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kiwriteswords · 2 days ago

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Finer Things [Aaron Hotchner x High-Maintenance!Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 6k|| AN: Here we are! This took a little longer than expected, but I think I like how this one turned out!

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, canon-typical themes, high-maintenance reader, female reader, progression of relationship, simp!Hotch, feminine reader, Jack exists but is only briefly mentioned, BAU reader, materialistic reader, Garcia the helpful friend, flirty banter, mild language

Summary: You're a stylish...arguably high-maintenance BAU agent who unexpectedly falls for your straightforward and grounded partner, Aaron Hotchner. As you both tackle cases and life’s surprises, you learn to blend your love for the finer things with his practical approach, discovering a deep and enduring connection.

Hotch’s office door clicked softly as you knocked, barely audible over the hum of the precinct around you. The frame filled almost instantly with your form—pristine as always, from your flawlessly styled hair down to the heels that added an effortless grace to your every step.

“Got a minute?” you asked, your voice as smooth and composed as the latte you held in one hand, the steam still curling lazily up from the cup.

Hotch stepped aside, allowing you entrance. “Of course,” he said, though he knew his afternoon was already crammed with meetings and reports. For you, though, he made time—something the rest of the team had noticed and often teased him about. But what could he say? Aaron Hotchner, stoic and steadfast, had indeed developed a soft spot for you.

As you settled into the chair across from his desk, Hotch couldn’t help but admire the meticulous way you organized your space on the table. Your designer bag was set precisely to the right, not a strap out of place. He often wondered how someone so particular could thrive in the chaotic unpredictability of the BAU.

“So, what did you think of the profile?” you began, breaking into his thoughts. Your eyes were bright, lively—a stark contrast to his own, which often carried the weight of the job.

“It’s thorough. You have a knack for getting into the unsub’s head,” Hotch replied, his voice firm yet carrying a hint of warmth reserved mostly for you.

Your smile widened, pleased. “I do try,” you quipped, stirring your latte leisurely. “But I think it could use a bit more… je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And what would you suggest?”

“Well,” you leaned forward, the light catching your earrings just so. “If I were him, I’d be more careful about where I left my clues. Too sloppy. Maybe he needs a lesson in organization from me.”

Hotch chuckled, the sound more natural than he intended. “I think he’d be horrified at the idea.”

“Good,” you grinned, sitting back with satisfaction. “Then he’d know how I feel about unorganized data.”

Moving to the round table, the rest of the team began to filter into the office for the briefing, and Morgan threw a teasing glance your way. “Looks like Hotch is getting his daily dose of high maintenance,” he commented, a playful smirk on his face.

Prentiss elbowed him lightly, smiling in your direction. “Leave them alone. If anyone can get Hotch to lighten up, it’s her.”

Hotch cleared his throat, signaling the start of the briefing, but he couldn’t deny the truth in their observations. You brought a lightness to his often too-heavy life, a splash of color to the monochrome routine.

As the meeting progressed, your contributions were not just insightful but infused with a vibrancy that lifted the somber mood typical of these sessions. Each time you spoke, Hotch found his attention drawn not just to your words but to the way you expressed them—with a confidence and a flair that was uniquely yours. When you directed a comment towards him, accompanied by a playful raise of your eyebrows, there was an underlying challenge there, as if you were coaxing him out from behind his well-constructed barriers.

Your laughter, light and unguarded, filled the room at one point when you poked fun at the unsub’s choice of hideouts, suggesting even you could find a better hiding place during your shopping trips. The team chuckled, and even Hotch’s lips twitched into a smile—your cheer infectious, your presence undeniably compelling.

As the team began to disperse, you lingered over your notes, your meticulous nature evident as you aligned your papers and recapped your pens with a precision that spoke of a deeper need for order—a trait Hotch could appreciate, perhaps because it mirrored his own.

Hotch watched you, the way the light caught the highlights in your hair and the meticulous care you took with even the smallest task. He remained in his seat, an internal debate raging within him. He was the Unit Chief, always in control, always composed. But around you, those walls he meticulously maintained seemed less formidable, more permeable.

Finally, he stood, his decision made, propelled by a force he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. Approaching you, he noted the slight surprise in your movements as you looked up. His voice, when he spoke, was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something deeper.

“Dinner tonight?” he asked, the invitation hanging between them, heavier than the casual manner he attempted to portray.

You paused, a pen still in your hand, and met his gaze. The flicker of surprise was quickly replaced by a slow-spreading smile that warmed your eyes. “Trying to keep up with my high standards, Hotch?” you teased, the challenge back in your voice, but this time it was laced with an unmistakable warmth.

“I think I’m ready to try,” Hotch replied, his voice low, honest. The corners of his mouth turned up in a rare, genuine smile that seemed to reach his eyes, softening the usual hardness there.

“Then it’s a date,” you declared, your voice light but carrying a weight that filled the room with a promise of something new, something thrilling.

As you gathered your belongings and left, your heels clicking assertively against the floor, Hotch watched you go, a sense of anticipation building within him. It was a feeling foreign yet exhilarating, stirring something within him that had lain dormant.

He realized then, as the distance grew between you, that what the team jokingly called his ‘weakness’ was perhaps his most profound revelation. In you, Aaron Hotchner found not just a challenge but a vibrant counterpart who could match his steps in life’s intricate dance. With you, the future seemed less daunting, more vivid—colored by the finer things, in every possible way.

Since that first dinner, a subtle shift had occurred in the dynamics between Hotch and you. What started as a casual outing evolved into a series of clandestine meetings, each encounter deepening the bond that was swiftly becoming an integral part of his daily life. The secrecy was necessary—not just for the sake of professionalism within the team but to preserve the unique world that had begun to flourish between the two of you.

Hotch found himself anticipating your texts, which often popped up on his phone with playful emojis and witty remarks about everything from case files to the peculiar habits of their local barista. You managed to make even the mundane seem amusing, and Hotch, ever the stoic leader, found his day brightening with each notification.

One evening, as Hotch returned home from a particularly grueling case, he found a small package at his doorstep. Inside was a high-end espresso machine—a gift from you, complete with a note: "For your home office, so you can enjoy a proper latte without braving the outside world. Think of me when you use it." It was both a luxurious gesture and so quintessentially you, blending high maintenance with thoughtful consideration.

Hotch couldn’t help but smile as he set up the machine in his kitchen. It wasn’t something he would have ever purchased for himself, but now, brewing a cup in the quiet of the morning, he found a new appreciation for the ritual. It reminded him of you—how you’d insist on the perfect temperature, the ideal foam-to-espresso ratio, details he’d once overlooked but now found endearing.

At work, these small infiltrations into his life were becoming more apparent. You had taken to adjusting the small things around him, straightening the papers on his desk, sometimes replacing his usual stark office supplies with items that had a bit more personality—a stapler in polished chrome, sleek and efficient like the espresso machine, or pens that wrote so smoothly he found excuses to handwrite notes he would typically type.

Hotch had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that your influence was a welcome one. It was as if you were slowly coloring in parts of his world that he hadn’t even realized were so monochrome. And when you both sat down at the round table, reviewing case files together, the subtle touches—the way your knee would gently brush against his, or how you’d share a quick, knowing look over a shared inside joke—added layers to their days that Hotch hadn’t anticipated but found he no longer wanted to go without.

One afternoon, caught in a rare moment of downtime, Hotch found himself at the local shopping center, standing before a display of designer ties. He remembered you commenting on how a splash of color could brighten his usual ensemble of dark suits and somber expressions. With a critical eye, he selected one that was a soft shade--something that would match your eyes, he thought, a private acknowledgment of the space you were coming to occupy in his life.

That evening, when he wore the tie, the team didn’t miss the change. “Look at Hotch, finally taking some fashion tips from the best,” Morgan teased, nudging you as you both arrived for the briefing.

You shot Hotch a playful wink, and he responded with a slight nod, a silent conversation passing between them. Yes, you were changing him, but perhaps, Hotch considered as he adjusted the new tie subtly, this change was not just inevitable but necessary.

For Aaron Hotchner, known for his rigor and restraint, the gentle invasion of your high-maintenance habits into his disciplined life was less a disruption and more a revelation. Each new preference, each shared secret, wove a richer tapestry into his days. And as he looked across the table at you, he realized with a clarity that surprised him, that these threads, once so foreign, were now essential to the fabric of his life.

The rarity of a day off was not something Hotch took lightly, especially with Jack away on a Boy Scout trip. He had considered a quiet day at home, perhaps catching up on some reading or simply enjoying the peace. However, as he was contemplating his solitary plans, you texted him about your own plans for the day—getting your nails done, a routine you indulged in every few weeks.

"I’m off to maintain my high standards," your message read, accompanied by a laughing emoji. "Care to join me for a change of scenery?"

The invitation was unexpected. The thought of spending his day off in a nail salon was not something Hotch would have ever considered before meeting you. Yet, the idea of accompanying you, of sharing in something that was a part of your routine, held an appeal he couldn’t deny.

"Sure, why not?" Hotch texted back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagined your reaction.

At the salon, you greeted him with a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "Never thought I’d see the day Aaron Hotchner steps into a nail salon willingly," you teased, leading him inside.

The salon was a buzz of activity, a stark contrast to the usual seriousness of his work environment. You introduced him to your nail technician, a friendly woman named Lisa who greeted him with a warmth that seemed to radiate throughout the room.

As Lisa started on your nails, you chatted animatedly about the colors and designs. Hotch found himself pulled into a conversation about the merits of various shades—a discussion he never thought he’d have, yet here he was, weighing in on whether 'Midnight Blue' was a better choice than 'Stormy Grey'.

"You know, you could get something done too. A manicure perhaps? It’s quite relaxing," you suggested, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, considering it. "What would the team think if I showed up with polished nails?"

"They’d think you’re embracing the finer things in life," you replied with a laugh. "But maybe just a clear coat. We wouldn’t want to give Morgan too much ammunition."

Surprisingly, Hotch agreed. As Lisa began to work on his nails, he found the experience unexpectedly soothing. The gentle handling, the focus on something so trivial yet intimate, was a stark departure from his day-to-day life.

"So, how does it feel to be pampered?" you asked, watching him with an amused expression.

"Strangely relaxing," Hotch admitted. "I can see the appeal."

As Lisa finished, you both sat under the nail dryers. Hotch looked over at you, taking in the relaxed ease of your posture, and the genuine smile on your face. It was these moments, he realized, that he cherished deeply—the simple pleasures shared, the barriers between professional and personal blurring into something beautifully ordinary.

"You know, I’m glad you invited me," Hotch said, his voice soft amid the hum of the salon. "It’s nice, sharing this part of your world."

You reached over, your hand finding his. "I’m glad you’re here, Aaron. It means more than you know."

As they left the salon, Hotch felt a lightness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The day had been uneventful by most standards, yet for him, it was a precious insight into the everyday joys of the person who had unexpectedly become his closest confidant.

The team's discovery of his relationship with you was as inevitable as it was unintended. It began one morning when Garcia, ever observant, noticed the faintest of smiles on Hotch’s lips as he read a text from you. It was nothing overt, just the subtle lift of his mood, but it was enough to pique her interest.

“Spill it, Hotch. You’ve been smiling more these days,” Garcia prodded as they gathered in the briefing room, her tone teasing but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

Hotch, caught slightly off-guard, managed to maintain his composure. “It’s just been a good morning,” he replied smoothly, hoping his nonchalance would deflect further inquiry.

Garcia, however, was not so easily dissuaded. “Uh huh,” she hummed, giving him a knowing look but dropping the subject in the presence of the rest of the team.

The next clue came unintentionally from you during a case briefing. You were discussing a particularly challenging aspect of the case when you casually mentioned a small detail—a detail that Hotch had shared with you in confidence during one of your dinners together.

As you spoke, Reid’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing in that characteristic way when he was putting pieces together. “That’s an interesting observation,” he remarked, glancing between Hotch and you. “Not many would’ve caught that.”

Hotch met Reid’s gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Reid’s expression softened into a subtle smile, and he nodded slightly, turning his attention back to the files in front of him.

Morgan and JJ were the next to catch on. It happened in the field, during a tense moment when you instinctively reached for Hotch’s hand. It was a brief touch, meant to be reassuring, but Morgan and JJ caught the action from the corner of their eye.

Later, as they regrouped at the SUV, Morgan clapped Hotch on the shoulder. “You know you can tell us, right? We’re family here,” he said in a low voice, his look pointed but friendly.

Hotch simply nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “I know, Derek,” he said, grateful for the support he knew they would offer.

Prentiss figured it out during a late-night coffee run when she saw you both at a small cafe, your heads close together, laughing softly over shared stories. She didn’t approach, respecting your privacy, but the next day, her smile was a bit wider when she greeted you both.

“It’s good to see you happy, Hotch,” she said quietly as she passed by his office, her words meant only for him.

By the time Rossi found out, it seemed that most of the team had already accepted the new dynamic with characteristic adaptability. Rossi, ever the father figure, simply raised his glass to Hotch during their next team dinner, a silent toast that spoke volumes.

“You’ve got a good thing, Aaron. Don’t let the job get in the way,” Rossi advised later, when they were alone, his voice low and earnest.

Hotch appreciated the wisdom; knowing the balance between personal happiness and professional duty was a fine line to walk.

As the team gradually discovered the relationship, what surprised Hotch most was not the fact that they found out, but the ease with which they accepted it. Their teasing was gentle, their support unwavering, and in their acceptance, Hotch found not just confirmation of his feelings for you but also a deeper appreciation for the team he considered his second family.

In this newfound openness, Hotch realized that his relationship with you did not weaken his leadership; rather, it enriched the very fabric of his life, both at work and beyond. With each passing day, as you both navigate the complexities of a relationship built amidst the demands of the BAU, Hotch found himself not just accepting but embracing the vibrant color you brought into his once-monochrome world.

The integration of your meticulous routines into Hotch's daily life was gradual, almost imperceptible at first, until one day he found himself deeply enmeshed in the particulars of your high-maintenance habits. What began as playful observations soon became cherished moments of his day, each routine offering a glimpse into the meticulous and vibrant world you inhabited.

Every evening, as you both prepared for bed, Hotch would lean against the bathroom doorway, watching as you engaged in your elaborate skincare routine. The array of creams, serums, and tools was impressive, and he'd often raise an eyebrow in mock incredulity as you explained the purpose of each one.

“Do you really need all of this?” Hotch would ask, his tone light and teasing as you applied a night serum with precise, practiced motions.

“Absolutely,” you’d reply without missing a beat, your reflection in the mirror smiling back at him. “It’s about maintaining standards, Aaron. You of all people should understand that.”

“I thought we were just going to bed, not preparing for a photo shoot,” Hotch would retort, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile.

“It’s called preventive maintenance,” you’d say, tapping the side of your nose with a finger. “One day, you’ll thank me when we’re both ninety, and I still look seventy.”

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the evening. He had to admit, there was a certain peace in these nightly rituals, a tranquility that had seeped into the crevices of his once rigid routine.

Sometimes, you would catch him watching and pull him into the routine, applying a bit of moisturizer to his face with gentle, coaxing motions. “You’ll feel better,” you’d assure him, and he’d comply, not because he believed in the miraculous claims of the products but because it meant more moments shared with you.

On weekends, the rituals would extend to mornings. You’d take your time selecting an outfit, coordinating accessories and makeup with an artist’s eye for detail. Hotch would sit on the bed, coffee in hand, offering the occasional nod or hum of approval as you held up two nearly identical pairs of shoes, asking for his opinion.

“What do you think? The matte or the glossy?” you’d ask, holding them up for him to see.

“The matte,” Hotch would decide after a moment’s consideration. “It’s subtler.”

“Subtle,” you’d repeat, considering this. “I like it. Subtle but effective. Kind of like you.”

The routine wasn’t just about vanity or upkeep—it was a dance, a way of you expressing yourself and inviting him into your world. Hotch found himself missing these interactions whenever you were at your own apartment. The bathroom felt too empty, the mornings too quick and utilitarian. He missed the scent of your skincare products, the sound of your voice explaining the benefits of jasmine oil, or the way you’d ask his opinion on things he’d never considered before.

Even his morning routine had adapted; where once a quick shave sufficed, he now found himself opening your moisturizer, the scent a comforting reminder of you. It was a small concession to the routines you loved, a way of keeping you close even when miles apart.

Through these shared routines, Hotch learned more than just the importance of exfoliation or the difference between matte and glossy finishes. He learned the value of slowing down, of savoring the quiet moments together before the chaos of the day set in. Each ritual, each routine you shared, wove deeper connections between them, turning mundane moments into cherished memories and in doing so, seamlessly blending his life with yours.

