#But he’s too scared they’ll say something about it

[chaosduckies]

I remember in a previous post you mentioned Ryker had a boyfriend but they broke up do to reasons. Will we ever get more on that?

Yup! Ryker has had a boyfriend before and they did sadly break up. (They were both giants) I was originally planning on writing a little one shot of everything, but I barely have time to write now TwT so I’ll just answer it here! :D (it’s a tiny bit long)

Yes, Ryker has had a boyfriend before Nathan! It was a very unhealthy relationship between the two, with the other not reciprocating feelings for Ryker and when they had, it made Ryker very uncomfortable. (Sexual stuff, they were very manipulative, uncaring) The two had been dating for a couple months, almost a year, and eventually Rykers boyfriend had enough of Ryker. They complained that he was getting tired of Ryker bothering him and that he was just too touchy (hugs, little kisses, holding hands nothing sexual) for his taste. Even though Ryker was usually quiet and caring and didn’t even bother him.

So the guy breaks up with Ryker and leaves him in a little mess. Ryker has a hard time getting back into things and finds out his ex moved somewhere else. But of course that break up changed him, which is why Ryker is always so cautious with touching people, especially Nathan since he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable (little does he know Nathan is touch starved and loves all the hugs, kisses, and being with Ryker as much as possible)

So pretty much Rykers love language is physical touch! He just likes knowing the feeling of someone being there for him and same goes for the opposite as well!

If you would like me to write out a part please let me know! I’ll try my best to get it out as fast as possible if you would like to see a one shot!

Thank you for the ask anon! :D

[solace-seekers]

screaming into the void <3

[ghostedbunnie]

trouble comes in fours; simon's ver

you are trying to scare off your ex and who better to send him running than a masked burly guy you've met at a bar and who bulldozed his way into your bed.

simon riley x fem!reader nsfw, minors do not interact!! warnings: dub-con (drinking), fingering (fem!receiving), car sex, exhibitionism, oral (fem!receiving), doggy style, creampie, manhandling

prologue // other versions (TBA)

Everything that happened after Johnny invited you over (which really meant he pulled you by the hand before you could back out) was a blur. You found yourself sandwiched between the masked guy and the pretty boy who introduced himself as Johnny, speaking with a sexy, thick Scottish accent. You couldn't help but steal glances at the masked guy. He said nothing, merely dipped his chin in greeting and met your gaze with an unnerving stare.

From this close-up, you noticed parts of his blonde buzzcut where he had nicked himself with the razor. He had done it himself without a mirror, resulting in some slightly uneven spots. On someone else, this might make them appear unkempt, but for this giant of a man, it seemed just right—almost endearing.

Everything about him screams danger. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you're already sweating because he and Johnny feel like walking furnaces. When you try to pull off your hoodie, the alcohol courses through you, and your head spins. As you finally manage to take the garment off, you accidentally grab onto something solid and hard for support. Too late, you realize that your hand has latched onto the blond's muscular thigh. You immediately let go, as if you’ve been burned by the touch.

You almost swear you hear him snort under his mask. When he finally speaks, your thighs clench. “I think it’s time for you to head home, doll. Come.”

It sounds as if he is talking to a dog, and you feel a sense of indignation rising within you. "I'm not a dog to give orders to. Besides, I don't even know your name."

He rolls his eyes at you. "Simon. That better now?"

"Not really. How do I know you're not some serial killer?" That gets some laughs out of the rest of the table.

He leans down closer to your ear, and you can almost sense the smirk in his voice when he says, "You don't. It adds to the thrill." It could be the alcohol coursing through your veins or the way his voice, with its rough British accent, sends shivers down your spine, but you find yourself agreeing. In some twisted way, it does add to it.

You discover that Simon doesn’t actually drink; the beverage you saw in front of him was just plain water. When he drives you home, he looks absolutely ridiculous in your small car, taking up all the space. He grumbles about your seat being so close to the steering wheel. When you ask him how the other guys are getting home, he simply replies, “They’ll walk,” along with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

He doesn't touch the radio, and you're too nervous to reach for it. You soon realize that he's not much of a conversationalist. He only answers your questions but never offers any additional information that would prompt you to ask more. After you've exhausted all possible conversation starters, all you can do is sit and look out the window. You swear you see him chuckle at your fidgeting whenever the silence becomes oppressive. As you finally arrive home, you can hardly wait to bolt out of the car. The tension is so thick that you need some fresh air to breathe properly, trying to push away thoughts of the consequences of your actions.

Before you can act on those thoughts, a heavy hand grips the back of your neck. "You think too loud. Stop it." A retort dies in your throat as you're pulled into him so quickly that your head spins. You barely register him removing his mask; you can’t even enjoy the fact that his face is finally visible. He latches onto you with the hunger of a man starved, kissing you deeply and urging you to stick out your tongue more.

Just by kissing him, you can feel the scar running through his lips. There's another scar, one that you noticed before, that runs through his eyebrow. When he finally pulls away for a moment, you see that his nose was definitely broken at some point, and he never bothered to get it fixed. You can't help but wonder what it would feel like to sit on his face.

Unceremoniously, he pulls you over the center console and onto his lap, which causes you to squeal in surprise. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he manhandles you into position, making you think about how your ex couldn't even carry two bags of groceries without complaining about the weight.

Something must have revealed your train of thought, or perhaps it was simply the fact that you were still lost in your thoughts, because Simon growls in response. You can feel the sound reverberating through your hands, which rest on his impressive pecs.

"Stop. Thinking." Every word is punctuated by a grind of his hips. To his great amusement, your mind goes blank immediately.

He guides your hands to his zipper straining under his hard-on. "What if someone sees?"

He only replies with "They'll get a hell of a show then." before he drags the pads of his fingers over the wet patch on your panties underneath your skirt that has already ridden up to your hips. He pulls the crotch of your panties to the side and pushes up to a knuckle, wasting no time and making you cling to him for dear life. After he adds another and starts hitting all the spots that make you whimper into his thick neck, he chuckles. It sounds a little mean but it still shoots right to your pussy anyway. "Finally shut that brain of yours up, doll."

He pulls up your shirt with his free hand and drags the cups of your bra up as well before sucking a nipple into his mouth. In reaction you push further into him, making him hum. He ends up alternating between bites to the side of your tits and sucking angry red marks into your collarbones and neck. Every part of you will be sore tomorrow but that's something you'll deal with later.

He lets you ride his fingers, scratching at his back and shoulders, fisting his hoodie and when you finally let go and the orgasm makes your eyes roll back into your head, he pulls you back into him for a kiss. It's messy, all teeth and tongue. When he pulls back there is a string of saliva connecting you two and if your mind wasn't currently wiped by the mind-blowing orgasm you would be embarrassed by the pornographic imagery. Simon forces you to look at him, his big, rough fingers holding up your chin to make you meet his gaze. You finally see the color of his eyes: brown, with pupils dilated wide. "We're nowhere near done," he says.

Simon is a whirlwind; he makes decisions, and you find yourself following them as if they were orders. He doesn’t wait for an invitation; instead, he stands behind you, his chest against your back, providing support as your legs feel like jelly. The drinks you had are wearing off now.

When you take too long to get out of your shoes, Simon tosses you over his shoulder. "You're taking too damn long," he says. You give him directions to your bedroom, and before long, you're dropped onto the sheets. You’re about to call him a caveman for his methods, but the sight of him pulling off his hoodie, revealing he’s not wearing anything underneath, leaves you speechless.

His skin is pale, but you can still see angry-looking scars on his torso and arms. Some of them resemble cigarette burns, while others look like bullet wounds that didn't heal properly. All of that should make you reconsider the kind of danger you’ve just invited into your bed, but as your gaze wanders lower, following his blond happy trail, you find yourself unable to think about the consequences.One of his hands is tattooed up to his elbow, and you can't really tell the design in the low light but it only adds to his appeal. Something possesses you to act, you end up reaching for his zipper before he can and he only gives you a wolfish grin before you pull him out.

He's not wearing any underwear. Your mouth dries up at the sight of him. That's never going to fit. Only after hearing him laugh did you realize that you had said that out loud. He was already hovering above you, caging you in against the sheets. "We'll make it fit."

Your skirt and shirt with your bra soon follow his pants and are lost to the shadows of your bedroom floor. Your eyes are drawn to his dick, you can't help it. He's big and thick you can already imagine the stretch, there's a vein on the underside that makes you wanna follow it with your tongue all the way to the top to catch the pre-cum already gathered there but he doesn't let you. Instead, he drags you to the edge of the bed and throws your legs over his shoulders. You almost want to argue that you hadn't showered, it's been a long day, and he doesn't have to do this but one look at the intense stare makes you swallow all of that down. You don't want to mention that you've never had anyone go down on you before. Your ex-boyfriend wasn't one to reciprocate.

There is no time to think about how miserable your sex life might have been. A bite to the inside of your thigh serves as a warning, both to stop thinking and not close your legs. In your defense, you didn't even realize you were doing it. His eyes are almost unnervingly focused on you before he dives in. He's always been a bit of a messy eater; the sounds he makes in the back of his throat are nothing short of animalistic. If you weren't shaking from his ministrations, you might think he's enjoying himself even more than you are.

He only moves a bit to lock eyes with you and tell you how sweet you are, juices dripping down his stubbled jaw. "Come on now, gotta make sure you're ready f'r me, doll." He alternates fucking you on his tongue and sucking on your clit, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to keep them open for him. He's only barely controlling his strength so you know there will be bruises on your hips and thighs tomorrow but you can't bring yourself to care especially not this close to another orgasm. He can feel you twitching, getting closer and closer. There's a second of fear that he'll stop but he doesn't. Instead, he adds a finger and pushes on that one spot that made you see stars. That was all it took to wring the second orgasm of the night out of you.

Boneless, you let go of the sheets you were gripping. You only get a second of rest before he's repositioning you on the bed again; it would be infuriating if you could actually move properly.

He presses you into the mattress with his body, his scarred lips brushing next to your ear. "This will be a rough ride for you, don't say I didn't warn you." that's all you get before he bullies the ruddy head of his cock inside of you. You have half a mind to pull away but his weight keeps you in place, when he finally bottoms out there are tears in the corner of your eyes from the stretch, he only drops a few open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders before he rises to his knees and pulls your ass to him.

Everything after that is a blur, you're going crazy from the echo of the slapping of skin against skin, and your arms gave out on you midway so all you can do is scrunch the sheets in your hands and moan out his name like a prayer, to slow down? To go faster? You don't know. If he set out to make sure you can't think he achieved it. Your brain is fuzzy, your legs are shaking and a knot is unwinding in your lower stomach again. It's all too much and not enough at the same time. One of his hands finds your clit and it's over for you. "Come f'r me, doll. That's it." You can hear him hiss from the way you tighten around him as you come. He doubles down chasing his own orgasm now, balls slapping against your pussy even harder. There is a split second of clarity that he didn't use a condom (even though you are on a pill) but as soon as the thought registers he's filling you up with a groan before again squishing you underneath him, cock still lodged deep inside you, keeping his spend from leaking out. When you try to move from underneath him, he only chuckles before his hands find your tits and knead them, making you moan. It will be a long night for you. You've invited a ghost into your bed, and now you must deal with the consequences.

The picture you took with a large black shadow looming over you in the mirror, with a tattooed hand resting on your neck, might help you get rid of your ex who keeps creeping on your social media posts.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, bad politics, chemically induced heat? institutionalized reader, doctors, wack rehabilitation program, ish brainwashing

fem reader

You’d been difficult to tame. Or, he just didn’t have the time to do it properly—too busy at work and too tired when coming home. He’d wanted a sweet Omega, one who did house chores when he was away and had dinner ready for him when he got off.

You’d looked real sweet at the auction—a perfectly beautiful Omega. You weren’t cheap either—everyone had made their bids, but he’d been the one to walk away with the prize in the end. He can’t say he regrets it—he still has a fondness for you even though you’re not what he’d thought he’d purchased.

You just need some behavioral correcting. And so, he put you in an Omega institution.

It had been recommended to him. It’s not so uncommon, he later found out while reading up on the place. Auctioned Omegas tend to end up a little rough around the edges—here, at the institution, they’ll smooth those edges right out.

Sadly, there’s been a rise in unstable Omegas as of late—he reads on their website. It’s a misguided revolution taking place in several auction homes that’s to blame for it—circling modern ideas of liberation, equality, andindependence. It all stems from a place of fear, the website explains in detail—Omegas seek to stand on their own in the world. Cooped up in auction homes, they fear they’ll never see the outside without a mate—and as the years dwindle on and their prospects become slimmer, they start fantasizing about doing it on their own.

