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sasheemo · 1 month ago

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Friday Thoughts

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sunday morning’s spicy haze gives way to a heartfelt conversation about your future together. But with Agatha’s signature flair, it’s anything but ordinary.

Chapter Tags: Jealous Reader, Domestic Bliss, Nicky is Basically a Tiny Wingman, Happy Ending, Fluff Ending, Slow(ish) Burn Payoff, Smut

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: Chapter 4 dropped on Christmas Eve, and now Chapter 5 is here New Year's Eve—what can I say, I aim for festive timing! 😬

I know I’m not the fastest writer, and I’m sooo sorry about that, but this final chapter had me second-guessing everything right up until the very end.

It was supposed to be short and sweet. No smut. No Rio cameos. Just a heartfelt conversation to wrap everything up neatly. But… well, apparently I can’t resist a little extra spice and some fluff. So instead of “short and sweet,” you’re getting “long and indulgent.” You’re welcome.

Oh, and fair warning—this chapter has a lot of dialogue. But I promise I did my best to make it… engaging wink wink 😏

This is my first-ever completed multi-chapter fic, and honestly? I’m a mix of proud and devastated to be saying goodbye to it. These two have been living rent-free in my head for a while now, and I really hope this ending does them justice.

Thank you to everyone who’s been along for this wild ride—it’s been a joy writing this story, and your support has meant everything. As always, I can’t wait to hear what you think! Here’s to the happy ending these two (and you, let’s be real) deserve. Enjoy and Happy New Year! 💜🥳

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

All you can hear is the relentless pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud drowning out your thoughts as you search for the words.

Agatha’s watching you, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Her hand rests lightly on your arm—a simple, grounding touch—but it might as well be a flame branding your skin, its warmth sending waves of tension rippling through you.

The weight of her presence, the intensity of her eyes, the way her touch seems to anchor you in place, it all builds to a point where you feel like you might snap. You take a step back, breaking the connection, though the movement is hesitant, almost reluctant.

Agatha lets her hand fall without protest, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity as she watches you retreat.

Your feet begin to move instinctively, pacing back and forth across the room as you try to untangle the storm of thoughts in your head. The soft sounds of your bare feet against the hardwood floor create a rhythm, something tangible to focus on as you walk a short line, turn, and walk it again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Agatha shifting her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and leans casually against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest with an ease that contrasts maddeningly with your spiraling.

Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders, the soft light catching on its dark waves. Her expression is calm, almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips as she tracks your movements.

After a couple of minutes of incessant pacing, you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s probably fighting the urge to laugh. She sighs, low and exasperated, though there’s no real annoyance in it.

“Come here, hon.” her voice cuts through the fog in your mind like a blade, steady and commanding.

You freeze mid-step, glancing toward her, your pulse quickening at the simple authority in her tone.

Slowly, you approach, hesitant but unable to resist the pull of her presence. You stop just short of closing the distance, leaving a fragile sliver of space between you—a barrier you cling to, as much for your own composure as for a chance to steady the storm inside.

Every part of you aches to close the gap, but you hold back, convincing yourself that this small distance is the only way to face her with a clear mind.

Agatha doesn’t push, doesn’t reach for you. Instead, she stays where she is, leaning against the dresser, her eyes fixed on yours with piercing intensity. Her stillness feels intentional, as though she’s giving you space to breathe, to think, while still holding you firmly in her orbit.

“Well?” she prompts, her voice a velvety blend of calm and command. “Whatever’s got you pacing like a caged animal, it’s time to spit it out.”

You let out a sharp breath, your shoulders slumping slightly as the tension inside you finally breaks.

“Doesn’t this worry you?” you ask, your voice tight with nervous energy.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, hon.” she replies smoothly, her tone effortlessly confident. “What part of this is supposed to worry me?”

You gesture vaguely with your hands, the words tumbling out clumsily as you try to give shape to your thoughts. “I mean… all of it? Us. Nicholas. What if—what if this gets messy?”

Her smirk deepens, and she tilts her head, studying you with that maddening, amused expression, like she’s already figured you out and is just waiting for you to catch up.

“Messy?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with a teasing lilt. “Sweetheart, the only thing messy about this is how you’re tying yourself into knots over it.”

“I’m serious, Agatha.” you scoff defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So am I, hon.” her voice sharpens slightly, firm but not harsh. “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be challenges. But whatever they are, they’re not anything two grown women can’t handle.”

“So… what exactly is it that’s worrying you?” she presses, her tone softening just a fraction.

Her question hangs in the air, and the weight of her gaze settles over you like a warm, steady pressure. You glance away, trying to collect yourself, before meeting her eyes again.

“It’s everything.” you admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t know how this works. How we work.”

Agatha doesn’t respond. She just watches you, but there’s no rush in her gaze, no impatience—just a quiet expectation, as if she knows the words are there and trusts you to find them on your own.

Her unexpected steadiness makes something inside you loosen. For some reason, you thought Agatha might struggle with conversations like this—emotional topics, deep and vulnerable. It never seemed like her thing, at least in your mind.

But now, seeing her so composed, so unshaken by the storm you’ve brought to her, you realize that maybe she was expecting this, maybe she’s known this conversation was inevitable long before you did.

And somehow, her calm confidence makes it easier to breathe.

“I just…” you trail off, running a hand through your hair. “I need to know. When did this start? When did you start… feeling like this about me?”

Her brows lift slightly, and for a moment, genuine surprise flickers across her face. It vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“That’s a tough one to answer.” she begins, her voice carrying a thoughtful edge. “It wasn’t some grand epiphany. More like… a collection of little moments, each one adding up until I couldn’t ignore them anymore.”

There’s a faint trace of annoyance in her tone, not aimed at you but at the sheer audacity of the realization itself. Like the idea that you’ve been occupying so much space in her mind is a personal affront she’s still coming to terms with—and even now, it seems to bruise her pride just a little.

“Like what?” you press with quiet insistence, a thread of determination woven through the words.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk softening as her gaze narrows, calculating. For a moment, she looks almost reluctant to speak, as if she’s weighing how much to tell you.

“You remember that afternoon a couple of months ago,” she starts, her tone deceptively casual. “when you showed up drenched from head to toe? It was pouring outside, and you still walked in here grinning like an idiot, dripping all over my floors.”

You blink, caught off guard by the memory. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I thought to myself,” she murmurs, her eyes drifting as if replaying the scene, “how does someone look that damn happy while freezing and soaking wet? And why the hell can’t I stop staring at her?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, your cheeks heating as your gaze darts away from hers. Instinctively, you feel the urge to take a step back, a reflexive retreat from the intensity of the moment.

But this time, Agatha reaches out, moving as though she’s read your mind.

She leans forward slightly, her hand grazing your wrist as her fingers curl lightly around it, tugging with just enough firmness to pull you a fraction closer to her.

“And then…” she continues, her voice gaining that teasing edge that always leaves you off-balance, “You’d leave those little treats from the café on the kitchen table. Like some saintly delivery girl, making sure Nicholas had something sweet after school and I had something waiting for me after work. You didn’t think I noticed, did you?”

“I just thought—” you begin, stammering slightly, but she cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“You thought I was too busy to notice, or that I didn’t care.” she says, her tone mockingly serious now, though her smirk never wavers.

Her fingers trail from your wrist to your hip as she speaks, and it takes a moment for you to realize you’ve unconsciously taken a step closer, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

“And you,” she continues, her voice dipping lower, ��always smelled like coffee after your morning shifts. That scent… it stuck with me. Sometimes I’d walk into the kitchen at night, hours after you left, and I could still smell it. God, I started to notice it everywhere. It drove me insane.”

Your breath catches at her words, and again as her other hand joins the first, both settling firmly on your hips. With a final, deliberate tug, she guides you into the space between her legs, her warmth radiating against you, drawing you into her orbit completely.

“And then there was last Friday night.” she breathes, her voice steeped in an intimacy that makes every word feel like a secret. “I came home and found you on the couch with Nicky curled up next to you. I stood there just staring at you both. I couldn’t stop thinking about how… safe he looked with you. How much he trusts you. How cute the two of you looked together like that.”

The weight of her words leaves you momentarily stunned, but before you can process them fully, a darker thought claws its way to the forefront of your mind.

“And the other Fridays?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

Her brow arches, and the sharpness in her expression returns, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes. “What about them?”

“You know what I mean.” you say, crossing your arms tightly, trying to shield yourself from the sudden vulnerability you feel. “All those nights you came home late, looking… like that.”

Agatha sighs, the sound low and laced with mock boredom, yet the gentle squeeze of her hands on your hips betrays her true feelings—anything but indifferent. It’s not real annoyance, more a carefully crafted exasperation tinged with amusement, as if, deep down, she’s savoring how your relentless, probing questions are playing perfectly into her hands.

“Most of them were business dinners.” she says, her voice firm and matter-of-fact. “Clients, potential partners. Necessary evils, nothing exciting.”

“But not all of them.” you press, your voice sharper now, frustration lacing your words.

“No.” she remarks dryly. “Not all of them.”

“How many were dates?” you demand, the jealousy you’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface hot and fast despite your best efforts to tamp it down.

“Does it matter?” she counters smoothly, her tone cool but not dismissive.

“It does to me.” you snap before you can stop yourself.

“Fine, a few. But none of them were serious, hon.” she says, and you could swear her voice is playful, almost teasing, as if she can sense the jealousy burning you alive and is enjoying every second of it.

“Define ‘serious.’” you scoff, your hands coming up to push lightly against her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge an inch.

“One dinner.” she states with a shrug, her tone infuriatingly calm and offhand. “Maybe some fun at their place afterwards, but that’s it. It was never anything more.”

Her honesty stings, even if it’s what you wanted, what you asked for. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the jealousy from overtaking you.

“And last Friday night?” you press, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel heavy as they leave your lips, your pulse quickening with a mix of apprehension and the need to know. “What happened before you came home and found me and Nicky on the couch?”

Her grin turns inexplicably wicked as her hands slide lower to firmly your ass. With a deliberate tug, she pulls you flush against her, your hips colliding in a way that sends heat racing up your spine.

“Last Friday night was a date, sweetheart.” she begins, her tone maddeningly casual, like she’s recounting a a dull anecdote rather than making your blood boil. “She tried to kiss me outside the restaurant and invited me to her place.”

She pauses just long enough for the words to sink in, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gauges your reaction.

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind, and your chest tightens, jealousy fizzling hot and insistent in your stomach. Her nonchalance feels like a knife twisting, and you’re sure she can sense it, her smirk widening ever so slightly as her eyes lock onto yours.

You force yourself to hold her gaze, but the casual edge of her tone, the way she seems so unaffected, is almost too much to bear. A hundred thoughts race through your mind, each one more unbearable than the last. You’re not sure whether to scoff, snap, or step away, but before you can decide, Agatha’s voice cuts through the tension again.

“But…”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, and her expression shifts, the confidence that usually cloaks her like armor faltering ever so slightly. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel the weight of whatever she’s about to say.

She exhales through her nose, the hesitation palpable as though she’s debating whether to say the words out loud.

