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#likely because they felt like they were too good to accept help and so on
melanieph321 · 14 hours
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SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS (DAY 4)
Jude Bellingham x Reader - Capture Me Part 2/2
Part 1
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Enjoy!
It was strange.
Strange how fast you could fall for a guy. However, Jude was so different from any other guy you've dated.
"So what's it like?"
"What?"
"I dunno, going to uni, being a student?" He was so curious about the slightest details of your life and in a way he admired it, especially your passion for photography.
"It's nice, I guess. Sometimes it feels like I have alot on my plate but knowing I'm doing something I love motivates me to keep going."
"Like me!" He perked up.
"Like you?"
"Yes, me and the way I feel about football." He smiled.
He was so sweet. And refused to let you help pay for dinner. He didn't take you anywhere fancy, but a fancy enough place that let you dine in a private closed off section of the restaurant.
"So what now?" He asked, not hesitating to grab your hand as the two of you left the restaurant and made it out onto the street.
"Don't you have a big game coming up?"
"Yeah, it's gonna be fun."
"No, Jude." You stopped walking.
"What?" He frowned.
"Don't you need to rest ahead of it."
"Sure I do." He nodded.
"Okay, then maybe this should be where we part." You said, an urge to not be the reason why England loses the game against Brazil due to poor performance.
"What do you mean?" He said, with a wrinkled expression.
"I should go home Jude." You said, adjusting your purse.
"Why, didn't you have a good time?"
"I did." You were quick to say, seeing his face falter. "But it's getting late and both of us had a pretty long day today."
He nodded. "You're right."
"I am?"
"Yes. Let's go to my hotel. My car is parked around the corner."
"Wait, what?"
Before you knew it you were in Jude's car, on your way to where he stayed at a hotel in London. He had a big room, the biggest you've ever seen.
"My family is coming tomorrow." He said, when you asked him about it.
"Oh, okay."
"But they won't be here until the afternoon, so you won't have to hurry to get up."
"I see." You muttered, realizing where things were headed. "Jude I don't usually sleep with guy on the first date." You said, a need to set things straight. However Jude's eyes widened in suprise. "I..." He stuttered. "I didn't mean to assume..."
"But you kind of did."
You stood close to the wall, a sudden need to feel in control. Jude noticed this and put his hands up in defense.
"Y/N, I swear, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that I really like you and don't want this night to end."
You felt the same way. However, you weren't about to break your own rules just because a guy sweeps you off your feet with dinner and a fancy hotel room.
"There is a guestroom." He exclaimed. "You can take if you don't feel comfortable enough staying with me." Jude seemed to really want you to stay the night, despite you having taken sex off the table. "Please Y/N, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Really."
"Jude. I'm not." You slowly approached him, stretching out a hand to caress his face, smiling when he tilted his head to rest against your palm. It then felt natural for you to perk up and peck his lips, startling him with the kiss. Nevertheless, a smile widened his lips. "I don't mind sharing beds." You said. "As long as there's no funny business."
"Deal" He nodded.
And that's how you ended up staying the night with Jude. Turns out he really liked to cuddle.
In the morning, when you were about to leave, Jude effortlessly tried to keep you in bed with him, not agreeing to let you go until you have accepted his invitation to England's game against Brazil.
"Please come." He begged. "My whole family and friends will be there, You'll love them and they'll love you."
You were hesitant at first, things moving a bit too fast for your liking, but Jude's enthusiasm was infectious. You agreed to go, making plans to meet up at the stadium the next day.
The next day, you felt akward wearing Jude's football jersey. But he said he would pretend not to recognize you if you didn't. Nevertheless, you cheered him on as he played his heart out on the field. And you met his family and friends, and they were all so warm and welcoming towards you.
As the game came to an end and Jude was reunited with you and his family, his mother slapped her son on the arm and said:
"How come you never told me you had a girlfriend. She's lovely.
Jude turned to you and smiled. "Y/N is not my girlfriend. At least not yet."
You rolled your eyes, but failed to hide your smile. You knew that you had found someone special in Jude, and you couldn't wait to see where your relationship would go from here.
Part 1
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kerubimcrepin · 1 day
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Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 14]
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Joris's face here goes hard. His lifelong streak of being disappointed in everything begins here.
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:(
I genuinely have no comment beyond wanting to hug him. And also the fact that the way he says "LEGENDARY BUT DEAD FATHER (derogatory)" is so fucking iconic.
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They're a lot alike. No matter how she feels about Joris, or her issues, she's not a fail-aunt.... shes the aunt that Stepped Up. She understands. As she understands, they both lost someone to Julith, and that unites them.
I like to think that, while their relationship post-movie is would probably be turbulent at times, — because they're similar, and hate themselves for similar things, but have different ways of processing these things, — that they were close.
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He put on a brave face. But Bakara knows him too well.
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I really doubt that Jahash and Kerubim had a close co-working relationship like Julith and Atcham seem to have.
Here's some conjecture/headcanons: I think that Bakara and Jahash's father has passed away at this point, which is why Joris was given to Kerubim. Kerubim was probably summoned to Bonta/went there to help people of his own volition, despite already being retired. Jahash just had no one else to entrust Joris to, — other than the kind, elderly man who always told stories as they walked to the battlefield during the war.
It's kind of sad.
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I wonder what Jahash asked of him. "Find him a loving family"? "Take care of him"? "Keep him safe"? Or was he completely silent?
No matter what he said, or didn't say, Kerubim has always wanted to be a father. Even if, in his old age, he has long accepted that it simply wasn't his fate.
I bet it felt like the world was making a cruel joke on all of their expenses.
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Kerubim knows what is going to happen to her, going forward.
Do you ever think about the fact that this was the last time Jahash could ever hold her?
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He was probably just as outwardly serene, yet utterly devastated, when she was a child, and he could do nothing but watch, as their father saved her from drowning.
As he said in the Julith et Jahash comic: It's why he learned how to help people.
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"Bakara, for her part, needed much more... with Jahash's departure, her world collapsed."
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He was so scared he couldn't even move. He could only clutch this child closer.
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I think it's easy for him to compartmentalize what happened to Kerubim, while realizing that Lilotte's life is at stake. It's not the time to be emotional. And, he and Bakara have a shared enemy, who killed people they love dearly.
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Another plea from Bakara as a person who is quite sure she was personally orphaned by Julith, to Joris as someone who was literally orphaned by Julith.
And a not-so-subtle implication of "and you have to be one too, this time," is here too, I suppose.
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If papycha was in this situation, he would have been brave too. There will be time to be sad, but not now.
