ear piercing frequencies.

“Ahem,” the announcer decorated in a ridiculous, loud purple dress spoke, “Welcome to the 65th annual Hunger Games!”

As if waiting for an applause the woman paused, “Alright then. We won’t waste anymore time here.”

She dipped her hand into the bowl swirling the strips of paper. “And the female tribute for the 65th annual Hunger Games iss…”

The girl held her breath. Feeling like she was going to faint or die right then and there.

“Julianne Halmbern!” the crowd gasped.

The pit in the girl's stomach disappeared for a split second. Not her this year. Then it set in. A girl who lived on the poorer side of the district. She hardly knew her but she still felt sickenly guilty for being relieved. Another person she knew would be sent to almost certain death. She watched as the crowd parted, making a path for the poor blonde girl, Julianne. She was stiff in fear and disbelief as she was guided up on stage.

“And the male tribute iss…”

“Finnick Odair!” The announcer exclaimed as if she had just announced the lottery.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. No. No. The crowd parted and revealed sweet Finnick. She watched his every move. She watched as he stood there in utter shock, then as he took small steps up to the stage.

“Finnick!” she cried out.

The peacekeepers were getting impatient as they ushered him to the front. “It’s okay!” he yelled out to her.

She wanted to run to him. The older girl next to her noticed her expression and held her arm protectively preventing her from charging the boy. “Finnick!”

He stepped onto the stage, hiding tears in his eyes as she yelped out for him. He thought the sound of her screams was more disturbing than getting chosen like this. Even in this moment he felt the need to console her. Before the woman in the obnoxious dress could say anything else he yelled, “Y/N! I promise! Okay? I promise!”

She nodded through her sobs. She knew he was promising to make it back to her. He vowed not to leave her alone. She tried her best to believe him. To trust him. Her thoughts raced. He was a career. He trained for this. He’s going to be okay. No. He’s fourteen. He can’t. I can’t- No. She cried harder.

And they took him away.

[jungle-angel]

The Students Become The Masters (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: D'Nadi clearly made a mistake picking on you and Cal and your students couldn't have made it clearer than that

Tagging: @floydsmuse

Warnings: Pregnancy, D'Nadi being an asshole etc.

Calvin re-emerged from the kitchen with a hot mug of homemade tea to help calm your nerves. God it had been a day. Never in his life had Calvin seen you so upset about D'Nadi approaching you and not giving you a reason as to why you had been sent home from the college. He had felt terrible about cancelling his other classes for the rest of the day, but he knew that you needed him now more than ever.

"C'mere love," he said, gently lifting your tired head into his lap.

You sniffed a little as the tears stung your eyes. "God I hate D'Nadi," you croaked.

"I know, I do too sweetheart," Calvin said, running his fingers through your hair. "Try not to stress so much. I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby."

"I know," you croaked again. "I have an appointment at the teaching hospital tomorrow."

You snuggled into Calvin, a little too tired to drink the tea he had made, until he had finally convinced you to drink just a little. His hand trailed to your now noticeable bump, gently caressing the little life that grew within. A knock at the front door had startled you both and threw Six-Thirty into a barking fit until Calvin shooed him back to his bed near the fireplace. When Calvin opened the front door, he was a little surprised to find Father McDowell standing there on the front porch.

"Sorry to be disturbin ya laddy," he apologized. "I know it's late and you and the missus are probably settlin in fer bed."

"It's alright Padre," Calvin said. "Just a bit of a rough day is all."

"Ah so I can tell," Father McDowell said, seating himself in the old wingback near the living room window. "How are ye (y/n)? Still feelin a little blue are ye?"

You nodded.

Father McDowell sighed as Six-Thirty put his paws up on the chair arm, the priest gladly letting him have a few scritches. "Tis a damn shame we ain't back in Cork," he said. "If he'd have been attendin me old boardin school, the nuns would've lashed'em so hard he wouldn't be able to sit for at least a week."

You and Cal both chuckled a little. Despite his salty nature, Father McDowell's presence was always welcome at times like these as well as his rather twisted sense of humor.

"One way or another m'lamb, ye'll get through it," he assured you, lighting his pipe. "All will be right with the world......somehow."

And you and Calvin had hoped so.

***************************

Dark night had fallen over the college campus, but that didn't mean the halls were dead. No, they remained brightly lit, the rushed footsteps of students feet on the tile and parquet floors, hurrying to an out of order bathroom at the very end of the hall.

Two students, one of Father McDowell's theology students and his girlfriend, knocked on the door of the bathroom which was promptly opened by Sandy Levenstein, one of your assistants in the classroom.

"You two here from the Padre?" she asked.

"Yep," the young man answered.

"Get in," Sandy told them.

The bathroom was crowded with students and TAs alike, everyone packed elbows to assholes in that small little room from all walks of the campus life, bookworms, jocks, exchange students, chemistry majors, nursing majors, art and art history majors and everyone and anyone in between.

"Alright, you wanna take this Mei? Or should I?" Sandy asked from her perch on top of the garbage can.

"I'll do it," Mei told her. "Marshall? Wanna gimme a hand?"

"Hell yeah honey!" he answered, hoisting Mei up onto his big shoulders.

Mei began pounding on a metal garbage can lid with her Nainai's wooden cooking spoon. "ALRIGHT EVERYBODY SHUT UP FOR TWO SECONDS!!!!"

She waited until the whole room fell silent before speaking again. "Alright, now that I've got your undivided attention," she said. "Marsh, you can put me down now, thank you."

Marshall lowered her down to the floor, letting Mei stand amongst the eager to listen crowd.

"It seems to me that some foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach, had a bone to pick with our dearly beloved professors," Mei explained. "So I ask you, good people of this university.......what the hell are we gonna do about it? Are we gonna stand by and watch him pick on them again?"

"HELL NO!" everyone exclaimed.

"Are we gonna stand for this shit?" Mei asked.

"HELL NO!!"

"Are we gonna let that slimy little schlemiel get away with it?!" Sandy declared.

"HELL NO!!!!"