When she finally does, her voice is lower, dipping into a gentleness that catches you completely off guard, each word laced with a quiet vulnerability that makes your heart stutter.

“When I politely declined her offer… I called her by your name.”

You blink. Once. Twice. your brain firing on all cylinders yet somehow managing to stall completely. Surely, you must have misheard her.

And then she winks. And it’s game over.

Your eyes widen to comical proportions, your jaw drops like it’s auditioning for a slapstick comedy, and you’re pretty sure your entire face is now brighter than a chili pepper under a spotlight.

At your reaction, Agatha’s smirk blossoms into its full, mischievous glory, positively dripping with wicked delight—a clear indicator that she’s savoring every second of your mental implosion.

“You what?!” you practically squawk, the words bursting out louder and more incredulous than you thought humanly possible.

Agatha chuckles, low and rich, the sound rolling over you like a warm wave. The sheer satisfaction glinting in her eyes is almost maddening, and her hands, still resting on your ass, shift slightly—her fingers brushing against the loose fabric of your shorts in a way that feels far too casual given the bombshell she just dropped.

“No, no, wait.” you stammer, still trying to process. “You’re telling me you, Agatha Harkness—confident, poised, never-misses-a-beat Agatha Harkness—actually called someone by the wrong name? My name? On a date? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly strike me as the type to… you know… trip over your own rizz like that.”

She tilts her head, one brow arching in mock warning as her eyes lock onto yours, a look that clearly says, Careful, hon, don’t push your luck. It’s playful, yes, but there’s just enough edge in her gaze to make your breath hitch, like she’s daring you to test her patience.

“Trust me, sweetheart, no one was more surprised than me.” she admits with dry amusement as the faintest shrug rolls off her shoulders.

But there’s a betraying flicker in her eyes, a glimmer of self-deprecation, and you can tell she’s trying very hard to hold back laughter herself at this point.

“So, you’re standing there, at the end of your very hot date or whatever, and just—what? Randomly blurt out my name?” you ask, the teasing edge in your voice growing sharper as you fight the urge to giggle.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” she corrects, “We were outside the restaurant, and she leaned in—clearly angling for a kiss. I… stopped her before it went that far.” she continues as her smirk deepens. “But then she still invited me back to her place, and… well, that’s when it happened. Your name name came out instead of whatever hers was. Clear as day.”

The image plays out in your head: Agatha standing there with some impossibly glamorous woman, utterly composed until… she isn’t. The thought sends a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—jealousy, disbelief, and something dangerously close to triumph.

“Why didn’t you…?” you hesitate, your voice faltering as the question comes out before you can stop yourself. “Why didn’t you just go home with her?”

“It wouldn’t have made much sense, would it?” she replies with a shrug, as if you’ve just asked the most obvious question in the world.

“Why not?” you push, your heart pounding now.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. The whole date was a lousy attempt to stop thinking about the fact that I wanted my hot, younger babysitter.”

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face at her words. They land between you, heavy and electric, making it impossible to look away.

“And I knew,” she continues, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “that if I’d gone home with her, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’d have spent the whole night imagining it was you. Hell, I spent the entire dinner doing that.”

The honesty in her words steals the breath from your lungs, leaving you momentarily stunned. Her confession is playful and teasing, but it’s also raw, stripped of any pretense, leaving no room for doubt.

“You’ve been in my head, sweetheart, for longer than you realize. Last Friday night just made it impossible to keep pretending otherwise.”, her words come out almost in a sigh, laced with exasperation, like this whole ordeal has been just as maddening for her as it has been for you.

Your thoughts are spinning, a chaotic swirl of emotions you can’t quite untangle, but the way she’s looking at you—steady, unshaken, and utterly sure—anchors you in place. Her gaze is magnetic, pulling you toward a singular truth that feels impossible to ignore, and there’s only one thing your mind is screaming at you to do.

Your hands fly to her neck, fingers tangling in the soft waves of her hair as your lips crash into hers. The kiss is anything but gentle—urgent, unrestrained, a collision of pent-up tension, jealousy and raw need.

Agatha stiffens for a second, caught off guard, but the hesitation melts as quickly as it came.

She responds with equal fervor, her lips moving against yours with a commanding urgency that steals the breath from your lungs. When she finally breaks away, it’s not in retreat but with a low, surprised laugh that vibrates against your lips.

“Well.” she drawls, her voice roughened with amusement and provocation, her lips still brushing yours, “If jealousy makes you this needy, I might just make it a habit to mention my Friday nights more often.”

Your face burns as you glare at her, though the heat in your chest only intensifies.

“Don’t even try it.” you snap, tugging slightly at her bottom lip with your teeth as your voice drops to a playful warning. “I mean it, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound rumbling through her chest as one of her hands drifts from your hips to the front of your shorts, her fingers toying lazily with the waistband.

The casual, almost absent motion ignites a wildfire beneath your skin, leaving every nerve alight and your body coiled tight with anticipation.

She slips one thigh between yours, nudging gently to widen your stance, and your hands instinctively clutch her shoulders for balance. Before you can steady yourself, her fingers dip beneath the fabric, brushing the edge of your panties.

Her smirk deepens, her eyes gleaming with sinful intent that sends a tremor through your knees, as if she’s already savoring the exact moment she’ll make you fall apart.

“But baby…” she murmurs, leaning in until her lips brush the shell of your ear, her voice dropping into something dark and honey-sweet. “Needy looks sooo good on you”

Her voice alone sends a pulse straight to your core, and when her fingers dip lower, slipping past the edge of your panties to press against your soaked folds, the moan that rips from your throat is nothing short of pornographic.

You’re drenched, embarrassingly so, and the slick sound of her fingers gliding through your arousal only makes it worse.

She doesn’t even try to conceal her delight, letting out a throaty, satisfied hum that vibrates against your skin. It’s a sound of pure indulgence, as though she’s reveling in the way your body responds so eagerly, so quickly, to her words, to her touches.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp, your voice trembling with a mix of need and protest as your hips buck involuntarily against her hand. “We’re not… we’re not done talking.”

Her lips curl into a grin as she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes gleaming with a challenge as her fingers slide deeper, spreading your wetness with excruciatingly languid strokes.

“Oh, I know.” she purrs, her tone dripping with faux innocence as her fingers tease your entrance. “Go on, baby. Keep talking.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to—”

The sentence dies in your throat, replaced by a strangled moan as two fingers slide into you effortlessly. The sound of your wetness fills the room, obscene and loud, and you can’t stop the strangled cry that escapes when she curls her fingers just right.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” she asks smoothly, her smirk widening as her thumb brushes a lazy, maddeningly light circle over your clit. “I’ve let you ask all your questions, answered them, and I’m still here for the rest. But…”. She punctuates her next words with a deep thrust, her palm grinding against your clit in a way that makes your breath hitch. “It’s time you start giving me something back, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God—fuck!” you groan, your head dropping to her shoulder as your hips grind against her hand, chasing the pleasure she’s so expertly coaxing from you.

Your legs tremble, barely holding you up, and the wet, filthy sound of her fingers moving inside you makes your face burn with humiliation and need.

“That’s it.” she hums, her voice low and approving as her free hand moves to tangle in your hair, tilting your head so her lips graze your ear. “Be a good girl and try for me, mmh?”

“Agatha, please.” you whimper, your nails digging into her shoulders as your walls clench around her fingers. “I can’t—I can’t focus when you’re—mmh—when you’re doing that.”

“Sure, you can. And you will.” she murmurs, her thumb pressing harder against your clit in rhythm with her thrusts. “You’ll think, talk, listen, and take everything I’m giving you, just like the clever girl I know you are.”

Her praise is a double-edged sword, both a balm and a brand, sending warmth flooding through you while also igniting a stubborn need to meet her challenge. Gritting your teeth, you force your voice to form a single, coherent thought.

“N-nicholas.” you stammer, your voice barely intelligible as pleasure and worry collide in your chest. “What about—oh, fuck—what about Nicholas? What if— what if this messes everything up for him?”

Agatha’s smirk softens just slightly, though her fingers don’t falter, their pace steady and relentless.

“Nicholas is smarter than most adults, baby.” she murmurs, her voice impossibly calm and confident even as you whimper against her shoulder. “He’s practically a human lie detector. Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already picked up on something.”

“Besides, he adores you.” she continues casually, as if you aren’t completely falling apart in her arms. “As long as we handle this carefully—and don’t, you know, start fucking in the living room while he’s watching cartoons—he’ll be fine.”

You let out a strangled laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a moan as her fingers curl deeper, hitting a spot that makes your entire body tense.

“But—but what if he—oh my God—doesn’t take it well?”

“Sweetheart.” she murmurs, her free hand tilting your chin up to meet her gaze, her eyes impossibly tender yet razor-sharp. “Stop overthinking. We’ll handle it. Together.”

You nod weakly, unable to form a rational response as she quickens her pace, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust.

But before you can let yourself fall completely into the haze of pleasure, another thought claws its way to the surface.

“And Rio?” you choke out, though your voice is barely a whisper now, trembling with the effort of holding on. “What happens when she—fuck—when she finds out?”

“Rio doesn’t have a say in my life anymore.” she drawls, her smirk widening into something downright predatory as her fingers thrust deeper, harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat. “Sure, we keep things civil for Nicholas’s sake, but beyond that? She can think whatever she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.”

“But—but what if—mmh yes—what if she makes it hard for us?”

“What’s she gonna do, huh?” Agatha arches a brow, her free hand gripping your waist to steady you as your legs start to tremble. “Get all huffy and judgmental? Let her.”

Her confidence ripples through you, grounding and infuriating all at once, even as her pace grows brutal. Your walls clench tighter around her, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable height. Yet one last question remains lodged in the back of your throat.

When it finally tumbles out, your voice cracks under the weight of it. “And what if you… what if you get tired of me?”

Agatha freezes for a heartbeat, her gaze pinning yours in place with a fierce, almost dangerous intensity that takes your breath away.

“I won’t.” she snaps, her tone so firm, so unshakable, it’s as if the very idea is offensive.

Her gaze drops pointedly to where her fingers disappear into you, sliding out glistening before thrusting back in with a wet, filthy sound, over and over again.

“If you could see yourself right now—falling apart on my fingers, so perfect, so mine—you’d know just how impossible that question is.”

Her words land like a thunderclap and your body shudders violently, your legs trembling so hard you’re certain you’d collapse if it weren’t for the firm, possessive grip she keeps on your waist.

And then, as if to punish you for your suggestion, or perhaps to drive her point home with devastating clarity, she slides a third finger into you without warning. The stretch is intense, toeing the line between pleasure and overwhelming, and you let out a strangled cry that tears through the room.

Her thumb presses harder, faster, against your clit as her fingers work you open. It’s deliberate, merciless, as though she’s staking her claim in every possible way, daring you to question her devotion again.

“That’s it, baby.” she hums, her voice dark and velvety, her satisfaction palpable in the way her lips curl into a smirk against your temple. “Taking me so well… so fucking perfect.”