When the push really comes to shove, he's pretty good at suppressing his sadness. We've seen this from his meltdown during the argument with Kerubim, and some select moments of Aux Tresors.
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Anyway, do you think Kerubim went back for his stupid hole armour when he could finally form conscious thoughts, and brought it back to Joris's horror, — or do you think that by that time, random other demigods have stolen it, and he had to go on a wild goosechase to retrieve it (so he could keep using it) (while not fixing the FUCKING HOLE IN THE CHEST!!!)?
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His 22 sons and NONE of his daughters. #misogyny
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Someone loved Kerubim as much as Joris does.
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sleepy-gee · 2 days
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☕️ stomachache - snowjanus week day 3
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☕️day 3: angst ☕️ Sejanus couldn't control much in his life, so he controlled what he could– What he ate, for example.
☕️ trigger warnings: eating disorders (anorexia/bullimia), arguments, lowkey stalking lol...
☕️ a/n: the cost of being my blorbo is becoming my punching bag. sorry sej. but anyway, as ms. gray stated, hunger is a weapon in panem.. so why not explore that?
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It was an awful, awful habit. Sejanus knew that. So why couldn’t he stop? That’s what he didn’t know.
Eating was a natural human right. Something that everyone should be able to do, free of charge and guilt. Hunger wasn’t meant to be used as a weapon, yet it was so effortlessly. It made him sick. Sick enough to not want to eat ever again. If others couldn’t eat, then why should he be able to? He was profiting off of that very fact alone. And he couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.
How was everyone so calm about this? Why was everyone so calm about this, too? Just because they couldn’t see it didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Their own ignorance and egos were causing thousands to starve. The Capitol was everyone’s government. It was supposed to keep everyone safe, keep everything in order. Yet they were letting their citizens starve. And they were okay with that? And the cherry on top of it all was that he was supposed to agree with this, fit in with these people and their ideals.
He couldn’t help. He couldn’t control anything about this. He was powerless
.But he could control what he ate.
It was twisted therapy. Destroy yourself for the sake of what? A little control? Making a pool of power for yourself because you’re tired of dipping your toes in others? It’s a lot easier said than done, though. Going against his own survival instincts and rewiring his own brain to deny one of the three essential things necessary to survive.
It felt good, though. Or so he kept telling himself. It was hard at first, changes like that always are. But after a few months? Food itself felt foreign.
The weight loss was just the cherry on top. Sejanus was a foodie. Everyone knew that, and it showed. If anything, it was supposed to be a good thing. It showed he was taken care of, he was able to eat. That was supposed to be a good thing, but after moving to the Capitol, he found out it wasn't. Pretty privilege existed, and it was potent. He'd found that out the hard way.
The rituals would kick in when life got stressful, and for a while, things wouldn't seem so bad.
It was wrong.. Very, very wrong.
But he had it under control.
So well under control, that no one noticed. He'd still accept meals and snacks.. Just throw them away later or save them for "later".
Or so he thought.
One head turned at his chaos, and that head belonged to Coriolanus Snow. The boy he considered his best friend. He knew his best friend was putting on a giant front most of the time, having his own issues with food– Another way of disposing his own– He didn't have enough, and that broke his heart. Even in the elite Capitol, people still went hungry.
...
Coriolanus was able to read the signs very, very easily and very well. From the way Sejanus would take deep breaths after climbing stairs to dipping his head for a moment to fight off the abyss after standing for too long.
Why was a Plinth boy of all people going hungry?
Coriolanus decided to conduct a mini investigation of his own– If the Plinth's were going hungry, then things must really be bad.
The investigation lasted around a month. The tricky part was he had to integrate the Plinth boy into his daily routine enough to observe him, and leave enough room to write him out when he got his results.
He started small, sitting with him at lunch when he didn't have plans with others. The first thing he noticed was that he did have food on his tray. It just wasn't a lot (for Sejanus' standards, at least). There was a sandwich of some kind that made his mouth water and a glass of water on the side. Sejanus would usually get up to refill the glass once or twice, focusing more on that than the sandwich.
The second thing he noticed was that he never ate the sandwich in its entirety. He'd take a bite or pick at it, but that was all. Did he not like it? Did he still have enough money to afford food, just not as much? Was it that disposable?
He'd fest that. On the day the Academy didn't provide lunch, he asked, "Mind if I have some of that sandwich? I'm afraid breakfast wasn't enough."
Sejanus simply shrugged and set the whole thing on his plate. "Knock yourself out.. Just mind the cheese. I know you can't stomach that stuff."
Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of it anyway. He nearly sighed at the taste– It was a simple beef and cheese sandwich, but it was heavenly. "You know I'm lactose intolerant? I don't think I've mentioned that."
"You did." Sejanus watched him carefully as he ate. "Once.. Guess I remembered."
Huh. Odd.
That doesn't matter, though. What does is the answer to his question– He has access to food, and just refuses it. Now the next question.
Over the next few days, if he was able to get his hands on a snack of some kind, he'd offer it to Sejanus.. Who would always decline. Every single time.
"Are you sure? It's really no trouble."
Sejanus would shake his head no with a kind, tired smile. "It's alright.. I'm still stuffed from this morning."
Funny. I heard your stomach rumbling for nearly all of 2nd period.
Denying food and lying about it, plus the fatigue..
Oh.. What an interesting turn of fates.
And the cherry on top? Running off to the bathroom after encounters where he did have to eat.
Now all that was left was the confrontation– Insider information. Wrap everything in a nice bow. The question was.. How?
A gentle conversation was for the best.. Especially considering Sejanus. He looked like he wanted to cry when he was reprimanded in the slightest.
Coriolanus decided to try one day after class. "Sejanus.. Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?" He asked once everyone had filtered out of the room.
"Sure."
Coriolanus wet his lips. No point in beating around the bush. "Why do you never eat?"
Sejanus froze. ".. I do. Just not as much as I used to do."
"Really? I haven't seen you touch a crumb of food in the past month or so.. You deny it. And you look mortified when you do have to eat."
"It's.. It's nothing. Can we please just drop this?" Sejanus pleaded, already sounding agitated. He must've hit a nerve. Why not hit it again?
"No one likes a liar.. Come on, we're friends. Talk to me.. Why do this to yourself?"
“I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for.” Sejanus responded, tone uncharacteristically cold. Maybe that's what happens when someone reaches their breaking point.
Coriolanus laughed humorlessly. “Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. I’m getting bored of this tortured hero act, Sej. Stop acting like you have it so bad.”