With your birthday on the horizon, Hotch was well aware of the intricacies involved in selecting the perfect gift. Your independence and flair for purchasing exactly what you wanted, when you wanted, left little room for him to dazzle you with something unexpected. Yet, the desire to surprise and delight you was strong; he wanted to be the doting boyfriend who could still manage to sweep you off your feet.

One morning, as he was choosing a tie for work, you playfully suggested one that would "match beautifully with my purse—if I had the right shade." The comment was offhand, perhaps even forgetful of the collection you already owned, but it sparked an idea in Hotch's mind.

Later that day, armed with determination, Hotch sought out Garcia. He found her busy at her workstations, screens flickering with data.

"Garcia, could I get your help with something a bit more... personal?" Hotch began, hesitating slightly as he ventured into unfamiliar territory.

Garcia swiveled in her chair, her expression instantly shifting to one of eager attentiveness. "Of course, Hotch! What do you need? Secret admirer codes cracked? Background checks for mysterious suitors?" she quipped, her tone light.

"Actually, I need advice on buying a purse," Hotch admitted, and briefly explained the situation.

"A purse? Oh, for you know who?! This is going to be fun!" Garcia clapped her hands, her earlier levity shifting into focused enthusiasm. "Okay, first things first, we need something as unique and classy as she is. Let’s dive into the world of designer handbags."

Garcia guided him through various high-end brands, explaining the appeal of each. "These are timeless," she pointed out, scrolling through an array of sophisticated designs. "But knowing our girl, something with both function and a high fashion quotient would be ideal."

Hotch listened, absorbing details about textures, colors, and what each brand symbolized. They finally narrowed it down to a few choices, each one reflecting a different aspect of your personality and style.

"This one here," Garcia pointed at a sleek, modern satchel with minimalist design but luxurious detailing, "seems like it could be the perfect accessory for her. It’s stylish but not ostentatious, much like how she approaches her work and personal style."

"It looks great," Hotch agreed, imagining how it would look draped over your shoulder. He made a mental note of the bag and the brand, deciding to do a little more research before making the final purchase.

"Good luck, Hotch! She's going to love whatever you choose because it's from you," Garcia smiled warmly, giving him a thumbs-up as he thanked her and left.

Back at Hotch’s apartment, as you both moved through your evening routine, Hotch found opportunities to subtly probe for more of your preferences without giving away his intentions.

"So, if you were to splurge on something frivolous, what would it be?" Hotch asked casually as you were both settling down with a glass of wine.

"Frivolous?" you chuckled, giving him a playful look. "Isn’t everything I buy somewhat frivolous to you, Mr. Practicality?"

"Perhaps," Hotch conceded with a smile, "but indulge me."

"A purse," you said after a moment, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. "A really good, outrageously and stupidly expensive purse that makes me feel like a million bucks when I carry it."

"Sounds like a worthy investment," Hotch replied, his tone teasing but thoughtful. Your eyes met, and there was a spark of something that went beyond the casual banter—a shared understanding and appreciation for these little confessions.

Hotch tucked away every piece of information, each helping him build towards the moment he would present you with the perfect birthday gift. It was more than just a purse; it was a symbol of his attentiveness to your desires and his wish to celebrate everything you were.

But the birthday Hotch had planned for you was supposed to be special, a day to celebrate you in style, with every detail tailored to your liking. Instead, duty called in the form of a particularly tough case that dragged on much longer than anyone had anticipated. The hours turned into days, and by the time it was over, everyone was exhausted, physically and emotionally drained.

As the team began packing up, you sighed heavily, the weight of the last few days evident in your slumped shoulders. "I just want to go back to my apartment," you murmured. "I ran out of clothes, and I forgot half my skincare stuff in the rush out."

Hotch, who had been hoping to salvage what was left of the day, felt a twinge of disappointment. "You could grab what you need and come back to my place," he suggested, trying to keep his tone light, though concern etched his features. He’d go to your place if he could, but Jack was waiting for him.

You shook your head, fatigue lining your face. "I'm just so tired, Aaron. Let’s just celebrate tomorrow, okay?" Your voice held a note of finality, but also a plea for understanding.

He knew he should let it go…give you the space you needed, but a part of him—the part that had been quietly contemplating a more significant step in your relationship—spoke up. "I was going to bring this up over dinner," Hotch began, his voice steady despite the chaos of the day, "but maybe this is the right moment. You and your... elaborate routines should just move in with me."

Your fatigue momentarily gave way to surprise. "Do you know what you’re getting into? My high maintenance might take over your space," you teased, a faint smile playing at your lips despite the exhaustion.

"Yes," Hotch said firmly, his gaze intense. "I know exactly what I’m getting into, and I love it. I miss it when you’re not there."

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, your smile grew, and the weariness seemed to lift slightly. "You really want me and my half a suitcase of skincare products moving in?"

"Every last bottle and brush," Hotch confirmed, his voice softening. "It’s part of who you are, and I want all of you every day. Not just on good days or birthdays, but every challenging and tiring day too."

Your eyes softened, and you stepped closer, leaning into him slightly. "Okay, but we’re getting a bigger bathroom cabinet," you stipulated, your tone light but sincere.

"It’s a deal," Hotch agreed, wrapping an arm around you. The case had taken much from you both, but at this moment, a new door was opening—a commitment that promised to blend your lives in ways beyond shared cases and briefings.

As you both headed back, the weight of the case still lingering, there was a new undercurrent of hope, of shared futures and bathroom cabinets, a testament to the resilience of your bond.

You decided to pick up a few essentials from your apartment and spend the night at Hotch's place--now your place, too, despite your tiredness. Hotch, feeling a mix of relief and excitement, drove you to your apartment, waiting as you gathered your things.

Inside, you moved efficiently, albeit with a tired grace, packing your cherished skincare products and several outfits. Hotch leaned against the doorway, watching as you filled a small suitcase with what seemed to him an elaborate array of potions and tools. Each item was carefully selected, a ritual that he found both fascinating and slightly amusing.

“You sure you’ve got enough there for just one night?” Hotch teased lightly, his eyes twinkling with humor.

You glanced over your shoulder, a playful smirk on your lips. “This is the streamlined version, believe it or not. You might have to rent the apartment next door.”

“I’ll consult the landlord tomorrow,” Hotch quipped, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

Back at his apartment, as you began setting out your skincare products in the bathroom, Hotch watched for a moment, his mind returning to the gift he’d carefully hidden away—something he hoped would make your day a little brighter after the tough case.

“Hey,” Hotch called softly, capturing your attention as you meticulously arranged your items. “I have something for you. I was saving it for a proper celebration, but I think tonight is as good a time as any.”

Your curiosity piqued, you followed him to the living room, where he retrieved a small, elegantly wrapped box from a drawer. Handing it to you, he watched as your eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation lighting up your features.

You unwrapped the box with a gentle precision, and as you lifted the lid and saw the purse—a beautiful, designer pocketbook that perfectly matched the sophisticated style you cherished—your expression transformed into one of sheer delight.

“Aaron, this is beautiful,” you breathed out, carefully pulling the purse from the box. You admired the craftsmanship, running your fingers over the smooth leather and the detailed stitching.

“It reminded me of you,” Hotch said, his voice sincere. “Elegant, practical, and incredibly stylish. Happy Birthday.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining not just from the beauty of the gift but from the thoughtfulness behind it. “I love it,” you said, stepping closer to wrap your arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. “Thank you; this is the best end to a rough day.”

Hotch held you close, his heart swelling with the joy of seeing you so happy. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile like that,” he murmured into your hair, feeling the weight of the case and the fatigue of the day finally begin to lift.

As you pulled back slightly, still holding the purse, you teased, “Does this mean I get a new purse for every rough case?”

“Birthdays,” Hotch corrected with a gentle smile, his gaze softening as he added, “You make it incredibly hard for me to spoil you more than I already wish to.”

You laughed, a sound that Hotch had come to cherish deeply. “I’ll try to be less self-sufficient in the future,” you quipped, clutching the new purse a little closer as if it were a treasured award.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about your independence,” Hotch replied earnestly. “It’s one of the many things I admire about you. But allow me the occasional indulgence of spoiling you, especially on days like today.”

The purse, an elegant and thoughtful gift, lay between you on the coffee table, symbolizing not just a celebration of your birthday but of the new phase in your relationship. The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm, the earlier tension from the case dissolving into the background as you both enjoyed the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

With the challenges of the case behind you and the warmth of your shared space around you, Hotch felt a profound sense of contentment. This was more than just a birthday celebration—it was a reaffirmation of your partnership, a testament to how deeply your lives had intertwined.

As you both relaxed into the sofa, the conversation drifted from light teasing to deeper, more introspective topics. Every so often, your hand would brush against the purse, a physical reminder of Hotch’s affection and attention to what brought you joy.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you said again, your voice lower, more reflective as the night wore on. “For understanding me, even when I think I don’t need anything.”

Hotch reached over, his hand finding yours, squeezing it gently. “You don’t need to thank me for that,” he murmured. “It’s just another part of our journey together. And I’m grateful for every step we take, side by side.”

The purse remained on the table, a beacon of new beginnings and mutual understanding, as you both shared the quiet comfort of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns

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linddzz · 2 days ago

Note

Jayce had to go to the suffering pit for months so his final plea to Viktor would be empathetic enough Incorrect, he had to suffer so he'd come back looking so sad, hot, and needy that Viktor would be horny enough to sabotage his own villain arc, lol

Real analysis though, I do think you could argue that sending Jayce back with both (1) new chronic injury and (2) very obviously suffering some Arcane corruption (things Only Viktor could "fix") could be part of old mage Viktor's plan. Given how they met and just the joy Viktor seems to get from being the stable/more confident half of their partnership (always encouraging Jayce to push limits and believe they can change things with Hextech), Jayce needing 'Him Specifically' probably doesn't do so much as push Viktor's buttons as slam them.

Anon holy shit I love these takes. The idea that putting Jayce through The Torment Nexus was not only to get Jayce to really understand what he had to do/what was at stake, but to ALSO make him so Sexy Traumatized that it would drive Viktor to do insane shit and lose the fucking plot is hilarious. I'm gonna be thinking of that for a while.

Also you're absolutely right on Viktor being the stabilizing one (also hilarious considering the "be gay do crimes build laser arms" vibes) and going bugfuck wild over Jayce looking like he needs healing and comfort so much, only to say no.

Wizard Viktor molded Jayce into the ultimate irresistible Viktor Bait, then held him juuust out of Viktor's grabby little hands. Masterful work tbh

#arcane #jayvik #wizard Viktor like: jayce we are going to make you so fucking hot and then youre going to tell me no #trust me I'll go fucking nuts #didnt link the drabble bc tbh its super unedited and rough #but its in the wizard Viktor tag if you want it

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hanniebaeee · 9 hours ago

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Under the Northern Lights

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

Summary: You and Hyunjin witness the Northern Lights for the first time ever, and the magical moment turns into a rather heated one!

a/n: It's my dream to explore Iceland and to witness the northern lights! Till I get there, let's just do it with Jinnie here 🤭

It was warm, so warm. Hyunjin's arm was wrapped around your waist and his leg thrown over yours as he slept. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his breath fanning the back of your neck.

You two have had a busy day exploring a beautiful snowy village in Iceland. Hyunjin could barely move when you two got back - he'd had about enough of being on his feet for the day, and fell asleep almost immediately.

You’d been just as exhausted as him, but you'd woken up late at night after he managed to kick off the blankets as usual.

Your eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded and annoyed as you reached for the blanket. But then something else caught your attention. Outside the window.

"Ohh -" You sat upright, and Hyunjin jerked in his sleep grumbling something incoherent and burying his face in the pillow.

"Hyunjin! Get up!" You shook his shoulder, disturbing his slumber.

"Babe, I swear if this isn’t an emergency -”

"Just look!"

He groaned, peeling his eyes open (dramatically). The second he caught sight of the faint green glow outside, he shot upright, his mouth falling open.

"Is that...?"

"The northern lights!"

You were already hopping out of bed and fumbling for your coat. But Hyunjin was still blinking sleepily as you threw his jacket at him.

"Babe, it's soooo cold outside," he whined, dragging himself out of bed. "And I was having a really good dream…you were there, and chocolate, actually you in chocolate-"

"Oh my God Jinnie!! We made this trip to see exactly this, and you're stuck on your horny dreams!!"

"Horny dreams!?" He sounded offended, but his expression softened as he glanced at the lights swirling in the sky. "Okay, yeah, alright. Pants, pants... where are my pants?"

He got his pants to his face, of course.

After what felt like an eternity of fumbling, and a few swats to his butt ("Wear the pants, Jinnie!"), the two of you stumbled out into the cold night, boots crunching on the snow as the aurora borealis painted the skies above.

Hyunjin pulled you close as you both stared up, your breaths mingling in the chilly air.

"Wow," he murmured, his voice shaking with the cold.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your heart swelling with happiness as you tilted your head back to take it all in.

"Okay, you were right to wake me up. But also, you’re totally making up for it later."

"Making up for what? Giving you the most magical moment of your life?"

"No, for interrupting my sleep. And my chocolate dream." He grinned down at you. "And not to be cheesy or anything, but the most magical moment of my life was the day you said yes. So yeah."

"Stop it." You laughed, and he pulled you closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“I love you, baby. I love it that we're doing this together,” He said, and before you could say anything, he kissed you - both your lips cold and a little numb.

And the way he sneaked his tongue into your mouth made your stomach flip. The lights danced above, but all you could feel was him - his warmth and the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And then he pulled his phone out, because obviously you needed to record this moment. And a frozen photo shoot later, you both trudged back inside, in a hurry to get away from the chill.

Hyunjin was already peeling off his layers the second the door closed behind you. He chucked his coat with a dramatic groan, running his hands through his short blond buzz cut.

He went on to take a look at the fireplace (an electric one unfortunately), and then got on the bed, holding his hand out.

"Alright, babe," he drawled. "Since you ruined my dream, I think it’s only fair we finish what I started in my head."

He grinned as he pulled you onto his lap.

You rolled your eyes, but you really loved it when he was this horny and lovesick. With a smile you cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him. His hands slid beneath your sweater, palms warm against your ribs as he kissed you like he’d been starving for days.

His hands moved up, cupping your breasts over your bra, and his thumbs ran over your hard nipples, perked up.

"Fuck baby," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot as his hands squeezed your breasts. "You cold?"

"More like really hot" you gasped, your hands sliding over the blond fuzz on his head and your nails scraping his scalp.

"Mhm," he managed, his lips trailing down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin all the way to your collarbone. "You looked so hot all bundled up, and now…”

His nibbled on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back enough to pull your sweater over your head and tossed it aside, before finding the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down as his lips were on yours again.

"Jinnie," you whispered, your voice trembling as his hands worked on getting rid of the rest of your clothes.

You watched him undress as the northern lights danced outside, casting a faint glow through the window. You couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked as he leaned in and his lips grazed the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin’s kisses were hot and demanding, his lips urging you to respond with the same intensity. And you could feel his hardness press against you, and it made your heart race even faster.

He kissed his way down, his lips hovering over chest, eyes locked with yours before his tongue peeked out, placing a tiny lick on your nipple.

That was enough for your core to clench and with a little smirk he closed his lips on the little bud and sucked relentlessly, making you moan. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he gave your other nipple the same attention.

And you glanced down to see them glistening with his spit.

“Hyunjin,” you gasped, your voice shaky as you pulled him closer. “Please.”

He grinned against your skin, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muttered before lifting your hips slightly, and without any warning put his mouth directly on your wet folds.

Your body jerked with shock, and it didn't stop him from running his tongue over your dripping heat. You were falling apart under him, your body shaking as he licked and sucked on your puffy clit.

The sensation of his tongue inside you, and his soft hair against your inner thighs has your body quaking with need. And he kept going at it until finally with a quick flick of his tongue, you came undone, gushing into his mouth as he held you close.

He was painfully hard now, and the faint layer of sweat on his chest and forehead looked so damn enticing in the pale light. The look he gave you was raw and desperate, and you wasted no time pulling him close and kissing him.

Tasting yourself on his lips was seriously the most intimate, most satisfying thing ever. He moaned as you kissed his neck and bit down on the spot right below his jaw, making him grind down on you.

"Please baby," He whispered and shifted, positioning himself between your legs and you could feel his length prodding at your entrance.

Your eyes met again and you gave him a soft nod. He entered you slowly, pulling a soft moan from your lips as you both adjusted to the sensation, the feeling of being stretched open settling over you.

His movements were rhythmic, pushing you both to the edge and he kissed you, his hands gripping your hips as he drove deeper into you.

“Hyunjin…” you breathed, gasping for air as he made you feel every inch of him. He moved faster, harder, and you met each thrust with equal need, your body trembling.