He feels sorry for you while reading it. Your attitude makes more sense now, knowing you’ve been fed a bunch of deluded nonsense. He can’t blame you for getting swept up in it—you’re a little younger than him, after all. But the silly idea of a lone Omega isn’t just laughable but dangerous. It was best of him to make sure any such notions were quashed—for your own good—before you end up doing something you might regret. 

And it seemed this place was the place to do it. In fact, many of his fellow Alphas had done the same, and they’d all sung this particular institution’s praises.

Oh, but it’s been hard. You wouldn’t talk to him much or even keep him in good company at home, but still, he misses your presence. The house seems so empty without your little everyday spats to keep him on his toes.

You’ve been away for a whole month now, and he hasn’t even been allowed to visit, not once. It would ruin the process, he was told. But he’s been assured that the caretakers there have been making great progress with you. He should be able to come pick you up as soon as the start of next week.

He remembers having been skeptical about leaving you here as he walks to announce himself at the help desk. The facility is pristine and sterile—very impersonal, just like any other hospital. He wonders if you’ve been scared. After all, it’s most likely your skittish nature that makes you so hostile, joined with misgivings making you confused. It can’t be easy. He hopes the doctors here have helped you sort things out. Maybe you won’t be so frustrated all the time.

He was led to a private room where he could complete some paperwork for your release while waiting for your discharge. He made quick work of it. A door opens, and your doctor comes through, and then, following right behind him, there’s you—his pretty little Omega.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you quite so subdued—not even when you’d been caged at the auction, there’d still been some fight to your spirit. Now, not so much—taking quiet and careful steps with your head hung, looking at your slipper-clad feet.

You pick your face up when you recognize the scent, and then you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost. Wide-eyed and lock-jawed—your breathing picks up rapidly, and his name drops from your lips like a pained whimper, followed by a sudden burst of tears and a rush toward him. “You came back—” 

You’re on him before he has the time to blink—pressed against him tightly, skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart, with your face buried in the grove of his neck. Your claws are slightly drawn, but in no effort to hurt him—rather, to cling to him. It’s not any normal hug—not that you’d ever given him one before—but even so, you’re swaddledaround his neck with your legs crossed at his back.

He’s taken aback by the behavior—it isn’t like you at all. He remembers your aversion to his touch, how you’d regard him like a plague, snarling each time he’d get too close. This was beyond new.

But you leave him no opening to comment either, too busy rambling in meek little whispers pressed into his skin, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—I knew you’d come back—knew you hadn’t forgotten about me. I’m sorry I was being difficult, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ve forgiven me, right? You’ll take me home now, right? Please—”

He’d never been in a position to soothe you before—you’d never wanted it. He doesn’t know what else to do but smooth a hand over your hunched and shuddering back, shushing you like he’d seen mothers do with their sobbing children. You didn’t look much different right now.

“Yeah… we’re going home,” he assures you. 

You hug him a little tighter as a sob wreaks through you.

This isn’t exactly what he prepared himself for. He thought you’d be... well, he doesn’t really know... nicer?Perhaps. Agreeable. Not so violent. But not this—this broken little ball of shivering sniffles holding onto him as if the world was about to end.

He swallows thickly, then looks at your doctor—he doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seems utterly unfazed.

It makes him wonder, a little warily, “What have you done with her?”

The doctor seems more than happy to explain—it’s only customary, after all. He’d paid a lot to have you rehabilitated here.

“Each omega requires special treatment suited to them,” the doctor explains. “Yours was particularly unruly.”

You flinch. He feels your claws dig deeper, but they’re too blunt to draw blood and too weak to hurt anyway. But even so, your sentiments are more than clear—you fear this doctor with your entire being.

“We’ve found that in the case of hostile Omegas, the most effective way to correct their behavior is to keep them isolated and let their own instincts remind them of what they need,” the doctor continues. “Of course, we’ve taken protective measures to ensure she wouldn’t harm herself in said isolation and have fed her accordingly at scheduled times every day.” He smiles. “We can assure you she’s been perfectly safe in the pillow room.”

He lifts the silver suitcase he’d been holding, props it up, and pops the lid, revealing a row of ten syringes—a hot pink fluid within.

“This is our recommended medicine.”

You shudder even more, unrelenting in your grip around him—hanging on so tightly as if you fear someone would come and pry you off him at any moment.

“Give one to her if and when she acts up. More instructions come with the case—please read through them carefully.”

He eyes the syringes with furrowed brows, picking one up to inspect it further. They don’t look like anything he’s read about in the brochure or on the website—perhaps a brand new method for treating Omegas? This is a cutting-edge institution, after all.

He can’t guess what they must do to make you cower like that. The spit-spire he left here a month ago wouldn’t cry over a tiny needle.

“What are they?” he asks.

The doctor’s smile stretches. “Nothing dangerous. All natural hormone components.”

He’s not sure what that entails, and so he quirks a brow while laying the syringe back in its designated mold. “And what does that mean?”

The doctor clasps the case shut and hands it over to him while explaining plainly, “They induce heat.” 

He accepts the case before his ears have the chance to draw back at his words. Now that explains your sudden clinginess—why you’re so frigid.

The doctor adds, “Poor thing’s spent quite a few alone in the pillow room, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to finally be by her mate’s side again.”

He’s speechless.

Spending heat alone, without any relief, is a form nothing short of torture. If he’d known that was what they were doing to you, he wouldn’t have sent you here in the first place. He very nearly chews the doctor out for using such barbaric methods but thinks better of it. If anything were to be done, it would be through a well-worded and filed complaint and a vow to never do business with them ever again.

Though, coming home with you by his side, still clinging to him… he can’t argue with the results. 

So he doesn’t complain. He just enjoys your new and improved wellness and promises never to use those injections on you himself. Yes, they’d forego their expiration date soon enough, dusting away in the back of his closet. He’d never ever put you through something so horrid. That’s his pledge as your mate.

Oh, but then... the honeymoon phase dissolves. And you return to your old habits of teeth and claws.

It’s never-ending barking with you all over again—you want to leave, you want to be alone, you don’t want him to touch you, you blame him for what you went through at the institution, you hate him for it, and you’ll never ever forgive him.

He doesn’t want to—he swears while holding the syringe to your thigh where he’s strapped you down in bed with ropes and knots—he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t, but you leave him no choice when you act like a wild animal. 

The first time is always the hardest. But he doesn’t leave you alone in a room like they did at the institution—no, he helps you through it. It’s not torture this way. It’s just… well, what can he say? It’s just a little reminder to get you back on your good behavior.

You would rather stay here than get sent back to the pillow room, right?

It’s all too easy the second time around even though it shouldn’t have been. It was only a day of small uproars, nothing all that bad—refusing to greet him at the door, to make dinner, to fix his plate, to wash dishes, to come to bed. He’d allowed you days like that in the past, but this time, he’d felt himself gravitate towards his so-called last resort once again. 

Still, he’d felt a little guilty about it. 

It would be easier to refrain if it didn’t work like a charm.

Now, he goes and finds the briefcase at the drop of a hat. Say something snarky or look at him funny. Give him any opportunity, and he’ll abuse it—even things you don’t even mean to do, like burning the food, shrinking his clothes in the wash, or forgetting to make the bed in the morning. He’s on you with the syringe deep in your flesh before you can even mouth the words “I’m sorry—”

You’re limp and sweat-drenched after a few hours. He spoons you as the spasms continuously ricochet through you—his spent leaking down your thighs. Even after several rounds, the hormones are still brewing up a bad storm within your gut, thundering in your heart as its lightning zips along your limbs. Your head is a rainy cloud—heavy and full yet soft like cotton.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—” you mumble between labored breaths, not entirely sure what error you’d made this time, shivering against his warm chest as he cups your breast in one big hand and your swollen cunt in the other.

“I know, I know it was, baby,” he coos. “But you need to be more mindful—can’t be making so many mistakes all the time.” His lips brush your skin as he purrs, placing small pecks against your cheek and neck. “How can I trust you with my pups if you’re gonna be such a scatterbrain, hm?”

The mention of pups makes something roar more ferociously in your underbelly, and you whimper meekly in return. “I’m sorry—I’ll do better.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll get there, sweetie.”

The storm within crackles, rumbling with a deepening hunger. Even though you feel battle-worn and ever ready for the sweet escape of sleep, there’s something even needier and heedless that makes your body feel all but set ablaze.

You’ve cum so many times already, but it’s still not enough—it’s never enough. It takes everything in you to make sense of his words—to act civil even when all you want is to jump his bones—make him fuck you until your fever breaks, then allow you rest.

But act in any way out of turn, and he’ll only drag this out. Be sweet, you remind yourself—sugar, syrup, honeycomb—sweet and soft like velvet—no teeth or claws or growling. No matter what, don’t let the animal out of the cage.

“No matter how many lessons it’ll take…” he murmurs. “I’m here to help.”

“Thank you—” you wince while rubbing your thighs together—grinding against his hand in desperation. “Can you… can we—”

He chuckles fondly, feeling you rub your ass back against his crotch wantingly. “Oh? Another round so soon?” 

You bite your lip at his teasing. Far beyond proud to not be begging, “Yes, please—pretty, pretty please—”

The sweet warble in your voice is so pitiful and cute—he can’t help the smile it brings him. “Alright, honey,” he hums while shifting, getting up with a hearty sigh, then leaning over you to give your pleading little pout a kiss. He feeds you his next words with a grin on his face, “Let’s see about that needy pussy of yours.”

He spreads and shimmies himself between your aching thighs, nice and snug against the weeping little thing between them—looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smug smile that makes you feel like the most hopeless little Omega in the world.

He places another kiss upon your forehead—dwarfing your hand in his big one, braiding your fingers together while the other carries his meaty cock, holding it steady up to your fluttering and glossy slit. 

The size never fails to make you squirm as you look down at it—wondering why you crave it so badly when it only serves to make your body twist and scream from the stretch it gives you.

 “Don’t worry, sweetie,” he soothes the tiny cry that cracks from your throat once he starts easing the length inside the snug comforts of your walls. “Your Alpha’s here to make it all better.”

♡ BNHA – old man Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Daichi, Ushijima ♡ AOT – Erwin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[darkbluekies]

Yo hear me out

Ludwig reaches the age to find a bride. A ball is hosted and women are invited. Darling gets scared and gets flashbacks of her time and doesnt attend.

Here we go again

Yandere!king x fem!reader, yandere!prince, yandere???princess

Summary: it's time for the crown prince to find a wife, but it is more complicated because of his family's disturbing history

Warnings: violence, trauma from earlier ball, mother scared of her own child, conservative views, twisted family

Word count: 1.7k

Read this oneshot to get a better understanding

It’s normal for girls to have one, but Edmund has insisted that Ludwig should have one too. He needs to be put out in society, to find a queen worthy of the Vesanus-house. You doubt any one deserves to be in this house. They deserve so much better. 

All noble families and aristocracy have been invited in hopes of finding a wife for the future king … or what is left of it. You have no desire to join. It all is too similar to that ball — the one where Edmund decided you were going to be his. When many of your family friends died. When many of your personal friends died. The blood bath was a tsunami, and had given you nightmares for months. You have learned to love him. It’s not like you’ve had any other choice but to accept him. 

You can’t see this ball ending in any other way than it did that night.

“Come on, darling”, Edmund says as he walks into the room. “People are asking for you. You have to come now.”

“I’m not going out there”, you reply shortly, feeling panic set in your body. 

You’re not even wearing the right clothes. Dressed in your nightgown, sitting on the bed. You haven’t planned on leaving any time soon. The mere thought of entering the ball room makes your skin crawl. You haven’t been in there since that night. You’re not planning to either. 

“You have to”, Edmund says, walking closer to the bed.

You can’t control it anymore. “No! I’ll never go in there again!””

He stops. He isn’t used to people telling him ‘no’, and you can’t help but feel a bit cocky about it. 

“If you’re not there, people will talk!” Edmund insists. “They’ll talk about you more than of Ludwig and that will defeat the entire point of the ball!”

“I’m not going out there and I’ll take whatever punishment you come up with because I refuse!” you say through gritted teeth, even though you want nothing more than to scream at him. “It’s exactly like that night! I know that something will happen! He’s just like you.”

You hate to admit it, but Ludwig scares you. Your own child scares you. 

Edmund sighs and nods slowly. 

“Okay, I get it”, he says. 

You don’t look at him. 

“I’ll let you stay here”, he says. “You don’t have to come with me. Get some rest, okay, darling?”

You nod shortly.

“I’ll come check on you every now and then”, he says.

“Okay.”