"I don't care how any of you have to do it," Mei told the crowd. "I don't care how long it takes, what methods you have to use, orthodox or not as long as it's within legal means.........but all of you, get out there and show the little cockroach who really runs this place!"

The crowd in the bathroom cheered, high-fiving and slapping the overhang of the door on their way out.

"You think this is gonna work?" Sandy asked.

"It's worth a shot," Mei laughed.

*****************************

Calvin was in his office, working on the grant proposal for the college's chemistry program, the typewriter clicking away as Six-Thirty came back with a note from the college president. It had been almost a week since D'Nadi had pulled his little stunt, the both of you worried sick about work and how things would turn out. Calvin was an anxious mess as he opened the letter and read it, but relieved beyond words when he saw the response.

Dear Professor Evans,

I apologize for this being so late in coming, but I wanted to let you know personally that you and your wife will continue to teach at this establishment. I will allow her full benefits and time for when the baby is born and you as well. Give my best to (y/n) and we look forward to seeing her when she returns.

Regards,

William B. Hayes III, University President

Calvin was relieved and knew that you would be too. He shoved the letter into one of the pockets inside his briefcase, eager to show you when he got home, when the quiet in his office was suddenly broken by a knock at the door.

"I'm not to be disturbed!" He warned loudly.

"Doc it's me! It's Marshall!" answered a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Cal quickly rose from his desk chair and opened the door. Marshall Ray Thomas, Eugene Walsh, Cindy Bianchi and Sylvia Patton, all students of his and yours, entered his office, each with a cheeky grin on their faces.

"What did you idiots do?" Calvin asked, suspicious of the reason for their visit.

"Oh ya'll are gonna wanna see this," Marshall laughed, handing Calvin a stack of polaroids.

Calvin flipped through each and every one, his eyes bugging at a few, particularly of one where D'Nadi had been strapped to the surgical gurney in one of the nursing classrooms, the students all surrounding him wearing surgical gear and wielding the tools as though they were in a horror movie.

"Jeebus fuck!" Calvin chuckled, going bug-eyed.

"Oh, wait until you see the ones we took in the chemistry labs," Eugene chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Sonny Ortega had fun with that one."

Calvin had to stifle a laugh when he saw it. Eugene hadn't been lying, seeing as he and Sonny had been cohorts from day one. What Cal hadn't been expecting was a full recreation of the lab scene in "Frankenstein" and the photographic evidence that had come with it.

"Oh my God," he laughed. "This is just.......wow."

A collective cheer and the chanting of students and teachers alike, soon reached Calvin's ears. Marshall, Eugene, Cindy and Sylvia made their way into the hall where the entire faculty seemed to be chanting "walk of shame" and clapping as loud as they could. Calvin caught sight of a sneering and sulking D'Nadi carrying a box of his things out of his office as the students and faculty kept it up, including Mrs. Petty, the elderly receptionist, who hated D'Nadi with every fiber of her being.

Calvin couldn't help the broad grin that was beginning to crawl across his face, especially when Dr. Powers and Professor Broussard clapped their firm hands on each of his shoulders.

"Mon amie," Professor Broussard said to him. "It seems justice has been served on your behalf."

Calvin laughed as he joined in, everyone cheering loudly when D'Nadi rounded the corner, never to be seen or heard from at the college again.

*****************************

You laughed as you went through the polaroids again with Calvin as soon as he got home, relieved that you still had your job at the college.

"So wait, tell me again," you laughed. "They seriously did that in the nursing classroom?"

"Photo evidence is right there," Calvin answered.

You snorted when you saw it. "Oh my God what are we gonna do with them?"

"Who knows my love?" Calvin said, kissing your forehead.

You couldn't have been happier than at that moment.

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - VIII

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Salvation: preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss.

➵ AO3 Link

➵ Previous | ➵  Next | ➵  Fic Masterlist

He didn’t sleep a wink, even with how exhausted he was. His blood pumped as if his veins were a livewire, energy surging through his battered and beaten muscles. 

It’s hard to wind down after a gunfight. He knows this, he’s known it for years. 

It’s even harder to wind down after the ramshackle buildings the gang was holed up in here in the middle of the damn swamp looked like Swiss cheese - riddled with bullet holes.

Arthur flicks a cigarette into the stagnant water as the sun rises, eyeing critically the wagon with the mounted gun that the Pinkertons were forced to abandon after their assault on Lakay.

A Gatling gun, of all damn things. He supposed he should feel tickled that the Pinkertons felt they needed it to take on the gang. They still ended up running with their tails between their legs, but the gang was in bad shape.

He runs a hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes before smoothing down his unruly beard. It’s much longer than he would ever keep it, but Guarma did not give him the luxury of appearances.

Arthur walks sheepishly toward where Tilly sits against a dock post. After scouring the camp this morning, he’s found neither hide nor hair of you.

“Miss Tilly - I, uh..”

Tilly looks at him, and the very hint of a smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

“She’s out by that little church. Left earlier. I’m sure she’s waitin’ for you.” Tilly says knowingly, endeared to the faint blush staining his cheeks.

“Thank ya,” Arthur mutters, nodding his head and stepping away from Tilly’s seat against the old tree.

He walks out of the camp and fortunately is not accosted by anyone on his way out.

Were you mad? Upset? Furious? Christ, he didn’t even get a chance to greet you last night, clumsily rolling into Lakay after surviving hell on earth on that stupid island. The damn Pinkertons had swarmed the swamp outpost within moments of him getting back, and the firefight that ensued certainly didn’t lend itself to any quiet solitude.

By the time the gang was winding down from surviving the attack, the sun was rising in the east, bathing the swamp in golden light.

Arthur can run through several terrible possibilities on his walk down the road to where Tilly said you were - out by that ridiculous tiny church - much too small for any real person to even climb into. Must be some weird swamp thing. Or weird city-slicker art thing.

He finally sees you - sitting on a blanket spread out on the ground near a cypress tree not far away from the small white structure, gazing out to the open marshes and the bayou north of Saint Denis.

Arthur approaches you quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace you’ve managed to find. You’re barefoot on the blanket, your toes peeking out from under your skirts as your legs curl to the side of your hips.