“You really love to listen to yourself talk, don’t you?” Sejanus said with an exasperated scoff. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so stop assuming that you do.” The tension in the air felt so thick, you could cut it with a knife. “You don’t know anything about me. And you don’t want to, so why bother?”
Coriolanus’ eyes darkened. “I know more than you think- I know a naive boy when I see one. I see a boy who so desperately wants something wrong in his life to explain why he’s feeling a certain way, when the truth is, his life is beyond perfect and he should just shut his damn mouth.”
“How is my life beyond perfect? You h-” He started.“
Oh, give me a break.” The boy cut him off, taking a few threatening steps closer as he spoke. “You can fool your Ma and your Pa with that sob story, but you can’t fool me. Look at you- Rescued from a lifetime of poverty, with everything you could want and more handed to you on a silver platter, and yet you still refuse to chew. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Sejanus.”
Sejanus swallowed thickly. “I just think that-”
“Oh no, I’m not done.” Coriolanus interjected yet again. “No, I think it’s time you hear something along the lines of grow the hell up. You want change so bad? Go out. Change something. You have money. You have a powerful family name. Stop bitching and moaning like a wounded puppy and go do something with your life, for th-”
“I don’t have money. My father does. You think I haven’t tried?” Sejanus spat, voice wavering with emotion. “I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve tried to set up a fund for the districts, or tried to maybe set up some sort of fundraiser. I have tried everything. And it’s still not enough. So excuse me for feeling a little hopeless.”
Coriolanus laughed like he had heard the funniest joke in the world. “That’s your defense, boy? Saying you did and now you’re giving up? God, you’re not good at this.. I’m trying to help you.”
“By doing what?"
“By knocking some sense into you. The world isn’t out to get you like you think it is. It’s actually working in your favor, just not the way you want it to.”
Sejanus fell quiet for a good while. Normally, this would've meant defeat or submission, but there was no grief in his eyes. Only anger- Anger for what was, and what could've been.
“You think I'm playing the broken hero? You're the one running around and trying to fix things that don't even involve you! A month ago, you wanted me dead, I'm sure of it. But now, suddenly you're in my face? So what if I don't eat? That's my choice!” He cried, tears stinging his eyes. "What does it matter to you what I do? Wouldn't it be for the best if I weren't in your way?"
Sejanus had a point.. But he refused to admit it. They were making too much of a scene. He needed to get it under control before this became the school's latest gossip. ".. Because you are my friend. I may not always show it the best, but.. I do care. And I don't like watching my friends suffer."
".. How am I supposed to trust that? Why the sudden change of heart?"
Coriolanus placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Because I know what it's like to be hungry. And I wouldn't wish it upon anyone.."
Sejanus looked up at him, brown eyes full of tears. ".. I just don't know what else to do "
"I'll help you.. I promise." Sejanus nodded. Good. He had him back in the palm of his hand. He sealed the interaction with a hug before pulling away. "Now, let's get you back to class, hm?"
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taglist: @officialelioperlman @on-plvto @theirgayyourhonour
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kentopedia · 2 months
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nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.
so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.
still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.
the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.
he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.
because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.
it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.
naturally, no one came back twice.
he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.
though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.
by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.
by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.
on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.
he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.
“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”
“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“
but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.
“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”
a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”
though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.
“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“
“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”
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inkskinned · 9 months
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so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.
this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.
somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.
i used betterhelp.
i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.
the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.
they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.
the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.
i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."
i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.
the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.
i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.
in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.
the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.
betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.
i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.
there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.
in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.
i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.
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headkiss · 4 months
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something more
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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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lady-ashfade · 3 months
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Our comfort
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Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)
—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.
—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.
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You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.
But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.
The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.
You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.
Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.
Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.
So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.
The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.
Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.
Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.
Many games of all houses take place just for you.
AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.
Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.
When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.
So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.
Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.
He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.
“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 
Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.
When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.
So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?
He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.
You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.
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phuckinphia · 7 months
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camgirl ➛ joel miller
summary -  joel had always been attracted to his daughter’s best friend, but the last thing he was expecting was to see her on a porn website.
pairing - fem!reader x best friends dad!joel miller
contains - no outbreak, age gap, reader is late college age and joel is in his 50s, blank slate reader in terms of looks (minus brief mention of breast size), porn with plot, lil bit of mean joel but in a way where it makes you horny, m masturbation, dirty talk, possessive!joel, edging, fingering, spanking, oral (f & m receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, creampie, aftercare
notes - all acts are consensual. characters are of age. this is my first post after awhile, i’m returning to this blog full time! reblogs, replies and any interaction is very appreciated. my inbox is always open so feel free to share some joel thoughts
word count - 5.5 k
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He knew it was wrong. She was barely 21. But since Joel’s divorce from his awful, witch of a wife, he’d been incredibly lonely. But ever since his daughter Sarah came home from college this summer, and she had started bringing her friend over to the house more frequently, that had changed. 
The first time he met you, you had come over for a sleepover. Soft voice, sense of humor, and angelic body ran his imagination wild all night long. When he had gotten in the shower and thoughts wandered to you, his cock hardened faster than it ever had in his entire life. He fucked his fist and pretended he was cumming down your throat, then went to bed and pretended it never happened.
He promised himself that would be the only, ONLY time he’d give into this fantasy. Spoiler-alert, he didn’t keep that promise. 
“You gonna be done soon?!” you called up the stairs. Sarah’s greatest flaw was being late. You’d come to love that about her in these specific moments, because there was always a possibility you could have a private conversation with Joel. Even if it lasted 30 seconds and was extremely surface level, at least it happened. It kept your addiction stable.
Joel, the man who fed your fantasies. Strong, carved arms. Clothes that outlined him and fit in all the right places. Broad shoulders, salt and pepper hair. Melancholic brown eyes. When he looked at you for more than 5 seconds, it felt like he could unravel every sickening secret you were hiding, secrets you wouldn’t even tell Sarah.
“Give me a second!” She yelled down from the bathroom at the top of the stairs. 
You sunk into the couch further. To Sarah, a second translated to at least 10 minutes. You clicked around your phone mindlessly until you decided to actually do something productive: responding to your private DMs on your cam girl site.
What started off as a joke exchanged between both of you, became a reality. Sarah was far too shy to post nudes online, so you came up with a plan. Sarah was the camera-lady, and took pictures of you to post on your page. To be somewhat safe, the website you posted your pictures on was an exclusive one called CamGirl Chic. The entry fee was $12.99, and after that you’d have access to the content posted. Any time someone clicked on your account, it was 3 cents directly to you. You accepted tips, had a cashapp, venmo, you name it. You also took requests and private chats, which the consumers had to pay extra for. 