Edmund walks over to you, cups your cheeks and kisses you gently. He gives you a small smile before he walks out and closes the door behind him, returning to the ball. Maybe this is for the better, he thinks. If you’re in the bedroom, no one will be able to put their filthy eyes on you.

“Father!” Ludwig says loudly to be heard over the crowd of laughing people. “Where is she? Where is mother?”

“She’s not feeling well”, he lies to not cause suspicion among the guests. “She’s resting.”

Ludwig scoffs. Resting? During his debutante ball?

“Not on my fucking watch”, he mutters and makes his way out of the ball room. 

He storms down the great corridors, getting further away from the music and laughter. The dark corridors are colder than the heated ballroom. He marshes towards the king’s and queen’s chamber with an anger roaring in his chest. He doesn’t bother knocking as he enters. You look up at him from the bed, a look of shock and confusion. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ludwig spits and stops right in front of you. “Why aren’t you out there celebrating me? This is a gigantic day for me, mother!”

“I know, Ludwig, but I don’t feel well about it”, you mumble uncomfortably and avoid his intensive eyes. 

The same eyes as his father’s. 

“Because father fucked up?” he scoffs and presses his hands to his chest. “How's that my problem? Why can’t you support me?”

Because you’re like him. 

Ludwig knows about that night. He knows everything. Edmund hasn't understood why he should hide it when it's a big part of the family history.

“I’m sorry”, you say. “I have to rest.”

Ludwig doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t hesitate, before he grabs your wrist and yanks you up from the bed. A painful wave shoots through your arm. He’s holding your wrist in a hard, tight grip that is sure to leave behind bruises. He drags you out of the room, out into the big corridor. 

“Ludwig, stop!” you exclaim. 

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t answer, as if he hasn't heard you. You look around for anything to help you. Your eyes land on a maid carrying table cloths. 

“Get the king!” you plead. 

You continue to fight against Ludwig until Edmund storms over. He ran directly from the stood the second the maid reached him.

“Let her go this instant!” he orders. 

And Ludwig does. You fall down on your knees, clutching your hurt hand to your chest. Your entire body is trembling.

“Have you no shame?!” Edmund roars. “Your mother is in a nightgown! Should the entire aristocracy see her in this state, do you think?”

Ludwig’s ears have gone red. It’s extraordinary, you think, how Edmund is the only one that can make him seem human. The only one that can make him feel pure regret and shame. 

“If you can treat your mother like this, how do you expect any of the men in there to have respect for you?” Edmund continues and gestures back towards the way to the ballroom. “Do you think any of them will let any of their daughters marry you? Answer!”

Ludwig seems to struggle to talk. “No, father …”

“Ask your mother for forgiveness.”

Ludwig turns to you. You force yourself to meet his eyes. 

“Forgive me, mother”, he says. 

It sounds weird to hear him ask for forgiveness. You don’t answer him. Your voice have didappeared. Edmund helps you up gently and wraps his arm around you. You can’t help but cry as he starts to lead you back to the chamber. How could your own child be such a monster? Did he inherit nothing from you? Did you fail as a parent? Could you have done more for him?

“It’s okay, my jewel”, Edmund comforts you. “I will punish him. Did he hurt you?”

“No”, you answer. 

You clutch your painful hand tighter to your chest. 

“Good”, Edmund replies. “I will put guards outside your door to make sure that he won’t return.”

He tucks you in and gives you a sorry smile. He burns with anger. That child. 

“Edmund?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Victoria?” 

Ludwig storms down the corridor. Fuck everything. Fuck it all. 

He feels something hit him on the leg. He stops. He looks down, then around, but can’t see anything. Another small blow to his leg. He bends down and picks up a small stone. A small smile spreads on his face. 

“Shoot me one more time and I’m taking back the slingshot”, he says. 

“Not fair!” a voice whines from behind one of the heavy drapes by the large window. 

Ludwig walks over to the window and pulls away the heavy, red curtains, revealing a small child sitting on the floor. She giggles up at him. Ludwig crouches down in front of her and knocks on the wooden slingshot. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep by now”, he says. “I thought your governess was supposed to look after you. Where is she?”

“She fell asleep”, Victoria replies and giggles. 

Ludwig scoffs with a smile and picks her up, carrying her on his hip. 

“Alright, let’s go”, he says. “Back to bed.”

“No!” Victoria complains. “I want to dance too.”

“You’re too small. You can dance when you’re older.”

The thought breaks his heart. Reality is, he doesn’t want her to become older. He wants her to stay the little size she is now, innocent and cute. For now, she is the only person that doesn’t dislike him. 

“Have you found a wife yet?” she asks. 

“No, not yet”, he answers. “But the night is young — for me, not for you.”

Victoria hugs her brother's neck and rests her head on his shoulder. 

“I want a debutante ball too”, she mumbles. 

“You will have one, when you're older”, he says. “And I will make sure that no stupid men come to take you. They’ll have to go through a long and hard process with me before I let them come close to you.”

“Will you shoot them with the slingshot?”

“I’m the crown prince, I can do whatever I want.”

He carries Victoria back to the nursery. In the rocking chair, the governess is sleeping with a book in her hand. Ludwig rolls his eyes. He tucks Victoria into her bed and walks over to the rocking chair. He grabs the book out of her hands and hits her on the top of the head. She gasps and shoots up. 

“Hi, good morning”, Ludwig says sarcastically. “Do you know what time it is?”

“N-No, what?” she asks with a raspy, scared voice. 

“Ten. At night. Guess who I just found out in the corridor shooting people who walk by with a slingshot?”

The governess looks around wide eyed, searching for the little girl.

“Do your job before I make father find a new governess”, Ludwig threatens and throws the book in her lap. 

She blushes and apologizes profusely. Ludwig rolls his eyes. 

“Ludwig”, Victoria says from the bed.

“Yes?” Ludwig asks in a softer tone.

“Can you tell me about the ball tomorrow morning?”

“Sure.”

“Will you pick a nice girl? Someone that wants to be my friend?”

Ludwig feels his heart ache. He has friends, some at least — some that have been chosen to be his side when he'sking — but Victoria has none. It's not important. She has her tutors to teach her etiquette. A girl to be married off for connections doesn't need friends. 

“Yes”, he replies quietly. “I will.”

Victoria smiles and hugs her doll, closing her eyes.

Ludwig says goodnight to his little sister and walks out, making his way back to his ball. He will find someone tonight, someone worthy. And if he doesn't, he’ll have these balls until he finds one. 

[luveline]

Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

“Spencer?” 

Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 

“Is this okay?” 

You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 

The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 

You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 

Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 

“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 

“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 

You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 

“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 

“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 

“What if we have a case?” 

“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 

You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 

Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 

“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.

“You really are glowing.” 

“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 

“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 

“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 

You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 

You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 

“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 

You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 

He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 

“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 

“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 

You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 

“Yes,” Spencer says. 

You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 

“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 

You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 

“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 

You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 

“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”

She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 

You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 

Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 

You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 

“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 

“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 

“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 

“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 

You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 

“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 

“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 

No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 

“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.

“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 

“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 

You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 

“And what’s with the water?”

Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 

That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 

You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 

You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 

“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 

“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 

“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 

You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 

The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 

Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 

You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 

[enyaliuswrites]

➽ Love and Deepspace University/College AU

Multiple characters x gn!reader tags: fluff, reader doesn’t have to be mc, college au, university au, reader doesn't have to be in a relationship with character but it is slightly implied

Xavier is an Astronomy & Astrophysics major typa student with a minor in Philosophy. You guys can disagree with me, that's just what I see it as.

Xavier is the type of student that walks around campus to find the best places to sleep and professors and students are genuinely worried when they find him sleeping on a tree. (The shade was better and no one would disturb him, he argues).

Xavier is the student that is always asleep in class and just stays there even if the next class is coming into the lecture room (poor boy, someone should've woken him up fr).

However, his grades aren't in the earth’s core. His grades are actually pretty decent, above average actually. He probably dreams about his studies in a fun way or something.

He doesn't have many friends, only 1 really close one, Jeremiah, whom they both don’t see each other very often. They have a sort of friendship that without meeting they know they’ll forever be there for each other.

You guys met because you were taking a nap on a particularly windy day, the weather wasn't so sunny and the breeze wasn't so cold, a perfect day to study under a tree and accidentally doze off I say. Unbeknownst to you, that was where Xavier would usually sleep as well. He was about to leave to go to one of his other sleeping spots but then something caught his eye.

A butterfly flying over to you and landing on your head. It was quite a sight and just in that moment you woke up. You were startled by the Sophomore Xavier in front of you and scared the butterfly off. You guys stayed there in silence for a bit before somehow it turned into you both dozing off under the tree.

From that day onwards, you guys would meet under that tree to study, talk or nap and you guys grew closer day by day.

Xavier definitely tries to help with your homework but instead his head is on the table and his mind is in the land of dreams. He really tries, but his sleeping schedule is too packed.

Watching the skies is definitely a must with him. Whether it be the night sky or the day sky—setting up a cute picnic to lie down and just point at clouds, saying what they reminded you of. Or watching the stars and the moon while basking in each other’s comfortable silence.

Xavier definitely writes love poems in class to give you later but he’ll never read them out loud to you, only when you’re about to fall asleep then he’ll read it.

He always tries to cook for you but always somehow starts a fire, even while trying to make something as simple as Kimbap or sushi. So now he’s banned from the kitchen and you have him help you with the most simplest of tasks (measuring out ingredients or cutting vegetables) instead.

“Xavier, why do I smell burning?” “I think the egg might be a little overcooked.” “Xavier, it's on fire! How on earth did you mess up an omelet that badly?!” “I followed what you said. Should I try again?” “NO!”

Xavier definitely takes you to places where he naps and the most breathtaking, picturesque and comfortable place. An old cathedral courtyard, a secluded rooftop garden on a building on campus, a secret garden on campus with a clearing in the middle. During these times when the sun is setting is when he recites poems he read or wrote to you.

Zayne is obviously a medical student specializing in cardiology. I mean it’s clear as day.

He’s the type of student that never skips any school and doesn’t break any rules whatsoever. Sick? At school with a mask on. Injured? At school with a cast. Literally on the brink of death? At school with an IV bag and breathing tube. (exaggeration)

His back is straight in classes and you’ll never catch him slacking off his perfect posture. It’s kind of creepy, sometimes. He’s the student that always raises his hand to answer the professor that over time the professors are like “I know you know. I want to see if other students know.”

He’ll never share notes. As in, even if other people look at his notes they can’t understand his handwriting. Zayne’s notes are always so organized and clean that no one believes that he did that in a single class alone.

He definitely gets a lot of love letters. Girls go crazy for this man, (you and me included) they often try to invite him to help tutor them or to grab a bite. He always says the same thing, “If you’d had paid attention then you would understand.” and then just leaves.

He’s always in the library, studying during freshman and sophomore year. In his Junior year he started interning at a nearby hospital and from that day he just became 10 times more busy.

You guys met by chance—Senior Zayne was interning at the hospital and treated you after you pushed yourself too hard, eventually fainting, which is how you ended up here. (Gotta thank your bestfriend for being so worried she rushed you to the hospital.)

He saw you on campus the next day and at first he didn’t really care much, however after seeing you stumble around (you were just daydreaming) he came over and gave you a tiny lecture about caring for your health.

Somehow, that led to him visiting you after classes to give you a juicebox “To regulate your blood sugar” or a fruit, like a banana “Bananas are high in potassium, lowering the risk of a heart disease.” He’ll say that he’s your personal doctor-in-training and always encourages you to eat healthy by getting dinner at a clean restaurant. But, you still often catch him eating sweets and it always makes you laugh.

He never outright says that he wants to see you, he’ll make a thousand excuses instead. Sometimes, he’ll say that you’re late to a scheduled appointment with him.

“You’re late to your appointment.” “I’m pretty sure I just had one with you the day before yesterday.” “You left your pen here the other day, you should come get it.” “Zayne, just say you want to see me.”

Study dates are 99% of the dates you have with him. Both of you are entirely focused on your piles of assignments and study materials. If one of you has more free time than the other, you simply sit in silence and watch him concentrate—and he does the same for you.

Even though he’s extremely busy, as a medical student in his Senior year, he still makes plenty sure that you can feel his love. Whether that be sending a quick text in the morning or before he does something.

Sometimes when you guys meet he’s really tired so don't mind him taking a quick nap on your shoulder or around you. Make sure to snap a picture and use that as blackmail material afterwards, hehe.

Rafayel is a Fine Arts student for sure. He loves arts in all forms, painting, sketching, photography, scrapbooking, sculpture, fashion, the list goes on and on.