“Fuck, I need you,” he groaned, his voice strained as he held you close, his eyes twinkling with love and lust.

You felt your release building, your breath hitching as you tipped over the edge and clenched around him tight. His movements were sloppier as he chased his own release, and he came with a groan, burying his face into your neck as he spilled inside you.

Breathing heavily, hand gently stroked your hair, his lips brushing your forehead as you both recovered.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft.

“I love you too,” you replied, pressing a soft kiss on his chest.

As the morning light seeped through the small window of your room, you knew that you two had overslept. The warmth of Hyunjin's body beside you was comforting, and you watched him with love before pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were still closed, but he smiled. A sweet sleepy one. And he looked so adorable (and a little too hot for his own good).

Your hand, almost of its own accord, slid down to where he was already hard and straining against his shorts. A spark of heat shot through you, as your palm cupped his length, putting on a little pressure.

You couldn’t resist teasing him, and Hyunjin opened his eyes slowly, his smile widening.

“What are you doing baby?” He mumbled and you didn't answer him, just moved down, pulling his shorts off him.

He was wide awake now, propped up on his elbows watching you as you stroked him gently.

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked, his voice husky.

“You're you,” you whispered, and he groaned as your lips closed around his pink tip.

And yeah…you two didn't make it to the sight seeing tour you'd booked.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #skz smut #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader

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luvyeni · 1 day ago

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🍡… ( drabble ) anytime anywhere ̨ ! ୨୧ 一大崎将太郎 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ you both can’t seem to keep your hands off each other ヾ

boyfriend!shotaro・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ oral ( f ) ‎ multiple sex scenes. mutual masturbation. public sex. wc ・ ‎0.6k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. i can just imagine both reader and shotaro constantly coming to jump eachothers bones at just random points of the day, at work? the dorms? mid convo with friends? doesn’t matter, shotaro comes up and says “hey i need you for something” and im dropping everything immedietly, and he would do the same the minute you walk up and tug on his arm like “excuse me ill be right back” so casually just to destroy you the minute you guys find somewhere mostly private.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 enjoy it , hope you like it <3

your friends love you two they do; but they hate asking you out sometimes — because they know you two will most likely disappear for sometime and they knew exactly what you two were doing; and you two could give less of a fuck.

“sex addicts.” is what they would call you, and you couldn’t deny it either, you and shotaro were insatiable; the need to feel each other all the times. if you’re at home and in need of your man, but his work is holding him back? best believe he’s taking a five minute break, going into the bathroom and talking you through. “come on princess i don’t have much time.” he said , hand on his cock, head back groaning in your ear. “stuff those little fingers in your pretty pussy and cum for me.”

when you come over to the dorms; the boys know they have approximately 30 minutes to either; 1. get the hell out. or 2. find their headphones and head to their rooms because if they don’t then they’re at risk of hearing you and him going at it in his room. “baby why aren’t you moaning?” he was balls deep inside you, he knows your body and he knows how loud you are and how loud you could be , so this would be a surprise to him. “b-because your members are home.” you bite your lip to contain your moans; but taro? yeah he doesn’t give of a fuck. he wants to hear you — he needs to hear you.

“baby you feel so good.” he groans. “your pussy is making so much noise for me , but i want to hear you.” he fingers slotting between your bodies , toying with your clit. “yo-your memb- you shouldn’t be thinking about them while im inside you, i should be the only thing on your mind.” he said , pushing down on your stomach, fucking deeper inside you. “taro!” you shrieked making him smirk as he fucked into you with much more force. “that’s it, keep moaning for me.”

you could even be in the middle in the conversation with a friend and he’ll come up to you; he’ll even give the person a friendly smile; hold a little conversation with them, his hand on your shoulder, massaging it a little ( this is him letting you know non-verbally that he wants you right then and there). he’ll hold the conversation for a few minutes before bending down to your ear, giving you a little kiss on the cheek. to your friend it’s the cutest thing ever; but to you that’s the physical warning that he wants you then and there. “can i steal them away for a minute; baby i need your help with something.”

you don’t even need to say anything; just come up to him and tug on his arm, nuzzling your face against his shoulders and he’s turning to give you a smile; before giving his friends a quick goodbye, dragging you to the nearest private place. “fuck taro!” you moaned, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked into you roughly, holding you up. “mhmm fuck princess you feel so fucking good.” the bathroom you found small and cramped , but you two didn’t care. “sh-shit i love this pussy so much , gonna cum so fucking much.” his head dropping to look down at your bodies. “ta-taro im gonna cum.”

holding on to the sink as he held your thigh tightly. “gonna cum -fuck- im gonna cum inside you.” he moans. “want you to keep inside until we get home and i can eat your pretty pussy.” your nails digging into his skin, legs wrapped tightly around. “t-taro im cumming!” your head thrown back as you came. “fu-fuck , cum for me baby.” he moaned, cock twitching inside of you as he shot his load inside you. “oh fuck.” his forehead resting against your , smiling while heavy breathing. “our friends hate us.” you giggled against his lips.

“sorry i just can’t get enough of your pretty pussy.”

©️

#riize x imagine #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #riize imagines #osaki shotaro x reader #shotaro scenarios #shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #shotaro imagines #shotaro drabbles #shotaro hard thoughts #shotaro hard hours

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rafecameronssl4t · 2 days ago

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hiii, i was wondering for the rafe tennis au if u could make a story based on the “he just comes running over to me sound.” it’s basically just based on the pole vaulter running straight to his gf right after winning, everyone is taking pics of the moment and trying to congratulate him but he’s only focused on gf!reader.

Running over to me || Tennis player!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I love Desiré and Mondo sm 😭😭😭

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 861

MASTERLIST (tennis player!rafe au masterlist)

The ball skimmed over the net, spinning wildly as it bounced just inside the line. His opponent lunged, reaching for a desperate return, but the shot sailed long. The crowd roared, a tidal wave of sound crashing over the court as Rafe Cameron fell to his knees, clutching his tennis racquet in both hands.

Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the tears he couldn’t hold back. He’d done it. He’d won Wimbledon. His opponent, Alex De Minaur, stood at the net, waiting for the traditional handshake. But Rafe’s mind was elsewhere. His eyes scanned the crowd feverishly until they landed on you, you were in his players’ box.

You were on your fee clapping, tears streaming down your face as you beamed at him. Rafe didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care about the protocol or the cameras capturing every moment. He dropped his racquet and sprinted across the court, his long legs carrying him faster than seemed possible after hours of grueling play.

Gasps and cheers erupted as he leapt over the barrier separating the court from the players’ box.“Rafe!” you cried, barely audible over the cheers, but he heard you. He always did. In a heartbeat, he was there, arms wrapping around you so tightly you could hardly breathe. His chest heaved against yours as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you in a circle.

The world blurred around you, the crowd’s noise fading to a dull hum as his lips found yours. The kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he needed to reassure himself that this moment was real. His hands cradled your face, thumbs brushing away your tears as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

“I did it,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I did it, baby.” “You did, Rafe,” you choked out, your voice thick with pride and love. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you again, softer this time, as if savouring the moment. Around you, the cameras clicked and flashed incessantly, capturing every angle of your embrace.

The world watched as Rafe Cameron, the newly crowned champion of Wimbledon, poured every ounce of emotion into the kiss. The broadcasters’ commentary shifted from his monumental victory to the passionate celebration unfolding court-side. Fans were on their feet, phones held high as they recorded the embrace that was already destined to go viral.

“Rafe, the handshake,” you murmured against his lips, your hands gently pushing against his chest. But he didn’t let go. “It can wait,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours. “No, it can’t,” you insisted, though your smile betrayed how much you adored his impulsiveness. “Go. This is your moment. I’ll be right here.”

With great reluctance, he released you, brushing a final kiss across your forehead before turning back toward the net. Alex had an amused yet understanding look, extending his hand as Rafe approached. “Sorry, man,” Rafe said, gripping his hand firmly. “Got a little carried away.”

“Would’ve done the same,” Alex opponent replied with a laugh, patting Rafe on the back. The applause intensified as Rafe turned to acknowledge the crowd, raising his arms triumphantly. But even as he basked in the glory, his eyes sought you out again. You stood where he’d left you, your hands clasped over your heart, smiling through tears.

The presenters were waiting, trophy in hand, but Rafe took a moment to jog back to you. He reached out, pulling you under the rope separating the court from the stands. “You’re coming with me,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours. “Rafe, I can’t—” “Yes, you can.” And just like that, you were by his side as he accepted the gilded trophy.

His speech was heartfelt but brief, the first words out of his mouth a dedication to you. “This isn’t just my victory,” he said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “It’s ours. You’ve been my rock, my inspiration, and my reason to fight through every setback. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

The crowd erupted again, and as you stood there, hands wrapped around his waist, you realised this was more than just a victory for Rafe. It was a moment that symbolised everything the two of you had built together. As the cameras continued to flash, Rafe leaned down, whispering in your ear, “Guess we’re the headline now.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“You are. I’m just the emotional girlfriend who can’t stop crying.” “You’re my everything,” he corrected. And in that moment, standing on the most iconic court in tennis, you knew he meant every word.

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 1 day ago

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PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys #draco malfoy imagine

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fenharel-babe · 2 days ago

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Hehehe finally getting to answering it >:))). I would LOVE to see YOUR ROOK🫵 @emmg AND EVERYONE ELSE TAGGED!!!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them?

My Rook is Raven Mercar, and she is 30 (if I’m doing the math right from DAO—>DATV). Rook is pretty neutral about celebrating her birthday. She likes it but if people don’t remember she doesn’t make it a big deal. She does feel very loved and overly happy when people DO remember it. It will make her cry the first time.

Lucanis made her a childhood meal of hers that her parents used to make before they died from the Blight. He surprised her with it one evening for dinner and she sobbed. It was very important to her because it proved that he actually paid attention to what she said and remembered something so small about her. He remembered a MEAL her parents made, and she mentioned it in an off hand comment. It was a very emotional dinner, and she couldn’t have wished for anything else.

🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred?

Raven was a slave during her early 20s (it’s a LOONG story) and her masters were…decent. They got her a tutor for her magic, gave her nice clothes, kept her healthy, but their guests were not the same. They were assholes and her masters never truly did anything. They scolded them, but never truly stopped them.

One day, Raven was weak from training so hard with her tutor the previous night. She was tired of having her tutor hit her knuckles with a ruler when she didn’t meet expectations so she pushed herself hard one night, and the next day a party was held. Raven was exhausted on her feet and felt a little sick, and the demands and how fast she has to work with other slaves was NOT good for her. At one point, she ran into one of the guests and ended up tripping and dropping a glass tray she had in her hands filled with items. Everything, as expected, broke and to make matters worse, Raven fell onto it face first. The glass stabbed and slashed her neck, but didn’t hit anything vital. The guest (and a few others around her) were demeaning her and saying how useless she was, and none helped her up or even called for a healer. She had to get up on her own, holding a hand to her neck, and rushed towards a healer that stayed in the home. It left scars on her neck and shoulder, long slashes is what they look like.

It wasn’t necessarily the most painful, but it was painful emotionally. She never felt so helpless and uncared for until that moment. No one helped her up or even cared if she was okay. She realized that night she had to get out or she would end up dead one day and no one would care.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Raven and Lucanis rarely fight to be honest. The only thing that makes them angry at each other is when they lie about their feelings or aren’t honest. Both have been through shit, too scared to talk about it and ruin what they have, so they lie and say things along the lines of “I’m fine.” Lucanis gets upset/worried about Raven’s occasional people pleasing attitude and how she sometimes says “yes” too many times. She denies that she’s doing that at all, not wanting to realize she’s falling back to her slave habits, and it irritates Lucanis because babe. You don’t need to please people all the damn time. You’re your own person!!

The way their arguments/unsaid arguments are resolved when they sit down and talk. Sounds cliche and too simple, but it’s true. They sit down and talk about how they feel and why they do the things they do. They both say what they’ll do better, or will try to, and they try to give solutions to the problem to help them be better. They just wanna help each other be good and happy.

Raven may also have a bit or a problem with Lucanis just killing people easily (given how she only kills when necessary) but she doesn’t think much about it.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

Raven used to be good friends with Bloom Lavellan and Joseph Lavellan, who were the INQUISITORS!! She was born in Kirkwall and was there during some events of DA2. Bloom and Joseph were there (long story) and Bloom found Raven on the streets. Raven’s parents had died because of the blight and she couldn’t afford the house anymore, so she was forced out onto the streets. Bloom found her and helped her with her magic, basically being a teacher to her, and was all motherly to her. Until she was taken by slavers one night who also kidnapped Bloom. However, Bloom had gotten away and didn’t have time to save Raven or else they would both be caught…so she ran.

Raven felt betrayed and lost that connection to both of them. It’s how she becomes a slave in the first place. It comes back during DATV.

🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold?

It would be difficult for them to do it, BUT if one was ever to win in some universe, it would definitely be Fear. Raven is scared of being alone, being forced into slavery again, losing everyone she loves, and it’s why during the Fade Prison scene, she was so scared and almost willing to give up. She felt like everyone was gone…so why should she try anymore? Fear of being abandoned and not being loved is her biggest ones, so a demon making her feel that way or threatening her with that would definitely win.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Raven was never romantically involved with anyone before Lucanis. She lived in Kirkwall with her parents, lived on the streets once they died of blight, had a teacher and lived okay for awhile, was taken by slavers and sold to live as a slave, and once she escaped her masters’ she lived on the streets of Minrathous and barely survived. She worried about what she would eat next, not some pretty boy she saw and spoke a few words to. It’s why she was very awkward with Lucanis and didn’t know how to flirt or truly know what Love was. It’s why it takes awhile for them to get together, but they make it work. Their matching awkwardness makes them fall for each other lol.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

Like flour or something sweet since she LOVES pastries such as donuts, and a mix of coffee. She smells like a bakery honestly.

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

She would’ve gone to the Shadow Dragons hideout. These people saved her from the streets (literally barely surviving) and helped her mentally and emotionally and physically and any other way they can help. It feels safe there, at least until it was destroyed. Now she doesn’t know where to go and just hides in her room in the Lighthouse. If she was forced out of the lighthouse, she would go to that little fisher guy Neve brought her to once to buy food. He was sweet and she loved the sound of his voice and the food. Maybe if she ate and spoke to him about simple things she would feel better….

🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison?

It would be her parents. Her parents are dead, but she still tries to live up to what they would’ve wanted for her. If she heard them confront her and look at her with disappointment? She would sob, falling to her knees, and would just…be there for awhile. She wants them to be proud of her and still love her from beyond the grave.

If they mentioned how naive she was for trusting him and playing into Solas’s hands, she would sob and feel so much regret for doing anything. She would eventually break out of it, but if she saw them??? It would haunt her.

🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater)

She doesn’t really have any big fears other than HUGE bugs or being trapped. Being trapped underwater in any way freaks her out, being trapped in a room freaks her out. She just CAN’T STAND being trapped. She already was when she was a slave, so she fears falling back into that. She needs freedom, not entrapment.

🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments?

Her only near death experience was when she was 27 and lived on the streets after escaping her previous masters. She had lived on the street for 2 years now, and it was bad. She was sick, her hygiene was terrible, she had gotten hurt from being caught trying to steal food, and she was laying in an alleyway. She believed if she fell asleep, she would never wake up again. She was so sure and just kept thinking of her parents. Would she see them again? Did she even deserve to see them again? Her thoughts weren’t really straight since she was hurt and her health was declining. She was just so tired.

But before she could die, a shadow dragon found her and brought her to the hideout. They got a healer to her immediately and she was saved.

💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like?

Raven’s relationship was very close. She was dependent on them heavily and cared for them since they cared for her. When she was sent away she was heartbroken, though a part of her understood. It felt like when she was taken away from home in Kirkwall all over again, but she knew it was different. They only sent her away as a last resort, she knew that. She was lonely and scared being on her own again, but the people taught her to be careful and how to be on the street if necessary. She would live to see them again, she would make sure of it.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

Since she was taken from Kirkwall, she didn’t have anything big to look back on. The only thing she had was the memory of a dish her parents made for any celebration. It was her favorite and she remembered the recipe and whenever she was really hungry, she swears she could taste it.

She would help her parents make it and it was always a sweet moment for the whole family. It’s why Lucanis makes it for her once she tells him what it is, because he knows it’s very important to her.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

Raven got a small snake tattoo on her wrist. It’s wrapping around her wrist and all the way to a finger. It’s a simple snake, and its eyes match her eye color and its body is red and black. It is always a constant reminder of the group that saved her and how she will always be a part of it. Even if she doesn’t have the clothes or anything else, she has the tattoo. And it’s enough for her.