3 cents per-click didn’t seem like a lot, but on a good Saturday night, you would rack up 45,000 profile visits, and it was an easy 1.3k. Horny men who were extremely desperate for porn became the source of your income, and you climbed to the top of the site, earning yourself a feature on the homepage. That mixed with tips, requests and private messages, you earned a lot of money. Of course, you gave Sarah a portion of the earnings, and put a decent amount in your savings. 
Joel noticed. He’s always been a perceptive man. He noticed how you would go shopping more frequently, and come home with loads of shopping bags, which he’d always help carry inside when needed. He noticed your perfume that smelled decadent and expensive. The way you’d adorn yourself with good quality jewelry. Always a fresh set of nails, hair always done. He’d noticed a receipt from Sephora laying on top of the trash can, and remembered being rudely awakened from learning the price of makeup. 
It wasn’t his place to pry. You were adults, responsible for yourselves. But he was definitely interested. 
You were seated on the couch, scrolling through thirsty messages you’d received on the site. Your attention completely shifted when you saw Joel walk into the living room.
He sat down in the seat across from you. He leaned forward into his spread legs, intertwining his fingers to sit in mid air below him. “Plans tonight, huh?”
God, that deep voice. “Yes,” you replied, quickly shutting off your phone and tucking it under your thigh. 
“Where are you guys going?” 
“I don’t know yet,” you lied. “Shopping maybe.” 
“Dressed up like that to go to the mall? I don’t think so.” He watched your eyes widen, like you didn’t know how to respond. “I’m only joking with ya, hun.”
You took a long, deep breath. He hadn’t gone past ‘hun’, or ‘sweetheart’ yet, but those pet names always made your stomach spin. “I like to look nice in case I meet someone.” 
“Ah, youth. I remember those days. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have a problem meeting someone, huh?” 
You shifted in your seat. “Well, you’d be mistaken. I’ve had no luck lately. My last boyfriend cared more about spending his days at the country club and the stock market more than me.”
“Interesting.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Please forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’d assume you go for older men? Never heard of a young guy who belongs to a country club and invests in stocks.”
“Oh my GOD! Dad, shut up! What the hell?” Sarah scolded, heels clicking as she walked down the stairs. “Jesus christ! You have NO filter.” She looked over to you. “We are leaving now. Let’s go.” 
“Geez, okay. Have fun girls. Be safe. Sarah, call if you need anything. Love you.” He stood up, kissed his daughter on the cheek and went upstairs. 
“I’m sorry about that, He can be so annoying. Come on!” Sarah pulled on your arm, and you were out the door.
Meanwhile upstairs, Joel sat in his desk. Doing exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t do. He couldn’t get his mind off of you. “Christ,” he mumbled to himself. His eyes trailed over to a picture of his daughter on her graduation day he had on his desk. Shame running through his veins, he reluctantly placed the picture frame face-down. 
Scrolling, reading some meaningless article to get his mind off it, he saw a rather interesting add. 
☆ CAMGIRL CHIC ☆ 
☆ EXCLUSIVE CONTENT ☆ $12.99 PER MONTH FOR ACCESS TO THOUSANDS OF PAGES OF CONTENT ☆
He wasn’t going to lie. The description sounded pretty enticing, sounded like a good deal. 
To make sure it wasn’t a scam, he googled the name, read through a few terribly embarrassing Reddit reviews, and clicked the link. 
‘12.99, fuck it.’ He thought, reaching into the pocket of his slacks for his wallet. He typed in the numbers on his credit card, and pressed pay. There had to be some girl on here he found attractive. Something he didn’t want to admit was that the only way he’d been getting off was to the thought of you. He knew he should probably get around to breaking that cycle.
After creating a meaningless username and a few seconds of authorization, he was met with some most streamed videos, and top viewed accounts. He pressed ‘view all’
The last thing he’d ever expect was right in front of him. In 19th place, was you.
Without even thinking, he pressed on your profile.
-
“Ooh! Another 3 cents!” you laughed, showing the notification to Sarah. “You wouldn’t think that would add up, but it really does.”
“I know, right?” she replied, flipping through the pile of clothes they’d picked out in the dressing room. “I can’t believe it honestly. Also, men have weird kinks. 100 bucks for taking slutty changing pics in a dressing room? Props to you girl, I could never do this.” She handed you a lace bra to change into. 
“I got used to it pretty quick. And got used to the money, so.” You dug into your purse for your lipstick, touching it up in the mirror. “Another 3 cents!”
“People love you...r tits. Double D’s, am I right? Very click-worthy.”
“Guess so. I’ve already made $30 in the past 10 minutes. Being on the leader board really upped my stats. The only thing is, I get so cringed out when I think about the fact that multiple guys are jerking off to my photos right now.” 
“Gross.” Sarah said. “They pay up though!”
-
y/n, girl of ur dreams <3 dm 4 personalized vids + messages. cashapp & venmo below! kisses 💋 
Fuck. 
Your profile picture was you licking whipped cream off your fingers, tongue out and a smile on your face and the tightest bra that Joel had ever seen. His dick was rock hard in mere seconds.
It was wrong. It was so, so incredibly and undeniably wrong. If his daughter found out, she would probably kill him, or never talk to him again.
He was shocked, to say the least. He felt like he had stumbled on a gold mine. Without thinking, again, he unbuckled his belt and zipped his fly down, palming himself. He pressed on your most recent post. ‘3 minutes ago?” he thought to himself. 
It was a picture of you posing in a changing room mirror, tight skirt and a lacey bra that was pulled down revealing your chest. Captioned: hiya ! pic from a recent request.. dm me 4 one! price varies depending on what u want <3
Groaning at the picture, he slipped a hand in his boxers. He scrolled again, and it was a picture of you bent over in a skirt with some see-through silk underwear. He fucked his hand and came in a killer 2 minutes, not being able to control himself seeing such vulgar pictures of the girl he fantasizes about 24/7. 
He pressed his forehead into his palms, thinking about his actions. Obviously, it was the hottest thing he had ever seen and it gave him unlimited masturbation material, but his goal was to get you off his mind, not to imprint a picture of your bare tits in it. He wouldn’t be able to be in the same room with her without getting a boner.
He cleaned himself up and went to take a nap. It’s the only foolproof method to stop thinking of you.
-
“Dad! We’re home!” Sarah said, walking through the door with you and a few shopping bags. In a few seconds, he came down the stairs rolling up his sleeves. 