“Sweetheart-”

You look up at him, somehow unsurprised at his approach, even with how quiet he tried to be.  His brow furrows as he takes your face in, your eyes bloodshot and glassy, your cheeks tinged red.

“Oh, darlin’, I hope you ain’t wastin’ them tears on the likes of me.”

You frown up at him, “Shut up, idiot.”

A smirk crosses his face as he holds his hand out for you to help you up. You take it, not before rubbing at your eyes, breathing in through your nose.

“C’mere,” Arthur pulls you up and his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you to him. You immediately bury your head into his chest, muffling the sob that escapes your throat.

“Hey now, gonna take a little more than a sinkin’ boat to get rid of me.”

You pull your head back, arms still locked tightly around his waist, gazing up at him as the veneer of your calmness cracks, tears streaming down your face.

“A-Arthur- '' You hiccup before devolving into sobs. He immediately leans down to press his chapped lips against yours, holding you even tighter against him.

As if he could chase away your fears and demons with his lips, he presses his tongue into your mouth, breathing your breath, holding you, and swearing in his mind to never let you go.

Your mouths move against each other, softly, slowly as first- but the fire between you starts to burn, fed by the little noises that escape your throat as his hands move all over you, a needy rumble escaping his chest. You pull at the collar of his shirt greedily.

“Christ alive, woman-” Arthur pulls back from you, working the buttons of his shirt.

He sheds the shirt, and your tears return with a vengeance as you see what the time away from you has done to him. His pale chest is singed red from the sun, bruises and scrapes litter his arms, and you can see along his side the shadow of his ribcage. Arthur has always been a solid man, hard muscle underneath his pale skin, to see him looking even the slightest bit gaunt, tore at you. 

“Oh god, Arthur-” you choke as your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh, darlin’. ‘M alright. M’ alrigh-”

A wet, hacking cough cuts him off, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand, turning away from you. You rush in, placing your hands on his arm, “Christ, what happened to you?”

“Just a little waterlogged - on account a’ almost drownin’.  I’ll be over it soon enough, now that I’m off that damn island.” He replies, wiping the back of his hand against his dark pants, returning to gaze at you affectionately.

“C’mon now, sweetheart. Don’t look a’ me like that. Came all the way back here f’r you, I don’t want to see you cryin’.” He says as he goes to gather you closer to him.

But alas, his request goes unanswered as tears pour down your face as you sob again, and his hands cup your cheeks as he steps in even closer to you, his rough thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks to stem the salty flow of tears.

“I- I thought you died.” You hiccup, you’re shaking hands pressing against his chest, “I… I thought you were g-gone forever.”

“M here, ‘m here. I was always comin’ back to you,” His fingers weave through your unbound hair, pulling you to his lips, where you open your mouth immediately to him.

Your tongues press against each other desperately. He’s gathered you in against him, arms wrapped around your waist, pressed so hard against his frame it’s hard to breathe against the constriction of your ribs.

Your hands land on his elbows, and you pull downward with increasing urgency until he understands, unlacing his arms as you both sink to your knees, somewhat awkwardly trying to keep your mouths on each other.  His hands weave through your hair while yours run up and down the broad muscles of his chest and stomach as if you could never touch enough of his skin.

It may be seconds, it may be minutes before the two of you are tangled in each other, laying on the blanket side by side, refusing to breathe anything other than each other’s breath, as if you were drowning in the open sea.

“Jesus - god, I missed you , my girl.” Arthur pants into your neck as he shimmies his pants over his hips, shedding them and tossing them to the edge of the blanket, laying next to you nude as the day he was born, greedy hands pulling at the fabric of your shirt.

You whine in reply, afraid you would start crying again should you need to speak words into life, and allow him to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts to him, which he quickly leans over and presses his mouth to. His hand tugs at the tie keeping your skirt in place around your waist, and you assist him, frantically pulling at fabric and cotton as you whine, his tongue laving over your nipple.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he has stripped you bare under the shadows of the large cypress trees, there on the blanket in the middle of Bayou Nwa, hidden only by some random bushes and distance from the roads carving through the swamp.

He suckles at your breast eagerly, as one of his hands moves from kneading the opposite breast down, down your ribcage, down your belly, down your hips, to where a needy fire smolders between your thighs.

“ Arthur ,” you moan, pushing his hand to cup your damp skin, needing his touch, needing his breath, needing him .

 He groans into the skin of your breast, his middle finger sliding between your folds to find you wet and ready for him. But he makes no move to climb atop you, seemingly satisfied with running his finger up and down the seam of your body.

You can’t- you can’t waste this time - the weeks not knowing if he was alive or dead, the nights crying yourself to sleep thinking you’d never feel his touch again, the abject emptiness you felt in your core thinking he’d never press himself inside you and make you feel complete ever again.

You push against his shoulder, and he lets go of your breast and raises his head, a confused, slightly pained expression on his face. You push his shoulder even harder before he has a chance to question you, and to his surprise, you’re able to maneuver him to lay on his back, sprawled out on the blanket.

“Darl-”

Swinging your leg over his pelvis cuts him off, and his hands clamp to your hip magnetically, his eyes wide as you hover your hips over his.

“N-need you-“ You moan, breathless, as you reach down, grasping his length, rock hard as you knew he’d be, and aligning yourself with him, holding his cock as you begin to sink down on him. As the head of his cock presses inside you, your hands find purchase on his shoulders for balance.

Arthur watches your hips as you slowly take him, inch by inch of his cock disappearing into your warm cunt, until the feeling is too much and he throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as the back of his head hits the ground.

You bottom out, gasping as your body gets used to him, the sweet feeling of being filled, assuaging emptiness - chasing completion.

Arthur’s fingers constrict on your skin as you give a small roll of your hips, the base of his cock leaving your body for a moment before you return. You let out a long, satisfied sigh, your hands moving down to his pectorals before you slowly roll your hips again, loving the near-painful stretch of your body accepting all of him.

“D-didn’t think I’d ever have you again-” You whisper, looking down at his wide eyes, the blue-green pools you never thought you could get lost in again.