The moment she got it was emotional. She knew she had people always with her and would help her if she needed it. She had an organization backing her up, so she wouldn’t truly be alone again. If she wasn’t with them, then she would have this tattoo to always carry them with her.

🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

Raven killed someone when she was living on the streets in Minrathous. It was a slave catcher and he was after her. She was trained in magic, yes, but she still had outbursts at times and if she was panicked, the magic would react. She was cornered in an alley, the man had a whip and was so close to getting her, so she cast a spell. She didn’t know what it was till it happened. It was a fireball to him, and it was strong. He burned to death in front of her eyes, and it was terrifying. She felt like a monster, but at the same time she felt a bit of…joy at seeing him dead. He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else.

It’s what really scared her. The fact she cared but also didn’t care that he was dead. It still is a battle in her mind whenever she kills someone.

Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them? 🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred? 🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved? 🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard? 🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold? 🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end? 🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? 🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse? 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison? 🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater) 🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like? 🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food) 🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish? 🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

#my writing #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age rook #dragon age Raven #raven Mercar

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daceydeath · 3 days ago

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I Want to Watch (Part 8)

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader x Seonghwa x San Word Count: 4.7K Genre: Pure Filth Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Explicit Activities

Wooyoung has a brilliant idea he just needs some of the demon line to help him bring the plan together

a/n: Happy New Year my loves. Thank you so much for your love and support for 2024 you are all the most wonderful souls there are xx

Watching Wooyoung perform was one of your favorite things watching him be loved and adored by his precious Atiny and seeing him be free to do exactly what he was born to do made you so happy. But watching the the others now was very different to how it had been before each powerful hip thrust and sensual body roll had you pressing your thighs together tightly remembering how good each of them felt when they had been with you and throw in the way Seonghwa and San performed when they went into full performance mode you could feel your face getting hot and your underwear sticking to you.

You had a spot on the barricade like you always did when they had a concert that you could attend. None of Atiny knew you existed so you played the part of an excited fan and chatted with them always comparing favorite songs and choreographies with them. Tonight was different though the air felt heavier than normal and there was also the fact that after Wooyoung had found you in the crowd you noticed how much more the boys would come to that part of the stage when they were flirting with the crowd. At one point Wooyoung and San were having a competition as to who could make the crowd scream louder as they continually rolled their hips six feet from you, after the MATZ performance where you were sure they were doing this on purpose if the devilish look in both Seonghwa and Hongjoong's eyes held any meaning so you waited with baited breath for the security to come and escort you backstage to where your boyfriend would be waiting along with his delicious members.

"You were amazing Woo" you grinned letting him wrap his arms around you and pull you against him peppering your face with kisses.

"Did you like it? We changed a few things in a couple of the choreographies to make it hotter" he grinned hands sliding down your back to squeeze your arse.

"Believe me I noticed" you smirked playfully hitting his shoulder to get him to let go of you "but you really need to shower my love, you stink".

"Aww let me fuck you first? then I only have to shower once" he purred against your ear quietly making goosebumps erupt across your skin.

"Nope" you popped your lips as you enunciated the word "You can just shower twice".

"You just want to flirt with the others" he pouted prettily, making you reach up to kiss him again, this time letting your lips linger.

"No I'm not despite how much you told them to drive me insane" you tilted your head and raised an eyebrow at him as he dissolved into giggles and walked towards the showers. You sat on one of the couches to wait for him watching everyone take photos and get ready for the send off. San was drying his hair having already showered and Mingi was putting on rings he hadn't worn onstage. Hongjoong plopped down on the chair across from you, drinking deeply from a plastic cup.

"Did you enjoy the show?" he smiled cheekily, the tip of his tongue tracing his top teeth.

"Very much" you nodded, throwing his mischievous energy right back at him making him chuckle deeply. "But I always do".

"That's good sweetheart, we tried to look our best for you" Seonghwa grinned sitting beside you while their managers fussed around getting things finalized and packed up.

"I noticed, was that your idea or my beloved Wooyoung's?" you played along like it was just casual conversation and not blatant flirting from the two eldest members "the demon line was out for blood tonight".

"I wouldn't say blood" Hongjoong drawled sensually, his eyes darkening as you bit your lip softly.

"More like cum" San whispered against the shell of your ear, you hadn't even noticed him moving towards you too enthralled by the other two. You jumped slightly hearing him chuckle deeply behind you, his hands moving to grab your shoulders gently "Sorry princess, didn't mean to scare you".

"Pricks the lot of you" you grumbled as Seonghwa and Hongjoong joined in laughing along with San.

"After the send off I think your precious Wooyoung has something he wants to ask you?" San continued rubbing his hands along the tops of your arms teasingly.

"Of course he does" you smirked as their managers started getting the others ready to head out again.

You sat on your phone watching the TikToks appear as Atiny's uploaded clips of the members signing photocards and answering questions, and the odd one of them flirting shamelessly, you couldn't help but laugh at how other Atiny responded the endless thirsty replies were hilarious. But you couldn't help but notice something naughty lingering in Wooyoung's eyes in each and every clip where he played up for the camera, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. You heard Jongho and Yeosang come back signaling the end of the send off knowing that meant you would be heading out sometime in the next half an hour but you couldn't help the nerves that started fluttering in your tummy at the various thoughts of what was to come. When your boyfriend returned he was looking at you with dark hungry eyes, his hands latching onto your hips as he held you close to him.

"We're not going back to the dorm tonight baby, and you are definitely not sleeping" he purred in your ear teasingly rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

"Alright" you swallowed hard trying to keep your face neutral "Did I need to go home to get anything?".

"Nah I bought stuff for you from the dorm. I have something planned that I hope you will be ok with" he kissed the shell of your ear making a shiver run down your spine you were already intrigued but now you were down right horny the thought of more than one of them fucking you was getting you wetter than you really should be.

"What have you planned, Woo?" you asked shakily clenching your legs together one more to ease the dull ache forming in your core.

"You will have to wait and see baby" he cooed letting you go and moving to grab his bags ready to leave. You followed the managers moving to get into one of the vans that was waiting so that the waiting fans wouldn't see you. Sitting in the back of the van you fiddled with your shirt you hadn't been expecting anything to happen after a performance Wooyoung only usually had energy for a quicky to get the last of his adrenaline so you weren't even wearing anything particularly sexy. Your thoughts were broken by the door sliding open and Seonghwa stepping in followed by San and finally your mischievous boyfriend, their eyes all looking you over in a way that was far too predatory for you to not flush with desire. San was the one that moved to the spot beside you, his hand sliding up your thigh until he was cupping your core, the warmth of his hand making you unconsciously spread your thighs for him.

"Acting like a little slut already?" Wooyoung mused his voice deep as he watched you flush deepen "Letting almost anyone touch you now huh?"

"No, Woo just who you let touch me" you whimpered needily embarrassed that you were getting riled up so easily.

"That's right baby only who I let touch you and right now that's all three of us" he giggled evilly making your eyes widen and San put more pressure against you the heel of his hand grinding against your folds.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Seonghwa smiled sexily "let us all play with your pretty little pussy?".

"I'll be so good for you" you whined rolling your hips against San's hand only for him to pull it away from you.

"Nah uh princess you are not in control tonight" San scolded playfully, his voice dangerously low. You pouted your wide eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"Aww so cute sweetheart" Seonghwa soothed his honey voice filling you with warmth. The van pulled up suddenly, your eyes darting around to figure out where you were making Wooyoung laugh at you.

"You are so easy to distract baby" he snickered putting his mask on and covering his head with his hood the others all following suit as they got out of the van and walked into the hotel lobby you bringing up the rear the way one of their managers would as Wooyoung walked over to the reception desk to check in.

"Why are we at a hotel?" you whispered to San your brows furrowed in confusion.

"So we don't get any noise complaints silly princess" San answered like it was obvious making you close your mouth quickly. Wooyoung collected the key and you all followed him towards the elevator letting him press the button to the room's floor.

"When we get to the room you should go change while we set everything up baby, is that ok?" your boyfriend asked softly.

"Only if you tell me what is happening afterwards" you swallowed "I know you have all agreed on something but I haven't yet" you added your tone hushed.

"Of course" your boyfriend answered sweetly "We just need you ready before we start anything then if you want to change what is happening we will".

"We will never do anything you don't like sweetheart" Seonghwa murmured.

"Yeah, only things that you will really like" San continued winking at you in the mirrored door of the elevator interior. You rolled your eyes and followed Wooyoung out into the hall which was surprisingly short.

"Huh?" you blinked as Wooyoung opened one of only two doors in the hall.

"This is the penthouse baby, we can make as much noise as we like and no one will complain" he answered your unasked question before kissing you lightly and giving you the duffle bag he was carrying "Your clothes and stuff are in there".

You wandered into the bedroom dropping the bag on the bed and opening it to find that your sweet and incredibly horny boyfriend had packed almost every set of underwear you had kept as his place. Every set that he determined to be his favorite had been packed. You selected a light pink set that came with a garter belt that made you feel sexy when you wore it and covered yourself with one of Wooyoung's shirts so that none of them would see it until you were ready. Walking back to the seating area of the suit you found San and Wooyoung shirtless and Seonghwa with his unbuttoned only and a camera sitting on a tripod in the middle of the room.

"Why is there a camera?" you stopped in your tracks feeling trepidation tinge your excitement.

"I wondered if you would be happy making a little movie for me" Wooyoung smiled softly moving towards you to cup your face "for when I'm on tour and stuff".

“Well that depends” you batted your eyelashes trying to look as innocent as possible while wetting your lower lip with the tip of your tongue “What will I be doing in this movie of yours?”.

“Well I thought perhaps I’ll film it and you can work out what you would like to do with my very eager members” Wooyoung grinned, kissing you slowly, his hands creeping down your body to lift the hem of his shirt to expose your hips.

“Fuck princess you always wear the cutest little things” San purred sliding his hands around your waist and tugging you from your boyfriends grasp his lips finding the skin of your neck kissing and teasing your sensative flesh.

“Couldn’t agree more” Seonghwa hummed his lips coming to claim yours fiercely, his kisses far more passionate while Wooyoung moved away to pick up the camera.

“Shall we see where this goes?” Wooyoung chuckled teasingly.

San eagerly ran his hands up your body taking the oversized shirt that was covering you with them exposing the rest of you to Seonghwa before he helped pull it over your head gently. While Seonghwa was more than happy cupping your breasts and letting his lips wander against your neck and down to your collarbone and chest.

"So fucking pretty baby" Wooyoung cooed from across the room the camera already focused on you while you shivered in their grasp.

"The prettiest" Seonghwa agreed, mouthing at the flesh of your tits.

"The most perfect" San continued claiming your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he licked into your mouth. You whimpered as the pair of them each made you feel like you were the luckiest girl on the planet.

"I think San should fuck her first" Seonghwa breathed heavily tweaking your nipples through the pink lace. San didn't say anything, merely spinning you to face him so he could pick you up and carry you to the couch so he could sit with you straddling his thighs and keep you as close as possible as he teased you.

"Sannie" you whispered needily nibbling his bottom lip as he grabbed your arse harshly.

"Fuck how can you already be this wet we have barely touched you" San groaned lifting you off his lap slightly you realized to let Wooyoung film you better.

"Like you didn't expect this after how you performed tonight?" you teased playing up for them all. "You were all hot, half dressed and dancing like you were already fucking me". Seonghwa laughed musically behind you lounging on another couch adding to the deep chuckle that emanated from San's wide chest.

"Glad you noticed princess" he smirked his fingers tracing your wet folds through the flimsy ` fabric making you wiggle in his lap, your hips chasing his fingertips "We had to make sure you were paying attention".

"Sannie, please" you whined softly rolling your hips tentatively against his digits.

“Such a good girl when you want to be” Wooyoung murmured quietly.

San kissed his way down your neck while sliding the lace aside as teasingly tracing your slit before sinking one finger inside of you smirking against you as you mewled softly and pushed your hips against him. Torturously he took his time dragging it against your walls not letting you have the pleasure you were trying to get from him as you rolled your hips again to push him deeper.

“So impatient sweetheart” Seonghwa tutted, making you look back at him with wide doe eyes.

“Attention only on me princess” San tutted, slipping his finger back out of you completely leaving you empty.

“Please Sannie. I will be good. I promise” you begged already too desperate for one of them to actually fuck you after the teasing from the concert, the car ride and now.

“I’m not sure I believe you princess” San purred, moving you out of his lap and turning you so you were now bent over the arm of the couch. You whimpered in anticipation only to jump and squeak when his hand came down sharply to slap your left cheek leaving it stinging before he squeezed it gently to soothe it making you swallow hard and your walls clench around nothing all three of them chuckled at the flush that covered your face as San’s hand came down harshly again against the right cheek this time a sharp gasp falling from your lips as the damp patch on your underwear grew before their eyes.

“Oh sweetheart, who knew you were going to like to be punished?” Seonghwa groaned, palming himself through his pants. Wooyoung was looking desperate like he needed to touch himself but didn’t want to put the camera down as he filmed the pink handprints forming on your arse.

“Fuck I am going to have to start spanking you baby” Wooyoung agreed leaving his own light spank against you making you almost hum.

“Put the camera on the table Woo, I’ve got an idea” San grinned, pulling you upright and helping you towards the glass sliding panels that separated the lounge from the entryway. “I’d fuck you against the windows princess but I’m not sure your boyfriend would let me show you off like that”.

Pushing your chest against the glass San pulled off his sweats and lowered himself to the carpet behind you pulling your underwear aside and pushing his tongue inside your weeping hole making you moan loudly, his fingers digging into your hips to hold you still as he licked and sucked at your clit before pumping his tongue inside you again.

“God Sannie, more” you cried pressing your hips further against his face while he lapped at you frantically causing the heat in your belly to begin rising rapidly. San didn’t answer, he simply stood quickly and lined himself up bottoming out inside you with one long deep thrust almost knocking the breath from you.

“Princess” San grunted deeply, slowly rolling his hips against you for a moment to let you adjust and let your boyfriend get in position to put the camera down before slamming into you roughly and making you groan. “So tight and wet for me”.

“Always Sannie” you gasped resting your face against the cool glass as he continued to roughly rut into you each thrust kissing your cervix in a way that was making you dizzy “Sannie”.

“Good girl princess, take what I give you” San almost snarled his hips slapping against your skin loudly as the wet squelch of your pussy swallowing him filled the quiet room.

“You look gorgeous like this baby” Wooyoing whispered, stroking himself in time with San’s hips bucking against his hand as you wailed wantonly.

“Going to let me fill you up all night princess?” San moaned his pace still rough and deep as kissed the back of your neck and shoulders.

“Please Sannie, please” you sobbed your walls quivering with how close you were “want your cum”.

“Fuck princess” San groaned biting down on your shoulder lightly licking and sucking a mark there.

“San. Wooyoung. San. San” you called as your walls clamped down around San, your legs shaking so wildly that San wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you up. “Fuck San”. You could feel your vision blur as tears pricked your eyes and your arousal dripped from you coating your thighs and San while he continued to roll his hips chasing his own high.

“Princess, fuck” he shouted slaming his hips against you and holding you closely against his as the warmth of his seed filled you.

Oh my god baby” Woo breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling as hard as yours “I’ve never seen you squirt like that”. You couldn’t answer, you just let San carefully pull himself from you and scoop you up into his arms.

“That was unexpected” Seonghwa stared hungrily at you before moving towards one of their bags and pulling out a bottle of water and some wet wipes to clean you up with. “I think we need to give you a minute before I have my turn huh?”.

Sipping the water slowly you let Seonghwa clean you up not minding that his touches lingered and turned from the act of helping you from being a mess to massaging your thighs and hips then anywhere else he could reach. The haze that had filled your head after San had finished with you started to lift and before you could even realize you were letting soft little noises fall from your swollen lips.

“That’s it sweetheart, let me take good care of you” Seonghwa whispered sultrily hovering over you as he kissed from your stomach to your breasts gently biting and licking at your soft body.

“Mmmhmm” you hummed, nodding lazily as he let his tongue lick at your nipple through the almost sheer lace of your bra arching into him when his teeth grazed the hardened bud.

Will you give me what you gave Sannie?” he continued taking your other nipple into his mouth and suckling at it, making your breath hitch.

“Yes Hwa” you answered breathily, your fingers sliding into his hair to scratch at his scalp. Seonghwa repeated his previous action grazing his teeth on your sensitive nipple as he slid his fingers into your underwear circling your clit with feather light touches to make you squirm.

“Can’t believe she can still be so responsive after you fucked her like that” Wooyoung muttered to San who just shrugged watching you move so gracefully for his hyung.

“I want her again after Hwa” San grinned wolfishly, making you whimper and buck against Seonghwa’s fingers.