“Hey girls, have fun?” His eyes trailed over to you, immediately thinking about his discovery earlier. He had to concentrate harder than he ever had in his entire life to not get a boner right now.
“Yeah! She’s gonna stay the night, that okay?”
“Sure. Just don’t make too much noise past 11, okay? I have work tomorrow.” He answered.
“Yeah, of course. I’m going to go to the bathroom, be right back.”
She left you standing alone in the living room with Joel. 
“I’ve been wondering, where do you guys get all this money for weekly shopping trips? To my knowledge, and not to offend you, I thought you guys were just broke college girls.” He stepped closer, still a considerable distance between you, but closer. 
“Um,” you shifted your weight. “I’m, uh, an intern.” You sounded like you weren’t even sure what you were saying.
“An intern?” Confusion painted his face as he looked you up and down.
“Uh, yeah. Sales.” She stammered. 
“Well,” he couldn’t tell if you were completely lying. You could be an intern and a pornstar on the side. “I’d assume inters don’t make that much money to be carrying around a 3,000 dollar bag.” He was prying. Just a bit. 
“Um,”
“Come up here, why are you still downstairs??” 
God, your best friend has impeccable timing. 
“Coming!” You squeezed past Joel, and ran up the stairs. 
-
“Okay, give it to me slut!! Okay!” 
“Oh my god, literally shut up.” you replied laughing. You were dressed in brand-new lingerie that someone had bought for you off of your amazon wishlist.
You had climbed to the 12th top creator on the site, started making personalized recordings for those who asked. 
Two weeks had past since the incident with Mr. Miller. You wouldn’t necessarily define as an incident, but it was still nerve-racking. If he had looked at you for a second longer with those stern eyes, you would’ve broke. 
Two weeks had past since Joel had stumbled upon the treasure trove that was your page on CamGirl Chic. He started jerking off 3 times a day, unable to feel any emotion but horny. He’d cherish the days you’d come over, incredibly thankful that his daughter has befriended someone like you. The fantasy of you grew by the second, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to handle it.
Now, you, Sarah, Joel were sat at the dinner table. Joel sat next to you and Sarah across from you and Joel. Joel was going on about how Sarah used to do fashion shows for him when she was little.
“And look at this one, it’s when she found her mom’s makeup.” 
“Not that one, come on. That leopard jacket was definitely it though, not gonna lie.” 
He swiped on his phone and turned it over to you. Right as you were looking at Sarah and laughing, a notification popped up on his phone. 
CamGirl Chic: PSSSST... Y/N posted! We’ve noticed she’s your top viewed profile. 
Shock had taken over every limb of your body. You froze. Your eyes widened and thousands of thoughts swarmed your head, and you could barely make any of them out. As soon as he felt the buzz on his phone, he pulled it back and noticed what you saw. You locked eyes for a split second, and you got up immediately and mumbled that you were going to the bathroom.
Every instinct told him that he should follow you and explain himself, but he couldn’t. Not with his daughter sitting in front of the two of you. 
“I’ll be right back.” Sarah stood up, pushed her chair in and followed you to the bathroom.
Swiftly climbing up the stairs and locking the door behind you, you stared at yourself in the dimly lit bathroom. Mentally recalling everything you’ve ever posted, everything he’s seen. 
You felt so exposed, even though you were fully clothed. You couldn’t comprehend every thought you were having, but there’s one thing you couldn’t ignore: the throbbing in your cunt. 
“Open up,” Sarah said, banging on the door. 
“My stomach started hurting.” You lied through your teeth. “It’s okay.”
“Okay, are you sure?”
“Yep. I’ll be out soon.” 
Every bone in his body was deeply, fucking embarrassed. He’d hope you’d just leave, so he’d never have to face you again. 
The rest of the night passed, and he sat in his own guilt, thoughts spiraling. You still hadn’t left, still upstairs with Sarah, so he supposed that was good. His mind was still going a mile a minute, and he realized it was 1 in the morning. 
He decided to get up off the couch, and pour himself a drink to ease his mind. Pouring scotch into thick rimmed glasses, he sat at the table and tried to calm down. 
He wondered if you had told Sarah, and what would happen if that was reality. Guilt and shame poisoned his veins, as he took a drink of the expensive amber liquid.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He wondered if it was Sarah coming to give him a lecture on how disgusting he was. 
It was you. 
You sighed and trailed your fingers along the cabinet, and took out a glass. You filled it with water, but still didn’t see Joel seated at the table in the dim glow of darkness.
“Can’t sleep?” He said lightly from across the kitchen. You jumped, and spun around, glass in your hand.
You flushed red embarrassment, and let your lips fall slightly open in surprise. “No,” you responded, shaking your head. 
Joel got up from the kitchen table, making his way over to you. He stood across from you, leaning on the opposite counter top. It was the furthest thing from roomy, the two of you were tightly together and with another step your chests would be pressed to each other. 
“Me either.” He caught your eye. “Guess I have some explaining to do, huh?”
He was confused at your eagerness with him, your comfortability. The sense that your body was tense, but not in a way where you wanted to retreat back upstairs, or leave the room. 
“I don’t know what to say.” You said, flatly. 
“Well, that makes two of us.” A smile played on his lips, looking down your frame. “I’m sorry.” He thought saying sorry would be the best thing to do in this situation.
“Why?” You looked directly in his eyes now, truly wanting to know the reason. 
He didn’t say anything. His face was also expressionless, so you had no idea what he was thinking.
“I’m the one who posted them.” You took a sip of your water. “Anyone can view it, I guess.” 
“Why are you still here?” He asked, changing the subject. The air was hot between the two of you and the small amount of distance between both of your bodies was making you sweat. “I’d thought you would have left by now, y’know. And never come back.”
“I didn’t want to leave Sarah.” You faked a smile, looking at the ground and definitely not the way his hands gripped the counter top and the way his shirt strained his broad shoulders.
“Is that really the reason?” He probed, raising an eyebrow.
“Joel, I-“
“I couldn’t help myself.” He interrupted.
You took a deep breath. “What?”
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me.” He took a step closer to you, taking the water out of your hand and putting it down on the counter. “You’re beautiful. I’m sure you know that.”
He lifted his hand, brushing hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He let his fingers trail softly down your jawline. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.” You didn’t even think about your response before you said it. 
“Good,” his hand returned to your face, cold fingers lifting up your chin, forcing you to face him. “Have you thought about this?” his words barely above a whisper.
“I...”
He tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck, leaning in gently. “Answer me.” He whispered against your skin, you could feel the soft vibration of his words against you.