Her words only add fuel to the fire blazing inside you, and you’re helpless to stop the wrecked, broken moans spilling from your lips as her pace quickens.

Your body arches involuntarily, seeking more, needing more, as the pressure builds impossibly higher, threatening to snap with every flick of her thumb and thrust of her fingers.

You silently call on every divine entity, ancient force, or cosmic fluke you can think of, just to ensure she’ll grant the desperate plea teetering on the edge of your lips.

“Please!” the word escapes you as a desperate sob, raw and aching as your hands clutch her shoulders. “Please, Agatha—fuck, I need to—”

“Come for me, baby.” her command cuts you off, slicing through the haze like a blade and shattering you completely.

Your body seizes, the coil in your belly snapping violently as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming.

Wetness gushes from you, coating her hand and soaking the fabric of your shorts as she continues to work you through it, her fingers dragging unrelentingly along your walls, sending shivers through every nerve.

“Fuck, look at you.” she breathes, her tone edged with awe and sinful pride as your walls spasm around her fingers, gripping her so tightly it’s a wonder she can still move. “So messy for me.”

The intensity is almost unbearable, your cries escalating into a scream that rips from your throat as the pleasure crests in waves, each more powerful than the last.

Agatha doesn’t let up, her movements steady and calculated, prolonging your pleasure until the last waves finally begin to ebb.

Her hand on your waist tightens, grounding you as her lips press soft, soothing kisses along your jaw, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what she’s just done to you.

As you collapse against her, your breathing ragged and uneven, she slows her fingers, her touch gentler now as she carefully withdraws, her hand glistening with your release.

She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, her voice impossibly tender despite the smug satisfaction lacing it.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” she murmurs, her words a caress that feels like velvet against your frayed senses.

Her free hand strokes slow, appeasing circles against your lower back, grounding you as the tremors in your body begin to ebb.

The room feels impossibly quiet now, the only sounds your labored breathing and the warm, satisfied chuckle that hums through Agatha’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.” you mumble weakly against her neck, your voice hoarse and cracked, though there’s a stifled laugh buried beneath the exhaustion.

“And yet….” she purrs, lifting your chin with a single, deft finger until your gaze meets hers. Her piercing eyes hold yours captive, but there’s a glimmer of something softer beneath the smirk curling at her lips—something achingly tender, almost reverent. “Here we are.”

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, the simple, affectionate gesture robbing you of what little breath you’ve managed to reclaim.

You blink up at her, still dazed, a faint, incredulous smile pulling at your lips.

“Here we are,” you echo, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of a moment that feels suspended in time.

It’s a connection that needs no embellishment, one that feels intimate and inevitable, like it had been quietly waiting for the two of you all along.

The rest of Sunday unfolds in a blissful, lazy haze.

After the emotionally charged conversation in the morning, the day slows to a gentle rhythm. Agatha suggests a walk to clear your heads, and the two of you meander through a nearby park.

The air is crisp, the sun peeking through the clouds as you stroll side by side, talking about nothing in particular—favorite seasons, forgotten childhood stories, ridiculous hypotheticals.

It feels easy, natural, like you’ve been doing this forever.

Back at home, the afternoon fades into evening. You help Agatha prepare a simple dinner, and she insists on pouring you a glass of wine while you work.

Later, the two of you curl up on the couch, a movie playing on the screen, your head resting on her shoulder. The sound of her quiet laughter at the film’s witty dialogue makes your heart ache with something sweet and new.

But the serenity is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Nicholas bursts in, his bag slung over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed from the cool evening air.

Rio follows, her gaze sweeping briefly between you and Agatha, lingering just long enough to convey a subtle curiosity, before she offers a polite nod. Bending slightly, she presses a kiss to Nicholas’s cheek, her voice soft as she wishes him goodnight.

Without another word, she straightens, casting one final glance in your direction, then strides out the door with the same poised elegance she carried in.

“Hey, kiddo!” Agatha calls out, sitting up slightly but keeping her arm draped over the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder.

Nicholas closes the door and freezes the second he turns, his eyes darting between the two of you.

His brow furrows, and then, with his hereditary dramatic flair, he lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Finally!” he groans, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. “I was wondering when you two were gonna figure it out.”

You blink, startled. “Wait—what?”

Agatha’s smirk is instant, her lips curling as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What do you mean, ‘figure it out,’ Nicky?”

He rolls his eyes with as if the answer is painfully obvious.

“I mean the two of you! You’re always talking about each other and asking me stuff.” he quips, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “You’re like, ‘What’s your mom’s favorite breakfast?’, and Mom’s like, ‘Do you think she likes scary movies?’. Ugh, it was soooo annoying.”

Nicholas shakes his head, letting out another dramatic sigh as if he’s been a long-suffering martyr to your mutual pining.

From beside you, you hear the unmistakable sound of a small snort escaping Agatha.

Heat floods your cheeks as you glance at her, but it only makes her grin widen. She arches a single, perfectly smug eyebrow at you, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

“Told you.” she says simply, giving an exaggerated shrug.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning. “This is mortifying.”

Agatha’s laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained. She reaches out to tug one of your hands away from your face, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so casual yet affectionate it leaves you breathless.

After that day, You and Agatha decide to take things slow, despite the months you’ve already spent orbiting each other. You want to step out of the roles you’ve occupied—Nicholas’s babysitter, his mom—and discover who you are to each other beyond that.

At first, you were almost afraid. Afraid that someone like Agatha, who seemed so independent and unapologetically confident, might be all fire and intensity, with little space for tenderness beyond fleeting moments.

But slowly, carefully, she proves you wrong.

When Agatha loves, you realize, she doesn’t hold back. She loves with her entire being, fiercely yet gently, as though nothing outside the world she’s built around you truly matters.

Sure, the sex is breathtaking—raw, unrestrained, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. But with Agatha, it’s so much more than that.

She doesn’t just make you feel wanted, she makes you feel profoundly seen, utterly cherished. Every touch carries intention, every kiss a pledge of devotion.

She quickly learns your body like a map, her fingers and lips tracing each curve with reverence, savoring every discovery as though unveiling a hidden treasure meant only for her.

But beyond the fiery passion, there’s an unexpected warmth, a softness that takes you by surprise.

Her teasing sarcasm and sharp wit—cornerstones of who she is—remain ever-present, capable of making you groan in exasperation one moment and laugh until your sides ache the next.

And yet, as new facets of her emerge, they gradually begin to share space with so much more.

At night, when the world is quiet, Agatha reveals a rare, thoughtful vulnerability, speaking of the things that scare her or the mistakes she’s afraid of repeating.

In the evenings, she pulls you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as she teases you about your movie choices, only to stay glued to the screen the entire time.

In the middle of an argument, even when her irritation is clear and the sharpness in her tone feels like a shield she’s reluctant to lower, her gaze softens. Against her own nature, she takes a breath, letting the frustration ebb just enough to say, “I’m listening, go on.” It’s not easy for her, you can see that—but she tries. She chooses to stay, to listen, to understand, even when every instinct might tell her to close off.

Each moment is a small glimpse into a side of her that feels like a gift, a quiet affirmation that she is so much more than you ever imagined.

You also come to realize, that Agatha, for all her snarky remarks and commanding presence, craves affection too.

She’ll never say it outright, of course, but the way she seeks those little moments of closeness gives her away every time.

The way she tucks you closer to her chest in the morning, long before the rest of the world is awake. The way her hand brushes your hair back as you lean over a book, a casual touch that lingers just a second too long. The way she kisses your temple absentmindedly as she passes you in the kitchen. The way her fingers trail down your arm before settling on your waist as you both stand in the backyard at night, watching Nicholas excitedly point out constellations while Agatha murmurs their names with a quiet smile. The way her fingers softly brush against yours when she hands you a cup of coffee.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re quiet, unspoken reminders of how deeply she cares. They’re Agatha’s way of saying what she can’t always put into words, of reaching for connection in ways that feel achingly sincere.

Agatha surprises you constantly.

She starts showing up at the café during your morning shifts, always impeccably dressed, her heels clicking against the tile floor as she strides in like she owns the place.

“I’m between meetings” she claims casually, though you notice she always stays just long enough to leave your coworkers flustered and whispering about ‘the gorgeous older woman’ who sits at the corner table, sipping her black coffee and glancing at her phone like she has nowhere better to be.

When she catches you watching her from behind the counter, her smirk is instant, as if to say, Yes, hon, I know I’m distracting you. And it never fails to make your pulse race.

She spoils you shamelessly, too. Thoughtful gifts appear with alarming regularity—books she’s noticed you eyeing, a beautiful scarf she swears “just screamed your name,” or your favorite pastries from a bakery across town.

“Stop fussing.” she says one evening as you eye the expensive wine she’s ordered at a rooftop restaurant. The city lights glitter around you, and the cool night air brushes your cheeks. “You deserve it.”

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss her anyway, her hand slipping up to cup your cheek. Her smile softens, that guarded edge melting just enough to reveal the depth of her affection, and your heart aches in the best way.

For Agatha, you could have stopped working altogether if you wanted to. She made it clear from the beginning that money would never be an issue, brushing off the idea as though it was laughable.

Still, you hold onto your job at the café. It keeps you busy in the mornings, gives you a sense of independence, and lets you stash away some savings of your own. Besides, you’ve worked there so long it feels strange to think about leaving.

At the same time, you insist on keeping your part-time babysitting job, though you flat-out refuse to let her pay you anymore.

That particular conversation becomes a recurring battle. One day, however, you reach your limit.

It’s the umpteenth time Agatha offers to pay you for the hours you spend with Nicky. She leans casually against the doorframe as you fold Nicholas’s laundry, her voice calm but insistent, a mix of exasperation and charm she wields far too well.

You freeze mid-fold, the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

“Agatha, I swear to God, if you bring this up one more time…” you snap, throwing a pair of socks straight at her chest with uncharacteristic force.

Her smirk falters as she catches them, her eyes widening at the sharpness in your voice.

“You’re seriously yelling at me over socks?” she quips, clearly thrown off but still managing to sound incredulous.

“I’m yelling because I’m done with this conversation.” you fire back, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not taking your money for this anymore. Period. End of story. Got it?”

Agatha blinks, stunned into silence. It’s not often you raise your voice, and judging by her expression, she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

After a long, weighted pause, she finally lets out an exaggerated sigh, her shoulders slumping dramatically as she tosses the socks back at you.

“Well, you’re impossible.” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the doorframe with a look of mock irritation. “I can’t win with you.”

You narrow your eyes at her, still fuming, but the hint of a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“You already have.” you mutter, chucking another pair of socks her way.

This time, her smirk returns in its full glory. She catches the socks with ease, her expression relaxing as she throws them back with a playful flick of her wrist. “Flatterer.”

After that conversation, the balance you strike feels so natural, so effortlessly right, that it’s hard to remember a time when things were any different.

You spend your mornings at the café, while most of your afternoons are dedicated to Nicholas. Over time, Agatha begins working from home more often, and those afternoons blend seamlessly into dinners shared around the table, followed by evenings that melt into cozy, lazy hours on the couch.