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed as you pick up speed over him, hips rolling back and forth atop him as you pant on your knees. His hands guide your movements, splayed wide over your hips.

He grunts, opening his eyes again, “G-god - ain’t no place I’d rather be-” he gasps as you thrust your hips down on him hard, “-than inside you, mmph .”

You rock over him, moaning unabashedly as your knees grind into the ground at either side of his hips. Your head tips backward as you increase your tempo, arching your back as you feel the pressure of him inside you change with the angle.

He’s panting, his hips making little thrusts up to meet yours. Large hands fly back to your waist, clenching hard and aiding the speed of your movements as you roll your hips over him.

Arthur gives a needy groan, his hips leaving the blanket entirely, and the next thing you know, you’re beneath him. He’s flipped you over, on your back under him with a yelp as grabs your legs, slotting his hands underneath the back of your knees, and pushes them back, resting the backs of your thighs on his shoulders.

“ Fuck - ” he groans, managing to keep his cock within you the entire time, and he leans over you, your legs bending to nearly press against your ribcage, “You’re…”

The words fade from his lips as a groan is all he can manage to get out. You mewl beneath him, with your knees over his shoulders, he basically has you bent in half.

He wants to say more, he wants to tell you everything. But as he glides into your impossibly tight warmth, it’s like his voice doesn’t work anymore.

You’re everything, you’re what I needed to come back to, you’re what kept me goin’ on that stupid island…

You whimper, tears leaking from your eyes as you clutch at his forearms desperately, “A-Arthur…”

He pushes deep, deep, within you, as far as he can go, giving you as much of himself as he physically can. Every inch of him, buried within you. His forehead leans on yours, as if he could not fathom being any further from you.

All I can think about at night is bein’ inside you. All I want to do in the mornin’ is wake up with you in my arms.

Your voice cracks with emotion, breathless and thick as tears continue to stream down your face, tinged pink with arousal.

“I l-love you, Arthur-”

I love you, Darlin’.

He comes, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels wave after wave of hot spend leave his cock and paint your insides.

You’re clutching around him, your legs shaking as you pant little needy cries, and he knows your body well enough at this point to recognize that you’re coming too - a drawn-out orgasm that feels like it’s going on forever. Little waves, one after one, caressing him instead of one that he’s apt to drown in.

He slowly lets your legs down from his shoulders, but refuses to move his hips, keeping himself buried inside you.

His large hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb tracing away the tears falling from your glassy eyes.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

The smile you give him is bright enough to rival the sun. He drapes himself over you and finds your lips, and the curve of that smile against his is enough to save a parched man, as if he could drink from your lips forever.

Forever is what it feels like, as unwinding yourselves from each other is an impossible task.  A task both you and he absolutely refuse to do after the hell of separation over the last several weeks.

Your tongues pressing against each other, hands trailing over curves and hard planes of muscle, and everywhere, it is only a few minutes before you are gasping into his mouth, and he grunts in return as you feel him stir within you.

His hips press back into yours, and you moan as you hook your ankles over his hips. He buries his head into the curve of your neck, the overstimulation of his cock and the thick wetness of your cunt, covered with his warm spend, he doesn’t know how he could ever leave you.

But the flighty, whimpering, needy noises that you make, it goes straight to his pelvis. Even so soon after you’ve milked him with your sweet warmth, he’s ramrod hard again in moments. He’ll give you anything , everything you ask for. Just tell him. He’ll shoot, kill, steal, ride to the ends of the earth for you.

With a breathless finality, you tell him. Words slip from your mouth like sweet nectar, as one of your hands pulls the long ends of his hair. You tell him all he needs to know in whimpered syllables.

“I l-love you so much, Arthur-”

Christ, he’ll give you everything. 

Arthur rolls his hips and gives you himself. Each thrust of his cock hits that sweet spot within you that makes you cry out. Each labored pant in your ear, the movement of each muscle that makes up the mountain of him. He gives you it all.

He knows, deep down, that anything he gives would not be worthy of the love you’re proclaiming into the morning air. He could give you his faithfulness, the word of a robber, a thief, a murderer. He could give you his body, the broken down body of an aging gunslinger, nose misaligned from too many bar fights, scars across his skin like constellations. He could give you his name, which he knows, he knows , means nothing. Mary Gillis had the decency to teach him that when they were young .

So all he can do is try to bring you pleasure, try to assuage the tears that have spilled from your pretty eyes. Try to give you something, anything , that comes close to equaling the peace you have brought to his restless soul.

He comes quickly, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to muffle his groans as he pours himself into you again. A pang of regret courses through his veins, that he was not able to last longer for you. 

Arthur slides his softening cock from your body and you whimper needily, he shushes you gently, lips on your forehead, as he lowers himself to his hip beside you.

“I gotchu…I gotchu, sweet girl,” he whispers, his hand trailing down your stomach to brush against your core as his other arm maneuvers beneath your shoulders, pulling you to curl into him. He pulls your leg over his thigh, opening the seam of your body, and wastes no time at all, pressing two fingers into your swollen core, pumping them in and out in a fashion to replicate how he was fucking you before.

You’re crying, panting, nails digging into his forearm as he crooks his fingers within you, his thumb circling your hooded nub. His frame looms over you, muscled arm around your shoulders, drawing your head into the crook of his neck where you whimper. 

Arthur whispers huskily into your ear quiet affirmations, good girl, almost there, gimme one more. You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as the pleasure he gives you verges on pain, the overstimulation wracking your body with spasms of your hips, one leg thrown over Arthur’s thigh as he works your dripping cunt.

You give a high and flighty cry as your body clenches, and he groans as he feels you squeeze his fingers, pressing his lips against yours desperately as he works you through your orgasm, shuddering and shaking, naked in his arms.

He whispers against your lips as he slows down the movement of his hand, “Christ, I missed hearin’ that.”

Arthur slowly extricates his fingers from your body, the both of you look as they come out covered in the combination of your dripping slick and his milky spend. 