He’s the type of student that arrives fashionably late and always has some crazy ideas with his final projects and in the end he gets the highest grade. His artwork is actually one of the prides of the university/college and he’s extremely down to earth about it, only wanting to paint the things he sees in his dreams perfectly.

He definitely has people who want to be friends with him but he just treats everyone the same. Sassy and indifferent. Except for one friend who saw incredible potential in him and always helped him, making his art go famous around campus and earning Rafayel some money.

Rafayel is the type of student that walks around the campus for inspiration as well as walking around the city to get inspiration, often finding hidden treasures of places, tucked-away cafes, historic museums, indie theatres, vintage shops.

He definitely spends a lot of his time at the sea and most of his artworks are inspired by the underwater world. He spends time near the swimming pool when no one is there, during the late nights or early mornings.

Being very popular and famous around campus, he has many admirers which he all just waves away. He couldn’t care less, the only thing he cares about is his art and the girl he met when he was at what he called his ‘secret hideout’.

You were a little stressed from studies so you decided to walk around campus, exploring the different buildings and rooms. Unexpectedly, you found yourself in an old art gallery—the lights were turned off and the only source of light was from the sun’s rays. You stayed there for a while, even though the door was dusty and the room was cluttered with old art supplies, you presumed that this was an art supply room.

Suddenly, that was when a Sophomore Rafayel walked in and saw you standing in front of one of his old paintings. A painting that he tried experimenting with a new style of technique, one that he was embarrassed of so he hid it here. He yelped when you saw you, he thought you were a ghost.

You guys talked for a while before you parted ways, however after hearing you talking about why you liked his art (he didn’t admit it was him) he grew an interest in you.

A few days later when you were free you decided to come and absorb the peaceful atmosphere of the old gallery again, however much to your surprise Rafayel was there as well.

“You know how many days I waited for you? Why didn’t you come sooner? If I get an allergy from you you’re paying for my medical bills.” “I don’t think that’s how allergies work-” “Don’t change the subject!”

You guys became close pretty quick. His words, although sometimes quirky and sassy, were also full of depth and emotion. Whenever he talked about art or the sea he had a glint in his eyes and a nostalgic solemn tone in his voice.

Dates with him are usually you doing your work while he paints or sketches you. He’ll always show you what he cooked up while you were focused but he’ll always say how it’s never perfect and that, “I can’t capture how perfect you are, cutie.”

You guys often visit the sea, taking long walks on the beach during the day and during the night while he tells you stories of his dreams and his own fascination with the world under the waves. He often makes you cute accessories out of seashells and will always gift you something handmade after classes.

Walking around campus and finding more cool places where you’ve explored is a must with him. He’ll rub circles with his thumb, holding your hand as you guys explore rooftop gardens and just talk about dreams or studies.

Sylus is definitely a business faculty typa student. For his major it might be international trade or something of the sort.

He’s the type of student that skips most of his classes but gets a perfect grade.

When he does come to class he’ll definitely be dozing off but when there's assignments he always somehow gets full marks. If the professor calls on him he’ll answer correctly and eventually professors just stop trying to catch him lacking (they never can).

He’ll come and go as he pleases and no one really says anything, too afraid to mess with him since everywhere he walks people just keep their eyes down or walk the other way. (I mean have you seen the Lunar New Year event? Bro was sticking out so much)

He definitely has LOADS of rumors about himself on campus but bro does NOT care. And the rumors are hella crazy too, and what's even crazier is that no one knows if they’re true or not. “I heard that he beat up a couple of students the other day so badly they were all hospitalized.” “Well, I heard that he’s involved with the mafia and does their dirty work for them.” “You guys are all wrong. He is the Mafia boss! He’s just working undercover here!”

Sylus doesn't have any friends. Well, except two identical twins that always follow him around as well as a crow (strange friends if you ask me). Luke and Kieran are like his lackeys but without the mistreatment, they’ll always help him with the little things while he’s out and about doing some shady businesses outside of school.

You guys definitely met because of something random and cliche. Sylus, the mysterious senior that you bumped into in the hallway, causing your drink to stain him, you and your work. You apologized and after a while he shrugged it off and let you off the hook. However, you kept seeing him around after that day and on the days that you didn’t, you would see a crow instead.

The crow would sometimes have a candy in his mouth or a kopiko (those coffee candies). Over time you’d see Sylus more often and he’d sometimes strike a conversation and you’d continue it and before you know it he’ll be showing up outside of your class and walk with you around campus for a quick bite or even to send you to your next class. Of course, people always stare or quickly shuffle away whenever you pass by.

He sometimes brings you a little something after class when you meet up. A juicebox. Milk. Coffee. Maybe even a little baked good. He often drives you around, whether that be on his motorcycle or his car, he lets you pick. Honestly, at this point he’s like your chauffeur. All he wants to see is your smile.

Dinner dates are an absolute must with him, whether that be eating out at a fancy restaurant or him cooking for you at his place.

During study dates you guys will definitely go to a reclusive hidden cafe that he found and order something little to help fuel you. He’ll watch you and help you if you need it (you have to beg a little for it though). He has the most messed up sleeping schedule so please let him rest when he suddenly dozes off while watching you study.

Sylus will definitely drag you out of class, saying that there’s an emergency and the professor allows him too, totally buying into his words as you both walk away. Why? All because you complained to him that you didn’t want to sit in this class and that it was boring.

“Sylus! Why’d you do that?!” “Didn’t you say that you didn’t like it? That you hated it, sweetie?” “I did, but you can’t just do that!” “Let’s go get dinner. We can go to that place you love to go to.” “…Okay, let’s go.”

Caleb is an Aerospace Engineering student and a good one at that. (I mean have you read his anecdotes??)

Caleb is similar to Zayne, he never misses a class and is a top grade student. Scoring the top in every class. Honestly, everyone is jealous of him (me included).

He’s the type of student that shares his close friends with his notes and even sometimes helps tutor them. He’s loved by all his friends and everyone who works with him, whether that be group work or just striking up a conversation with him.

He’s extremely popular, due to his energetic personality, natural leadership and how reliable of a person he is. However, it feels like almost no one really knows him. He seems like an open book but he’s really a mystery to everyone, even his close friends.

He gets a lot of love letters as well, however as soon as he sees them he rips them and throws them in the bin.

He’s a great actor, (He definitely fooled me in the main story, got scared so much) and uses that to his advantage. He’s definitely involved in some shady things on campus, but no one knows. One time someone tried to create rumors about him and the next day those rumors instantly stopped.

You met Caleb through your friend. Caleb being a Junior at your university as well as the older brother of a friend of yours since middle school. You guys met once or twice back when you were in middle school but he remembered you up till the day he saw you on campus, dozing off at the library.

When you woke up you didn't expect an apple to be on your table along with a little note, “Fuel yourself for the rest of the day!” along with a doodle of an apple. You didn't eat it, afraid that it was poisoned (You weren't going to be snow white).

One day you bumped into him while leaving one of your classes and he immediately striked a conversation. While reminiscing about when you guys were younger you guys walked to a nearby cafe and grabbed a drink together. The conversation developed into updating each other about life and what you guys were planning for the future and you realized that you were about to be late for your next class. Before going he quickly scribbled his contact on a piece of sticky note and you swear that you’ve seen that handwriting somewhere before.

Ever since that day he’s always accompanied you to your classes and back. 9am class? He’ll be there to walk you there, even a little snack in his hand, usually an apple. 5pm? He’ll be there with a piece of candy, to help fuel you for the last class.

He’ll always scare other boys off, whether it be putting an arm around your shoulder when he sees someone looking or holding your waist and pulling you towards him. He’ll take whatever you say after, nagging him for being too open or catching you off guard.

It’s a back and forward of him going over to your place or you going to his and eating his home cooked dinners. Eating out is barely a thing with Caleb, he loves to cook for you and secretly wishes that you love it too.

He’s extremely clingy and possessive. Even if you want to hang out with other people he’ll always ask a lot of questions, but he’ll never be overly possessive.

“Who are you going with?” “Just a few friends.” “Where? For how long?” “Nowhere. I’ll take a couple of hours, maybe. Caleb, don't worry.” “I’ll pick you up when you finish. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there. You can tell me if you want to leave early.”

He’s definitely the type of student that’ll help you with your assignments even if that means doing extra research on the topic you’re struggling with to help you.

A/N: totally wasn't writing this while stuck in accounting class. This actually took me longer than I thought and I bet I still have more things to add even now, but this is what I imagined in my head today. Stay delusional! (*´∀`*) Art creds : Love and Deepspace Dividers by @omi-resources

[konpeitonom]

hii can u do mw characters hallucinating their dead partner??:3thx btw love ur posts

tulpar crew hallucinating their dead partners.

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

g/n reader (i think) — content warning for self harm/substance abuse.. so sorry!!

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; i was super excited to do this request! finally got around to doing it. sorry if this a wee bit inaccurate, i’ve never had severe hallucinations like what im portraying here but i tried my best anyway. take this as a happy 100+ follower celebration! never written for all the cast before so this was really fun. i don’t rlly like this haha but hopefully u guys do

curly

— i’d break him. and i think he wouldn’t be able to work properly as captain if they were frequent. and he’d feel a lot of guilt about that. everyone’s counting on him, he can’t be so hung up on the past.

— would confide in jimmy about it, and jimmy would make some comment about he’s not fit to work if he’s seeing hallucinations of his dead partner- maybe even shame him a little..

— i’d freak him out every time i’d happen. he’d have to leave the room if someone else was there, to go cry somewhere private.

— he already has issues sleeping, but i’d make it much worst. which would only make the hallucinations worst. he can never catch a break..

— he knows he’d never get over your passing, especially if it was tragic/something he could’ve prevented- but he didn’t think he’d go crazy like this.

jimmy

— he would be pissed, seriously. he’d go mad. he’d resort to drinking or self harm if it was possible.

— i only say self harm as a.. he’d stand right in front of you, cut himself and say stuff like.. “you wanted this, right? is that why you’re here? came back to fucking haunt me?”

— he’s completely scummy, and would start blaming you. his view of you would be completely tainted. but then would start feeling upset about how he’s ruined even the image of you.

— to ground himself, he’d just look at old pictures- maybe look at your old clothes if he got the chance. he doesn’t wanna ruin you, but he does. even in death, you can’t run from him.

— all around a mess. haha. he’s confused, maybe a little scared- but still selfish old jimmy..

— i mean, death is regular. it happens. people he’s known, been close to, have died. but for him to be seeing you? and so vividly too? that’s not normal, not at all.

anya

— anya would find a lot of comfort in it. she knows it isn’t healthy, but she can’t help but maybe enjoy it a little. it’s nice to know you’re always there, even if it’s just her mind playing tricks on her.

— i think the first time it happened, she’s very quick to pull herself together. and then she’s very self aware of what’s happening.

— i think she’d feel a lot of guilt.. you’ve passed, and you should rest easy- and here she is still clinging onto the past. you’d be upset if you saw her like this, which is the only reason she’d try to push it away.

— still though.. she can’t help it. you look so real, and who’s it hurting? it’s not hurting her, that’s for sure. it makes her happy.

— would do anything to feel your presence once more, maybe staring at your photo as she cuddles with a pillow.. purposely not sleeping, so the chances of her hallucinating you are higher..

swansea

— like jimmy, he’d go crazy. mentally, he’s struggled before, but not to the extent where he’s seeing vivid images of you. i’d scare the shit out of him.

— would.. likely delve back into alcoholism. what’s the point of being sober if his spouse isn't alive? not like they’ll know anyway. he’d feel maybe a bit of guilt but not enough to stop.

— he would not be able to work properly. maybe only with daisuke, as he knows he can’t break down infront of some kid. he’s old enough to know how to hold himself together.

— maybe similar to anya, there’s slight feelings of comfort. but he can’t do that to you, so he tries his best to move the fuck on over it.

daisuke

— he’d be scared, severely. as the youngest of the crew, he’s constantly hearing things about how life is only gonna get worse as you grow older.. and he thinks, ‘there’s things worse than hallucinating my dead partner in store for me?’

— would try to push through it. put on a happy face in front of his co-workers and parents, as you sit there in the back of his mind.

— he wouldn’t know what to do. he doesn’t wanna bother anyone, doesn’t wanna be a burden. he wants people to look at him and think highly of him, not pity him.

— spends a lot of his free time just.. laying in bed. distracting himself with his hobbies and interests no longer works as he can’t bring himself to care.

— he’d draw often, i think. mostly you. only because he knows how upset you’d be if you found out he’d given up drawing.