Even if you don’t see her much while she works—her door often closed as she immerses herself in work—there’s something undeniably comforting about knowing she’s just upstairs.

It’s in the faint hum of her voice during a call, the creak of floorboards as she shifts her chair, or the brief moments when she steps out to grab coffee, check on Nicholas, or steal a quick kiss from you in the kitchen.

Her presence lingers throughout the house, steady and grounding, offering a quiet reassurance you hadn’t realized you craved.

The roles you once played haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted, harmonizing gracefully into this new dynamic that feels equal parts exciting and comforting.

Agatha doesn’t push you to redefine everything overnight, doesn’t demand more than you’re ready to give. Instead, she meets you where you are, and together, you explore the space between who you were before and who you’re becoming now.

Five months in, Agatha brings it up over breakfast.

“You know…” she begins casually, buttering her toast with the kind of ease that suggests she isn’t about to change your life forever, “it’d make a lot more sense if you just lived here.”

You nearly choke on your coffee, coughing and setting the mug down with a sharp clink. “Are you—are you serious?”

She looks up from her plate, her expression calm but her eyes warm, filled with a certainty that grounds you even as your heart races. “Of course. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

It does. Deep down, you’d known for a while now that this was where you belonged. Still, hearing it aloud, from her, catches you off guard. But there’s no hesitation when you answer.

“Yes.” you say, the word coming out soft but steady. “It does.”

Everything falls into place with an almost disarming simplicity and, by the end of the weekend, your things are integrated seamlessly into her home.

Your favorite mug finds a spot on her kitchen shelf, your books line the living room walls alongside hers, and the faint scent of your perfume lingers in her bedroom.

Nicholas adjusts effortlessly, almost as if he’d been waiting for this to happen all along. The three of you settle into a domesticity that feels natural, filled with laughter, shared meals, and quiet moments.

Even Rio seems unbothered when she comes to pick Nicholas up on the weekends. She exchanges polite words with you, her demeanor perfectly cordial, before whisking him away for their outings.

Whatever tension you’d feared never materializes, leaving you to wonder if Agatha had talked to her privately or if Nicholas, in his own way, had smoothed the path between you.

On Saturday mornings, Nicholas claims the kitchen as his domain, declaring himself “Head Pancake Chef” as you and Agatha lounge at the table, sipping coffee and exchanging amused glances while he works.

In the evenings, after Nicholas has gone to bed, the two of you often find yourselves curled up together on the couch, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as you share quiet conversation, watch a movie or simply sit in comfortable silence.

Every day, every moment, strengthens the sense that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Yet, for months, you’ve held onto your old apartment, keeping it as a safety net—a place to retreat to if things fell apart, if Agatha ever grew tired of you, if it all turned out to be too good to be true.

You’d told yourself it was practical, that it didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you’d known it was fear keeping you tethered to the space.

One random evening, everything changes.

It’s late, and the house is quiet. You and Agatha are curled up on the couch, one arm draped around your shoulders as you trace lazy circles on the back of her hand. There’s an ease between you, the kind that has grown naturally over the months.

Out of nowhere, she murmurs, “I love you.”

The words land softly but powerfully, knocking the air from your lungs.

You freeze, your hand stilling on hers as your mind races. For a brief moment, you think you’ve imagined it, your own thoughts playing tricks on you.

But then you glance up, and she’s watching you. Her expression is open yet achingly vulnerable, her lips slightly parted as if she’s bracing herself for your reaction, the faintest flush coloring her cheeks.

Agatha Harkness, who exudes confidence and poise in every other moment, suddenly looks almost shy.

Your heart swells, the response spilling out without hesitation. “I love you too, Agatha. So much.”

Her eyes widen briefly before a slow, radiant smile spreads across her face, lighting her up in a way you’ve never seen before.

She leans in, her movements deliberate yet tender, and when her lips meet yours, it’s as if the world tilts on its axis.

The kiss starts soft, her lips warm and gentle against yours. But it deepens quickly, her hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, her thumb brushing your cheek.

You feel her smile against your lips, a small, unguarded curve that sends warmth flooding through you. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her hand lingering on your cheek as if she’s reluctant to let go.

Her eyes search yours, glowing with a mix of joy and relief, and you realize that this moment, this love, is as real as it gets.

The next morning, you list your apartment for sale.

Weeks later, it sells, and it’s time to clear it out for good. Agatha insists on coming with you to help despite your protests that there isn’t much left to do, since most of your things had already made their way to her house when you moved in.

Together, you sift through the last remnants of your belongings—forgotten trinkets in the back of drawers, mismatched furniture that doesn’t fit anywhere anymore, and boxes filled with things you can’t remember why you kept.

As you bend down to pick up one of the boxes, you feel the weight of her gaze on you. By the time you straighten, she’s right there—closer than she was a moment ago—her hand curling possessively around your waist, her presence electric.

“What if…” she murmurs, her lips grazing your ear as her fingers slide to the small of your back, “We give this place a proper send-off.”

Before you can respond, her mouth is on yours, claiming and insistent. The kiss is searing, a collision of teeth and tongues that leaves you breathless as she presses you back against the nearest wall.

“Agatha—fuck!” you gasp as her hands wander, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against her. “We’re supposed to be clearing out, not—” your voice falters as her lips graze your neck, stealing your train of thought entirely.

“Oh, we will.” she purrs, her voice dripping with wicked intent. “After.”

What follows is nothing short of ruinous. She doesn’t just touch you—she consumes you, her hands, mouth, and body working in perfect, devastating harmony to claim every inch of you.

She starts in the kitchen, bending you over the counter with a commanding ease that makes your breath hitch. Her nails dig into your hips as her fingers slide into you, relentless and thorough, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck. The slick sound of her movements mixes with the sharpness of your cries, echoing off the bare walls as her pace quickens, leaving you breathless and clawing for the edge.

In the living room, she pushes you down onto the couch—the same one where you once sat alone, overthinking everything. Now, it’s where she strips you bare and buries her head between your thighs, her tongue working with maddening precision. She doesn’t stop, even as your hips buck against her mouth, her grip on your thighs unrelenting. When you fall apart, her name breaking from your lips, she takes it all, her smirk sinful as she looks up, licking her lips like she’s savoring every second.

Even the bedroom—now a sparse, nearly empty space that offers no distractions—doesn’t escape her attention. She pins you to the mattress with a ferocity that leaves no doubt as to who you belong to, her name a broken mantra on your lips as her pace builds, her body pressing against yours in a way that demands surrender. Her fingers push you over the edge again and again, each climax leaving you trembling and weak, her breath hot on your skin as she praises you through the haze of pleasure.

By the time she’s done with you, every surface bears the evidence of her passion, and you’re left spent, boneless, and utterly wrecked in her arms.

Later, as you sit on the floor together eating takeout amidst the remaining boxes, she looks over at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So…” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. “Think you’ll miss this place?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean into her side. “Not even a little.”

Because your home isn’t a space anymore—it’s her.

Exactly one year after that Sunday morning when everything changed, you find yourself reflecting on how far you’ve come.

It’s Friday night and you’re sitting at a cozy restaurant, the golden glow of candlelight reflecting off Agatha’s beautiful features. Her hand brushes against yours on the table, her touch as natural and grounding as the rhythm of your breaths.

Fridays used to be a minefield, an endless loop of questions you were too afraid to ask, feelings you didn’t dare name. You remember those nights vividly, steeped in quiet agony, where every thought, every fleeting moment tied to Agatha—her voice, her gaze, her very presence—was laced with an ache so consuming it felt impossible to escape.

At times, you can still taste the bitter certainty that nothing you longed for could ever be within reach. Looking back, though, you almost laugh.

Agatha had nearly driven you insane with her looks, her touches, her maddeningly unreadable smirks. You’d been so sure you were imagining it all, you’d almost lost your mind trying to figure her out.

But now, Fridays have transformed into something else entirely. They’ve become a ritual of joy and love.

They’re your nights. Date nights. Moments stolen just for the two of you while Nicholas stays with Rio or a babysitter. Whether it’s a fancy dinner in the city or a quiet evening at home, these Fridays are sacred.

You glance across the table at Agatha, who’s sipping her wine, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Her smirk curls in that way you know will always make your stomach flip, no matter how many times you see it. But there’s a softness behind it now, a tenderness she doesn’t bother hiding anymore.

“What’s that look for?” she asks, her voice low and familiar, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You smile, bliss flooding your chest. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in mock disbelief, but the way her thumb strokes the back of your hand betrays her.

“You’re insufferable.” she mutters, though her tone holds no bite.

“And yet…” you tease, leaning forward slightly, your voice dipping conspiratorially, “Here we are.”

Her lips twitch as though she’s fighting a full smile, and for a moment, you both laugh, the kind of easy, unguarded laughter that fills every quiet corner of your heart.

And as you sit there, her hand in yours and the echoes of your journey fading into the warmth of the present, a quiet certainty blooms within you: you can’t wait to see where this love leads.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness fanfic #aaa fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha all along au

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lexirosewrites · 1 month ago

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Hii! Omg this is the last Slick Sunday of the year, thanks again for making such a cool event!! Wishing you a happy New Year Eve and an amazing 2025 ❤️

For the Slick Sunday I imagined pregnant O!Steve and A!Eddie celebrating the New Year at Hopper and Joyce's alongside everybody. It's a big celebration with plenty of food and game cards, Eddie is having an arm around Steve almost at all times while Steve joins Robin into egging Dustin on his game.

With midnight drawing near and the countdown being chanted, Steve and Eddie get ready to have their New Year kiss like the years prior. They watch El being ecstatic with the happy ritual, not feeling it getting old anytime soon, as well as the other kids and their families looking expectant and cheery. Wayne is sitting between Hopper and Jonathan, looking happy and so alive. This is the life they never dreamed they could get.

When the hour comes and they kiss, Eddie feels Steve's bump brushing into him and it finally breaks the flood gates he's been holding for part of the night. He's just so happy! His uncle is living in a better house, he found a family bigger than he ever imagined, a safer job, he got his mate and now they're having a pup. It's real and it'll be soon now, just some months and not just next year anymore.

Steve's been watching Eddie's reactions all night so the tears are not a big surprise. He coos and nuzzle his cheek, hugging and moving their bodies like they're slow dancing. He noticed how his hands sometimes grip Steve a bit tighter, as if to check if he's really there. How his hands caress Steve's bump mindlessly, how he whispers his wishes and thoughts to the baby when he thinks Steve's still asleep.

Eddie is still getting used to having good things, thankfully he has time and people to look out for him. Steve is making sure of it. Cut some years later to their pup following their mom's example and taking care of their dad. This time by insisting on feeding him their own lunch. They're doing it solely because he needs to eat something and Not because they don't feel like eating it anymore. Oops.

alpha Eddie is such a sensitive crybaby when it comes to his family🥺💕

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o #omegaverse #steve x eddie #mpreg #cw mpreg #my asks #tw mpreg

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hellfirenacht · 9 months ago

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Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit.

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign.

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling.

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music.

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once.

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance.