He wipes his hands dry on the blanket and almost immediately leans over you, cupping the back of your head with his fingers and deeply kissing you, his warm skin pressed against yours, his weight gently bearing down on you. As starved as you thought he looked before, as you’re wrapped up in his embrace, you’re reminded how large he is - built like a mountain, smothering your entire frame under him.

By the time he pulls away, he leans on his elbow over you, gently laying your head on the blanket underneath you. 

“We probably gave half a’ Lemoyne a show there,” you giggle, finding it incredibly endearing to see a blush settle on his cheeks, considering he just had you bent in half fucking you into the ground.

He unwinds his arms from you, as if he just realized the two of you were completely naked in the bayou, and you snicker as he leans over to grope for his clothing that was so hastily shed.

You both shrug your clothes back on in silence. He’s gotten himself dressed completely as you tie your skirts on. He steps closer to help you, taking the strings of your skirts and tying the knot behind your back. He leans over you and kisses the crown of your head as he finishes the knot.

You turn, placing your fingers against his firm chest. His hands move to cup your cheeks as he leans down to press his lips to yours. When he pulls away, he places his forehead against yours and you let out a shaky breath.

“ ‘M always tryin’ to come back to you.”

“Don’t leave me like that again, Arthur.”

He shakes his head, and swipes his thumb across your skin preemptively, “I won’t, I won’t. Ain’t no one…- ain’t nothin’ that’s gonna keep me from bein’ by your side.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, your fingers clutching at his shirt. His hands smooth down your face, down your shoulders, across your back, until with the slightest pull, he gathers you into his embrace. You let out another long, shuddering breath and relax against him, leaning your cheek against his collarbone. 

His chin rests on the top of your head as he gently sways, arms wrapped right around your small frame, engulfing you in all of him.

After it all, the near drowning, the chain gang, the entire goddamn island - it all faded away now that he had you back in his arms. Of this, he knows is true - he would go to the ends of the earth to return to you - to your waiting arms and sly smile and how your voice gets soft when you’re saying something sweet.

He shuts his eyes and relaxes for the first time in weeks.

[silentslaughter]

My son. I once sounded like him. Filled with misplaced confidence and dangerous amounts of bravado. A proufound pity for lesser beings and a sense of responsiblity when it came to their prolonged safety. My head encumbered with illusions of victory and a baseless plan to end all the world's hurts. I once stood in the very place he does now, attempting to convince my own father that marching South was our duty. For years I pushed. Saying things I never should have said in tones that should have never been used. It was important to me. The most important thing that ever was. To fight for the preservation of what had been given to us. What we had built. What so many of us had died for.

In the end it was not I who convinced him, but King Amdir of what was then known as Lorinand. Some may have considered it a slight, but it was an end to my means nonetheless. Finally we would join the ranks of the Noldor and fight in the greatest Alliance this world has ever known.

My father was not reckless, but he was proud to a fault. He commanded his soldiers and nobody commanded him. We were ill equipped and small in numbers. Only a tiny fraction of the force that was to join us for the first charge. Determined and innovative. Hardened by long winters and skirmishes fought in wild lands, but greener than freshly sprouted spring seedlings when it came to the nature of war.

For hours we waited on that hill, watching as darkness crawled across the sky above and poured slowly in from the East across the land like a slow burning fire. He would not wait. Though I begged him to see reason and wait for the signal, repeating the unfavourable odds over and over again, he would not wait.

I still cannot be sure what drove him to so carelessly do away with all of our carefully formulated plans. It was as though I was watching an entirely different entity that day. Even his voice had sounded unlike his own as he bellowed his final command. An ancient hatred that had spent decades simmering underneath the surface of calm composure perhaps. A need to avenge all that had been lost. Or perhaps it was the burning desire to prove himself as an equal. The refugee King from a fallen kingdom. Crowned not by birth but by circumstance.

In an instant I knew that it was over. Our battle was lost before the war had begun. I had no choice but to follow, but my objective had changed. I sought not for glory or victory. I sought only to see to his safety for as long as I could and I was more than prepared to die trying.

The first clash was unlike anything I had experienced before. The sound of blades crossing, chain and mail smashing together and battle cries from both sides more deafening than the loudest cracks of thunder. Amidst the chaos it was difficult to tell left from right or east from west or even up from down. But I was determined. I kept him in my sights throughout it all. It seemed like it had only taken them minutes to push us down into the marshes and it was there I lost my bearings. The ground was soft and wet. Nearly impossible to stand on, let alone fight. I was being attacked from all sides. Wet and muddy. Slipping all over the place like a drunkard at a soltise celebration. I found a moment of respite and struggled to gain my footing, my leg burning from a poisoned blade, as my eyes scanned the dank terrain for the one I had vowed to protect.

By the time I found him it was too late. Stuck full of arrows and with a blade in his back, he sunk to his knees and for a brief second our eyes met through the moist slough. I started forward, but was forced to stop in order to defend myself. My attention was distracted and by the time I could raise my eyes from my lifeless assailiant, he was gone. Lost to the dark waters. Shock consumed me as I stood there. Unable to raise my blade. Unable to take a step. Unable to cry out. Then... darkness. Nothing but sudden and utter blackness and when I once again opened my eyes to see the light, they told me the war was over. We had won. Sauron had been vanquished. Arda had been saved. A man. A mere mortal had been the one to deliver the winning blow. How foolish I had been to think it would be me.

There was no victory that day. No celebration. No songs of triumph sung in lilted voices along the pathway home. Not for us. Not for me. We rode back in silence. Battered and broken, one third of the force we had left with, while I wore an invisible crown that I had never imagined would ever be mine. One that I felt I hardly deserved. Perhaps that was why it weighed so heavily. Why it always has. Had it not been for my prodding and pushing we may have stayed out of the fray. Protecting our own borders. Our own realm. Instead of getting pulled into a battle of meddlers, graspers and the preponderant.

I made a vow that day. A vow to myself. Never would I ever lead my people to ruin. Not for glory. Not for loyalty. Not for charity. Never again. For it is only the dead and the reclusive who have seen the end of war.