[hyunsvngs]

halloscream

was it jeongsung in the bedroom?

warnings 🔪: poly relationship dynamics, they’re serial killers, knifeplay, clitplay, unprotected sex, oral (m rec), bloodplay (be warned about this one, it’s not their blood), one whole line of daddy kink, mxm as well as fxm

it’s getting late. they’re late, to be more precise, but you feel as if you look at the window again it will feel like even longer. you tap away at your keyboard. it’s too quiet - the house is empty with your parents out at dinner. normally your two boyfriends would be making enough noise to drown out the everlasting silence, but again, they’re nowhere to be seen. your foot taps against the carpet impatiently underneath your desk.

a noise from your back garden catches your attention. nothing too loud, just a rustle of leaves and a few small thuds, but it has you rising from your computer chair to check it out. jisung would chastise you. “don’t you know horror movies?” he’d say, eyes round and wide, “investigating a strange noise is how you die, jagi.” still, you’re pissed that they’re late, and you also know full well that your boyfriends are the only threat to your small, isolated town. 

it started last year. jeongin came bursting through your window, clad in a halloween costume drenched in blood, and you laughed in his face thinking it was fake. it wasn’t fake. jisung followed closely behind him, a knife in his hand still messy with the efforts of their mission, and you almost had a heart attack. jeongin had to sit you down and explain, but really, there’s not a lot of explaining you can do when your girlfriend finds out you’ve been killing students from the local high school. 

they’re psychopathic, to put it lightly, but surely you are too - one toothy smile from jeongin and a comforting rub of jisung’s hand on your back was all it took. you’d accepted it all. 

now, you stand at your window, sticking your head out of the open pane of glass. the autumn air is crisp and it bites at your flushed, alarmed cheeks. when you can’t see anything through the darkness, you sigh, pulling your body back into your room. it’s not them. you turn to make your way back to the computer. maybe they’ll call before they come, just to let you know not to be scared and-

“ugh,” jeongin’s voice groans from behind you. your head whips around, shocked to see that he actually looks reasonably presentable. he’s in their signature costume, long, pitch black fabric drowning his lightly toned frame, and he carries the matching mask in his hand. “i thought you’d at least help me inside, baby. are your parents even home? i could’ve just used the front door.”

there’s other things on your mind. you’re pissed he’s late, and your arms fold over your chest. “where’s the other one?” your voice is dismissive, as if you don’t care about where jeongin’s partner-in-crime normally is. of course you care. one of your boys never comes without the other - quite literally - and you try to peek behind jeongin to see the missing boy. he crowds in through your window to block your vision, toned arms and long legs climbing through his chosen entry point. 

“he’s on his way,” jeongin says. the mask drops from his hand to the floor in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in, the fabric of his halloween costume scratching against your bare collarbones. you’re in one of jisung’s old oversized shirts, and the neckline is stretched beyond belief. your hands soften the impact by bracing themselves on his shoulders. “he got caught up with something. you understand, right?”

he feels like he’s everywhere in your room at once, an aura that only jeongin could have wrapped around you. it’s all it takes to calm you down, to forget about the fact that they didn’t even call, and then you’re focusing on the feeling of something solid pressing into your thigh. 

your hand moves down. his eyes follow the movement, narrowed, head tilting to the side as if he’s daring you to touch. you do, because you always rise to jeongin’s challenges. your fingers wrap around the object with a mischievous giggle. “is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?”

“that’s a knife,” he responds, quick as a bat. his hand wraps around your wrist and moves you a few inches to the right, positioning your hand over his actual cock and oh. it’s throbbing, and you can feel the way the shaft hardens further in your hand, even through the layers of fabric. you blink up at him, all coy through your lashes, and he raises an eyebrow. “i’m hard because i just killed someone, and that’s turning you on. do you know how fucked up that is?”

“it’s even more fucked up to be hard after killing someone,” you say, hands moving to his hips. you begin a backwards walk to your bed, pulling him along with you. jeongin’s more than happy to follow. his body slides between your legs easily, erection pressing into the middle of your sleep shorts, right above your core, and you try to catch his lips with yours. he moves away from your face with that signature cheeky grin, one that only jeongin could pull off. “why? first you’re late, and now no kiss? don’t wind me up, jeonginnie.”

“i’m gonna lick your pussy, that’s why,” his voice is low, tone steady. it makes a shiver run down your spine, but you’re nodding, letting your thighs fall apart. jeongin’s grin widens at the effect he has on you. he’s still in that stupid costume, but you watch his body slide down your bed until his face is nuzzling into your core.

you can’t help it. you’re curious, and they may say curiosity kills the cat, but well - the only thing killing anyone is rutting his nose into the covered pudge of your clit. “who did you kill?”

“what?” he scoffs, pulling your sleep shorts to the side with two long, gloved fingers. the texture of his gloves is cold against your heated mound, and you stutter out a breath, hands moving to the sheets beside you. “does it matter, jagi?”

“y-yeah, it does,” you whine when he dips down, tongue licking over your clit for the first time tonight. he’s talented with his mouth, but he’s normally better with his fingers. jisung’s forte is oral, and you let your mind wander again. where is he? you’re missing the essential third piece in your beloved psychopathic throuple.

when he speaks again, the vibrations hit your pussy. “he was a lowlife. don’t worry about it. he deserved to die.”

“you say that about e-everyone- oh my god,” he sucks your clit into his mouth as you’re speaking. it makes you surge from the bed, back arching, hand weaving into his hair to pull and tug to where you need him to be. jeongin’s malleable like that, letting you grind your pussy up into his mouth while he presses his tongue flat against the sensitive bud. “fuck. fuck, jeonginnie, innie, please, baby-“

“jesus, man. that was a ballache. y’know, would’ve been easier if maybe there were two of us like there’s meant to be, or-” your head snaps to your window. jeongin’s mouth stops moving, but he kisses your clit as an apology. 

sure, you would normally jump at the sight of someone standing in your bedroom dressed in a full halloween costume, ghostface mask and all. however, you’ve already received one of your male visitors tonight and you know that voice all too well - especially when it’s paired with a short stature and fumbling hands gripping at his mask. you see jisung’s appalled expression once the mask is gone, dropped to the floor to join jeongin’s, round eyes staring at his boyfriend’s position between your legs. “you seriously started without me?! c’mon man, don’t piss me off!”

jeongin only shrugs and nuzzles his nose against your mound to get your attention. you turn back to the boy, running your fingers through his hair comfortingly. he resumes the fat licks he’s giving your core, broad and messy and too fucking good. “iyennie’s being nice and eating my- ah- pussy, baby,” jisung’s staring at you, bouncing from one foot to the other. “you could’ve too, if you weren’t late.”

“wha-“ jisung splutters. he’s already toeing his boots off, yanking the costume over his head to reveal the baggy jeans and black tank he’s got on underneath. the sight of his honey-toned arms against the dark fabric is enough to make your mouth water, but then he drops his jeans and you can see his erection pressing against the front of his boxers. jeongin ignores him, sucking your pussy hard with a soothing hum. your labia stretches with it, and then he flicks his tongue over your clit so fast that your legs kick out. jisung catches them. “not my fault. jeonginnie made me do all the cleanup and the fucking theatrics and shit. this guy bled like a pig too, baby, so-“

“hyung,” jeongin chastises, eyes flitting over to him. when he pulls his head back, his chin is covered in drool and your arousal. you want to lick it clean. you’re barely even paying attention to what your boys are bickering about. “don’t get into the gory details.”

jisung stops in his tracks, trousers wrapped around his ankles. he looks at you. you shiver. he looks at jeongin, and jeongin raises an eyebrow, challenging again. “don’t you know?” jisung’s grin is wide, mischievous. “she likes hearing the gory details. go on, tell her.”

jeongin’s lips part in surprise. he looks at you, scrutinising. “is that so? you wanna hear how i gutted that guy and jisungie hung him from a tree?”

you can’t help it. with his words, jeongin slides two fingers inside of you, curling them so harshly it makes your eyes water. you let out a keen, trying to reach out to pull jisung onto the bed, but he’s too far. he seems to get it, knee-walking onto the mattress until he’s positioned next to you. his hand doesn’t stay out of his boxers for long, sliding beneath the tight fabric. you watch him grip his shaft and pump slowly at the sight in front of him. 

“do you wanna know who it was?” jeongin continues. his thumb slides to rub over your clit, and your thighs tremble. you’re moaning, nodding, babbling pleadings and little ‘yes’s that fall from your mouth urgently. jeongin chuckles. “your little friend from your math class. see, i wasn’t too mad about it, but jisung said he was trying to fuck you.”

“god, fuckin- he pissed me off, baby, ‘m sorry,” jisung whines, and your head is spinning. you’re reeling. jeongin thrusts his fingers a little harder, a little faster, and you’re struggling to concentrate. jisung’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip once, twice, eyes flitting between you and jeongin as if he’s not quite sure who to look at. “he was t-too nice to you, he- he wanted you. you’re ours.”

you’ve barely spoken to the guy from your math class - in all honesty, you’re not quite sure of his name, but now that you think about it… yeah. he was a little touchy, a little flirty, maybe too kind and considerate in letting you copy his work. it all adds up, but he’s taken care of now. you don’t have to worry about it. you never have to worry about anything with your boys around.

jisung pushes his boxers down, and his shaft slaps up against the base of his tummy, not too long but girthy enough to make your mouth water. he catches your gaze and uses his grip to slap it against his skin a little more, precum forming a thin trail attaching the cockhead to his tank top. “fuck. s-suck it, baby, won’t you?” 

“cum first,” jeongin insists. jisung grumbles in protest, but jeongin’s thumb presses harder on your clit, and he reels backwards to spit down against your pussy. the slap of his hand against your core is debauched, messy, and your eyes flutter shut. it’s too good. you’re gonna cum. “cum for me. fucking give it to me. my little fucked up baby, huh? that turned you on, didn’t it?”

“y-yeah! yes, yes, of course, y-you two are- fuck, too much, too much, i’m gonna cum,” you’re babbling again, and when your hand shoots out to grip onto something jisung catches it with his own spare hand. he links your fingers together, and jeongin dips down, finally, finally pressing his lips against yours. it’s all just enough and you feel like you’re dying, shots of electricity running through you, core gushing your release over jeongin’s wrist while he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

you’re given barely any time to come down. jeongin’s hand reels back and slaps your pussy. “hands and knees f’me. head between hyung’s legs.”

you scramble against your bedsheets, limbs kicking out and positioning your body face down in the sheets below jisung’s cock. jeongin moves behind you, yanking your sleep shorts down with a wet, still gloved hand. 

“you liked hearing what we d-did, baby, yeah?” jisung questions, and you whine, nodding. you did. secretly, in a dark place you try not to go into, you want their knives pressed against you and making you bleed while they fuck you. the thought makes your pussy clench down around nothing. 

jisung’s fingers move to your hair, yanking you forward until you’re nosing at his cock. you slide your tongue over his shaft just briefly, nuzzling your nose into the hair at his base, but it’s not long before he’s slapping his cock against your cheek impatiently. “shiiiit, jeonginnie, get inside already. i need her mouth so fucking bad, i’m so fucking hard.”

“just take it,” jeongin fumbles with his belt behind you. you hear the tell-tale clanging of metal, and then the rustling of fabric. his cockhead presses against your hole unceremoniously, blunt and thick, and you try to rut backwards onto it. jisung’s grip prohibits you, and he drags you upwards above his cock to finally press his tip between your lips. 

they both slide in together. jeongin’s thick shaft stretches you beyond belief, making you moan hard around jisung’s cock. you’re glad your parents aren’t home. jisung squirms from the vibrations, and before jeongin can start moving, he’s bouncing your head on his shaft. 

you can see his eyes roll back into his head, lips parting with a sharp whine. you feel like a ragdoll. it has you getting even wetter. “t-that’s it. fuckin’ beautiful mouth, my baby, so dirty, lemme- jus’ lemme fuckin’ take it, god, please.”

jeongin thrusts into you once, twice, testing movements that have your pussy all creamy and easy around him. he sighs, positions his large palms on your ass, and then he starts thrusting at a breakneck speed that has you bouncing between their cocks. you feel used. your clit aches for touch, hard and sensitive above where your hole is getting decimated. 

jisung pulls your head up to give you air, his hand polishing his cockhead. you’re immediately babbling. “fuck, you- jeongin, j-jeonginnie, the knife. will you- will you use it? o-on me? please?”

jisung moans. his hand moves between his legs, pumping his cock quickly in front of your face. it leaks against your lips. jeongin’s hips halt, pressing deep inside you. “the knife? baby, i don’t know.”

“get it, iyennie,” jisung nudges jeongin with his toes. you don’t miss the way jeongin’s cock twitches inside of you. “get mine. it still has blood on it.”