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone.

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in.

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith.

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush.

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right?

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with.

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied.

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops..

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town.

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else.

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans.

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened.

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie.

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway.

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did.

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else.

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him.

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew.

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well.

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour.

The hour could not go any slower.

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned.

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone.

“Steve, I’m serious!”

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.”

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it.

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone.

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson.

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook.

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook.

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice.

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned.

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera.

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?”

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.”

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would.

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise.

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar.

Where did you know this guy from?

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater.

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd.

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe.

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off.

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?! He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you?

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video.

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing-

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people.

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker.

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together.

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him.

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened.

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt.

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it.

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in.

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later.

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically.

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.”

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly.

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.”

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded.

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.”

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in.

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!”

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly.

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead.

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members.

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.”

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled.

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours.

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.”

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him.

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain.

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next.

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly.

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!”

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it.

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!”

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand, and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie.

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.”

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled.

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.”

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second.

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him.

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?”

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.”

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.”

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show.

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.”

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van.

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast.

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone.

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes.

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand.

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much.

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him.

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin.

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged.

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.”

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet.

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot.

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky.

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way.

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.”

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side.

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes.

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.”

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well.

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled.

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant.

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment.

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him.

“Chris Morrison?!”

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Next Chapter

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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holyshtimgay · 1 month ago

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New Years

Jinx x Fem Reader

Summary: Jinx wants to meet your family but you haven't told them that you're dating someone or that you're lesbian. Modern au.

Warnings: idk maybe some homophobic stuff?

Note: SOMEONE PLS REQUEST SOMETHING 🙏🙏 IM BEGGING!!

Dividers made by @strangergraphics

"Y/Nnnn" jinx wines your name. "What?" You asked. "When can I meet your family?" Jinx asked, wanting to meet your family.

You had already met her family, and chaotic they were. But yours? Oh they had no idea that you were dating someone, and they had no idea that you're gay. And honestly you didn't want to tell them, because they all are somewhat religious. And being gay in a religious town? Death, instant death. Your friends obviously knew, and your parents too. But telling the rest of your family? Ehhh, rather not tell them at all. Of course jinx had already met your parents, but your uncle and aunts? No way, sure you had a couple bisexual cousins, but full on gay family members? Yeah no

"Toots. Can I met them or not?" Jinx asked curiously. "Jinx, my family doesn't know" you tell her straight up. "What? Doesn't know you're gay or you're in a relationship?" "Neither, they don't know either one" "WHAT!!!" Jinx yelled, "Sorry but my family is a bit religious, and dirty minded." You calmly told her. "How do you even know about them?" "I hear you and your dad talking about seeing them on Sundays."

Oh. Sunday, Sunday was a family tradition. Every Sunday some one would come over to your grandma's and grandpa's house, and if not someone everyone. But on the holidays everyone came, and if they didn't they would be getting a earful from someone.

"Ok, I'll take you on New Years Eve okay? But we won't tell them we're dating till I feel comfortable with it okay?" You asked, hoping that she agrees. "Fine, fine toots, whatever makes you happy." She grumbles.

"We're here" you tell jinx. "Woah! That's your grandparent's place?" "Yeah the reason why we came early is so there's parking space, everyone in the family are shitty drivers, and shit at parking." You tell jinx. "You're helping with making food k?" "Fine" jinx responded.

"It's almost midnight~"Jinx whispers in your ear, teasing. "Let's find somewhere quiet" you responded quickly, leading her somewhere inside. "Jinx, I don't know if I'm ready to tell my family yet." You tell the girl, truthfully. "It's okay you don't have to if you're not ready toots, okay?" Jinx tells you, wanting to not force you into telling. "I want to tell them though, tonight." "Really?!" She asked, all excited. "Yeah, I wanna tell them tonight my love." "You promise?" Jinx asked, worried that you might change your mind. "Later, because right now, its only a couple seconds till midnight" you both look at each other and lean in to kiss, and as you two kiss, you both hear fireworks going off and people cheering. "Together for the new years to come?" You ask her. "No, together forever toots."

#jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x fem reader #arcane

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icarusflewsworld · 1 month ago

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Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 20 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

! Next chapter on Sunday, January 5 !

I hope you enjoyed the read and the kisses !! Don't hesitate to leave me comments on what you think of the story. I will love to talk about it with you.

I also hope you had a very good Christmas and that you got lots of beautiful gifts. I know that we are all disappointed not to have had Rhysand, Cassian or Azriel under the tree but I still hope that you enjoyed your gifts.

I wish you a very very very happy New Year's Eve on December 31st as well as an excellent year 2025 full of happiness, joy, love and peace. Take care of yourself! With all my love ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

! Don't forget to read the other chapters ! : Here

Enjoy the read ! ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter 20

Luxiana was beginning to lose patience. Mor, Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel had been keeping her occupied as best as they could for a good eight days now. They took her shopping, to restaurants and bars. Thanks to the blonde, Luixiana now knew every corner of Velaris. Of course, she loved the many outings she went on with Mor and Amren-forced by Rhys's cousin-but that wasn't why she was there. No matter how many times she asked the three Illyrians - who followed her everywhere, even when she was with Mor - when they were going to steal the Book of Breathing, they always came up with some excuse.

Rhysand kept telling Luxiana that this kind of visit between high lords had to be prepared well in advance and that they couldn't just go to the summer court unannounced. But Luxiana was wary. The three Illyrians told her they had to organize this meeting, but all they did was follow her. And she couldn't understand why. Were they afraid she wanted to betray or attack them? In that case, Mor and Amren's surveillance alone should be enough. Luxiana was confused and impatient, but every time she wanted to raise the subject with one of them, they gave her lame excuses, changed the subject or even ignored her.

Luxiana wasn't really complaining. She enjoyed the company of the three males. In fact, the more the days went by, the more she enjoyed them. They spent all their moments with her and she got to know them a little more every minute. She really enjoyed spending time with them, but then again, that's not why she was there.

She sighed all her air, disturbed by her thoughts, then she put on her black silk nightgown with thin straps that reached halfway up her thigh. She untied her long white hair, which fell in a waterfall down her back. She looked at herself in the huge mirror in her bathroom. She couldn't keep the red from rising to her cheeks or her smile from growing when she saw the night dress. She couldn't help but wonder if Rhysand had given her only sexy underwear and clothes like that on purpose. But she wasn't complaining, she loved feeling beautiful and in these pieces of tissue, she felt hot. But, above all, it was in the pupils of the three Illyrians that she felt attractive.

The way they looked at her and acted with her, unnerved her a little more at every moment. They were so sweet and thoughtful. She thought back to when, one evening, while they were out, Rhysand had slipped his jacket over her shoulders. She wasn't even really cold, but he'd preferred her to be warm. Then she remembered all the other times he'd acted so thoughtfully and gently towards her. She also thought of how Cassian always detailed her up and down with eyes blazing with desire and the way he always complimented her or flirted with her. She remembered Azriel's possessiveness that exploded when she talked to other people or when he touched her all the time with force and vigor, as if Luxiana were his. She loved this. She adored every one of those three's behaviors.

But she was lost. Once again, their reactions were strange and incomprehensible. They gave her the impression they were flirting with her, but it didn't seem to bother them that their brothers were courting her too. On the contrary, something in their eyes lit up when they saw one of their own getting close to her. But they were Illyrians, it wasn't in their nature.

She lowered her eyes and gritted her teeth. They were Illyrians. She had to close her eyelids under her violently churning stomach. They were Illyrians. She put her hand to her shoulder to massage it. It hurt. She reopened her eyes and rested them on her silver bracelet composed of blue gems and magic stones. She smiled sadly. She already missed Kayden so much.

She shook her head. She couldn't let herself go like that. Not now. Besides, Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel weren't at all like all the other Illyrians she'd met. In fact, they seemed so kind, thoughtful and adorable that it seemed a little too suspicious. She thought they were playing her, but she could never detect any trace of lies or pretense in them. But why were they so possessive and protective of her? She couldn't understand it.

They seemed to get irritated every time she talked to someone else, especially a man. They didn't like it when she went out in revealing clothes, but her closet was full of them. They always made sure they could chat with her at all times. And their cute ways to act??? Cassian brought her flowers every morning, Rhysand was incredibly gallant and Azriel blew on her meals and drinks when they were hot so she wouldn't burn herself. They did all sorts of sweet things that drove her crazy.

She just didn't understand. She'd thought they simply behaved like that with everyone, but that argument had been quickly refuted when she'd watched them talking with Mor and Amren. They didn't act at all the same way with them as they did with Luxiana, even though these two faes were supposed to be the two most important women in their lives. She really couldn't understand it. Were they really flirting with her? If so, did they really accept that their brothers were also flirting with her? Did they even agree to "share"? It was all so strange.

She looked up at the ceiling and let out a little cry of frustration as she realized she was still thinking about them. They were all she thought about all the time. All the time, really. Even when she was thinking about something else, her head always found a way to bring her thoughts back to the three Illyrians.

She left the bathroom, trying to concentrate and stop thinking about the handsome males. She'd spent the day with Mor, and of course with them, shopping. Although she'd tried not to look bored, she wasn't made for this kind of day. She was made for action. In fact, she was still full of energy. She began to pace around her bedroom, trying to find something to do. Maybe she should do a little sport to burn off some energy. She wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise. Convinced, she was about to throw herself on the floor and start doing push-ups, but someone knocked on her door. She straightened up and looked curiously at the entrance to the room. It was already late, around ten o'clock p.m. Who could it be and why?

She moved quickly to her door but opened it with apprehension. She raised an eyebrow in surprise when she saw Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian standing in front of her entrance. The Illyrian with the red syphons was holding out four glasses of wine in one hand and just as many bottles in the other. They were dressed simply. Rhysand wore a black shirt with a kind of jogging of the same color. Cassian wore a dark gray jacket laced up at the front, revealing the muscular skin of his torso in a fine line, and he wore a wide pants in dark brown leather. Azriel, meanwhile, wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and gray lounge pants. Luxiana thought to herself that this was the first time she hadn't seen them formally dressed or in combat gear, but then gasped and realized that they were really hot. She cleared her throat, shaking her head to regain her composure. "Yes?"

The three Illyrians had come to a complete standstill at the door. It wasn't the first time they'd seen her in a nightie, and although they'd thought black really suited her, they'd given it no more thought. They'd even forgotten the purpose of their existence, to breathe and their hearts to beat, when they'd seen her with her hair down. Because this, on the other hand, was the first time. She'd always had her hair tied back in front of them, and the three brunettes had never thought of it as something important, but it was. They could hear and feel their hearts beating like raging beasts in their rib cages. She was divinely beautiful with that mass of white silk surrounding her and falling around her face. It suited her so well that it would completely unnerve them.

Luxiana tilted her head, smiling with a questioning, worried expression. "Are you all right?" she asked in a gentle voice as she noticed their paralysis.