“Don’t be greedy Sannie” Seonghwa smirked, kissing his way to your now throbbing and desperate pussy.

“Hwa, need you” You breathed softly your hand still carding through his hair making his stop and kiss your thigh chastely.

“You’ll have me sweets don’t worry” His voice sweet as he kissed your pubic mound. As soon as his tongue touched your clit you were moaning loudly, the overstimulation pushing you to your limit. The wet muscle swirling around your puffy slit and sensitive bud were instantly too much and not enough at the same time. Gripping his hair tighter you rolled your hips against his face, your head flopping back on the couch cushions as he finally plunged it inside you.

“Fuck” your boyfriend grunted moving so he could get a better angle to film you from as Seonghwa devoured you like he was a man dying of thirst and you were the only source of water to sake that thirst. Slurping and sucking every drop of your juices he could get from you. Wrapping his pretty hands around your thighs Seonghwa pulled you even closer to him grunting as you clawed at his hair.

“Hwa, please, don't stop, please” you babbled rocking your hips even harder against his face hiccuping as you moaned. Seonghwa groaned against you, sucking your clit between his lips to suckle it, roughly pushing two of his fingers into you to pump into your walls in time with his tongue. “Seonghwa” You sobbed, coming undone on his face as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Good girl sweets” Seonghwa praised, pulling his face away from your twitching core but letting his fingers continue to pump lazily into you to continue your pleasure. “Do you think you can move? Or should I carry you?”

You opened your mouth to answer only to have your words cut off by a gasp and Seonghwa pressed his thumb against your clit making your legs twitch involuntarily while he snickered scooping you into his arms and taking you into the bedroom where he placed you gently in the centre of the bed your face pressed into the crisp white sheets. Seonghwa’s fingers trailed lightly down your spine making you shiver. You heard Wooyoung and San come in and the click of something plastic but you couldn’t concentrate, lost in the feeling of Seonghwa’s touch on your burning skin.

“Hongjoong told me your arse his heaven sweets” he purred sexily both of his thumbs now pressing into the flesh above your hip bones.

“Fuck yes” your boyfriend hissed lowly his voice thick with desire again.

“How about you be a good girl and suck Sannie’s cock while I get you prepped?” Seonghwa chuckled watching you get to your hands and knees and open your mouth to let your tongue poke out ready for San to let you have his dick again.

“Such a good little slut baby” Woo cooed moving so he could get a good shot of you taking San into your waiting mouth. San’s wicked grin only faulted when you circled the blush pink head dipping the tip into his already pre cum drooling slit.

“Fuck yeah princess” he groaned gutterally sliding himself along your tongue until he was almost touching the back of your throat. You gasped as you felt the cold drop of lube drip onto your puckered hole, accidentally gagging yourself on San’s length.

“Aww is someone too excited to have a cock in both ends?” Seonghwa teased his thumb slowly pushing inside of you carefully.

“Focus on me princess and just relax” San coaxed cupping your cheek with his strong hand and guiding you to help you get your rhythm back. You couldn’t help swirling your tongue around him again as he began to pull himself back from your mouth only to have him moan deeply and sink himself back into your warm mouth “Your mouth is perfect”.

Breathing deeply through your nose you tried to ignore the slight pleasure that was coming from Seonghwa’s fingers as he sank another into you stretching you further and focus on getting San’s cock as far down your throat as you can humming and swallowing around the tip as your nosed brushed the soft skin of his torso.

“Shit, princess” San hissed, threading his fingers into your hair and rolling his hips against your lips “You going to swallow every drop?”. You moaned unable to do much else as San fucked your throat gently your saliva dripping from your stretched lips and onto your chin as he sped up. His hips stuttered slightly as he got closer to filing your throat up.

“Good girl sweets” Seonghwa praised slipping his fingers from you and replacing them with the head of his dick prodding your hole just enough for it to stretch for him but not enough to actually enter you. You whined pathetically tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you looked up as San.

“Made just for us” San rasped, his voice tight, his head dropping forward as he stiffened on your tongue flooding your throat and mouth with thick spurts of cum. You could hear your boyfriends affirmative whine as you swallowed everything San gave you and opened your mouth to show him. Seonghwa took that as his permission to push himself inside you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he filled your tight hole, his fingers finding your clit to keep you feeling good as you adjusted to him.

“Oh my god Hwa” you whimpered, your arms giving out causing you to fall forward onto the bed.

“Fuck” Seonghwa grunted harshly pulling your hips back towards him and thrusting slowly and deeply. “You’re unreal, perfect, fuck you’re a goddess” he gushed each word punctuated by a roll of his hips.

“Shit I want her arse next time we do this” San panted from where he was flopped on the bed beside you.

“Hwa” you called, your voice muffled by the bedding as he continued to thrust deeper inside of you, his fingers continuing to circle your puffy and oversensitive clit.

“I’m not going to last long sweetheart” Seonghwa moaned loudly, snapping his hips against you, the sharp snap of skin against skin filling the room between the sounds of heavy breathing and the wet sounds of your used body.

“Fuck dude, that’s so hot” Wooyoung groaned making you turn your head to see him tugging his cock in time with Seonghwa’s hips as he filmed the two of you. You felt Seonghwa’s hips start to stutter as he sped up his fingers pinching and flicking your clit until you almost cried.

“Seonghwa” you sobbed as your orgasm washed over you suddenly making your whole body shake and spasm.

“Fuck Sweetheart…fuck” Seonghwa yelled cumming hard as you clenched around him, you could feel his hot seed filling you as he held you in place shallowly rolling his hips to prolong his pleasure.

“Jesus Christ” San groaned, helping you lower your body to the bed, your leg muscles still twitching as Seonghwa cleaned himself up and grabbed you something to drink. Wooyoung grinned at you brilliantly, finally putting down the camera and pulling you into his arms.

“Love you” he whispered into your hair, kissing your temple.

“Love you Woo” you panted softly.

“I think we might all have to shower together after that” Seonghwa chuckled while carefully sitting himself on Wooyoung’s other side “Not sure you should stand by yourself for a while”.

a/n: Thank you for reading lovelies I adore you all and I am so grateful for your likes, reblogs, comments and support you are amazing xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @taz-97 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @everythingboutkpop @tunafishyfishylike

@londonbridges01 @bkimrose @pancake-freckle @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

@skersey33 @jintastic-day @hwxbibi @onmykneesforateez @skittyneos @thjksnsh

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suunani · 1 day ago

Text

perfect night ( vernon chwe )

▍ just a perfect night with your boyfriend.

content : 1050 words, male reader, boyfriend!vernon, fluff fluff and fluff, they are two cuties, requested here!

the sound of the door opening caught your attention as you sat on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone.

vernon stepped inside, juggling two grocery bags in one hand while trying to close the door behind him. he looked slightly disheveled, his hoodie a little wrinkled and his hair falling messily into his eyes.

“i might’ve gone overboard,” he admitted sheepishly, setting the bags on the kitchen counter. “you said we needed snacks, but… i got carried away.”

you pushed yourself up from the couch and walked over, eyeing the bags suspiciously.

“how much did you buy?”

“enough,” he said, pulling out a bag of chips, a can of soup, some instant noodles, and — was that a random avocado?

you burst out laughing. “an avocado? are we making guac to go with the ramen?”

vernon grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “it felt right at the time. don’t question my creative process.”

“your creative process is chaotic.” you shook your head, but your teasing tone softened as you reached out to ruffle his hair. “but i still love you. even when you’re ridiculous.”

he leaned into your touch for a moment before suddenly stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you in a loose hug. his chin rested on your shoulder, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“it’s been a long day,” he murmured.

you hugged him back tightly, your hands resting on the small of his back. “i can tell. you okay?”

“better now,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “let’s put this stuff away.”

together, the two of you emptied the bags.

you took charge of organizing the pantry while vernon put away the drinks and snacks, though he got distracted halfway through and started munching on a bag of gummy bears.

“are you serious right now?” you asked, turning to see him leaning against the counter, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.

“what?” he said holding the bag out to you. “want one?”

“you’re really impossible,” but you took one anyway, shaking your head fondly.

after everything was put away (you ended up organizing the last few items while vernon hovered near the fridge), he grabbed a packet of instant noodles and held it up triumphantly.

“let’s cook,” he said.

“with noodles?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“trust me, we’ll make it fancy,” he said with a mischievous grin.

he was already pulling out random ingredients: eggs, a leftover slice of chicken, and some green onions.

you sighed but couldn’t help smiling. “fine, but i’m in charge of the egg. last time you tried, it was very… questionable.”

vernon pouted dramatically. “it wasn’t that bad!”

“it was a crime against eggs.”

he laughed, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. his chin rested on your shoulder again as he swayed slightly, making you chuckle.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, glancing back at him.

“and don’t you forget it,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before letting go.

cooking together was predictably chaotic.

vernon took charge of boiling the noodles but got distracted singing along to the playlist you’d put on, leaving you to rescue the pot before it boiled over.

meanwhile, you expertly cracked the egg into the pan, side-eyeing vernon as he pretended not to notice.

“i told you i had this,” you said smugly, holding up the perfectly cooked egg.

“show-off,” he muttered, though his smile gave him away.

when everything was done, the two of you sat on the couch with your bowls, sharing a single blanket.

vernon’s legs were draped over yours, and he leaned into your side, occasionally stealing bites from your bowl despite having his own.

“you have your own food,” you said, swatting at his hand.

“yours tastes better,” he replied, grinning.

after finishing the noodles, you both lay back, scrolling through netflix to find something to watch.

vernon rested his head on your shoulder, and you absentmindedly played with his hair, twirling the soft strands around your fingers.

“do you think we’d survive a cooking show?” he asked suddenly.

“with your noodle-boiling skills?” you teased. “not a single chance.”

he gasped, mock-offended, before turning to press a playful kiss to your jaw.

“fine, no cooking shows. we’ll just stick to eating snacks and judging other people’s food.”

“way better,” you said, smiling.

as the night went on, you ended up tangled together on the couch, vernon practically lying on top of you as the movie played in the background.

he turned his face toward yours, resting his chin on your chest.

“you’re really comfortable,” he said softly.

you smiled down at him. “glad to be of service.”

he shifted up slightly, closing the gap between you to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

it was slow and unhurried, his hand resting lightly on your jaw. when he pulled back, his cheeks were pink, though he tried to play it cool.

“what was that for?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“nothing,” he said, grinning as he settled back against your chest. “just felt like it.”

later, when it was finally time for bed, vernon wrapped his arms around your waist as you brushed your teeth, resting his chin on your shoulder again.

“you’re really clingy tonight,” you teased, spitting out toothpaste.

“maybe,” he said, his voice muffled. “is that a problem?”

“never.”

he smiled and pressed a kiss to your neck before letting go, heading to the bedroom while you finished up. when you joined him, he was already under the covers, his arms open in invitation.

you slid in beside him, and he immediately pulled you close, his head resting against your chest. his hand found yours under the blanket, lacing your fingers together.

“thanks for tonight,” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy.

“you don’t have to thank me,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “i just like being with you.”

he hummed in agreement, already halfway to sleep. you held him close, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing as the room fell quiet.

yes, it was a perfect night.

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genderqueerdykes · 2 days ago

Note

the post you just shared about being both a trans man and a dyke reminded me of something that ive been wanting to talk about for a while now but haven't been able to so far.

im brazilian. the country with one of the biggest pride parades in the world while also being in the highest rates of violence towards lgbt people. queer culture here is weird, and maybe i missed out on it because i was able to find refuge online among the english speaking community relatively early.

ive been observing something that i wrongly assumed was our own version of the butch/femme community, and for a second i got really excited bc we all know butch loneliness, but the more i started looking into it, the more of its completely rotten entrails they showed me.

it's a disfigurement of the ideas that i have held to my heart so dearly ever since i read stone butch blues for the first time, and even more as i discovered leslie feinberg, and found out that there really were others like me. they use the term "desfem" (as in "defeminized"), and the definition explicitly states that the individual must be a cis woman, quoting some terf-tier bullshit that would make joanne proud.

hating men is their entire personality, and it's so shallow and based on cishet gender roles that there is no "femme" counterpart, because they see no way to perform femininity outside of patriarchal roles. they want the aesthetics of butchness without the hardships of living as one. the trans community carries these people on their backs and still they're more worried about how some dykes are trans too.

i don't know where im going with this, i just need to get it off my chest to someone who would at least have an idea of what im talking about. it's so disheartening to see the community head towards this direction, and i grow less and less interested in forming bridges with cis people as time goes on lol

i wanted to thank you for taking the time to send it, i really appreciate these thoughts! i get contacted by a lot of brazilian people. i think that's super cool! i've heard that despite how large your queer scene is that it's still very queerphobic and that's unfortunate, but it does happen.

"hating men is their entire personality, and it's so shallow and based on cishet gender roles that there is no "femme" counterpart, because they see no way to perform femininity outside of patriarchal roles."

i really appreciate the way you said this! i've been trying to point this out for a while now and i'm glad you've come to this realization, yourself.

for whatever reason, cis lesbian, dyke and sapphic spaces are obsessed with the butch-femme binary. it's romanced to hell and back but it's very restrictive and patriarchal. implying that romantic relationships must fall into a masculine partner + feminine partner structure is cisheteromative. there's not much representation for butch4butch, butch4all, femme4femme and femme4all people. the idea that the masculine partner must be strong and protect the weak feminine partner that can't defend themselves is a patriarchal dynamic.

all of the lesbian yearning posts are about how butches are tops and doms and how all femmes are bottoms and subs. butch becomes synonymous with penis and femme becomes synonymous with vagina. calling butches 'chivalrous knights' dehumanizes them and reduces them to being protector figures. the way cis femmes online go on and on and on about how they "need" a butch is very alarming. femmes are being framed as dependent and as though they can't function unless they have a butch in their life, which is very misogynistic.

it's just a repeat of cishet- the patriarchal relationship formatting applies here, even if the genders are slightly tweaked. it's in the coding. it's literally a copy and paste job. it's lazy and toxic as hell and it leaves out all of the diversity that comes with lesbianism and how butches and femmes can experience life and love and sexuality in a variety of ways.

the thing is, as a genderqueer person, i've never understood why people are so attached to this binary. it's so restrictive. i'm butch, but not in the way that white cis lesbians define it. the way they tlel you how to be butch is so restrictive it's not even funny. it's like you gotta pass a test. you gotta be stereotypically masculine 100% of the time or else you're not a real butch. you're expected to emulate a cishet guy, but if you identify as a guy, all hell breaks loose. if you think about it people basically force butches to identify as men and then hold it at arm's reach away. like you have to act exactly like a man but be a Woman. and it makes no fucking sense.

lesbians are some of the most gender diverse people out there. it's crazy to me that people are trying to force lesbians, people who are known for being gender weird, into a male-female cishet binary but with a lesbian Womyn coat of paint. i wish you better luck in finding community that wants to stick together instead of fight over petty bullshit that doesn't matter. take care of yourself. feel free to stop by again any time

#asks #answers

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sp0o0kylights · 1 day ago

Text

Part One / A03

Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.

Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.

“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.

“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”

“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.

“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”

“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”

He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”

Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”

“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”

“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.

“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”

“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”

Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Sans Tiff, of course.

“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.

It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.

“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”

“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.

“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.

Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."

The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.

As expected, Eddie took the bait.

“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”

“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”

“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”

“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”

Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”

“No.”

“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.

“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.

Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.

The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.

Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.

That was what they lived for.

“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”

Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.

Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?

(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)

Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.

“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”

“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.

Oh, for the love of—

“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”

The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.

That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.

(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”

“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.

The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.

“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”

“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”

Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.

“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.

Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.

“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”

The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.

“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.

I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.

“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.

“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)

“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.

He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.

“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”

“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.

“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.

Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.

Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.

His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.

Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”

“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why not Jeff!?”

“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth, "get to tackle romance.”

“When did we all agree to this shit?!”

“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided. Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.

Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.

“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.

“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…

Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.

And Gareth sucked ass at sports.

“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.

He could handle this.

He just...

Needed a plan.

Things were easier with plans--right?

(Wrong.)

xXx

“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.

Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.

it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…

Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?

“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver."

That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.

(And, of course, gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.)

They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.

It was odd, to say the least.

So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?

With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.

For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.

“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.

This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.

She was given two different middle fingers in response.

Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.

“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.

He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.

Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”

Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”

“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”

Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”

He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”

Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”

“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”

“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.

It was still too close for comfort.

Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire.

“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)

“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly.

"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose." Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”

“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”

“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”

"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--"

“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.

“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”

“He," Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”

“Well that’s not helping, is it?”

“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”

“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”

“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.

Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.

“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.

(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.)

“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background.

Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.

The fucking overachiever.