“oh my god,” you moan, wiggling backwards onto jeongin. you can tell his face must be a picture right now because jisung laughs, loud albeit shaky, and he reaches down onto the floor into the pocket of jisung’s jeans to reveal the offending object. he throws it to jisung, who brands it to you, showing that yeah, really, it’s still got someone else’s blood on it. it should be disgusting, moreso terrifying, but when the blade presses against your neck you wriggle just enough to get jisung’s cock back into your mouth. 

“see? f-fucking look at her,” jisung says, voice pitched higher. the angle is awkward, but he manages to fuck his cock into your mouth in tiny, shallow thrusts while the blunt edge of the blade is against your skin. he wouldn’t turn it the other way, not seriously when he knows he might lose control and hurt you. the idea has you keening. “she fucking loves it.”

“yeah? is that true?” jeongin sounds gravelly, throat hoarse, and he starts to fuck into you again. the slide is smooth with how wet you’ve gotten, and your pussy clings to him on every outwards thrust, dragging him back inside of you. jisung pushes harder and the knife presses harder. “hannie. hyung, be- be careful.”

“don’t need to be,” jisung responds, quick, and yanks your head upwards so you’re just suckling on his cockhead. you’ve been drooling all over it, and the feeling of your wet mouth around the most sensitive part of him makes his thighs tremble. he’s close. he never lasts long in your mouth, and you reach one hand up from your position, running a thumb over the creased skin of his ballsack. his foot shoots out so sharply it kicks jeongin in the thigh. “fuck! sorry, sorry aegi, i’m- i’m close, i-“

“already?” jeongin chuckles, but his thrusts are beginning to stagger too. he’s just as close as his boyfriend is, and the blood smearing on your throat has you clenching so hard you think you might be, too. jeongin’s pace quickens, and despite it being messy and uncalculated you let your head fall to jisung’s hip with a moan. he’s fine to strip his cock in your face, body curled over you to hold the knife to your neck, and you nuzzle downwards to suck his balls into your mouth.

“yes! yesyesyes, baby, oh, yeah! just like that, my baby, gonna- i’ll cum, fuck, on your face, you want it?”

“fuck. fuck, daddy, please,” you keen, and you watch in real time how it affects your boyfriend. jisung’s eyebrows scrunch together, pouty lips forming the perfect o as his cock spurts ropes of cum onto your head. it’s imprecise, landing mostly on your forehead and in your hair, and you squeal when jeongin yanks you back by the same messy strands. 

“daddy? fuckin’ really?” he pulls you into him, almost fully sat in his lap, and uses a hand he slides up your shirt to bounce you on top of him. you’re out of it. the blood has smeared all over your neck and stained the neck of your shirt, but you don’t care, whinging and gripping onto jeongin’s lithe thighs. his balls slap against your clit like this, and you can see jisung’s cock perking in interest already.

“this is fuckin’ hot! aegi, make her cum. wan’ see it.”

“you already saw it, i need to- i gotta cum now,” jeongin gasps, teeth biting into your shoulder. it’s too much. 

“no, jeonginnie, please! make me- please make me cum!”

he gives in. jisung will tease him about this later. his fingers move to your clit despite his words, and with only a few precisely formed circles onto the bud you’re creaming on his cock with another pathetic squeal. the sensitivity rises quickly, and it has tears biting at your eyes, but jeongin continues to fuck into you like you’re nothing more than a warm hole. maybe that’s all you are. the thought has your pussy clenching down again, and he thrusts deep before he fills you up with a shout, thick and warm inside of you.

jisung stretches his limbs with a sigh, thumb and index finger rubbing over his cockhead. it’s all too wet, and jeongin slides his softening cock out of your hole with a groan. the knife clatters unceremoniously to the floor. before you can whine and make a fuss over the cum still on your face, jeongin grabs hold of your hair and presses his tongue against your skin.

“when do i get a kiss?” jisung protests, cock still soft against his tank top. “no kisses for hannie even after all that hard work. this is unjust. unfair. it’s wrong, i would say.”

you watch jeongin surge across the bed and feed jisung his own cum from his lips. it’s dirty, and jisung’s shaft twitches valiantly against his tummy when he kisses back, tongues intertwining amidst the high pitched noise he makes. you let them kiss for a bit, and then you wriggle yourself up to your boys. the elder welcomes you with open arms, and jeongin pulls away from his lips with a wet sound, collapsing onto jisung’s shoulder.

“welcome home,” you chirp, and jeongin chuckles sleepily. jisung only pulls you into his chest further, fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm. “will i be expecting any more late nights this week?”

“tomorrow,” jeongin yawns. his head rests on jisung’s shoulder. you’re pretty sure he’s drooling already. jisung’s eyes flutter shut, at peace. “it’s the build up to halloween, baby. we’re busy these days, but we’ll always make time for you.”

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam as fanfic tropes pt 1

ft. bruce, dick, and jason pt. 2

bruce

child’s teacher x single parent i mean that’s literally him. but also i like the idea of exploring his partner’s relationship with his kids

i want somebody to write like a bruce x whoever fic (whoever it is isn’t that important but i’m just saying i do think superbat is fun) with that trope

some college au where like all the kids have taken one of prof kent’s class and they all think he should be their dad

because they don’t want to leave their new dad

they’re hyping bruce up without him even knowing during their office hours

“like yknow prof kent, my dad has a dinosaur”

“oh…that’s certainly…interesting? i’m not sure what this has to do with intro to investigative journalism though”

“you could investigate the dinosaur! actually, we always have a big thanksgiving dinner and our butler, alfred, makes the best stuffing. why don’t you come over and check it out?”

“i’m not sure that’s appropriate of me as your professor. also i’m not sure a dinosaur would be a suitable—”

“you could get an exclusive interview with gotham’s richest and most eligible bachelor? um and we’ll throw in some wayne enterprises secrets too”

“…what was the address again?”

also i think he just gives me enemies to lovers vibes

maybe it has something to do with his canonical relationships

dick

meet cute i think he’s the only one who’s smooth enough to make this not awkward

like it is sort of awkward because this man flirts using puns but i feel like he’s charming enough to make it work

“hey girl are you a booger because i would pick you first” and then rolls nat20

fake dating

i feel like he would agree to it whether or not he actually liked the other person. honestly he might come up with the idea himself

he’s a naturally flirty guy and if he didn’t have a crush on the other person before he’s going to be so smooth with it

but then he spends time with them and he finds himself slower falling for them?

and like even if he ramps up the flirting, maybe tries to be more physical or spend more time with them, he’s not getting his message across and now he’s shooting himself in the foot for agreeing to this in the first place (and not realizing his own feelings and making a move before all of this happened)

but also maybe he’s just dense because he’s not picking up on the fact that they are doing a really bad job at hiding their feelings for him too

ALTERNATIVELY he goes into it already liking them

he thinks he’s going to be soooo smooth and charm them off their feet and then boom they’ll be dating for real

but for the first time in his life he’s stuttering and not knowing what to do and it’s really annoying how even when he’s like that, or maybe because he’s like that, he’s just as cute as he always is

he’s just a lover boy

jason

friends to lovers man seems like he needs to really trust somebody and have an emotional connection with them before pursuing a relationship

also this man canonically cannot flirt and cannot pick up on flirting so i don’t really think meet cutes are gonna work

i’m just imagining they’ve been friends for a while

it took him a really long time to open up. slowly, bit by bit, he reveals more of himself to his friend until he can honestly say they’re one of the people who knows him best

i think one of his biggest fears is not being good enough, like he’ll scare them away with all of his baggage and flaws. every time they have a late night conversation he lets his guard down a little and tests the water. he’ll give them a crumb and see how it goes. honestly, he’s terrified of their reaction but when things go well, he can’t help but want to give them more of himself

i think he’s always had bigger things in his life to worry about other than romance

is he a hopeless romantic? absolutely, if his bookshelf is anything to go by. but i think in some ways he has removed himself from that possibility a long time ago and maybe doesn’t see how he could be at all like the people in happy, loving, stable relationships that he reads about

it’ll take him a long time to realize his own emotions, much less act on them

and because of that, i think

idiots in love would also fit him very well. sorry i just think this guy is emotionally repressed and stupid and if the other person doesn’t figure shit out i don’t think he will either

i sure am roasting him a lot for someone who has a blog dedicated to him

but anyways, i feel like it would take a push for him to confess. whether that be a life threatening injury to either of them or maybe they’re getting too close to another person. i think he would need to come to terms with the fact that he could lose them and then decide that he would rather take the risk than never try

don’t think he’s making a move until he’s at least somewhat sure that the other person likes him back though

this is the best case scenario though. depending on what stage of his life he’s in when he meets somebody he likes, it could very well end up as a

right person wrong time i feel like he's also the most self-sabotaging out of all of them

like even if he met his soulmate, i think what he needs is therapy, not romance and would inevitably end up hurting himself and his partner when it turns out his own issues get in the way of his relationship

like he can't actually be fully vulnerable, not able to balance his work and personal life because what he's doing is so personal to him, not being able to settle down, that type of thing

guys i swear i want him to be happy

m.list | next >

[trustmypoison]

SVT simping

Requested? Yes! 

Request: 'Can you do svt simping for you?'

Seungcheol

So obvious. At some point, he won’t even try to deny or hide it. Unabashedly into you and will say it to your face and anyone else’s, even if he flushes a little when he does. He pouts and sulks for literally everyone else, but it will be doubled with you. Really just wants all of your attention 24/7 even if he’s sometimes too proud to say so. Please simp back. 

Jeonghan

I’m sorry, but you will never catch him simping. He’s too smooth for that. It’s all smug looks and cool exteriors when he’s around you. But if only anyone knew that he has notifications on for all of your socials when you post. Or has set his phone to vibrate or ring differently when it’s you that reaches out to him so he’s sure not to miss it. Or knows your phone number by heart in case something ever happens to his phone and he loses it. Will firmly deny any of these simping allegations if they’re brought to his attention. 

Joshua

Have you ever opened a door for yourself? Or pulled your own chair out? Or buckled your own seatbelt? I know, I know, he’s truly just a gentleman, but he works overtime on it when it comes to you. I don’t think anyone can even make fun of him for it because he wouldn’t pay attention to any teasing anyway. He’s way too busy seeing what you need next. 

Jun

Does not hear anyone else when you’re talking in a conversation. In fact, gets a little irritated if someone else is talking too long and keeping him from hearing your voice. Will absolutely not be subtle when he turns to you and goes, “oh well, anyway, what were you saying?” Just to make it your turn again. 

Hoshi

The opposite of Jun. Sometimes does not hear a word you say. His eyes glaze over, too busy looking at your features. He really, really tries sometimes to listen, but if he gets distracted a lot of the noise is muffled by his own internal screaming of ‘what do you mean they’re talking to me?? What do you mean they’re mine???’ Down bad. 

Wonwoo

Ooo talk about preferential treatment. I have this image that Mingyu could ask him to go do something with him and he’ll flat out say no, but five minutes later you ask him to do the very same thing and he’ll get a little heart-eyed and say sure. Makes Mingyu’s head explode and the whole group chat will know just how down bad Wonu is, but he’s totally unfazed by it. 

Woozi

No one will ever know if it’s in a public facet. Super private about it, but in said private setting, someone might witness him babying you and waiting on you, calling you sweet nicknames, all with a super cheesy smile. It really warms his group members hearts if they ever see it so they’ll never say anything bad about it. Plus, they’re scared of him so…

DK

There was never any doubt that he was a simp. Might as well tell you, ‘I’m a simp’. Glued to your side and hooked on your every word. If his group members, or even you, say something about it, he’ll smile and nod, going ‘uh huh. What about it?’ Permanent heart eyes. 

Mingyu

Might try to be strong, but will fail miserably. Might try to deny the simping allegations from his group members and might even pout about it, because he is not a simp!!! But then you call or come up to him and say ‘Mingyu, can you help me with this?’ And he’s flying out of his seat. Really, all you have to do is need him and he’s folding, accepting any teasing that is most certainly coming his way. 

Minghao

Another subtle one, but it’s still definitely there. It’s in how he chooses to spend his free time with you instead of by himself or with his group members and other friends. But the dead giveaway is how he looks at you when you talk. You know how Jeonghan might get a little gaslighty sometimes? Minghao will definitely take a page out of his book, saying ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, it’s rude to not look at someone when they talk.’ Super soft about you and tries to be super secretive about it. 

Seungkwan

It is so obvious with how he lets you get away with anything. Did something embarrassing? He will eventually let you live it down. Call him when he is busy? Acts irritated and is far from it. You cheat at a game with Jeonghan? He’s not even that mad because you look happy to have won, albeit unfairly. The members will call him out for it sometimes and he’ll turn his wrath to them instead. They will never get away with anything if they directly address his simping behavior. 