Cassian didn't even know why they'd come. He made his arms fall limply back along his body, not even sure how he managed not to let go of the wine bottles and glasses wedged between his fingers. "Your ha..." He was stuttering again. Why on earth did she have that effect on him? "Your hair... It's the first time we've seen you with your hair down."

Luxiana frowned in incomprehension. Was it her hair that had put them in such a state?" Really?" she asked uncertainly, not understanding why it mattered to them and why they were reacting like this. She released the door handle to give her back to them and shake her hair in front of their noses, then turned back in their direction with a broad smile, rubbing her skull on both sides to tousle her locks. "So do you like me like this?"

Rhysand had to take a step back. His chest was on fire and he couldn't breathe. She was so sexy he could die. He was still thanking the gods -as he had done every second since he'd met her- for making his mate so beautiful. "It suits you incredibly well," he managed to articulate. "You look gorgeous, as always."

Luxiana's smile widened in spite of herself as she mustered all her strength to fight the blushes that wanted to take up residence on her cheeks. She'd done nothing but blush since she'd been here, and she hated the effect they had on her. "It's adorable," she raved helplessly. "I should let them down more often then," she added in a seductive tone, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" replied Azriel immediately with urgency. He cleared his throat and blinked several times, only to catch himself under Luxiana's questioning gaze. By heavens. He hadn't been able to hold back the flood of jealousy that had flowed through him at the idea of other men seeing his soul mate with her hair like that. She was far too sexy that way and he was sure everyone else would have bad thoughts when they saw her like that. And it was completely out of the question for anyone but them, to imagine things with his wife. "Or just for us," he added earnestly.

He didn't even notice Luxiana's surprised expression or her disconcerted chuckle as his pupils were still fixed on her white locks. Unable to restrain himself, he raised his hand towards them and Luxiana let him do so with curiosity as he caught the whole of her mane in his hand to wrap it around his fist. He grunted in satisfaction as he pulled his soulmate's head back a little. "Perfect size", he muttered, more to himself.

Luxiana frowned sharply and threw a confused glance at Cassian and Rhysand without understanding what was going on, but the other two Illyrians were far too focused on staring at Azriel's gesture and nodding in agreement to notice. The spymaster slid his soulmate's locks into his fist along their entire length. He couldn't contain his shiver at the silky touch of her hair before releasing it completely. Luxiana rolled her eyes before giving up with a sigh. She was taking too much thoughts for them. Maybe they were just weird. "And so why are you here?"

Cassian smiled wryly as he raised the wine bottles. "We're going to continue the evening in my room, would you like to join us?" His irises shone with seduction.

Luxiana raised an eyebrow in pleasant astonishment. She glanced back at her room. She should stay. She shouldn't get attached to the three of them. She wasn't here for that. But she could enjoy herself a little while she was here, especially as she always had a great time with them. She turned a determined gaze back to Cassian to return his seductive expression. "With pleasure." She left her room and closed the door behind her without even thinking of changing or putting on something to cover herself. She felt beautiful, and she loved feeling the burning gazes of the three Illyrians on her, staring at her from behind and up and down as she advanced without waiting for them.

Eventually, they entered the room. Rhysand had filled and served them four glasses with wine. Cassian had grabbed one and handed it to Luxiana, but Azriel grabbed it before she could take it. He glanced reprovingly at Cassian, "she shouldn't drink that, it's strong alcohol, especially for humans."

Luxiana rolled her eyes, a little wearily, then quickly retrieved the glass, with such speed that it surprised Azriel, who hadn't even been able to react. "Need I remind you that I work in a bar?" she told him. "I'm used to strong alcohol, believe me."

Rhysand laughed softly as he detailed her tenderly. She was so naive." Surely not the one of the faes."

Luxiana glanced at him sideways, grimacing. She wrinkled her nose and leaned forward towards Rhysand. She glanced left and right as if she were about to tell him a secret and was afraid someone would overhear. "Don't tell the high lord here, but his booze is smuggled over the wall," she scoffed.

Rhysand opened his mouth wide in surprise as Cassian exploded with laughter. "See, she's used to it," he added, holding out his own glass toward her to toast his mate. He raised the glass to his mouth.

Luxiana also took a sip of the golden beverage before groaning as she closed her eyes. "This is so good."

Cassian choked on the wine in his mouth as he started coughing under the salacious images of his soul mate that came into his mind at her words and tone. Hell, he'd had an erection whenever he laid eyes on her and that from the start, but now he'd almost cum in his pants just hearing her moan. He had to do something about this.

Luxiana hiccupped in surprise as she opened her eyes wide, then jumped up and down on the spot, "you know what we should do?"

Azriel smiled tenderly as he detailed her, he never tired of her reactions. He took a sip of his liquor before speaking. "What's that?"

The exclamation of hope and joy faded from their soulmate's face to disappeared. "Oh, but I don't think you'll agree."

Rhysand also swallowed a drop from his glass, detailing Luxiana with squinted eyes. "Tell us."

The blonde's smile emerged again, but differently this time. It was mischievous. Her pupils sparkled with mischief and the seductive look she suddenly had on her face disconcerts the three males for a second. She detailed them up and down with desire, biting her lower lip. "We should play strip poker!"

Rhysand blinked slowly in surprise at his soulmate's proposal, but couldn't prevent a broad smile from forming on his face. Cassian laughed out loud, but his whole body was already on fire with excitement at the idea of it, "I'm in, I'm in". Azriel closed his eyes, blowing out his breath to hold the bridge of his nose wearily, "You know you've only got one layer of clothing on you, right? And that you're therefore likely to find yourself naked in front of us very quickly."

Luxiana's expression became provocative and the glint of playfulness in her irises awakened Azriel's erection. "Oh I'm well aware of that but...," she licked her lips to detail the three of them again avidly, "it's not me who's going to lose."

Rhysand's eyes filled with a playful gleam, "Well, let's go then." but every muscle in his body was vibrating with anticipation and excitement. Was he going to see his soul mate naked for the first time tonight? Now that she knew the risks and agreed, he was going to do everything he could to win.

They finally settled on Cassian's huge bed. Luxiana was kneeling in the middle of the mattress, facing her was Rhysand with his legs crossed, to his left was Cassian in the same position and Azriel was on the other side of the high lord, leaning against the headboard with his forearm resting on one of his raised knees. Cards had appeared between them thanks to the magic of the house and they had now begun a game.

Although the four of them continued to drink their alcoholic beverages and even refill their glasses regularly, they were all playing very well. Rhysand and Azriel were cautious, not wanting to lose or miss the opportunity to make their soul mate lose. They ended up fold, but Cassian wasn't so cautious. He was confident because, either way, he would be victorious. If he won, he could see his soul mate naked, but if he lost, he could show himself naked to her. Unfortunately, his game wasn't as good as Luxiana's. He lost.

The blonde began jumping up and down all over the bed, shouting, "I won, I won." She threw herself in front of Cassian to land close to his shins. She leaned toward him, bringing her proud face close to Cassian's half-disappointed, half-jubilant one. She ran her tongue over her lips and her smile widened when she noticed the Illyrian leering longingly at them. "You need to take something off now," she demanded mischievously.

Rhysand smiled wryly as he detailed her with shining eyes. "You know, you don't need a game. If you want to see us naked, all you have to do is ask."

Luxiana gave him a playful, confident look. "I want to see you naked," she assured with a determined air. "But it's a lot more fun to get that by making you lose at a game."

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. He was always pleasantly surprised by her repartee and the way she flirted back with them. Azriel laughed, shaking his head. She was so cute yet so provocative. He loved it. He loved knowing she liked them.

Cassian caught Luxiana's chin between his fingers to turn her head towards him. His irises were bright with confidence, he was hardly intimidated or bothered by taking off a piece of clothing. In fact, when he'd come out of his room and proposed this little evening to his two brothers, he'd only been in his boxers. It was Rhysand and Azriel who had forced him to put something on so as not to disturb the woman. And now it was she who wanted to undress him. He was boiling with joy. "What do you want me to take off? If it helps you choose, I don't have anything under my pants." He did have underwear, but if after saying that, his soul mate still asked him to take off his pants, he'd take it all off.

Luxiana swallowed hard at the palpable tension between them. She forced herself to smile while maintaining her air of confidence to divert attention from her blushes. "No..." she murmured slowly, inclining her head, "not right away at least." Her haughty, confident expression must have been convincing because she saw Cassian raise an eyebrow in surprise and amusement. "Take the top off first."

Cassian wasted no time. He released Luxiana and, without breaking eye contact with her, reached for the end of the lace holding her vest to untie and open it. His movements were slow and calculated. He removed his vest and let it fall to his side.

Luxiana pulled away to rest on her knees and fully admire Cassian's muscular torso, pecs, shoulders and arms. Her mouth opened wide, very wide, gradually. This fae was really well built, sculpted like nothing she'd ever seen. He was so sexy. She couldn't even see his tattoos, he had so much muscle to look at. She was almost drooling. "Uh... I..." She was at a loss for words. "So sexy," she breathed simply, unable to think or speak properly.

The three Illyrians burst out laughing at her reaction. She was looking at Cassian as if he were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and he found this childish attitude so adorable. But Cassian, though he didn't look like it, was burning. Every inch of skin, where his soul mate's pupils rested, was aflame. He felt so proud to have provoked this reaction in her.

"Wait but waiiiiitt ?????" cried Luxiana suddenly, shaking her head and barely able to breathe. "You're so muscular, how is that possible?" She couldn't believe her eyes. Did he spend his days lifting weights? She moved closer to him to come to his side and stick her arm to the Illyrian's. "Look at the size of your arm and the difference with mine! It's twice... no, at least three times the thickness of mine." She moved back in front of him to detail him with wide eyes while he laughed his head off, then squinted at his abs. She hiccupped again in surprise as she held out her index finger. "Can I... can I touch?"

Cassian calmed his laughter a little to straighten up and look at her with intense eyes. "Oh as much as you want, honey."

Luxiana opened her mouth in a wide smile, pleased by the agreement he had given her. She pursed her lips in concentration. She felt one of Cassian's abs with her fingerprint for a tiny second before retracting her arm, hiccupping in surprise. That was super hard. "Holy cow!"

Rhysand dropped onto the headboard, unable to stand up straight as he laughed so hard. His soul mate was too cute.

Azriel detailed her with amusement and tenderness. "Have you ever seen at least one naked man?" He'd asked lightly, but he couldn't stop his smile from fading gently at the weight settling in his stomach. He so wished she'd tell him she hadn't. He knew it wasn't possible, not when she was such a beautiful, outgoing young woman but ... he'd so much like her to tell him that she'd never done anything with anyone. That she hadn't belonged to any other man before them.

Luxiana gave him a quick glance before blushing all over her face. "Whaaaaaat?" She giggled, lowering her head. "Pfff, of course I do," she stammered. Then she closed her eyes fiercely. The alcohol was going to her head and she couldn't figure out what she was doing.

All three Illyrians froze at once, straightening up from laughter to seriousness. "You're lying," Azriel remarked. And you didn't have to speak the language of the invisible to see that.