[patheticallyinfatuatedwithu]

the wall between us (and the things i wanted to say), marsh danielle

as someone who does a lot of rock climbing, you just couldn't wrap your head around climbing this one.

marsh danielle was the definition of perfection in your eyes. she always had that bright smile that could rival the sun's, the welcoming aura she emits, that sweet, sweet smile of hers that manages to bring you falling on your knees every time. and most of all, the hand that reached in your chest and ripped your heart out to make it hers.

and sometimes, you think of how many collections of hearts she's made hers.

"hey, you running yet?" your friend asks besides you, approaching your slumped position. "not yet," you mumbled, she's not here yet.

"you won't be able to compete if you don't run any time sooner." she continues, "i don't care." what's the use if she's not here?

you heard a squeal erupt from the other side of the fence you leaned on, eyes turning glossy as you watched danielle walk towards her friend group with a boy's arm slung around her neck. "is that danielle's boyfriend?" you heard someone whisper. "yeah, i heard he confessed to her after he'd won the basketball finals."

of course she's into jocks, not into lame ass girls like you who climbs rocks to let off steam.

"isn't he a player?" another one whispered, "i hope she doesn't get hurt." i'd never hurt you.

"y/n!" you snap your head towards your friend's direction, her worried eyes meeting your glossy ones. "what?" your response left your mouth hushed and broken, hand in fists in hopes to stop it from quivering. "i heard he got together with her because of a bet." "what? that's terrible." sick son of a bitch. useless piece of trash.

"don't listen to them." she whispers, trying to coax you into calming down when all you wanted to do was burn the whole place down and leave her boyfriend to burn. her laughs echoed inside your brain which it registered as home, and you wanted to die there and then. no amount of training and height ever made this much damage on you, that you could feel your nails tearing through your flesh.

her boyfriend was the one that should be feeling the scorching fires of hell and screaming into the abyss, but he wasn't. instead, you were the one atoning his sin for him. never me.

your friend's name was called out by a teacher and she had to leave you begrudgingly, promising she'll be back as fast as she can. but you couldn't care less. was she her? no.

"hey, let's move towards the fence! it's starting to get a lot hotter here! it's shadier there." the hums of approvals within the group brushed your ear, and you heard her boyfriend's voice successfully erupt a giggle from her. "i'll see you later. take care!"

blood started to drip down your palm and into the soil to become one, your bitter tears following suit. you felt them sit right on the other side of the fence, and danielle's back pressing on your own. you remember her laughs, the days she'd cling onto your arm and hug you for dear life, and the day you decided to cut it off with her.

because the more you're with her, the more damage you got. the pieces of yourself you've had to pick up. and if you were to punch a mirror and get 7 years of bad luck, cutting ties off with her was a lifetime of that.

"he makes me feel fuzzy and warm." she says, "i like him a lot." voice like honey. if only you knew, dear sunshine.

eyes downcast and gloomy, lips chapped as you look up to meet her eyes. her hand reaching out for yours, and yours gently and gingerly reaching hers. a fuzzy and warm feeling swarmed your stomach as she pulled you up, and you almost melted into a puddle. "i'm danielle!" voice like honey. "y/n." voice like thunderstorm.

i'm sorry.

the fence that separated the two of you stood still in the midst of warm air mingling with your tear that caused them to fly and dissappear like you were to her that day. the fence that served as a wall between the two of you. the wall you could never climb. the wall you would never dare climb.

"i think i love him." my sunshine.

alas, she will never be yours.

broken records cross country got me thinking about this💀 this wasnt proofread sorry if this contains grammatical errors😭

[kylelover]

Hey sweetie<333 what about South Park Boys (main 4) with boyfriend?? 👀👀 Specialy when they are older and handsome?? Like everyone would like to be with them because they are cool 😎😎

Thank you love you <333

SOUTH PARK MAIN 4 WITH AN OLDER, POPULAR BOYFRIEND

Omg my first request! Hi Anon, love u too! Tell me if something here is wrong and I'll rewrite it<3

Also I haven't re-read this so sorry if there's any grammar mistakes (English isn't my first language...) enjoy!

STAN MARSH

You were famous in South Park for being extremely handsome.

Ever since you moved there, people seemed to treat you... differently. More... kinder. You knew it was because of your appearances and hated how no one liked the real you.

However, there was one boy who didn't get all the fuzz around you.

Stan Marsh.

You and him started dating after becoming close friends. You helped him overcome Wendy and were there when no one else wasn't.

And he saw the actual person behind this "pretty boy" persona. You spent a lot of time together and realised you had pretty similar tastes.

He started having feelings for you, which were starting to grow mutually.

When you started dating, oh boy. There were some... problems.

Every time Stan and you went on dates, people looked at him on disgust and to you with amazement.

People flirted with you, teased you and more.

Few months into your relationship you went over to Stans house and entered his room (which was normal for you since you hanged out all the time) and found him crying about how he's not enough for you.

You assured him that it was fine, and that he was the only one you loved. After few minutes (over 40) he calmed down and you kissed him softly to show him how much you adore him.

☆

Of course, you had secret admirers. They sent you flowers, chocolate and all of that stuff.

You just giggled softly everytime you got them, it was nice... but they werent gonna get you to date certain person... so you shared the candies with your partner:)

Now Stan jokes around about how he wants to have people to give him free chocolate! lol

KYLE BROFLOVSKI

Just like Stan, Kyle didn't really care about you at all. Yeah you were gorgeous, he'll admit that. But he never got to know you at all.

With all this people praising you, asking you out and all of that stuff, Kyle began thinking that maybe you were one of those popular greedy jerks.

That.. was until you two were partnered up for a science project.

You?? Were?? Actually?? Really?? Cool??

He was shocked at how nice you were. He was thinking that he'd have to make the project alone but you actually helped him!

Ever since then youve become friends and he started having a lil crush on you... after some months both of you started dating!

Kyle disliked of people who asked you out and had the audacity to do it in front of him, your own boyfriend!

He was so mad. You were only his. No one elses.

It got to the point where he was getting stressed over people looking at you both on the street.

I mean, yeah, who wouldn't fancy you? You're like the most awesome person in South Park.