Vernon

Now I think he might like a pretty significant amount of alone time. So it’s a huge sign for his group members when he spends most of that time usually reserved for alone time with you instead. It’s the days off that he’ll spend sun up to sun down with you doing whatever. Or the late night phone calls that last hours while he wears a bit of a dopey smile. If his group members call him a simp, he’ll shrug and say okay. Totally unbothered to be that. 

Chan

Totally obvious by how he never lets you breathe. Constantly drowning you in physical affection and compliments. Will look a little faint if you ever seem shy about any of this, but especially if you dish it out as well. I know I said this earlier, but please simp back. It would annoy his group members so much!!!

[shybluebirdninja]

Haunted House Hero

Summary: Logan tries to be brave in a haunted house attraction but freaks out more than you do at the jump scares.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : fluff

You wrap your arms around yourself, the leather jacket Logan bought you last year doing its best to keep the cold out.

Logan’s beside you, wearing his usual flannel, sleeves rolled up like he’s immune to the cold, even though you know he feels it. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and he's been grumbling about this haunted house since you both got in line.

“They better have somethin’ scary in there. Not some cheap-ass jump scares,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the way it always is when he’s trying to act like he doesn’t care.

You stifle a laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, come on, babe. It’ll be fun. Maybe they’ll actually get you to flinch for once.”

He glances down at you, eyes narrowing, but there’s a glint of amusement there. “Me? Flinch? Yeah, right. These places don’t scare me. It’s all fake.”

You grin, leaning into his side a little. “Sure, sure. You’re the big, bad Wolverine. Nothing scares you.”

He grunts, clearly not convinced by the haunted house’s ability to impress him, but there’s a hint of nervous energy in the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot as you approach the entrance.

The door swings open with a loud creak, and the two of you step inside. The air changes immediately—stuffy, thick with the smell of fog machines and something vaguely like burnt wood.

It’s dark, too, except for the occasional dim flicker of fake candles and red lights illuminating the path ahead. The place is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of chains clinking and faint screams.

Logan rolls his shoulders back, pretending like he’s unfazed, but his hand brushes against yours, and you can feel the tension there.

“Stick close, babe. Don’t want you getting lost in here,” he says, even though you know he’s the one who needs a little reassurance.

You bite back a grin. “You mean you don’t want to get lost.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step forward, leading the way. His body moves with purpose, like he’s walking into some kind of battle, not a cheesy haunted attraction. His flannel sways slightly with each step, and you can see the way his muscles tense under the fabric.

You both turn a corner, and the hallway suddenly gets narrower. The walls close in, decorated with fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons, and you can feel Logan’s posture change—he’s bracing himself, even though he’d never admit it. His breathing’s a little heavier, and you can tell he’s hyper-aware of every creak, every distant sound.

That’s when the first scare hits.

A figure jumps out from behind a hidden door, dressed in tattered clothes, face covered in white makeup, screaming right in Logan’s face.

“Fuck!” Logan shouts, jumping back, his hand instinctively shooting out to grab your arm. His reflexes are faster than the scare actor’s, and for a second, he looks like he’s ready to take the poor guy down.

You burst out laughing, holding onto Logan’s arm to steady yourself. “Oh my god, Logan, did you just—”

“Shut up,” he growls, trying to play it off like it didn’t just happen. He straightens up, taking a deep breath, and glares at the actor who’s already slinking back into the shadows. “They’re lucky I didn’t pop claws.”

Your stomach hurts from laughing so hard, and you have to take a deep breath to calm down. “Sure, babe. Sure. No claws in the haunted house.”

Logan mutters something under his breath, still clearly irritated that he got caught off guard, and continues down the path, but his hand hasn’t left your arm since the scare. His grip’s not tight, just…there. Steadying himself, maybe, or making sure you don’t pull any pranks on him.

As you walk further in, the air gets colder. It’s like they’ve cranked up the AC to make it feel more like an actual haunted mansion, and the temperature drop has Logan rubbing the back of his neck, trying to shake off the chill.

You’re halfway through the house when a low moaning sound echoes through the hallway. Logan stops in his tracks.

“Babe,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s actually starting to buy into the atmosphere. “Did you hear that?”

You can’t help the mischievous smile that spreads across your face. “What? You scared?”

He shoots you a look, but before he can respond, another figure leaps out from the shadows. This one’s dressed like some sort of ghoul, with glowing red eyes and a mask that looks a little too realistic. Logan jumps again, but this time, instead of swearing, he just wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

“I wasn’t scared,” he says quickly, his breath a little uneven. “Just…protecting you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, grinning like an idiot. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you almost punched that ghost?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking, but you can feel his arm stay around you, like he’s not taking any chances.

The rest of the haunted house is full of the usual jump scares—screaming clowns, sudden loud noises, and creepy dolls—but Logan’s reactions are priceless every time. He tries to act tough, like he’s not affected, but the way his shoulders jump or how his grip on you tightens tells a different story.

By the time you both reach the exit, you’re practically leaning on him from laughing so hard. Logan pushes open the door, and the cool night air hits you both like a welcome relief.

He stops just outside, letting go of you for a second to rub the back of his neck again, looking almost sheepish.

“You gonna make fun of me for this all night, aren’t you?” he asks, glancing down at you with that familiar gruff expression, but there’s a softness behind it.

You smile up at him, sliding your hand into his. “Nah, babe. I’ll give you a break. For now.”

He grunts in response, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips as he pulls you closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders again as you start to walk back toward the parking lot.

“Next year, though, we’re doing somethin’ with actual danger. No more of this fake shit.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

But deep down, you both know you’re coming back next year.

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hellooo! I saw your post about Scoups and His S/O,the sasaeng found out about their relationship then begun to threaten his S/O. Can you do a Minghao Version?

Safe in Your Arms | idol!The8 x Reader | angst, fluff

Minghao sat in one of the chairs at the airport in China, his leg bouncing as he checked the time on his phone. He and Jun had just finished an event earlier that day, and now they were waiting for their flight back to Korea.

It wasn’t supposed to take long—just one day in China and then back home. But even one day felt too long to be away from Y/N. He missed her already and couldn’t wait to see her.

Jun leaned back in his seat, scrolling through his phone. “Relax, we’ll be home soon,” he said with a smile, noticing Minghao’s nervous energy.

Minghao nodded but couldn’t shake the strange feeling in his chest. Something didn’t feel right.

And then his phone rang.

He saw Y/N’s name on the screen and quickly answered. “Hey, are you okay?”

But the shaky sound of her voice made his heart drop.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers hurt. The streetlights outside her car flashed by, but she barely noticed them. All she could focus on was the black car still following her.

Her phone buzzed against the dashboard. She grabbed it quickly and answered.

“H-Hao,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I think someone’s following me.”

“What?!” Minghao’s voice was sharp, making her flinch. She could hear background noise—an announcement at the airport and Jun asking questions beside him.

“They’ve been behind me for a while now. I turned a few times, but they’re still there.” Her breath was quick and shaky. She checked her mirror again. The car hadn’t left. “I don’t know what to do. Hao, I’m scared.”

“Y/N.” Minghao’s voice softened, but there was still worry in it. “Okay, first, calm down. Are your doors locked? Windows up?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Listen carefully,” he said. “Don’t go home, okay? Don’t lead them there.”

“Then where do I go?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Go to the studio,” Minghao said quickly. “Some of the members are there. I’ll call them and tell them you’re coming. They’ll keep you safe until I get back. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay.” Her voice was quiet, but she forced herself to stay calm. “I’ll go there now.”

“Good. Just keep driving and don’t stop. I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

He hung up before she could say anything else, leaving her heart pounding as she changed lanes and headed toward the studio.

———————————————————————————-

Minghao shoved his phone into his pocket and jumped out of his seat. Jun looked up, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Minghao said quickly, pacing as he ran his hands through his hair. “I think sasaengs are following her. She’s heading to the studio now.”

Jun’s expression turned serious. “I’ll call the others.”

Minghao barely heard him. His mind raced as he grabbed his bag. The flight wouldn’t board for another thirty minutes, and he hated the thought of Y/N being scared and alone while he was so far away.

“She’ll be okay,” Jun said after hanging up his phone. “Seungcheol’s at the studio. They’ll take care of her until we land.”

Minghao nodded, but his chest felt tight. He wouldn’t feel okay—not until he was there, holding her in his arms.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N pushed through the doors of the studio, her breaths shaky. The lights inside felt too bright after the dark streets, and her legs felt weak.

Seungcheol was the first to reach her, pulling her into a gentle hug.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

Joshua brought her a glass of water while the others locked the doors and closed the blinds.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, his voice calm.

“I-I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling. “I just didn’t know where else to go.”

“You did the right thing,” Seungcheol said firmly. “We’ll keep you safe until Minghao gets here.”

She nodded, but even with their words, the fear didn’t fully go away.

———————————————————————————-

The members insisted she stay in Minghao’s old dorm room, promising they’d check the area and take turns keeping watch. After a while, her body gave in to exhaustion, and she fell asleep under Minghao’s blanket, the scent of his cologne calming her just a little.

Hours later, the soft creak of the door woke her slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes until she felt a gentle touch on her hair.

Her eyes snapped open, panic bubbling up again.

“Shh,” a familiar voice said softly. “It’s just me.”

“Hao?” Her voice was small, but when she saw him sitting beside her, relief hit her so hard that tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m here.” He reached out, brushing her hair back gently. “You’re safe now.”

She didn’t wait. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Minghao held her just as tightly, one hand running up and down her back.

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know,” Minghao said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

She pulled back slightly, her teary eyes meeting his. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You kept me safe. You always do.”

Minghao cupped her face, gently wiping her tears away. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

Her lips trembled. “I love you.”

His face softened as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too.”

And for the first time that night, Y/N felt safe.

[willowsnook]

Off Limits Pt. 2

Joe Burrow x Kelce!sister

pt. 1 here

—------------------------------------- Sunlight streamed through the window as you stirred, blinking your eyes open and taking in the unfamiliar room around you. Something heavy was weighing down your stomach, and you looked down to see Joe’s arm tightly wrapped around your waist. As you noticed you weren’t wearing anything besides an oversized LSU t-shirt, memories of the previous night flooded back.

Let’s just say Mr. Cool lived up to his reputation.

Trying to quietly slip out of his grasp, you were almost off the bed when you felt his arm tighten and pull you back into his chest.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled sleepily.

“I need to pee,” you complained, trying to wiggle out of his grip. This only meant your ass was moving against him, causing a groan to escape his mouth. He quickly moved to where he was hovering over you, pressing his covered bulge right against your core.

“Joe…”

He ignored you, bringing his lips down to suck on your neck, leaving new marks over the ones from last night.

“Yes?”

“I need to get up,” you whined, gasping as he ground into you again. “Just come with me into the shower.”

He perked up at that, sliding off the bed and pulling you along with him. Round two was more sensual than the rough fucking that took place last night, so stepping out of the shower, you were very satisfied and clean.

Luckily, you had made Joe stop by your hotel last night to grab a change of clothes for today. You slipped the t-shirt over your head and pulled up your leggings before wandering out into the kitchen, where Joe was making coffee.

“Cream? Sugar?” he offered, handing you a cup.

“Just milk if you have it,” you replied. He turned to the fridge, pulling out a carton to hand to you.

“When are you flying back?” he asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” you said, bringing the mug to your lips.

“Can I have you for the day?” he asked, looking at you hopefully, and you felt your heart flutter.

“Perhaps,” you teased. “You have to come to family dinner tonight, though.”

“Damn, sex on the first date, hanging with the fam on the second. Am I flying back to Philly with you to get married tomorrow?” he joked, and you laughed.

“Last night was not a date,” you said, and he frowned playfully at you.

“You wound me,” he pouted, stepping in front of where you were sitting on the barstool. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“Let’s go.”

—--------------------------------------

The Cincinnati Zoo was buzzing with activity—families with kids running around, couples strolling hand in hand, and a few groups of teenagers trying to act too cool to be excited about the animals. The second you walked through the entrance, Joe slipped on a pair of sunglasses and tugged a hoodie over his head, attempting to be low-key.

“You look like you’re about to commit a crime,” you teased, nudging him as he adjusted his hood.

“Just trying to enjoy my day without getting swarmed,” he replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Unless you want our first real date to be interrupted by a bunch of fans?”

You smirked. “Are you sure you don’t want people to see you with me? Scared my brothers might find out?”