"But no, not at all, I..." tried to defend herself Luxiana but she felt so embarrassed and ashamed that she couldn't even think or breathe properly. She clamped her hands over her hot, red face and moaned a plaintive cry.

The three Illyrians were just completely paralyzed. They couldn't believe it. They couldn't believe their eyes and ears. She was lying, it couldn't be any other way. Cassian exploded. He shouted, "You're virgi..."

"Don't say it!" cried Luxiana, interrupting him and putting her hands on the sheets to hold on to them. She felt as if she were dying of shame. She let out a cry of frustration, then killed the three breathless wide-eyed Illyrians with her pupils. "I've never slept with anyone, but that doesn't mean I can't kick your ass, so shut up!" She realized she'd just confessed. She whimpered another sob as she pressed her palms to her face again to hide. She let herself fall on her side on the mattress to get into a lateral safety position.

Rhysand was frozen from head to toe. He was completely shocked by this news. If there was one thing he thought Luxiana had done, it was sleep with men. Especially with the seductive attitude she always had. But now that he'd learned this, he was just completely paralyzed. A ball of anxiety settled in his stomach. He didn't know what to do. He was starting to panic. She was a virgin and so pure and they only wanted to do dirty things to her. She couldn't give them her first time. They didn't deserve it. Yet something primal awoke in him, something typically Illyrian that made him vibrate with possessiveness from head to toe. He raised his head to the ceiling, trying to reason and calm himself.

Azriel was gasping for air. His eyes burned with joy and his whole body seemed to palpitate. He waved his hands in front of him in all directions, staring into space. He opened his mouth several times, not knowing whether to speak, scream, jump for joy or just breathe. He was so happy. His soul mate had never belonged to anyone else, and she would forever belong only to them. To him. What had he done in his life to make this happen? He even wanted to cry, so happy was he.

Cassian's mouth was wide open. He rose slowly, robotically, to land feverishly on his two feet, keeping his eyes and mouth wide open. He walked to his bedroom door, stepped outside and closed it behind him. He took a few steps forward before taking a deep breath, tensing all his muscles and clenching his fists. Then he began throwing his limbs furiously in all directions as he screamed silently, opening his mouth and letting only a muffled sound come out. "YES! FUCK YES! YEEEESSS !" Then, once relieved of his joy and although his heart was still beating madly in his chest, he returned to the bedroom to resume his seat as if nothing had happened.

Rhysand shook his head to compose himself. He glanced at Azriel, who had an absent but dreamy look on his face as he was watching Luxiana -still curled up in a ball- with glowing eyes. He then turned his eyes to Cassian to see him with rapid breathing and a broad smile on his lips. He couldn't count on them. He huffed, then grabbed Luxiana by the shoulders to straighten her up. She relented but didn't remove her hands from her face, so Rhysand grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms down.

Her face revealed itself. She had pursed lips and a cute, pleading pout. "Don't make fun of me," she whispered imploringly.

Rhysand widened his eyes for a second. "We don't make fun of you, ever. Quite the contrary! We're so..." He huffed, pausing. He just couldn't tell her how happy he was. She wouldn't understand. He let go of her arms to cup his soul mate's face. "We're very admiring. Really." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, but couldn't help brushing her hair all the way down, so soft it was. He followed her movement with his pupils. "Never be ashamed of it. Don't ever be. Okay?"

Without leaving his pleading face she nodded, but she still felt embarrassed in a way she'd never felt before. She let out a cry of frustration before moving away to lean over the side of the bed to catch something on the ground.

Only, by leaning this way, she gave the three Illyrians a good view of her legs, her shape and her buttocks, which the dress hid just enough. Cassian threw himself back with all his might, almost knocking himself out on the headboard of his bed to avoid rushing into her or cumming in his pants. No, no, they couldn't act that way with her now. Not when it was her first time that was at stake. Azriel closed one of his fists and slammed it into his forehead several times while closing his eyes and trying to think of something else. Rhysand grabbed the pillow from behind him, placing it behind Luxiana's buttocks to cover her, but he couldn't help smiling in exasperation.

Luxiana grabbed the bottle of wine on the floor beside the bed, stood up and rushed the drink to her mouth. She took several large gulps, before Azriel, realizing this, jumped up to snatch the alcohol from her hands. "Certainly not, no," he growled, pulling the bottle away from her and placing it beside her on the bedside table.

Luxiana let out a plaintive cry before killing Cassian with her eyes. "This is all your fault, if you hadn't been so sexy, none of this would have happened."

Cassian smiled with all his teeth, his chest vibrating with pride. "So you find me attractive?"

Luxiana rolled her eyes blasély, "you know you are." Then she turned to Azriel to glare at him, "you're next on the list." There was no way she was going to be the only one embarrassed. She was going to get them all naked tonight.

Luxiana repositioned herself in her initial place and resumed dealing the cards with a stern, determined air. And so they began to play again. There were several stalemates, the three Illyrians fighting like hell to win, but Luxiana was far too cautious, especially as she seemed to know the three males' game and what they were going to do before they did. Then, just as she'd planned, she beat Azriel. "YES!" she exclaimed, drawing her fist towards her. She pointed at Azriel with her index finger. "Now it's your turn! Take off the top." She laughed sadistically as she clapped her hands together.

Azriel smiled softly, shaking his head. His shadows weren't helping him even a little to cheat against his soul mate, the bitches. Without a word, he stood up from the headboard to remove his T-shirt and reveal his tattooed torso.

Luxiana gazed at him hungrily for a moment. Her mouth gradually opened. Then she let herself fall onto her side, without taking her eyes off Azriel's abs. "Woaah," she moaned in complete wonder. "It's so beautiful."

The three Illyrians laughed softly as they detailed her tenderly. Then she jumped to her knees one of a sudden, startling them. She slid down her shins to Azriel to raise her hand and run her fingers over one of the curves of one of his tattoos on his pectoral. He was as sexy as Cassian, and although she pretended to be obsessed with the black ink on his skin, she was only doing it so she could touch him. "I really like the direction this evening is taking," she said, unable to hold back her seductive smile.

Azriel watched her do it with a tilted head and a smirk, but he was just too focused not to shiver violently under her touch.

Cassian laughed even harder as he felt the excitement rise in both his brother and himself. "Oh us too, believe me."

"Is it going to be my turn now?" asked Rhysand seriously, although glimmers of playfulness and hope resounded in his pupils. He was a little disappointed that she hadn't tried to undress him first. He knew the card game could be random, but his mate gave the impression of knowing exactly what she was doing. As if all her actions were always calculated.

Luxiana turned a confident gaze towards the lord, but inside she was filled with reluctance. She hadn't forgotten what Rhysand had suffered in Amarantha's hands and she certainly didn't want to bring back any bad memories or force him to get naked in front of her without him wanting to. "Why? Are you that eager to show me your abs?" Her question sounded unimportant, but it was. She was asking for Rhysand's agreement, and his answer would then determine her behavior.

Rhysand smiled, unsuspecting. "Yes," he added seriously.

Luxiana breathed imperceptibly, reassured then playful. She ran her tongue between her teeth and lips trying not to sound as euphoric as she was from the alcohol and the three handsome Illyrians before her. "So it's your turn."

Then, as they continued to empty their wine glasses, they played several long draws before Luxiana managed to win against Rhysand. She jumped up and down on the bed in delight, the alcohol really beginning to go to her head a little, so much that she had to sit down again because it made her dizzy. The four of them had already drunk three bottles and she'd swallowed the same amount as the three males, maybe even a little more. She threw herself in front of Rhysand, almost falling on him. She looked at him with shining eyes but said nothing, forcing him into nothing, waiting patiently for him to take the plunge on his own. That way, he could always turn back and do nothing if he wanted to.

But Rhysand didn't want that. He wanted his soul mate to see him, he wanted his soul mate to touch him. He took off his shirt slowly, opening its buttons one by one as he stared at Luxiana, who followed his gesture with her eyes. He took off his top and smiled when he saw Luxiana's eyes sparkle. She was about to open her mouth wide but pursed her lips to keep her lower jaw from dropping. "By all gods" she breathed again, detailing Rhysand as if he were a work of art. It took her breath away. "It's incredible." But she wasn't touching him. She wasn't touching him even though she'd touched both of Rhys's brothers, and it was driving him crazy. So he grabbed Luxiana's wrist to press the blonde's palm against his abs.

Luxiana hiccupped in surprise as she clamped her other hand over her mouth. She gave Rhys a questioning look. "I want you to touch me," he whispered earnestly.

She widened her eyes for a second before returning her gaze to his abs and slowly lowering her hand in a caress to the V of the lord's lower abdomen. Then, understanding his words and seeing a bulge in his pants, she flushed violently. She shook her head while gently and repeatedly hitting Rhys's shoulder, who burst out laughing.

"Now it's our turn to make you take off a piece of clothing," says Rhysand, regaining a serious but seductive air.

Luxiana gave him a laughing look, unable to hide her playful smile, before jumping out of the bed. "Um, no, I don't want to play anymore."

"Out of the question, it doesn't work like that," screamed Cassian, offended.

Azriel smiled tenderly. "He's right. Come back here!"

"Nooo," she moaned imploringly, throwing large dilated pupils at them. "I want to do something else."

Rhysand breathed in resignation. She could get what she wanted from him with his face. "What's that?"

Luxiana spun around to find something to do before stopping, realizing that her head was also turning from the inside. This alcohol was really strong, and although she was used to it, she'd been drinking a lot. "Oh I know!" she exclaimed suddenly, setting her eyes on Cassian. "I want to style your hair and make you lots of braids."

Rhysand and Azriel exploded with laughter and Cassian's eyes widened. "You want what?" Had he misheard?

Luxiana ran to him to throw herself in front of him and make big, imploring eyes. "Please," she insisted with the cutest face in the world.

Cassian couldn't even hesitate. He huffed as he grabbed the little rubber bands of different colors he'd just conjured up in front of him. He held them out to Luxiana. "Put on lots of pink rubber bands."

Luxiana jumped up, screaming with joy. She positioned herself behind Cassian, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him towards her. She settled his head on her thighs and began braiding his hair.

Azriel and Rhysand were laughing their heads off and couldn't even breathe. Luxiana glared at them. "Don't laugh too hard, it'll be your turn next."

The two Illyrians instantly fell silent as they stood up straight.

Cassian didn't feel even a little ashamed by the act. He felt far too soothed by his soulmate's touch in his hair, so much so that he couldn't even hear his brothers' mocking laughter. Hell, his heart even felt like it was stopping, so relaxed was he.

Luxiana, despite her fingers digging into Cassian's mane, was chatting happily with Rhysand and Azriel about anything and everything, continuing to drink alcohol in the meantime.

After perhaps an hour of chatting and laughing, Luxiana finished her work. She moved away from Cassian, who was struggling to fight off the sleep that had overtaken him under her soulmate's caresses in his hair. But when he straightened up to reveal lots of shaggy little braids - with pink rubber bands and little pink butterfly clips hanging in them - to his brothers, their laughter woke him up suddenly. Cassian laughed in turn, imagining his face and seeing his soulmate laughing with them.