“I have.” You admitted, adjusting yourself against his frame, his body weight pressed up against yours.
“Me too. A day hasn’t gone by where I haven’t thought about this.” His fingers slipped down, and brushed the strap of your tank top off of your shoulder.
Every bone in your goddamn body wanted to submit to him. The intoxicating smell of his cologne filled your senses, his body heat pressing against yours and his hands trailing up your frame.
“Sarah’s upstairs, Joel.” you whispered in his ear while his thumb slipped in the waistband of your shorts.
“Guess you’ll have to be quiet then.” He smirked, trailing kisses on your collarbone.
His hands swept down your frame, just below your ass. He picked you up like it was the easiest thing in the world, and set you on the counter top. You were eye to eye.
“Do you want this?” He breathed. “Say the word and all of this stops, you understand?”
“I want this Joel, I want you, take me. Please.” You pleaded, your hands searching for the hem of his shirt.
“Someone’s eager.” His hands sat at the small of your back. “Listen to me. I won’t be gentle. I can’t be gentle. Needed this for so fuckin’ long.”
You nodded. His words were sickening. He slid your shorts off of you with ease, discarding them somewhere irrelevant.
He pushed you forward. Your legs spread by default, pushing your clothed cunt against his throbbing cock. You moaned at the impact, and he felt you clench around nothing.
“Shhh, you have to be quiet. Remember?”
“Yes I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. You were rutting your hips against him, trying to find any kind of friction to satisfy you.
He kissed you. Hard. Lips melting together as he took control over your whole body. You could die from the intimacy of it. It was slow, raw. He tried kissing away all of your thoughts, until the only image that would be imprinted in your brain was him. He wanted to consume all of your senses until there was nothing left for you to do but beg him to fuck you.
Transitioning away from your lips, he kissed along your jawline and down your neck, pressing a hickey into your searing skin below your neck. He stepped back and looked you up and down, spread open and ready for him to do whatever he pleased.
“Saw these.” He tugged at your lace underwear and let it slide off his thumb with a snap. “In your pictures.” He angled your hips up slightly to get a better angle, touching you ever so slightly through your underwear.
You rut against his hand like it was an instinct. He traced the wet outline and thumbed your clit until you bit your lip to conceal a moan. He moved your underwear to the side and ran a finger down your folds. He relished in watching the curves and contours of your body against the soft glow of the moonlight seeping through the window.
“You let everyone see you.” Two fingers rubbed your clit in circles. “I don’t like that.”
No one had ever touched you like this before. He twisted his wrist to fit his fingers inside you like it was nothing. You were so wet you could hear it. His palm flat against your clit as he fingered you wide open on his expensive marble counter top.
You held on to his arm to root you to reality, trying so hard not to make a sound.
“For fucks sake, it’s killing me that I can’t hear you right now. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Your breathing deepened at the slight promise of this happening again. He noticed your grip on his arm growing tighter, and he slid his fingers out of you almost instantaneously.
“No, please keep going.” You whined at the loss of contact, looking up at him with wide doe eyes.
“Shut up.” He snapped, the darkness of his voice settling in your stomach.
He pulled your hips off the counter gently, placing you down on your feet. He spun you around until you weren’t facing him anymore. Your hands flat against the marble. He shoved his knee in between your legs to spread you out, and gently pressed your body down to get your hips where he needed them. Your top half was laying down against the cold. 
He dropped to his knees and places two firm hands on your ass, stretching, to give him the perfect view of your wet cunt that was dripping down your thighs. He pulled your underwear down to your ankles, and the strings of wetness that clung to the fabric made him groan. 
He kissed in between your thighs, leaving hickies along the way. Secretly he hoped you’d post pictures and everyone who saw would wonder who had taken you, worshiped you.
He wrapped his lips around your clit and it ignited something devastating inside of you. It made your legs squeeze together, but he effortlessly kept you apart. This was so obscenely sexy for him. He wanted to tear you apart from the inside out, spread you open and drink from the source. He could feel you dripping down his throat as he scissored you open with just the flick of his tongue.
You felt him moan against you, the vibrations sending sparks throughout your whole body. He was eating you like a man starved, and you were his last meal. There was no method to his madness anymore, simply animalistic, and it felt so fucking good.  
He was devouring you. He snaked an arm around your waist and encouraged you to grind against his face. For a split second you were embarrassed, but he face fucked that thought right out of your mind. You were gripping nothing to keep yourself steady, and one hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming his name. 
Your vision went white and your body went numb, spiraling pleasure coursing through your veins. He had to keep you steady, but his tongue fucked you through it. He didn’t stop until you were done shaking, and still kissed your clit a few times after that for good measure. 
The taste of your pleasure on his lips is something he could only dream of. He could’ve came right there, through his pants and untouched by you.
He stood up and promptly slapped your ass, grabbing it like it was his. He spun you back around so you could face him. He kissed you, but not like before. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he moaned into your mouth, one hand cupping your cheek and the other grabbing a fistful of your ass. You felt his cock throbbing and straining against you, and suddenly you needed to know what he tasted like. 
You pulled away from his kiss and started to untie the drawstring of his sweatpants. A low groan rumbled through him as you palmed him through the layers of clothing. He caught your eye for a moment, smirking down at you in the darkness. The way he looked at you made you feel warm. It made you appreciate the deep grooves of his cheek, the purse of his lips, the furrow of his brow. 
“Can I?” you questioned, eyeing him up and down as you pulled down his sweatpants. 
“Yes. Fuck.” 
You started to crouch down before him, but before your knees could hit the ground he stopped you. He pulled his shirt off and from this angle he looked heavenly. You were sure he was hand crafted by the gods and put on this earth for only you to enjoy. 
“Here baby,” He bunched up the shirt and placed it on the ground in front of him. “For your knees.”
Your cheeks warmed up at the sincere gesture. You knelt down on the ground and steadied yourself before reaching up and pulling down his pants and breifs. His cock springs out in front of you. Shit. He’s fucking huge. Bigger than anyone you had ever been with, bigger than any toy you’ve ever tried. You struggle to fit your fingers fully around it. 
You look up to him as you watch his eyes flutter closed. You open your mouth and cover your teeth as you take the tip of him inside your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down a few times, you go back to the top and lick the slit drooling precum on your tongue. 
The strangled moan of your name makes you drip onto his shirt. He moved his hands down to your face and gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You go down further, pushing your limits, all to please him. 
When the tip touched the back of your throat you gagged, pulling off of him with lines of spit connecting his cock to your lips. You stared up at him through your eyelashes while stroking him mindlessly, trying to catch your breath before taking him again. 