Joe scoffed. “Oh, they’ll find out eventually. I’d just like to delay the execution as long as possible.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

As you walked through the zoo, Joe was surprisingly into it. He made you stop at nearly every exhibit, taking his time reading the signs and pointing out random facts like he was some kind of animal expert.

“I feel like you studied for this,” you said as you stood in front of the gorilla enclosure, watching as one of them lazily chewed on a piece of fruit.

Joe shrugged. “What can I say? I like to be prepared.”

You hummed in amusement. “So, what’s your favorite animal?”

Without hesitation, he pointed toward the tigers. “Big cat guy.”

You smirked. “So you see yourself as a tiger?”

“I mean, they’re strong, strategic, and a little intimidating.” He turned to you with a smirk. “Sounds familiar, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “I was gonna say they sleep a lot.”

Joe laughed, nudging you playfully as you continued through the zoo.

The two of you stopped at the orangutan exhibit next, leaning against the railing as you watched them interact.

“I like them,” you said.

Joe glanced over. “Yeah? Why?”

“They’re family-oriented,” you said simply. “They take care of each other.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, his voice softer. “That’s important to you, huh?”

You turned to look at him, nodding. “Yeah. My family’s everything to me.”

He met your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he reached out and casually took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “Joe?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “What? Can’t hold my date’s hand?”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t let go.

As you neared the entrance again, you heard your stomach growl, and Joe looked over at you with amusement.

“Hungry?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Gotta feed my girl.”

“Not your girl, Joey,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling.

“Not yet,” he commented, and your mind raced, but he just pulled you along.

A short drive later, you were on the rooftop of a brewery, sipping on a beer while waiting for the chicken tenders you ordered to come out. You and Joe were chatting about how his summer workouts were going when you heard a very familiar voice call out to you.

“Well, look what we have here,” Jason said, eyes narrowed as he looked between you and Joe.

“I tried to keep his attention away,” Kylie told you apologetically.

You hung your head in defeat, as a look of panic stayed visible on Joe’s face.

“Mind if we join you?” Jason asked, already sitting down across from Joe.

“Not at all,” you muttered.

Joe cleared his throat nervously, shifting in his seat as Jason’s intense gaze bore into him. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Jason ignored the question, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “So, Joe. Mind telling me what you’re doing out with my little sister?”

You rolled your eyes. “Jason, I’m a grown woman. I can go out with whoever I want.”

“Oh, I know that,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off Joe. “I just want to hear it from him.”

Joe straightened up, meeting Jason’s stare. “We’re on a date. I like your sister, and I’m interested in getting to know her better.”

A tense silence fell over the table. You held your breath, waiting for Jason’s reaction. To your surprise, a slow grin spread across his face.

“Well, alright then,” Jason said, picking up the menu to look over.

You gave him a bizarre look before turning to Kylie, who was trying not to laugh.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two leaving together last night, though, but that’s just a conversation for me and Joe.”

You groaned, resting your face in your hands.

The rest of lunch went smoothly and thankfully wasn’t awkward. Joe and Jason just talked about the upcoming season while you and Kylie chimed in every once in a while.

Afterward, you ended up walking around downtown, slipping into a boutique with Kylie while the boys waited outside.

You browsed the racks, sifting through the store’s new summer collection while Kylie hovered nearby.

"Just ask what you want to ask," you told her, tired of her silence.

"How was it?" she asked, smirking. You knew immediately what she was referring to.

"He might have ruined the chance of me ever enjoying sex with anyone else for the rest of my life," you said, shooting her a wink.

She laughed loudly, and you tried to shush her.

"What's the deal, then? It’s obviously not just sex if you've spent the whole day together," she pressed, and you sighed.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I like him, but he lives here, and I don’t. We both have crazy work schedules, so it kind of feels like I’m playing pretend until we have to go back."

Kylie nodded sympathetically. "I get that. Long distance is tough, especially with your schedules. But hey, if you both really like each other, maybe it's worth trying?"

You shrugged, picking up a cute sundress to examine. "Maybe. I just don't want to get my hopes up, you know?"

"Well, from what I've seen today, Joe seems pretty smitten," Kylie said with a grin. "And trust me, Jason wouldn't be so cool about it if he didn’t think Joe was serious."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Kylie laughed. "If Jason thought Joe was just messing around, he’d be in full protective big brother mode right now."

"Oh please, he already is. You know he’s out there scaring the shit out of Joe right now," you giggled.

Both of you glanced out the window. Sure enough, Jason was speaking animatedly to Joe, pointing a finger at him.

"Let’s go save him," she sighed, and you followed her outside.

Joe looked relieved to see you, and you narrowed your eyes at your brother, who was trying his best to look innocent.

You slipped your hand into Joe’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Everything okay out here?"

"Just fine," Jason said a little too cheerfully. "Joe and I were just having a friendly chat."

Joe nodded, though his eyes betrayed his relief at your return. "Yeah, just… catching up."

You rolled your eyes. "Uh-huh. Well, if you're done 'catching up,' we should probably head back. We've got that family dinner tonight, remember?"

"Right," Jason said, clapping Joe on the shoulder. "Looking forward to it, buddy."

As you walked away, you leaned in close to Joe. "What did he say to you?"

Joe chuckled nervously. "Oh, you know. The usual ‘hurt her and I'll kill you’ speech. But he also threw in some creative threats involving the offensive line and the game against the Eagles."

"That’s honestly pretty mild coming from him," you mused.

You glanced at your phone. "I need to go back to my hotel to change and just chill for a little bit. Want to come with me or meet back up later?"

"I’ll come," he said, and you smiled.

"You can’t distract me from getting ready, though," you warned.

He smirked, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "No promises."

Back at the hotel, you were in the bathroom applying makeup while Joe lounged on the bed, flipping through the channels.

Your phone buzzed beside him, and curiosity got the better of him. He glanced over and saw a notification about your flight tomorrow. That’s when it hit him—you were actually leaving.

When you came out of the bathroom, you frowned at the tense look on his face.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, walking over to him.

"I don’t want you to leave tomorrow," he said quietly, and your heart sank.

"I don’t want to leave either, but my life is back in Philly," you said softly.

Joe sat up, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know. It’s just… I really like you. And I don’t want this to just be a weekend fling."

You sat down next to him on the bed, taking his hand in yours. "I really like you too, Joe. But we live in different cities, and we both have demanding careers. How would this even work?"

He turned to face you, his eyes intense. "We could make it work. We both travel a lot for our jobs anyway. We could visit each other on off weeks, make time for calls and FaceTime. I'm willing to try if you are."

You chewed on your lip, thinking. The silence stretched between you, heavy with uncertainty.

"Okay," you said finally.

"Okay?" he asked, hopeful.

"I’m willing to try it out," you agreed. "But the second I feel like I’m a distraction to your season, we’re re-evaluating."

"Fine," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. He reached out, pulling you into his lap. "How much time until we have to leave?"

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you look deep enough into steve’s eyes, the colors start to shift from a medium-brown to light, almost golden, like his hair in the summer, like his skin when it’s wet.

eddie finds himself noticing these things more often as the year after vecna passes. on the anniversary of nearly dying, eddie thinks he’s noticed everything about steve.

but then steve shows up at his door after dropping the kids off at their respective homes, a smile on his face, and something mysterious in his eyes. something that distracts eddie from the golden specks the reflect off his porch light. something that only eddie really gets to see.

“wanna take a ride?”

“where you taking me, big boy?”

steve blushes, a soft pink that would be warm to the touch if eddie was brave enough to reach out.

“it’s a surprise.”

eddie trusts steve, so he gets in his car and doesn’t ask anymore questions.

steve talks about something dustin did on the way, complaining with a fondness only steve could have for the kid.

it hits eddie as steve pulls onto a side road.

the field.

the wildflowers bloomed early this year, and eddie had mentioned recently that he would like to make new memories in a place where he was facing death or prison exactly one year ago.

he didn’t think anyone was listening, but apparently steve was.

steve parks the car and eddie doesn’t think he can look at him yet. he thinks he’s gonna cry. he thinks he’s so deeply in love with this man that he may never experience anything like it again.

it’s dark, but the moon is bright. there’s still a light chill in the air, but eddie’s still wearing his leather jacket from hellfire earlier, so he barely feels it.

they walk together through the field, close enough that their hands brush, but still more distance between them than eddie wants. he’s surrounded by beauty: the flowers, the stars, steve.

he stops when steve does.

they both look up at the stars for a few minutes, silent so they can hear the crickets and their own heartbeats.

“a year ago, when i almost lost you, i thought about all the things i didn’t get to do or say or know about you. i was angry for a long time.” steve turns to eddie, giving him a sad smile. “it wasn’t fair that you had to go through all of that and i couldn’t do anything. the doctors weren’t doing enough, and the cops weren’t doing enough, and no one understood how important it was that they fix it.”

eddie’s watching him, baffled. he’s not sure where this is going and he’s worried that his own feelings may be clouding his vision.

“i couldn’t make your pain go away. i couldn’t make it easier. i couldn’t help you walk again or play guitar. i just had to watch.”

eddie feels a tug in his stomach, a pull that leaves him breathless.

“but i watched. and i saw every side of you. and i don’t think i’ll say this right, but i practiced with robin and she thinks i did good.” steve breathes in and turns to face eddie completely. “i learned a side of me that i didn’t know about while i watched you. i learned that love looks different than what i always thought. and i learned that because of you.”

“because of…me?” eddie’s trying not to get his hopes up, but he’s pretty sure they’re higher than ever.

“because you love so loudly. everyone you love knows it and you aren’t scared that they’ll run away. it’s probably because it’s impossible not to love you.”

eddie thinks he actually is experiencing some kind of post-death dream. maybe he got too high in his room and steve never even showed up at his door.

“eddie? did you hear me?”

eddie focuses on steve’s look of concern, on the golden specks in his eyes that the moonlight makes shimmer.

“i don’t know?”

“i said i love you.”

“oh. then, no, i didn’t.”

steve’s face falls and eddie realizes a second too late that his response to steve saying he loves him wasn’t the exact thing he’d been holding back for at least six months now.

“i just thought you should know. um. so i guess i can wait in the car if you wanna stay a bit longer-“

eddie is only staying in this field if steve is with him, so he wraps his arms around steve’s shoulders and hugs him harder than is probably safe.

“i love you. sorry i’m a dumbass and didn’t say it the second you did. i was trying to convince myself this was real life.”

steve laughs against his ear and eddie’s pretty sure they belong like this.

“why now?” eddie asks as he pulls away.

“because i told myself if you didn’t do it by today, i would.”

“how long have you been waiting on me?”

steve lets out a breath. “eight months give or take.”

“that is…much longer than i would’ve expected.”

“yeah, well, imagine being the one waiting.”

eddie smiles at steve, and steve smiles back, and eddie notices a new thing.

steve harrington’s got a crooked tooth. an imperfection to some, a sign of being human to eddie.

“what’s that face for?” steve asks.

“you’re perfect, stevie.”

they kiss in the field where eddie was saying goodbyes a year ago. they look at stars in a clear sky while holding hands and talking about what their future might look like. steve’s head rests in eddie’s lap while eddie traces steve’s lips with his finger, memorizing the curl of his lips when he smiles and the feel of the vibrations when he hums a song eddie doesn’t recognize.

steve picks flowers, and eddie makes a crown, and they both say i love you in a million ways.

they walk along the edges of the field, where the rv was parked while they prepared for the worst. eddie shivers at the memories, but steve kisses his shoulder and the back of his hand and he shivers at that instead.

they ride back, and eddie sings along to whatever songs play on the radio, even if he messes up the words. steve laughs and it’s better than any music they could listen to.

they kiss on eddie’s porch, surrounded by darkness because no one turned on the outside light. it’s so late, no one would see them anyway.

steve stays at eddie’s, but wayne’s home, so they’re quiet and keep their hands above the waist even though they so desperately want to touch, and kiss, and bite every inch of each other.

they still get carried away, which doesn’t surprise eddie at all. what does surprise eddie is how quickly steve sits in his lap, rutting against his stomach and biting back moans and whimpers and eddie laces their fingers together and squeezes, meeting each thrust with his own. neither of them last long, coming in their pants like virgins. they laugh, but they kiss through it, teeth clacking as they gasp for breath.

they take turns in the bathroom in case wayne wakes up. steve comes back into eddie’s room without a shirt and hair slightly damp. eddie feels his heartbeat quicken as steve hops into bed next to him.

they sleep with steve curled against eddie’s chest, eddie’s arms around his back, sweaty but content.

content and happy.

and when the sun rises the next morning, eddie wakes first and notices another new thing about steve: he drools in his sleep.