"It suits you, you're so cute like that," the blonde teased softly, pinching his cheeks.

Cassian looked at her with shining eyes without even feeling humiliated. And Luxiana was a little disappointed to notice that he wasn't blushing even a little. She wanted revenge and to embarrass them.

Cassian pointed to Rhysand and Azriel with a mischievous grin. "They're laughing a little too hard, don't you think?"

Luxiana returned his mischievous expression. "Oh totally." She turned back to the two Illyrians with a psychopathic look.

Rhysand's and Azriel's smiles halted again as they glanced at Luxiana, a little terrified.

The blonde rested her index finger on her chin to consider what she was going to do to them before hiccupping, "Found it!" She looked up at the ceiling to speak to the house. "Can I have some markers, please?" Without question, the house offered her a string of felt-tip pens in several flashy colors. She thanked the house vigorously before turning to Rhys and pointing. "I want to draw in your tattoos."

"You want to do what?" laughed Rhysand in surprise. But Luxiana had already broken the distance between them. She placed her cold hands on Rhysand's pectorals to push him down onto his back. "May I?" she asked permission to settle astride him, pointing to his lower abdomen.

Rhysand contracted for a second. This was a permission Amarantha had never asked of him, but he refrained from telling Luxiana. He knew she would be saddened and that it would spoil her evening and the one of his brothers. In any case, he didn't want to think about this horror right now. He just wanted so much for his soul mate to touch him, and it annoyed him that she asked his permission when she didn't ask his brothers'. "Always," he answered her seriously without any playful or joking air.

Luxiana blinked once, surprised by his tone, then smiled gently at him, feeling herself blush. She climbed astride him and began coloring the inside of the tattoos on Rhys's pecs, arms and shoulders.

The lord of the night watched his soulmate's look of concentration with tenderness. But he had to fight with all his might against the tickle of Luxiana's touch and his growing erection in his pants. If his mate had landed a few centimeters lower, she'd clearly have been able to feel it between her thighs.

The blonde didn't stop talking, though, concentrating on her task and chatting with the three Illyrians. Then, once she was satisfied and her work done, she stood up to let Rhys straighten up and show his brothers the various shades of pink, yellow and green that surrounded his tattoos.

Rhysand wanted to look weary under his brothers' mockery, but he couldn't hide his joy.

Luxiana turned to Azriel, who didn't feel threatened for a second. He only huffed as he stopped laughing and opened his arms wide. "Do what you want with me."

The blonde let out a squeal of delight. She grabbed a candy-pink felt-tip pen and glided over to Azriel, drawing cat whiskers on his face and coloring in his nose. The other two Illyrians couldn't help but laugh as Luxiana pulled away from the now cat-like spymaster. Azriel looked up at the ceiling. "Never in my five hundred years of existence have I been so humiliated," he laughed softly, staring at his soulmate with sparkling eyes.

Luxiana laughed too, but rolled her eyes. Why had she wanted to humiliate them again? She didn't know, and now she felt bad. She huffed as she handed the marker to Azriel, who caught it without understanding, tilting his head. "Your turn. Do something to me."

She closed her eyes and stretched out her smiling face towards Azriel. She waited while the three Illyrians stared at her, not knowing what to do. All they could think of was how cute she looked, with her beautiful smiling pink lips, her alcohol-reddened cheeks and her dimples.

Azriel couldn't breathe or think properly with his soulmate's sweet, ready face stretched out in front of him. He wanted to kiss her. So he squinted at her mouth for a moment, but when Luxiana moistened her lips without opening her eyes, something inside him gave way. He couldn't resist any longer and took the plunge. He placed his lips softly on those of his soul mate.

Feeling someone's mouth on hers, Luxiana hiccupped in surprise, opening her eyes wide and jerking back. Realizing that Azriel had kissed her, she clamped her hand over her mouth. But her heart was pounding in her chest as the echo of the Illyrian's mouth still tickled hers.

Cassian and Rhysand glanced at each other uneasily before cursing Azriel. "Az, damn it," Rhysand growled with a slightly quicker breath. Then they set their eyes on their Luxiana. How was she going to react? They didn't want to scare them.

"Forgive me," Azriel breathed without taking his eyes off the blond to observe her reaction. "I've wanted to kiss you for so long and I couldn't help it, you were so cute."

Luxiana felt warm from head to toe. No kiss had ever had this effect on her. "No," she let out in a high-pitched voice and with an almost inaudible sigh, letting her hand fall back. She squinted at Azriel's mouth. "Don't be." She moved closer to him again, sticking her knees to the Illyrian's crossed legs. "Can you do it again?" Her cheeks were flushed and felt like exploding, but she wanted more.

The chests of the three Illyrians filled with hope, and Azriel's with joy. He couldn't hold back his wide, seductive, teasing smile. "Would you like me to do it again?"

Luxiana nodded briskly, with the cutest face possible. She couldn't breathe. "Do it again, please," she implored. She absolutely had to know if his kiss was still having that effect on her.

It was the last straw that made Azriel snap. With one hand, he grabbed her throat possessively and pulled her towards him, while the other rested on his mate’s cheek. He crushed his mouth to hers, closing his eyes. Fireworks exploded in their bellies and their lips tickled so hard it was almost unbearable.

Azriel stuck out his tongue to caress the blonde's lips and request access to her mouth. Luxiana opened her mouth to let him in. They kissed deeply, Azriel's tongue trying to control Luxiana's as she gave in completely. The kiss was so powerful that it made both of them dizzy. Luxiana had to cling to the Illyrian's forearms to keep from fainting as a moan of pleasure escaped her. Her nipples jutted out from under her nightie in excitement, and the silk fabric began to itch her.

Eventually, they parted gasping for air, their chests trembling. They gazed into each other's eyes, completely shocked and blown away by the intensity of their kiss. Neither of them had ever felt anything like it. Azriel wanted more. He wanted so much more, but he gently released Luxiana to see what she would do. But he prayed she'd come back for more, because damn it, he could spend his life kissing her.

Luxiana came back to her after a few seconds' absence, trying to calm herself down. She clamped both hands over her mouth, hiccupping. Then she threw herself backwards, stomach down on the bed, to make her legs go quickly and slam her feet on the mattress. She buried her flushed face in the sheets while shouting a muffled sound of joy. Then she started laughing, so happy was she. She didn't even understand why she felt so happy. It was the best kiss she'd ever had and she couldn't even think about what she was doing. She just needed to let out the happiness she was feeling. "I kissed him, I kissed him," she cried, still not quite able to realize what had just happened.

Azriel smiled with all his teeth. He felt buoyant. She'd wanted to kiss him, and she'd liked it.

But Cassian and Rhysand had watched the scene with bated breath, completely frozen. They couldn't move, paralyzed by a mixture of joy and jealousy. Azriel had succeeded. One of them had gotten close enough to their mate to be able to kiss her. But there were three of them. Would she be afraid to kiss them after that? Did she only want Azriel now? They were scared to death.

Fuck it, it was now or never. Rhysand tried to regain his haughty, confident posture, but he was having great difficulty. "You can kiss me too if you like," he let out, his chest full of hope.

Luxiana jerked upright with shock and seriousness as she detailed Rhysand. She frowned, then glanced at Azriel to see what he was going to do. They had just kissed, after all, and that was not nothing, but the Illyrian only looked at her with a smirk and a tilted head, curious to know what she was going to do. That said, he didn't seem to mind her kissing his brother, and Luxiana wanted to. She didn't think any further, as she couldn't think much about what she was doing anyway because of the alcohol coursing through her veins. She then moved quickly towards Rhysand to position herself in front of him with big eyes shining with impatience. "Can I really?"

Rhysand's heart missed a beat. He nodded solemnly. Luxiana opened her eyes wide before throwing herself at Rhys to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before hiccupping away in surprise. She shivered. Rhys smiled at her cuteness but she rushed to his mouth to give him the same kiss again, a little longer this time. Then she pulled away again, still hiccupping in surprise. She placed her hand over her mouth this time, unable to believe she was kissing the high lord of the night court after kissing his brother.

Rhysand laughed before shaking his head tenderly. His mate was so cute. He caught her delicately, placing both hands on either side of her face to pull her mouth over his and kiss her. Their tongues tangled together by themselves and began to dance, gently caressing each other.

Rhysand's entire body was tingling. His chest was vibrating and his heart had stopped completely. He was finally kissing his soul mate. After all this time. And it was even better than in his dreams.

Luxiana's body was vibrating and her lower abdomen was on fire from the kissing. She was shaking so hard her muscles ached. She felt like she was in a cottony cloud of ecstasy and sensation. She wanted so much more.

They parted away, lacking air, forcing Luxiana to groan in disappointment as she opened her eyes. Rhysand couldn't help smiling at the sound, but he was just too breathless to speak or start again. That kiss had been so intense that it had just taken his breath away.

Cassian couldn't take it anymore. His two brothers had tasted it before him and these visions were slowly killing him. He'd come close to cumming several times in his pants, "So now it's my turn," he declared in a deep voice filled with excitement.

Luxiana barely had time to turn towards him and calm down before he threw himself at her, placing one hand on the back of her head and another on her back to pull her towards him and press his lips to hers. He forced his tongue into Luxiana's mouth, and she let him in to return the feverish kiss where their tongues fought. She placed her hands on Cassian's torso to take advantage and caress his pectoral muscles. Both began to shudder at the same time under the explosion in their bellies and the tickle in their mouths. Luxiana moaned as she felt her panties getting wet.

Cassian, at this sound, couldn't hold back. He pushed her down and laid her back on the mattress, towering over her with his body as he continued to kiss her. He passed a leg between Luxiana's thighs to rest his knee on her part.

Luxiana moaned into Cassian's mouth again, feeling herself vibrate all over as he pressed her clit with his leg. She wanted more.

Unfortunately, Azriel grabbed Cassian by the shoulder to break their kiss, pulling him back and away from Luxiana. "No," he growled through clenched teeth, killing his brother with his eyes.

"What do you mean 'no'?" offended Cassian in disbelief. Anger bubbled up in his veins, replacing his euphoria and excitement far too savagely.

"She's been drinking, she's drunk," Rhysand explained. There was no way he was going to take advantage of her condition to go any further. Even if he wanted to. On the other hand, if tomorrow she wanted it again... then he wouldn't hold back.

"I'm not drunk!" exclaimed Luxiana just as shocked and offended as Cassian that they'd interrupted her. She raised herself on her forearms to glare at Azriel and Rhysand, but they only gave her a weary look.

Cassian grunted in frustration, eyes firmly ferocious. They were right. He huffed in resignation as he rested his back on the headboard of his bed. He hadn't intended to go any further anyway, but he realized they'd already overstepped the boundaries.

Luxiana dropped onto the mattress, also screaming in frustration, her teeth clenched. She was completely turned on now. How was she supposed to keep ... and she fell asleep suddenly. Maybe she was a little drunk after all.

#a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acotar #acowar #azriel #rhysand #cassian #cassian x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #rhysand x oc #rhysand & cassian & azriel x oc #high lord rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar

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