“You’re so fucking pretty.” He growled, tightening his grip in your hair. “Thought about you taking my cock in your mouth every damn time you talked to me.”
“Wanted it for so long, Joel.” You mumbled against him before going back to suck him again. You found a steady rhythm, your hands and mouth working simultaneously. Every so often going back to the top and showing extra special attention to his tip because he seemed to like that, every time you did earning extra praise and a tighter hand tangled in your hair. 
“Look at you. Fuckin’ mess.” He said through gritted teeth. Your hair was sweaty stuck to your forehead, mascara running down your cheeks, lips pouted and glossy covered in spit. It made him feral. “Get off honey. Wanna cum inside you.”
You popped off of him with a moan, standing up and pressing your chests together. 
“I need you baby. Need to know what you feel like.”
“Fuck me Joel. I’m begging you.” 
He spun you back around to your original position, belly flat against the counter. He lay a hand flat against your back and placed his cock at the entrance of your hole. He felt you clenching, and he started to rub your lower back. The calloused fingertips against your soft skin.
“Relax.” He whispered and you obeyed him. 
It was a sweet sting at first, that turned into a flaming ache. It made your vision foggy. You knew right then and there, nothing you would ever experience for the rest of your life would feel as good as the drag of his cock inside you. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twitch. 
You felt like you lost consciousness for a second, but regained it with the brutal snap of his hips. Very quickly he found a pace he liked and stuck with it. You screamed out on instinct, and seconds later you were met with his hand across your mouth.
“Be fuckin’ quiet.” He snapped. He pulled you up by your shoulders, your back against his front. You’d never been in this position before, his cock was so deep inside you, you were seeing stars. You were whining against his hand and letting him use you like a toy. He was splitting you open and you fucking loved it.
“Shit, this is a perfect pussy.” He said, his pace increasing as you felt the head of him brush something deep inside of you. You felt impossibly full, pleasure coursing through every vein of your body just letting him take you in any way he needed. “If it were up to me you’d be all mine. All those pictures gone. No one else could look at you, fuck you, except for me.” 
That made your eyes roll back in your head. If you could drop everything and belong to Joel, would you?
“None of the guys who look at your pictures could ever fuck you so stupid. None of them deserve you. None of them would worship you like this.” 
The white hot pleasure rolled inside of you, sparking every where it could like a frayed wire and igniting fires inside of you. He was playing you like an instrument, every move methodic as you internalized the divine feeling of the snap of his hips. He struck down on your ass, leaving a red mark. 
“Oh fuck, oh god Joel” you panted. 
He snaked a hand around you and rubbed your clit in circles, and relished in your bitten back moans and cries for his name being muted by the roughness of his hand. He felt your muscles going limp underneath him. He felt you squeezing him tightly.
“You gonna cum baby? Go ahead, soak my cock.” His voice just above a whisper. 
You soaked his stomach, his thighs, yourself, cumming all over him but his pace didn’t relent. He’s using you. Sliding in and out while holding your body upright against him. He’s ruining you even more than before, the sound of your wetness squelching with the crack of his hips. You felt like you were going to die, in the best way. If you died right now with his cock inside of you, it wouldn’t be too bad. 
You felt his hips falter, and you knew he was close. The moans he was choking back sounded like heaven. The whisper of your name on his lips did something cynical to you. 
“Where do you want it?” He managed. 
“In. Inside. Need to feel it, Joel.” 
Not even a second later you felt it pour through you, the warmth of it filling up your cunt and dripping out of your hole. He pulled out and watched himself drip out of you. It was pornographic. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds to push it back inside you, gasping when it hit your swollen clit. 
He grabbed your underwear off of the floor and pulled them up your legs. Gently fitting them back around your waist.
He pulled you around by your hips and gently kissed your forehead. Pulling away, he wiped the hair stuck down by sweat off of your neck. “You’re fucking amazing.” You didn’t answer, too blissed out from the pleasure he just poured from you. 
“Okay, come on.” He gathered your clothes off the floor and poured you a cup of water. “Come sleep with me in the guest bedroom down here.” 
“Kay.” You purred, following him. He opened the door for you and let you walk in first. He listened for any noises before closing the door and locking it behind him. 
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reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated
© phuckinphia, 2022.
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gay-dorito-dust · 9 days
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How these goofs react to you letting go of their hand all of a sudden…
Dick’s is a bit short cuz it is. Take that what you will. Plush he looks like the type to have a somewhat skincare routine/ enjoy participating in a skincare routine but that’s just me.
Dick Grayson exe has stopped working.
No literally, he just stares at his hand that you let go of as it grasps thin air.
You broke him. Congratulations.
Now apologise to poor Dickie bird for pulling such a stunt.
‘Why did you let go? What’s wrong?’ He’d ask, reaching a hand over to try and grab your hand again, only for you to pull away.
You shrugged ‘nothing, I just don’t feel like holding hands right now.’
Dick blinked. ‘Is it because I’m wearing moisturiser and it’s making your hand slip out of mine?’ He asked out of the blue and you couldn’t help but smile at his spontaneity sometimes.
‘No, it’s not because of that, even though it doesn’t get a bit…much sometimes.’ You muttered the last part under your breath. Dick beamed brightly when it wasn’t anything that he had done specifically that made you want to stop holding hands, and immediately grabbed for your hand again and intertwined your fingers together. ‘Good because I hope you know that I’m not letting go of your hand now.’ He said.
You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him as Dick was at his cutest when he was happy and beaming brightly; Besides it was a silly prank you pulled that wouldn’t have lasted long anyways. ‘Fine by me, Dickie bird. Fine by me.’ You said to yourself as you both walked home from a date night well done.
Jason Todd would only try to hold your hand again as though nothing happened.
Then when you’d slip your hand from him a second time, Jason would stop, grab your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours and hiss. ‘Stop it, you’re acting like you don’t want to hold my hand.’
‘Well what if I don’t to?’ You asked him innocently enough and Jason stops to look at you, eyes softened. ‘If you didn’t want to hole my hand chipmunk, all you had to do was say so.’ Just as he was about to let go of your hand completely, you were quick to hold his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.
Jason raised his brows at you. ‘I didn’t peg you as the type to backpedal on your own prank sweetheart.’ He began. ‘Now I wonder why that is?’ He’d ask as he began to lead you both down the street again. You pouted, squeezing his hand, too stubborn to admit the fact that you loved the way that Jason’s hand felt within your own; Feeling protected, safe and sound. Also with the way that his hand encased yours in pure warmth was just an added bonus.