“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.”

“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments.

He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.

Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.

He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.

Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”

“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.

The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.

“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.

“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red.

“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.

“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”

“Okay…?”

“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.

Steve broke into laughter immediately.

“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.

Grant moaned like a dying thing.

“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.

“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.

“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.

"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!"

“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.

“Oh, screw you Jeff!”

“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?

“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.

“I don’t have ice cream money!”

“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”

"Oh. Thanks!"

“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross.

Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?”

Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either.

“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”

Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.

“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.

Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”

“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”

“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.

“She’s the assistant manager!”

“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”

He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”

Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense.

“Eddie.”

“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream.

"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"

Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours."

Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.

It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.

Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.

He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.

Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.

It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.

If they messed this up...

It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.

And that wasn’t fair.

"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."

When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.

...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.

xXx

On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.

Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.

“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.

“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.

She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.

After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process). Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.

Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress.

(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.

A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.

Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.

Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.

Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.)

“Steve!”

Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”

“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."

“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”

“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.

“Ste-eeve!”

Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.

One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.

“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.

“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.

“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”

“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.

Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.

“I hate my life.” He moaned.

“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”

Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.

Gareth and Dustin both applauded.

“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.

(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”

Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.

“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.

“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)

“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.

“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.

“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.

“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.

“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged.

“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.

“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”

“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.

“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”

At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”

Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.

(Because she did.)

“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;

“Do you speak Russian!?”

“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”

“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.

‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.

Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.

(He missed but it was the thought that counts.)

“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”

Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.

“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”

“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.

Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.

“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”

“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”

They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.

(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)

“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”

“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”

“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.

“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”

“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”

Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--

Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.

Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.

(Ruh-roh.)

“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”

“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.

Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.

“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”

“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand.

“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”

Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.

“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.

Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.

Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.

If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.

(He could already picture it.

Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?

Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?

Yeah.

Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)

“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”

“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”

Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.

“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”

Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover.

“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”

Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code."

Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder.

“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.

(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)

“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”

His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life.

“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.

“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”

If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk.

You know, if Steve finally let him do it.

(Steve did not let him do it.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.

Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.

“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”

“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”

“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?”

“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.

“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.

'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin.

Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?

(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)

“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.

"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly. "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong."

Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas.

“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.

No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.

“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.

Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.

Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.

Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.

(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”

“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"

"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."

"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"

He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.

Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…

“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”

“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”

“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.

Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.

A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…

Well.

Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.

It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.

Not exactly something you could reason with.

Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.

“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.

Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.

“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug. “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”

Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club."

Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.

(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.

His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.

Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.

Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.

Eddie…

Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)

“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve was alarmed immediately.

“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.

“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”

Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.

Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.

“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”

Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”

“I trust you.” Steve said, painfully earnest. “Just…be careful, yeah? Hargrove’s not…”

He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.

(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)

“Just be careful.” Steve finished.

Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.

“Always am!”

“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”

He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.

Bonus

In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.

The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”

(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)

“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”

“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”

“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”

He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.

A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.

“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.

Stupid athletes and their jock powers.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.

Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.

“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!)

He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.

Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--

“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”

Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen.

“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”

Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”

It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.

He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.

Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.

What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…

He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.

Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”

And finally, Gareth had his opening.

He pounced.

“Do you like her?”

“As a person I do.”

Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”

Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice.

“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed.

Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.

Pity their time had run up.

“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.

“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”

Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?”

“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat.

Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”

Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.

It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.

A place to start.

And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).

“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—

Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.

There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...

When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.

‘Well,’ Gareth thought. ‘Shit.’

#I think I somehow skipped posting ch 10 on tumblr?#Ill fix that lol #aaj #steddie #pre steddie #hellfire adopts steve #0o0 fanfics #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #steven harrington #adopt a jock

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moralesluvr · 11 hours ago

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FABLE AND TRUTH 2 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. chapter two is here !!! wc. 5.4k

you could not stand drunk people.

well, unless they were your best friends.

after emma had dragged you out of the party, she stumbled against you, babbling on loosely about how some guy at the party was trying to flirt with her— and in less harsh words than her own, he wasn’t the most attractive.

he had begged her for a dance and even offered to buy her as many drinks as she wanted, whatever the price— but she kept politely refusing. until he grabbed her and tried to kiss her, which definitely ended with his hand over a bruised and bloody nose, and every single curse word under the sun had come from emma’s mouth.

oliver was nowhere to be found, but he’d checked in on the life360 that he was at some guy’s house, and that’s really all you needed to know.

jules and naomi stubbornly filed out of the house soon after you and emma retreated to your car, the red-head fanning herself as she slumped over the front seat, “oh m’gosh…y-y/n….think i’m literally gonna fuckin’ hack right about now.”

you let out a quiet groan as the car door opened, your two remaining friends falling into the backseat and carelessly tossing their purses into the empty passenger one. naomi held her head, while jules tried to cover her stained lips with a tattooed palm, “h-hey…we couldn’t find you…at all.”

you couldn’t even be annoyed at them for being intoxicated, because you were the one that promised you’d attend the party, only as the designated driver. and you being you, you were always there for a friend in need, especially the people that you loved oh so dearly. so you cranked your car up, turning your queued worship music down, sliding your right arm over the passenger seat to back up, “guys, please please do not throw up in my car. i just cleaned it!”

that statement earns painful groans from the three girls in the back, holding their stomachs as you sped off and onto the main road, carefully. you placed both hands on the wheel and tried to drive as slowly and heedful as you could, partially afraid that the night would end with vomit on your undyed seats and lipstick stains on your seat covers. but you took a deep sigh and looked in the rearview mirror, “anyone feel like they need to pull over right about now? please tell me now, i don’t really feel like cleaning throw up.”

“please….the diner on….just pull over.” jules swallows thickly, and you watch as the other two bold-haired girls nod at her statement in agreement. you swivel into a turning lane abruptly, tired eyes fixated on the sign that reads “GINA’S DINER.” it’s quick the way you pull into a spot, apologizing for how recklessly you turned into a spot— but you really needed to make sure that no one was going to ruin your clean car.

you all file out, naomi nearly falling as they all hurriedly make their way towards the door, their heels clacking against the pavement as you locked your car and followed them in.

a bell above you makes your appearance known, and you give the lady at the front an awkward, slightly apologetic wave. she doesn’t understand your gesture until she sees naomi, jules and emma rush towards the bathroom, stomachs clutched and faces washed with sickly expressions.

“fun night, hm?” she asks you, southern accent so strong that you almost can’t understand what she’s saying. you just shrug at her, slipping into a front booth as you pull out your phone, eyes droopy and slightly achy. there’s a Bible notification, and you can’t help but smile, even in the midst of all this. it’s a verse from psalms, something about finding refuge in the Lord during chaos. you could definitely use that right about now.

you tuck your phone into your lap and breathe deeply, letting the soft hum of the diner soothe your nerves. the air smells like coffee, bacon grease, and syrup, the kind of mix that shouldn’t be comforting, but is.

your friends are loud even from the distant, dingy bathroom, their laughter carrying through the thin walls as they recover from the night’s bad decisions, and it’s all masked quickly as you hear three in tune gags.

you shake your head.

emma’s voice cuts through the noise, something about how she could’ve totally taken that guy out even harder if she wasn’t wearing heels. jules and naomi laugh, and you imagine their glossy lips curling into wide smiles, mascara smudged and carefree.

“refuge in the Lord,” you mumble to yourself, tracing the edge of the laminated menu on the table, your finger settled on a plate of hash browns that mistakenly look like a cross, but you’re sure that it’s a sign. you smile to yourself as a waitress approaches— mid-50s, with tired eyes but a warm smile. “long night, sweetheart?” she asks, pouring water into a glass in front of you.

“you have no idea,” you reply with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. “but they’re my people, you know? i love them with all my heart.”

the waitress smiles knowingly, nodding toward the bathroom. “i get it, honey. not many would be the driver for that crowd, y’know, but you’ve got something sweet on you. you’re a kind soul, i can tell.”

you laugh, genuinely this time, glancing toward the bathroom door to make sure that they’re still in there, “thank you. and yeah, they’re a mess, but they’re my mess. couldn’t go through life without them.”

she doesn’t really respond. she just places a coffee cup in front of you, even though you didn’t order it, and pats your hand sweetly, “on the house, sweetheart. looks like you could use it.”

the warmth of the mug grounds you as you watch the bathroom door finally swing open, after what felt like absolute years. your friends spill out, looking slightly less disheveled, faces cleaned up but eyes still glinting with the remnants of the night’s mischief. they weave through the diner, collapsing into the booth with you like puzzle pieces falling into place.

“dude, holy shit,” emma groans, leaning her head back against the booth. “that bathroom was a war zone. i honestly deserve a real-life award for surviving it.”

“you deserve an award for not throwing up in my car.” you deadpan, and that earns a round of weak laughter, the waitress sharing a portion of it as she disappears into the back. you were serious, but your joke was light-hearted, and you slump your head against the cool surface of the table, letting it sooth your slight headache.

“should we order pancakes?” naomi blurts, her lipstick hastily reapplied, and she cracks open a mirror to set it with a thick, pinky gloss, “i think we all need some pancakes.”

“and hashbrowns!” jules adds, pointing at the menu as if you’re about to argue. it was late— nearly three o’ clock in the morning, and you refused to drive these girls home and pay for a meal you knew they’d only eat half of before hauling to the bathrooms again.

you just shake your head, sipping the coffee. it’s too bitter for your liking, but the caffeine jolts you enough to sit up a little straighter, “fine, but one of you better be paying. you guys are driving me absolute nuts.”

emma’s hand shoots up dramatically, her movements still a little sluggish, but way better than before. “it’s all on me. it’s the least i can do after saving my own dignity from that creep earlier.”

you raise an eyebrow at her as naomi and jules snort, “pretty sure dignity doesn’t include nearly breaking someone’s nose, em. that was mean.”

“oh no, you weren’t there. he completely deserved that shit.” she says firmly, twirling her finger in the air like she’s drawing a halo over her head.

you lean back, letting their chatter wash over you like background music. emma’s wild stories, jules’s dry wit, naomi’s quiet observations— they all blend into something that feels like home. you’d never say it aloud, but moments like these are what make the late nights and exhausted mornings worth it.

still, as you glance at the phone in your lap and reread the verse from psalms, there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind. something about balance. about faith. about how these nights with your friends, full of chaos and laughter and the occasional Bible verse for grounding, somehow fit into your life.

you love them. and you love God. but sometimes, it feels like both are pulling you in opposite directions, but tonight, in this diner, they coexist. the coffee is too bitter, the pancakes will probably be disgustingly dry, and your friends are a complete mess, but for now, it’s enough for you.

before the food comes, the three girls beside you decide that they need to make sure their stomachs are empty enough to eat, so they all get up, rushing to the bathroom and leaving you with just your thoughts. you distract yourself with some game on your phone before the bell above the door jingles again, and you glance up absentmindedly, thinking it’s just another group of drunk strangers coming in for some late-night pancakes. but it’s not. it’s billie.

and she’s stumbling. horribly.

“oh, please kill me,” you mutter under your breath, straightening in your seat. as if on cue, emma, jules, and naomi all file out the bathroom, turning to look, their chatter dying down as they notice her too. she’s wearing extremely oversized jeans and a tank top that clings to her in a way that feels like it should be illegal, her hair slightly tousled, like she’s been through a windstorm— or, more accurately, a stupidly wild party.

she’s got a girl and two guys with her, but they venture off somewhere else to slip quarters into an old jukebox, cursing loudly when they realize that the device is way outdated. you snort. you thought that was obvious.

“isn’t that your girl?” emma teases, leaning over the table with a sly grin. she pokes your shoulder and you immediately shove her off, your cheeks hot and angry with a blush that blossoms to the rest of your body.

“she’s not my girl, don’t say that.” you hiss, your but your statement’s really all bark no bite, per usual. but your heart skips a beat when billie looks up and locks eyes with you, her face lighting up in a way that’s both charming and disarming.

she weaves through the tables with all the grace of a baby deer, her steps uneven but determined to get to you. she drawls, her voice low and slightly slurred, “what are you doin’ here, angel?”

“billie…” you sigh, your voice tinged with exasperation and a little disappointment. after your conversation at the party, you had assumed that she wasn’t the type of girl to get drunk and stumble around, and it hurt you a little bit to realize that you were mistaken.

“oh, don’t ‘billie’ me,” she says, sliding into the booth beside you, much too close for comfort. the scent of tequila and her vanilla perfume hits you like a wave, and you lean back instinctively, pressing into the seat. but she mimics your actions, her shoulder pressed against yours as she slurs, badly.

“you’re drunk.” you point out, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s broken. your skin’s hot and furious, and you can’t quite place why— all you know is that you’re mostly disappointed. your friends’ voices grow silent as they watch your encounter with the dark haired girl, and she just shrugs her shoulders at you nonchalantly.

“m’kay,” billie drags, looking up at you with soft, hazy eyes, and you swallow thickly, “maybe a little.”

she admits she’s had a little too much to drink, flashing you a lopsided grin. her finger comes up to boop your nose, but she’s so intoxicated that it misses it by an inch. “but m’not too drunk to notice how cute you look right now.”

your friends exchange looks, barely suppressing their laughter. emma actually has the audacity to nudge jules, whispering something that makes them both giggle, and you feel embarrassed. you shoot them a glare, but it’s hard to focus when billie’s gaze is fixed on you like you’re the only person in the entire diner.

“billie,” you say again, this time softer, almost pleading her to stop making you look stupid in front of your girls, “you should…you should just go sit over there.” you gesture vaguely to the empty booth across from you, but she doesn’t budge.

“nah,” she says, resting her chin in her hand as she looks at you, and you take a good look at her, your eyes involuntarily narrowing. she looks like she’s been through it— skin glossy but dull, lips chapped and dry, her voice croaked and broken. she’s slow with her movements as she sinks further into the chair, “i’m good right….right here.”

your pulse quickens, and you don’t know if it’s from annoyance, embarrassment, or something else entirely. “billie, you’re making this really weird.” you mumble, your fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep yourself from touching her.

“weird?…h-how’s it weird?” billie leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, “i’m just complimenting you, angel. that’s not a sin, now is it?”

your stomach twists uncomfortably at the mention of sin. of course, that’s where your mind goes. because everything about this feels…complicated. billie’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin, and her eyes— bright and mischievous— make it hard to think straight. you just want her to go away, to disappear and never look back, to literally never utter a single word to you ever again. but she’s persistent, almost taunting you with her presence, and it’s like you can’t take your eyes off her no matter how hard you try.

you hate this. you hate it a lot. you close your eyes, thinking and hoping that if you pray it hard enough, she’ll go away. like she’s an illusion, a ghost that’s just here for a distraction. but when you open your eyes, she’s still there, eyes fixated on you as she waits for an answer.

“it’s not a sin, but…” you mutter, looking away from her gaze, eyes fighting to focus on something else, anything else, “…you’re drunk. you don’t really mean any of this.”

“who says i don’t?” she shoots back, and for a moment, her tone isn’t teasing. it’s serious, almost challenging, and you want to just get up and walk out. but you can’t.

your breath catches, and you’re grateful when the waitress comes back with your friends’ pancakes, breaking the tension. billie doesn’t move, though. she just keeps looking at you, like she’s waiting for you to say something.

“billie,” you try again, your voice softer now. “please. just…sit over there, okay? we can talk when you’re sober.”

she hesitates, her eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you think she might argue with you. but then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “fine.” she says, dragging herself to her feet. “but only ‘cause you asked so nicely…so, see you around…”

she winks lazily at you before sliding into the booth across the aisle, and your cheeks burn as your friends erupt into laughter the second she’s out of earshot. your head turns sharply to look at them, and you feel your eyes swell with tears.

“oh, my goodness, y/n,” emma says, clutching her stomach, mostly because she isn’t sure if she’s gonna throw up, but also because she’s containing so much laughter, “you were soooo red. dudette, she’s totally into you!”

“please, emma. stop it. she’s not.” you protest weakly, your voice barely audible over the girls’ laughter.

but the truth is, you don’t know if that’s true. and worse, you don’t know how you feel about it.

as you sip your coffee and avoid looking in billie’s direction, your phone buzzes again with another verse. this time, it’s one about temptation. you let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, making sure your friends don’t see your tears. but they’re too busy laughing and digging into their food to pay it any mind, and you rest your head down, hoping you could just disappear. to go anywhere— to run and never look back, to hide, to forget everything that just happened in the past five minutes.

the diner feels like it’s shrinking in on you, like the walls are closing in around you with every passing second. billie’s presence is magnetic— whether you’re looking at her or not, you can feel her. the way her arm drapes over the back of her booth, her carefree laugh echoing as she chats with the waitress, her eyes flicking toward you every now and then, and you always look away before your eyes can meet. it’s maddening.

your friends are still teasing you, of course— they won’t let anything go until it’s dragged out and so annoying that even they can’t stand it any longer.

jules is practically doubled over with laughter, her face flushed as she wipes at her eyes. “y/n, be so fuckin’ for real right now,” she says between giggles, lightly tapping naomi on the shoulder to tune in, “you cannot tell me she wasn’t flirting with you.”