Everytime he saw someone flirt with you he would grab your hand, kiss you or do things like it that makes clear both of you are dating.

He wanted to show you that he is worthy of your love and that even though hes not like all of those guys and girls wanting you, he still loves you with his whole soul!

So, my boy prepared a whole date for weeks in advance. It had to be perfect.

He took you to your favourite restaurant, to a walk on the park and then gifted you some chocolates and roses and took you to Starks Pond.

On there he confessed how insecure he was about people just drooling over your sight.

You told him it was fine and that he was probably your soul mate, how much you loved him and don't tell anyone... he almost cried.

Now you pass the time with your boyfriend in front of everyone, everytime someone tries to hype you up you turn them down:)

You both loved each other very much and wouldn't leave neither of you ever♡

ERIC CARTMAN

Cartman genuinely never knew you existed before Kenny mentioned your last instagram post. He showed it to Stans team and he thought that you were kind of hot (he would never admit it though)

Eric at first had a plan of revenge against someone, and it had to involve you... how you may ask?

Well, he asked you out in front of the whole class so you couldn't say no.

He actually started dating you for the popularity you had which helped him manipulate some people... after a while he actually started liking you??

He thought it was weird how you could be so nice to him when he never acted like that to you. Kind of makes him happy to know that even if everyone hates him he's still got you.

And if someone tries to flirt with you, or even touch you... uh, oh.

Once, some kid from a year below you sended you a love letter... next day he went missing.

You never knew why this happened??? It was so weird.

You never suspected of your boyfriend, well, sometimes.

Even like that, you still love him and defend him from the haters<3

He also shows you off to all the people he knows and about how he's dating south parks most handsome man!!

KENNY MCCORMICK

Kenny to you was a normal out of a bunch. He's your best friend, he helped you when you were at your worst and you helped him with his problems <3

Kenny actually didn't get any hate or anything at all. People thought he was like a second version of you.

When you guys started dating, lord, it was Tweek and Craig all over again.

Posters all over the town of fanarts of you and your boyfriend, was kind of uncomfortable to be honest.

Everytime you passed through a really... suspicious artwork... he turned and smirked at you.

You loved when he did that lmao

Either way, people simped for both of you, you didn't really care, neither did Kenny. Except when that day came.

A really rich and famous guy asked you out in front of everyone. You, of course, declined his offer but he kept insisting.

Kenny warned him to leave you alone... which he didn't.

Let's just say the rich man got some bad bruises that day.

Like Cartman, he always showed you off to his friends.

"Guys, have you met my super amazing and hot boyfriend?" "Kenny we know-"

He loved you so much and so did you<3

[lulu24784]

washing machine heart | part 9

"I know who you pretend I am."

[AO3 Link]

previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: | You're absolutely infatuated with Stan Marsh and have even started dating him! It should be a dream come true, but the truth is, he's only with you to make Wendy Testaburger jealous. To help you work through your emotions, you turn to Kenny McCormick, your best friend.

pairings: | kenny mccormick x fem! reader ; stan marsh x fem! reader ; wendy testaburger x stan marsh

cws: | angst, drug use/drug mentions, explicit language, sexual content, unrequited love, mental health themes / sh, violence

everyone is aged up to be 18+

tag list @c1rice @ayoitsmarie33

Time in class seemed to drag on forever. A feeling of restlessness pervaded your body as you sat in your seat. Perhaps it was due to the way the morning had unfolded, or maybe it was simply because the topic of the lecture was dreadfully dull. You simply wished time would just speed up. You wanted to get as far away from school as possible so you could hide under your blankets and ignore the world for a while.

As you were daydreaming, not necessarily paying much attention to class, you caught a glimpse of Wendy's watchful gaze darting towards you every now and then. You wondered if she was checking to make sure you were okay. A tiny smile adorned your lips as the idea crossed your mind. She was so genuinely kind, it was hard to believe. This entire time you thought she was a horrible monster, plotting to take your “love” from you… But she was just another ordinary girl. The fact that she and her friend group approached you to hang out with them... To be friends?! You felt ecstatic. Amidst the shitty circumstances that have been hanging over you lately, it was certainly the one silver lining that shone through. You smiled a little more to yourself and started doodling on your paper, immersing yourself in thought again.

The lunch bell finally sounded, signalling the end of what felt like an eternity. You hurriedly gathered your books and headed for your locker. Running down the crowded hallway, you felt the weight of your books as you dodged other students and bumped into a couple you chose to ignore. You raced to your locker and turned its combination lock in a matter of seconds. With a sigh of relief, you slid your textbooks into the locker and closed it. 

To say that you were overjoyed at the opportunity to sit with the girls would be an understatement... You remembered being envious of them when you were younger when you would see them all together, but you were too shy and unsure of yourself to approach them and ask to join them.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves and then headed towards the cafeteria.

It hadn't even been a few minutes until you were almost at the cafeteria when you heard a large commotion down the hallway. As people rushed by you towards the noise, you flashed a glance in that direction. The crowd was big and you couldn’t make out what exactly was going on. You continued your trek towards the door, assuming it was probably some of the freshmen fighting.

In an instant, you saw Wendy, Bebe, Heidi, and all of Craig's crew dash out of the room and join the crowd of people. Wendy's gaze was drawn to you, and she rushed back to you, seizing your hand and tugging you along. You stumbled at the unexpected encounter.

“H-Hey!” You didn't budge an inch, staring at Wendy with an expression of concern etched over your face.

“[Name]! It’s Stan and Kenny!” Wendy spoke frantically, still pulling on you, urging you to move to the group with her.

The ever-familiar static buzzed in your ears as your feet started to move on their own, leading you to follow Wendy into the crowd. You elbowed your way to the front by pushing and barging through the other people who were chanting, “Fight fight fight!” 

Stan's fist connected with Kenny's cheek, causing one of his front teeth to fly out. You stood there frozen, watching the horrific blow. The sight of blood on the floor caused your eyes to widen. The blonde swore before lunging at the other and slamming him into the locker.

“You fuckin’ dick! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“What the fuck is your problem, Kenny!? It’s none of your fucking business!”