“she’s drunk,” you speak again, your voice firm but your cheeks still hot. you wipe your eyes with your sleeve discreetly, blaming it on the air conditioning too high for your sensitive eyes. you sniffle, “it doesn’t mean anything.”

“uh-huh,” naomi chimes in, smirking as she picks at her stack of pancakes with her fork, “right. and i’m the queen of england. both those things don’t make any sense.”

emma, who’s been quiet up until now, leans over the table with a knowing look, like she can read something even you can’t. sometimes you despised that— you despised your friendship lasting so long that she could tell what you’re feeling before you even know yourself. she pauses, then gives you wide eyes, “hey…you like her, don’t you?”

“emma, no!” the denial is almost instant, too quick to sound convincing, even to your own ears.

but you’re sure.

no matter what, this is utterly wrong, for so many reasons. it’s nothing you’ve ever desired before, and it’s not right, and it’s just something that happens when you see people that are almost unearthly beautiful. man, woman— everyone has eyes, and everyone that can see knows that billie is drop dead gorgeous. but that doesn’t mean anything, it can’t. and it won’t.

emma gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s been shot, “oh, my gosh! you like the emo girl!”

“i don’t,” you insist, groaning as you bury your face in your hands, “can we please talk about something else?”

“fine,” emma says, but the smirk on her face tells you she’s not letting this situation go anytime soon, “but we’re circling back to this later, girlfriend— just so you know.”

you glance over at billie, hoping she’s too wrapped up in her own world to notice the chaos unfolding at your table, and definitely hoping that emma doesn’t see you do it. but of course, billie catches your eye and grins, her lips curling in that way that makes your stomach turn in on itself.

you look away almost immediately, focusing on your untouched and horrible coffee. it’s lukewarm now, but you sip it anyway, hoping the bitterness will ground you a little bit. you find yourself caught in your thoughts until naomi taps your shoulder, making sure that emma and jules are too goofed off to notice.

“y/n,” she says softly, her tone more serious now, “are you okay?”

you nod, even though you’re not sure it’s true. you hated to lie, but it wasn’t any of her business, and you didn’t even know exactly how you were feeling. you huff, “yeah, i’m just…tired.”

that much, at least, is honest. the night feels like it’s been stretched out for days on end, and the weight of everything— your faith, your friends, billie —sits heavy on your chest. you just want to fall into your bed and stay there forever, resting until the sun rises and falls a million times.

“we should head out soon,” you say, glancing at your phone. it’s horribly late into the night now, and you know you’ll feel this exhaustion in your bones tomorrow.

but before you can usher your friends toward the door, billie stands up from her booth and strolls over to you, and you genuinely want to push her out of the way. but it isn’t like you, it never has been— so you stand idle in your spot by the jukebox, watching billie’s movements that are still a little unsteady, but her confidence is unwavering.

“y/n,” she says, her voice softening, “you leaving without saying goodbye?”

emma snorts, and you shoot her a warning look before turning your attention back to billie, “we were…um…. just about to head out,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. whatever emotion you show, it’ll be talked about in the car, so you try to remain as stoic as humanly possible.

“hmm,” she hums, tilting her head as she studies you. “you sure you’re okay? you’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine,” you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you, coming out more flustered than you intended.

“you don’t look fine,” billie says, leaning down so her face is level with yours. her proximity makes your heart race, and you’re painfully aware of how close she is— close enough that you can see the faint freckles dusting her nose, close enough that her breath fans against your cheek as you shut your eyes, exhaling slowly to keep yourself calm. she giggles, “well…you do look fine, but—“

“billie,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper. “you should sit down. or…go home.”

“maybe,” she says, but she doesn’t move. instead, she smiles, sweet and almost…tender. “but…. not before i tell you something.”

your breath catches, and you feel your friends’ eyes on you, the air around the table thick with anticipation.

“you’re…really something, y/n,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere, “i don’t know what it is, but…there’s just something about you. something good.”

the words hit you harder than they should, and you don’t know if it’s because she’s drunk or because she means it, or maybe even both.

“i—“ you start to say something but it’s too quiet, so you just start to rush out of the diner, embarrassment flooding your face as your friends attempt to follow you. but with the way they’re stumbling and how drunk they still are, their detour to the bathroom is definitely expected.

as you step outside, the night air is sharp and biting, the cold shocking your heated face. you could stay in and wait, you think— but you don’t have the patience to, and you’re too embarrassed to walk back in and face whatever just happened to you. you’re starting to head to your car when you hear the door jingle opened, and you hope and pray that it’s your trio of girls, but you set your hopes a little too high.

“y/n!” you hear billie call after you, her voice slurring slightly, but it’s the desperation in her tone that makes you really stop you in your tracks. you pause, half-turning, the diner’s fluorescent lights spilling out onto the sidewalk as billie’s figure emerges into view, her feet tripping over her own oversized clothes as she slumps against the run down, brick wall next to her.

her jacket’s hanging loosely off one shoulder, hair messy but somehow still perfect in that careless way she always manages. she’s really out of breath, her hands on her hips as she steadies herself, and when her eyes meet yours, there’s a flicker of something calm, something sweet. caring.

“you’re…really l-leaving?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her voice dripping nectar as she looks at you, almost like she’s a little hurt at it.

“yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your tone even, but it comes out shaky instead. typical.

“i think i’ve had enough excitement for one night. i just want to go home and go to sleep.”

billie takes a step closer, her jordan’s scuffing against the pavement. she’s hesitant before she speaks, “did i…did i say something wrong?”

the question catches you off guard, and you shake your head quickly. it wasn’t her at all, it was just how she made you feel. her words were too much for you, and the way she was acting— it made you squirm, it was bothersome, icky, awkward. you meet eyes with her from across the parking lot, and you shrug out, trying to get out of this predicament as quickly as you possibly could.

“no. it’s not that. i just—” you falter, crossing your arms over your chest, “i need some air.”

she nods slowly, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before she looks back up at you. “y/n, i wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. i-i just…sometimes i say things when i’ve had a little too much, but that doesn’t mean i don’t mean them.”

your heart skips a beat at her honesty, and you take a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

“billie, you’re really drunk.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and the distance between the two of you that you created falls useless as billie steps closer, almost not hearing what you’ve said.

“yeah, i am drunk,” she admits, a soft laugh escaping her lips, “but that doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you look away, staring at the empty parking lot as if it’ll give you the answers you’re so desperately searching for. you run your fingers through the ends of your hair, fighting to keep calm. the only reason you don’t walk away and leave is because your friends are still in the bathroom.

can they hurry up?

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” you admit finally, your voice cracking slightly as you let out a choked, awkward laugh.

“i don’t want you to say anything,” billie replies, stepping closer until she’s just a few feet away. “i just…i needed you to know that. you’re cool…y/n…there’s just something about you that....”

the confession leaves you speechless, your chest tightening as you try to process her words. she’s so close now that you can smell the faint scent of whiskey on her breath, mixed with something sweet that’s uniquely her.

“please, enough.”

“i’ll stop,” she says quickly, holding her hands up in surrender. “i swear. i just—needed to get it out, you know? but i’ll stop now. sorry.”

before you can respond, the diner door swings open behind you, and emma stumbles out, her arm slung around naomi’s shoulder as jules trails behind them, shoving a tube of lipstick in your bag.

“ahh, there you are!” emma says, her voice loud and cheerful despite her disheveled state, “we thought you left us.”

you force a smile, grateful for the timely distraction, “just needed some air.”

emma’s eyes flick between you and billie, and her lips curve into a knowing smirk, “well, don’t let us interrupt! we’ll be on our way.”

“emma.” you hiss, shooting her a glare, but she just laughs and waves you off, heading toward the car with naomi and jules in tow.

you turn back to billie, who’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite read, but you don’t have the energy to figure it out. you’re so tired and upset that you just walk away, leaving billie slumped against the brick walls of the diner’s exterior, hair wildly flowing in the wind as she watches you slip into your car, cranking the engine and pulling off and away.

you really think you could cry right now.

jules, naomi, and emma eventually fall asleep in the back, and you fight to stay awake the last five minutes of the drive as you start to drop everyone off at their dorm rooms, or at least near them. and then it’s you and a sleeping emma, her snores syncopated with the barking of the wind outside, and you quickly park and roll your windows up, taking off your seatbelt to turn around and poke your best friend.

“wake up.” you whisper, prodding at her bare shoulder as she stirs awake, swatting your hand like a fly. she mumbles into the cushions of your seats, “mmmhmm, like— five more minutes.”

“we’re here, emma. we have to go inside, i’m tired.” you whined, rolling your eyes. although she’s annoyed, she sits up, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm. a sleepy grin is wiped across her face as she puts her hand out to touch yours, “i am…so sorry…for dragging you everywhere across town. you’re the best, y’know that?”

you just nod in a silent thanks, squeezing her hand before opening the door and getting out, emma copying your movements.

the two of you step out into the cold, the wind biting at your skin as you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. emma stumbles a little, still half-asleep, and you reach out instinctively to steady her.

“you good?” you ask, glancing at her.

“yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, waving you off. “just…y’know, trying to remember how to walk.”

you huff out a laugh, your breath visible in the chilly night air. together, you trudge toward the dorm entrance, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet.

emma fishes around in her purse for her key, muttering under her breath about how she’s going to “kill the next guy who offers her tequila.” you lean against the doorframe, watching her with tired amusement until she finally triumphs, holding up the key like a trophy.

“victory is mine!” she whispers dramatically, pushing the door open and gesturing for you to go in first.

inside, the warmth is immediate, and you let out a small sigh of relief, slipping off your shoes. emma kicks off her heels with an exaggerated groan, stumbling toward the couch. she collapses onto it, sprawling out like she’s never been more comfortable in her life.

“you coming?” she asks, peeking one eye open as you hover near the door.

“nah,” you say, shaking your head. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’m beat.”

emma gives you a thumbs up, already halfway to sleep again as you make your way toward your room.

but when you close the door behind you and sink onto your bed, exhaustion doesn’t come like you thought it would. your body aches for rest, but your mind is still spinning, replaying everything from the night.

you sit there for a while, staring at the wall, before finally pulling out your journal from the drawer beside your bed. the pages are filled with your handwriting, verses, prayers, and thoughts you’ve poured out over time. it’s a place where you’ve always felt safe, where you’ve always been honest.

you open to a blank page, hesitating for a moment before you start to write:

“God, tonight was…confusing. I don’t know how to feel about any of it. I want to do the right thing. I want to honor You. But sometimes, I feel like I’m stuck in this constant battle between who I am and who I think I’m supposed to be.

I feel so much pressure to have everything figured out, to make the right choices, to be good. But what if I don’t always know what that looks like? What if I mess up?

I don’t want to disappoint You. I don’t want to disappoint myself. But I’m scared, and I’m tired, and I just don’t know what to do.”

you pause, the pen hovering over the page, before finishing with a shaky, “Please, help me understand.”

closing the journal, you let out a long breath, the weight of your words still heavy on your chest.

you crawl under the covers, curling up on your side as the wind howls outside. the room is quiet, but your mind is so loud, filled with a mix of doubt and hope and a little bit of fear.

and as you finally drift off to sleep, you pray for clarity, for strength, for peace. because even if you don’t have all the answers, you’re holding on to the belief that they’ll come. at some point.

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mythicmanuscripts · 1 day ago

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hello!!! love your blog!!

Could you talk about what intense subdrop is like with Aegon, Aemond, and Jace? like what makes them drop, and what happened/how it went the first time it happened in front of the reader? with lots of soft aftercare? thank you!!!

Of course I can anon! Absolutely. So I definitely have spoken vaguely about subdrop with all of the main three but I don't think I've ever sort of just given overviews of it? So for each of them I'm gonna write a bit about what I think their general triggers for subdrop would be and what they'd need, etc cause then I think we can have a really nice groundwork to discuss some of the stuff further. So let me know if any of these thoughts inspire you! Or you can always apply them to an AU as well.

I'm also happy to share or hear thoughts about other characters for this as well :)) Anyway, there's some non-graphic NSFW content in this answer so if that's not your think then feel free to scroll on by otherwise, enjoy!

AEMOND:

So with Aemond I think he'd only experience subdrop a few months into your relationship, when you've already had sex multiple times and he's already showing his submissive side quite a bit. I think it would only start then because until he reached that level of comfort he always had his walls up?

Even though you were praising him and commanding him and giving him aftercare, he still stayed guarded. Make no mistake, he loved every single moment with you, but despite knowing that his brain still takes longer to catch up to the fact that he's actually allowed to properly let go. As a result, you get lulled into a false sense of security where it seems like the only aftercare Aemond wants is for you to help clean him up and dress him and cuddle a little bit. He was always up and about within an hour after the scene had ended. But this wasn't because he was fully recovered, this was because he had never let himself fall fully into you and so had less to recover from.

It's when you finally does start to do that when this arises. I think the trigger event for him fully lowering all his walls might actually be when you start to indulge him in non-sexual submission? You have him kneel while you read to him, watch him from the bed while he folds your laundry, etc. It's the praise and safety he feels in those moments that allows him to give himself fully later.

He drops hard after the first time he stopped trying to hide. You noticed a difference of course, he was much louder than before, much clingier too. He's just so expressive. Of course you praise him for it, telling him how pretty he looks and sounds like this.

But then the scene is over and you immediately get up to begin drawing a bath for him. When you return with the bucket he's curled up in bed, crying softly to himself.

Needless to say, a much more involved routine is created after that moment. But even with that, subdrop is something he never really grows out of? Doesn't matter how much he loves you and how perfect the aftercare routine is, the bottom line is that he's used to always being on high alert and sometimes he's going to drop when he has to come back from finally giving up that responsibility.

AEGON:

Aegon is another one that just lives to please. Before you he would try to please his mother and father and the whole bloody kingdom, but from the moment he feels the satisfaction of knowing you are pleased with him.... well none of the others matter anymore.

Of course you love that about him, and you always make sure to give him both enough commands and praise. But Aegon's problem is that he doesn't only want to please you, he also wants and arguably needs your attention and time? That's where his conflict comes from. He never ever wants to be a nuisance to you, but despite that desire he still needs to be kissed and held and comforted, and of course he also needs to be dommed.

He tries to balance those two needs but if one must be chosen over the other then he will always choose to serve and please before he chooses the attention. This is a recipe for disaster of course, especially because it forms a very vicious cycle where he needs you more because he's so unsettled because he hasn't pleased you but not having pleased you only makes him need the comfort worse and so it goes.

The solution to this isn't to try and strike a balance between domming him and commanding him, but rather to just stop the cycle completely? There's nothing that turns Aegon's mind off more than when you take over fully and he just does as you say.

Now when you start to see the signs, start to see him looking for things to do with you, hovering over thresholds of doors uncertain if he should come in and spend time with you, then you act. You actually have to be very firm with him, tell him that you're the one in charge so he doesn't get to decide what you do with him. That coupled with staying at his side for a few days sorts him out, at least for a while anyway.

JACAERYS:

His subdrops tend to have one of two main triggers. Firstly, and most obviously, is when he cums and can't do anything else. He gets better at lasting longer and feeling less sensitive afterwards, but there will always be times where his orgasm takes the wind right out of him and he's left unable to do more than just whine and grab your hand. He always feels so guilty, especially at the start when you're still getting used to being able to tell what stimulation will send him over the edge too quick. He feels like a complete failure and that tends to trigger a drop most times, which unfortunately you can't really mitigate the risk of because he's just wired like that.

The only way to comfort him is to promise him that you will let him please you once he's recovered? He won't allow himself to have your comfort until you've told him exactly what he can do to you once he's recovered.

The second trigger is actually something happening outside of your relationship? Jace can't separate those two parts of himself. When he feels he hasn't lived up to his responsibilities as prince then he carries that feeling into the bedroom, and no amount of love and praise can get him out of that headspace. You've tried simply telling him that you won't dom him that night and you can either have vanilla sex or do no more than cuddle but this backfires because he sees it as another rejection.

At first you had no idea how to lower the chances of that trigger for subdrop because you can't change his duties to his mother and the realm and you certainly can't talk him out of scening at all without making it much worse. The only thing that helps is when you give him very detailed instructions for very easy tasks. You watch him closely as he makes the bed or folds the clothes or takes out and repacks the bookshelves, etc. It's always tasks that are very easy but that's the point, the point of the command is so that Jace can do something 100% correctly and receive praise for it.