“How fuckin’ could you?! You knew how much she liked you!”

Your breath seized in your throat, your heart slamming against your chest as you realized why they were arguing. You just stood there, stunned, your brain trying furiously to convince you to move. To get you to stop them.

After taking a few blows from Kenny, Stan finally decided to fight back and ultimately knocked Kenny down to the ground. Stan's face contorted in anger as he delivered a forceful stomp to Kenny's stomach. The blond recoiled in pain, curling up in defence.

“Just fucking stay out of it!” Stan shouted, kicking Kenny again.

“You drunk piece of shit.” As the tension between them escalated, Kenny made his move, swiftly grabbing Stan's leg and bringing him down to the ground. He wasted no time in delivering a series of punches to Stan. His hand gripped Stan’s shirt and he raised his fist, getting ready to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

As soon as the shock left your body, you ran out. Your hand clasped onto Kenny's arm, halting his relentless assault on the battered and bruised boy next to him.

As you locked eyes with Kenny, his widened gaze spoke volumes, his face covered in blood and bruises. You scowled at him, tears dripping freely down your cheeks. With a swift movement, Wendy appeared by your side, yanking Stan away from Kenny as a precautionary measure. 

“Kenny… Wh...What the hell are you doing?” You sobbed, your knees collapsing next to him as you hugged him tightly and made him wince. Slowly, his limbs encircled you, embracing you tightly.

“I couldn’t help it…” He whispered, nuzzling his face into your shoulder, leaving stains of blood on your clothes.

“Stupid.” 

With a graceful motion, you rose to your feet, extending your hand to help Kenny up alongside you. As you slipped an arm around his hip, he steadied himself by draping an arm around your shoulder. As you glanced towards Stan and Wendy, a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your lips while she gently cleaned the blood off his face.

You caught Stan's gaze as he briefly shifted his attention towards you. His face contorted in a second of apparent guilt, and he cast his gaze downward.

“[Name]...” Stan’s voice was hoarse. “I’m really sorry. I keep fucking things up.”

“Fuck yeah, you do.” The moment Kenny piped out, you gave him a gentle elbow to the side, causing him to double over a little.

“Stan…” You started, a gentle exhale slipping from your mouth. “Just… Get some help, okay?”

You averted your gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes, and gave Kenny a light nudge, signaling him to start walking with you. You assumed Wendy and Kyle would look after Stan, so you left them to it. Whilst you, on the other hand, were faced with the task of dealing with your best friend.

You led him down the hallway, gently guiding him to the secure protection of the nurse's office. With a gentle hand, you helped him settle onto the bed, ready to receive the care he needed.

You let out a deep breath as you started tending to his wounds, carefully applying an alcohol solution to his cuts. He winced and muttered a few choice words under his breath.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold still.” Your brows furrowed as you held onto Kenny's arm, diligently wiping away the blood and grime from his face. Your gaze fixated on his lips, recalling the moment when Stan's fist smashed into his jaw, sending one of his teeth flying. “God… I don’t even know how to fix this…” You heaved a sigh and scanned the room for the school nurse, but you didn't see her. With a stern expression, you swiftly fetched a cup of water for Kenny to rinse his mouth with.

After swishing the water about, he stood up and spat it into the closest sink, sending bloody water pouring down the drain. With a quick motion, he settled himself on the bed and gazed up at you with a pair of innocent, pleading eyes, fully aware of the trouble he had landed himself in.

“I told you to leave it alone.” Your arms swung to your sides and your hands balled into fists as you shouted. “Why did you do that?!”

“I told you... I couldn’t help it.” Kenny muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting away from your enraged expression. It broke his heart to see you so upset with him. “I couldn’t just sit around, letting him treat you like shit, and just take it.”

“Kenny, it was MY relationship! I can handle this myself!”

“Clearly you can’t!” Kenny stood, towering above you. 

As your pupils widened, you took a cautious step backward.

“You’ve been a mess since you started datin’ the guy! You’re already stupidly shy and insecure about yourself, you think I’m just gonna let him fuck up the little confidence you’ve been getting lately?!” Kenny's brows knit together, his arms reaching out to grasp your shoulders firmly, compelling you to meet his gaze.

His words stung.

Your expression changed and your hands loosened as you peered up into Kenny's eyes with apprehension. His gaze softened, and he moved his palm to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb. The sudden movement elicited a delicate blush on your cheeks.

“You deserve better. You’re not as bad a person as you seem to think you are… You just gotta…  Focus on yourself a bit more. Do things that make you happy. Fuck datin’.”

You sighed and gave a small nod while dabbing the tear that was about to spill from your eye and down your cheek.  “Why is it so hard though? Sometimes it’s all I can think about. Nobody wants to date me, so I must be ugly or weird.” You spoke haphazardly, revealing your own self-doubt.

“And then, I couldn’t help but get so jealous of Wendy… But she’s actually so nice. That just makes me even uglier. Y-You know? It felt so good having Stan want me, even if it was just to make himself feel better or whatever he was doing... I don’t even know.” With a heavy heart, you let out a deep sigh and covered your face with your hands, seeking solace in their comfort. “I feel so hopeless sometimes.”

Kenny brushed your hair softly with one hand as he drew you into a warm embrace with the other. As he leaned in, his chin found a comfortable perch atop your head, and you nestled your face into the warm embrace of his chest.

“You’re not ugly, so shut up. You are kinda weird, but that’s okay. Makes you fun.” He laughed a little. “I get how you feel, about feelin’ wanted. It is nice… But you don’t need to date someone to be happy. You’ll find someone eventually that loves ya just the way you are and I bet it’ll feel even better...” Kenny's voice was but a mere whisper, his cheeks blushing a soft shade of pink and his heart racing. “Just do you and it’ll happen naturally. I promise.”

“Thanks, Kenny…”

With a bittersweet smile, you enveloped Kenny in a warm embrace, holding him tightly. As you held each other securely, time seemed to stand still, but you relished every moment of the embrace. The hug was a blissful escape from reality, a moment where nothing else mattered but the warmth of each other's touch. 

You felt so grateful to have a friend like Kenny by your side.