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cameronwillow · 2 days ago

Text

Sorry, I just wanted to hear you Scream

Tate Langdon x fem reader

On Halloween, your ghost boyfriend can leave the murder house and you finally ask him what you’ve been wanting to know. Why was he Ghostface before his death?

I cannot believe I found this! From over a year ago. One of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. Reuploaded for my sis @marchsfreakshow and my OG @oceanblvd111 thank you for your endless love and support since I came back on here.

CW: Talks of violence, ghostface!tate, switch Tate, mommy kink, oral, knife play, unprotected sex, old so not as good as my recent writing.

Halloween was your favorite day of the year. Not only was the weather perfect, the best scary movies were released, costumes became creative but also because Tate could go out and venture into the world.

This was your second Halloween together. The first year you went to the beach. A place he admitted used to be his designated spot whenever he needed to escape. You had discussed back and forth before ultimately deciding to have your date at a graveyard.

It filled your gothic heart. Your relationship was exciting, despite his eternal life as a ghost.

Tate carried the blanket and bottle of liquor you bought on your way home. The walk wasn’t far, allowing you to wear platform shoes that went along with your costume. You were dressed as the Scarlet Witch. Trading in your black clothing for red.

Tate allowed you to paint his face with makeup, skeletal features were his preference. It took you almost an hour but you wanted to be precise. You slicked his curly hair back with product. But he would do anything you asked. He was your good boy. You held your own bag close to your body. A week ago, you gifted him a cellphone. For reason one, he could contact you while you were working. And secondly, it would make tonight even better. It was secured in his denim pocket. He wasn’t able to hold your hand, so you opted to hold the crook of his elbow.

You stepped through the entrance of the cemetery. The overhanging metal curved over your head as your eyes swept over the hundreds of tombstones. “This way, baby.” Tate gestured with his head towards the left. You allowed yourself to be guided. Your feet padded over the grass. It was dark, but the adjacent streetlight gave you enough ability to see your path.

Tate led you down the narrow section between a towering tree and a collection of tombstones before he pulled you to a stopping point in front of a smaller one. “Here I am.” He smirked, his skeleton makeup curving, turning to look at you. The modest headstone was ordinary, without any flowers to commemorate the loss. You nodded as you registered the name.

Tate Langdon 1977- 1994. Loving son.

You chuckled breathlessly at his joke. “This is one hell of an idea, having a date in front of your own grave.”

Tate quirked an eyebrow before pulling you to a seated position, setting the blanket down on the ground and alcohol aside. You both hadn’t bothered with cups, planning on just drinking out of the bottle, something you’d both done several times. He wrapped his arm around you, your head nuzzled on his shoulder.

“What was your motive, Tate? Being Ghostface?” It was before you were born but everyone heard about the killing spree during 1994. It started with one murder, a teenage girl strung up on a tree. Before it escalated to a principal. Those weren’t enough to raise concerns until the last night when the killer was caught.

It was at a party. A curfew had been given but a group of teens threw a gathering anyway. Two more people were murdered. Brutally. One girl was inside a dog door inside the garage. The man’s throat had been slit and he was dragged across the front of a van.

The murderer wore a gown and a mask.

Tate Langdons identity was revealed after he had been gunned down by the swat team. He took too long at the house as the police were called. The term Ghostface had been taken as a joke before it ultimately stuck with him. But he never revealed why he did it. Even during the last seconds of his life. Yet, his soul remained in the very home he was killed in.

He had been shot down in the Murder House.

You’d seen the apparel once. When he played the same game with you after class several weeks ago. Where he fingered you, used the very blade he commented the crimes with. It gave him pleasure to scare you. Or try too.

“My motive?” He asked, glancing down at you. He didn’t like to talk about his past. He hated answering questions because he didn’t want to relive it. He was always paranoid you’d leave him if he explained. You knew the relationship was toxic. But you still loved him.

Besides. He was already dead. What more could he do?

“Yes. Why did you do it?” You lifted your chin upward, watching as he clenched his jaw.

“Who said I needed a reason?” You pursed your lips as he teased you.

“Tate. Be serious. Why? Why did you kill them?”

Several seconds of silence followed. All you felt was the pattern of his breathing.

“I wanted to die. And I wanted to take people with me. I wanted to scare them. I wanted them to think they had a chance to escape me. I wanted my mother to know exactly what kind of monster she created. That’s why I killed her boyfriend. I wanted her to know the pain she made me feel.”

You allowed the confession to hang in the air. It wasn’t fear you felt, more like a realization that Tate had been dangerous. Your loving, doting and obsessed boyfriend had been a killer. He knew exactly how to press the blade down on your skin without breaking it. He knew how to walk without making noise. He enjoyed seeing you beg for him. Beg for his cock. Beg for him to let you finish.

But you wanted him to have a turn. He needed to experience it.

“Mmm. Did you like being covered in blood?” You asked, your voice soft despite the disturbing question.

Tate swallowed. “I didn’t really think about it.” You nodded and pulled your hands in your lap. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead starting at the stone.

“Do you ever think about me, covered in blood?” You withheld a smile when he took a sharp inhale. He blinked.

“Y-yes.” He looked down at you but you reached up, taking his chin between your thumb and pointer finger. You set his jaw straight.

“Did I say you could look at me?” Tate shakes his head obediently.

“Good boy. Do you ever think about…me killing someone?” His lips parted and he heavily inhaled through his nose.

“Yes.” He half whispered, half whined.

“Have you thought about fucking me in the costume? Using the knife on me again? While I’m covered in someone else’s blood?”

Tate shifted on the ground, his eyes glazing as he tried to keep his focus ahead. “Babe-“

“Don’t interrupt me, Tate. Be good and answer only when I tell you to.” You sternly commanded. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” He shakily answered. You needed to push a little harder, just a bit to get exactly what you needed.

“What are you thinking about now, Tate? And make sure you’re honest.” You kept watching him. His teeth grazed his lower lip, despite the paint and his hand started to drift to his pants.

“I want to splay you on the ground, right here. Right now. I want to spread your legs, taste you with my mouth before I fuck you senseless. Until you can’t wait. And then do it all over again.” You quirked an eyebrow before your hand fell to his thigh.

“What about you, baby? Don’t you want me to make you feel good? To suck your dick? Make you cum in my mouth?” He shivered and his fingers drifted to his crotch.

“I’d rather feel you cum. I don’t care about me. All I want is you.” You hummed and your finger tips grazed his growing erection.

“Mmm. You’re such a sweet boy, Tate. Do you like it when my legs are around your head? Do you like that?”

Tate’s hand finally palmed his dick and you smiled in triumph. You lifted yourself from his embrace and you grabbed his wrist.

“Tate. Did I say you could touch yourself? Don’t you remember our rules?” Tate’s eyes widened in response and you shook your head disapprovingly.

The rules consisted that Tate was not allowed to touch himself without permission. Neither were you. Along with a safe word. Mercy.

“I’m sorry-I thought you-“

Your hand raised and wrapped around his neck. You pulled him close as he grunted from the pressure. You squeezed steadily the sides of his throat and you leaned in, hovering over his mouth. “Mmm, my sweet little boy. Getting hard over me being drenched in blood. You’re absolutely pathetic.”

Tate’s eyes glasses over and his lip slightly trembled. “Mama-please-“ He leaned in to kiss you but you pulled your head away.

“I don’t think so, Tate. I think…you need to be punished. Would you agree?” You proposed and he swallowed heavily. Fear prickling his expression.

“Do whatever you want to me. Just let me touch you, please.” Tate placed his hands on your waist, squeezing gently and causing your knee to settle inbetween his legs. “Please, please let me touch you. I can make it up to you. I promise, baby. I can’t stand the thought of you mad at me.”

He laid down, his hair like a blonde halo on the ground as he stared up at you, your hand still wrapped around his neck. He looked so submissive. So willing to make you happy. Ready for you to use him however you fucking wanted. And you will.

“You’ll make it up to me?” You whispered. Tate started grinding his dick down on your knee, humping like a bitch in heat.

“Yes, anything. I’ll do anything for you.” He encouraged, slipping his fingers down to your waistband, your dark leggings stretching as he attempted to touch your underwear. Removing your hand from his throat, you slapped him across the face. Tate grimaced from the impact, his head jolting to the side and he blinked at you with watery eyes.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, Tate.” He leaned up, taking his hands off your torso and buried his face in your breasts.

You attempted to push him down but he was a lot stronger than you despite his slender form. His arms wrapped around your hips, making you straddle his pelvis.

“Mama-I’m sorry-I just need you. I want to make you cum. I want you to be proud of me-please let me be good. I promise you’ll be proud of me…” He was begging. You almost gave in, withholding a moan as he pressed kisses on your costume covered breasts but you needed to stick with your plan.

“Tate, if you want to make me feel good. Lay down. Lay down nice and slow for me, baby.” He quickly pulled away, his face paint smudged as he slowly laid his body down on the grass.

You were situated above him, powerful and he was willing to obey every command you gave him. Reaching your hand down, you brushed his cheek with your fingers and he contently leaned in to your touch. “Now, I want you to close your eyes. Keep them closed until you know exactly when to open them.” You instructed in a clear voice.

Tate opened his mouth to protest but you gripped his chin between your fingers. Leaving nail imprints. “What did I say about disobeying me?” He shut them immediately after that. You smirked. Now, the real fun could begin.

Carefully, you brought yourself to stand. Your boots crunching the grass beneath you while walking to your bag. Digging through it, your hands locked around a lightweight but long, black gown. Slipping it on, you then pulled out the last needed item.

The Ghostface mask. And the same blade Tate used on you.

Slipping it over your hair and face, you started walking away as quiet as you could. Then, you tucked the knife to your belt inside the gown. If Tate heard running, he would open his eyes too soon. You disappeared in the bustle of trees across the cemetery before stepping behind the church. Smiling wickedly, you pulled out your cellphone.

Tate was growing impatient. He listened to your footsteps carefully, trying to figure out where you were before they disappeared entirely. Seconds passed, he felt alone. Despite your warnings, Tate opened his eyes and sat up.

You were gone.

Panic set in and he jumped to his feet. What if something was wrong? His breathing grew heavier as he jogged through the area, desperately searching for any signs of you. He called out but no answer came.

“Fuck. Fucking shit.” He ran his fingers through his mused hair and stepped forward in the direction of the church, but his cellphone started ringing.

Tate frowned and looked at his pocket. Only one person knew of his number. Maybe you needed help. He dug it out of the material and pressed it to his ear.

“are you okay? Where are you?”

“Hello, Tate Langdon.” He froze and his eyes widened. The voice on the other end.

Was Ghostface. The very same alteration he used in 1994. The same he used to call you.

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to come up with a response. It was all a trick. It was you. But…how did you sneak it past him?

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners not to respond to a greeting?” Ghostface prodded and Tate cleared his throat.

“Hey. is that what you were planning? Where are you?”

“Tate, you’ve been such a bad boy. Dreaming about your girlfriend killing someone.” He huffed out an embarrassed breath and scanned the area around him.

“This-this isn’t funny, asshole.” He muttered under his breath.

“Oh, I’d be careful about calling me names, Tate. You wouldn’t want me to slit that pretty neck of yours, would you?” Ghostface leered. Tate chuckled and started moving towards the trees.

“That wouldn’t matter. I’m already dead.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be punished, Tate. For all the things you did to those poor, innocent people.”

“Innocent?” He parroted.

“Yes. In fact, I wonder if movies influenced you. Movies can be a powerful inspiration. Tell me…what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tate squatted down, trying to see evidence of your boot prints but he didn’t see anything.

“Do you really have to go through the whole speech? I asked too many questions.” He said to himself.

“Is that a refusal to my question? Mmm, Tate. You just can’t listen, can you?” Ghostface teased and he sighed with frustration.

“Where are you?”

“Aw, you look so pretty when you’re desperate.” He looked around, realizing you must be close by, able to see his expression. Instead of answering, he crept closer to the church.

“What happens if I find you?” He asked, excitedly looking for you.

“Then, you get to make me cum. Just like you want.” Tate groaned and quickly looked behind the building.

No one was there.

He went to speak before a hand gripped his hair, yanking him back and a sharp blade pressed against his neck. He gasped.

“You didn’t think it be that easy, did you?” You said, voice still altered. Tate wanted desperately to turn around and pound her on the ground but the knife nicked his skin.

Blood trickled down and the hand that gripped his hair, traveled down his face, to his throat. Her finger collected the plasma and smeared it across his lips.

“Please, Christ I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me fuck you. I’m begging you, please.” Tate pleaded. You turned him around.

He stared down at her, her gown hung on her body. The mask was secure and she aimed the knife at his chest. “Sorry, I just wanted to hear you scream.”

“Get on your back.” You commanded. Tate fell to the ground, landing underneath you and you smiled behind the mask. Finally, he was listening. With your free hand, you unbutton his jeans and yanked them down.

You lifted his shirt up, exposing his v line and the thin patch of hair. His dick was hard and prominent through his boxers. A wet patch of precum staining it. You shook your head, taking the blade and lightly tracing it across his skin.

Tate inhaled sharply and bucked his hips. Humping the air as you played with the knife. His hand lifted and you smacked his crotch with the handle. He stilled, panting as you peeled off the mask. You set the blade down, hooking your fingers around his waistband and then you pulled it down his legs.

His cock hung heavy, thick and red at the tip. “So needy, baby.” Your voice was back to normal. You lowered yourself on your stomach, wrapping your hand around his dick before licking a single stripe along the vein.

Tate whimpered with a high pitch whine as his hand flew to your hair. Allowing the grip, you pulled the tip to your lips and started sucking gently. His fingers pulled your hair, hard enough to hurt but you massaged his cock with your hand as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was a mess, moaning and shaking as you gave him head. “I’m gonna-I’m gonna cum.” He grunted. His climax rushed through, gushing out of your mouth as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

You pulled back, your lipstick smeared and you wiped your chin with the back of your hand. Before you had a chance to breathe, Tate flipped you over, immediately smashing his lips to yours. As he shoved his tongue in your mouth, hungrily kissing you, his hand frantically felt your torso. You kissed him back feverishly, pulling his hair as he sank his teeth into your lower lip.

You mewled as he ripped himself away and then sloppily kissing your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “You’re mine, all fucking mine.” He pleaded like a prayer as he rocked his hips against yours, his hardening dick against you.

As submissive as he was, Tate could also fuck you like it was his last time ever doing so. You were lost in the growing pleasure as he brushed his tongue against your sweet spot. He fumbled to pull your leggings down and underwear down, any coordination gone as he shoved himself down. You wanted to resist, regain control but he pried your legs apart.

“Tate-“ You started but he shook his head. He opened his mouth, laid his tongue flat against your pussy as he started lapping away at your clit.

“No, no, don’t tell me to stop. I need this, mommy.” He moaned against your cunt as he circled his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to withhold your sounds but he grazed your pussy with his teeth. “No, I want to hear how good this feels.” Tate dug his fingernails into your thighs to keep you still, dragging them painfully but deliciously down. You felt the hilt of the knife against your entrance and you looked down. Tate’s eyes were black as he effortlessly slipped the handle inside you. The foreign feeling pumped in and out as his mouth worked your swollen pussy. You weren’t going to last much longer as he increased the speed.

A overpowering wave of pleasure exploded and you couldn’t make any noise as you trembled. Tate finally pulled back and removed the handle from you. He crawled up, cupping your chin before he kissed you. Forcing you to taste your own cum.

“I need to fuck you,” He moaned against your lips as he shuffled clumsily to line himself up with your cunt.

He nipped your lip too hard, blood pooled from the small wound and he repeated your earlier actions. Smudging your mouth with blood as he bottomed you out. “Fuck.” He growled. “You look so hot with blood on your skin.”

You arms wrapped around his shoulders as he thrusted, deep inside you, hard enough to hit your cervix but you loved the pain. His movements were growing sloppy. “Don’t cum until I say, Tate. Or else I’ll have to punish you again.”

But he couldn’t listen, his speed thudded inside you and you felt him spill inside you, he squeezed his eyes shut from the orgasm as he came to a stop. He ripped them back open in fear as he understood his mistake. “I’m sorry-you just felt so good-“ He pleaded but you wouldn’t have it.

You pushed him off, forcing him on his stomach as you straddled his back. His bare pelvis pressed against the ground as you trailed your fingers down his skin.

“Now, you’re really going to scream.”

@taintandviolent @bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @evansroses @rafesheaven @stillwjk-channie-lixie @fear-is-truth

#tate langdon x reader #tate langdon smut #tate langdon #tate langdon x y/n #ahs hotel #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #ahs tate #evan peters smut #evan peters

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