‘You keep me warm.’ You said but the way you worded it made it sound more of a question than anything else, and Jason picked that up almost immediately as he wolfishly smirked at you. ‘Is that your sole reason. That I keep you warm?’ He asks as he leaned towards your face, his hot breath fanning across your face. ‘Now why don’t I believe that.’ He adds and you took a deep breath to compose yourself before responding. ‘Believe me or not but that’s my only reason for holding your hand.’
Jason pouts as he holds his free hand against his chest as though he were hurt by your response. ‘If all I am to you is a hand warmer, then I guess I must accept my fate.’ He joked and you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics, fondly remembering the night that he confessed his adoration for everything theatre. ‘I guess you should.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘We’ve got some books that require some much needed reading waiting for us at home after all.’ You added and smiled as Jason practically dragged you all the way home as he strode long strides.
Damian Wayne would react to you unceremoniously letting go of his hand the same way he’d react if someone were to insult his entire lineage; with a disgusted sneer.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He’d ask, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously unamused.
‘Didn’t feel like holding your hand anymore.’ You admitted with a shrug.
Damian huffs. ‘If that’s your reasoning then so be it.’ He’d then continue to walk off without another word.
Yep, that was Damian’s way of telling you that you just lost hand holding privileges for a week. Upon noticing this, you were quick to try and catch up to him and attempted multiple times to hold his hand once more, only for Damian to swiftly avoid your advances as though you were the plague.
‘Damian.’ You grunted as he dodged another one of your attempts of holding his hand. ‘Hold still and let me hold your fucking hand.’ Damian raised his brow at you and scoffs. ‘Tt. Done being childish have you?’ He asks rhetorically as you tried to hold his hand for the third time in the past five minutes. ‘It was only a prank Dami!’ You exclaimed, stopping in your footfalls when Damian stopped abruptly in front of you.
‘I’m aware.’ He answered dryly.
‘If I say sorry, will you let me hold your hand?’ You asked, regretting ever pulling a prank on Damian on the first place because no matter how low you’d go, Damian would somehow manage to go into the depths of hell to get his own back tenfold. Damian raised his brows. ‘Perhaps. Depends on how well put together your apology is.’
You groaned in frustration, knowing that you’ll never win with this little shit. ‘Fine. I’m sorry for pranking you Damian. How’s that for an apology?’ You said as quickly as you could just to get it over with in hopes of sparing yourself even more embarrassment. Damian pondered for a little bit and was about to say no and go back to walking, but when he caught a glimpse of your face, he knew then and there that he had truly gone soft as he found himself offering up his hand to you.
‘Don’t do it again.’ Was all he said and you immediately beamed as you clasped your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you began to walk down the street.
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pearynice · 7 months
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Steve learned from a young age that negative reactions were not to be tolerated.
Neutral reactions were safest, but positive ones would be accepted too.
No matter how angry his father got, or how stressed out his mother became, Steve had to be the constant. He was there to be a sounding board. To swallow their anger and their anxieties so they could be free of it.
If his father slammed doors or yelled himself hoarse, if his mother put the dishes away so aggressively the china would crack, he was to accept it. Expect it, even.
“Maybe you left them at the restaurant,” Steve had suggested one evening, after his mother couldn’t find her sunglasses.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she’d dismissed, “I had them when we left the restaurant.”
“We could go back and double check,” Steve had offered, and his mother had fixed him with a stern look.
“Please, Steven, listen to me,” she’d said, emphasizing each word like he was dim, “I had them when I left the restaurant.”
Steve had frowned, then, because her reaction wasn’t fair. He was only trying to help. “I’m only trying to help.” He had snapped back, hurt interlacing every word.
His mother had sighed. “Please, don’t take everything so personally, Steven,” she’d say, which he’d grow to learn was her favorite thing to say- to tell him to not take everything so personally- “you always act like I’m so mean to you- let me tell you, kids these days are so soft- do you know the kinds of things my mother used to yell at me?”
And ever since then, those were her words of comfort. For Steve to not take everything so personally. But what she really meant, he eventually learned, maybe too slowly for her liking, is that as much as his parents were allowed to shout and swear and knock things around, he was to stay perfectly neutral. 
And so he did. He learned to shut down and not engage when people got mad, or sad, or irritated. He was to not react. 
And he was to certainly never express those emotions himself. 
And then Nancy was different. She knew, somehow, even though he was so good at hiding it, when he was mad, or sad, or irritated. She’d wrap him in her arms and press her lips to his cheek, and promise that she was there for him. That it was okay.
Until it wasn’t okay. Until it was all bullshit. And his feelings didn’t feel like his own anymore, even the happy ones. Until blocking out the good felt as necessary as blocking out the bad.
But then he had Robin. Through the worst night of his life he got Robin, and Steve would endure the Russian torture all over again if it meant he got to keep his best friend. His platonic soulmate. Because she loved him, unconditionally, she loved him, through his bitchiness and his anger and his fear she loved him, and she loved him so much that his happiness could become her's, and he had never met anyone who saw him so completely.
But it was still hard. He had a difficult time engaging when people got mad. Had a hard time hearing and listening when he got into spats with anyone but her, because if it wasn't her, it wasn't safe.
——
“Are you even listening?” Eddie snaps, his face twisting into a deeper frown. A hurt frown.
There’s a hard set to his jaw now. Steve can see the way his muscles flex around the bone, jumping and twitching as his boyfriend stares at him.
“Yes,” Steve says, and he wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs. “I promise, I’m listening.”
“Really?” Eddie says tersely, and he leans on the kitchen counter, gaze boring into Steve as he continues, “what did I just say, then?”
Fuck. It was- 
It was something about Steve cleaning. Eddie hadn’t liked it. Stomped through the living room and the kitchen and the dining room trying to find something-
And the footsteps were heavy, and irritated, and Steve hadn’t wanted to listen anymore. Because if he was neutral, if he blocked it out, the storm would pass.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says instead, and he moves so he can take one of Eddie’s hands, “I promise, baby, it won’t happen again,” he reaches for Eddie’s hand, but his boyfriend steps out of the way.
“What won’t happen again?” And Eddie’s not shouting, hasn’t even raised his voice, but Steve can feel pins and needles in his fingertips because he doesn’t know what to do. He stayed neutral. He doesn’t know how to swallow this. How to soak in Eddie’s anger until it goes away.
“The-” Steve flounders, “the- the cleaning. It won’t.” He swallows thickly. “That’s what won’t.”
The frown line between Eddie’s eyebrows softens, just a little.
“Steve,” he says, and his voice is much, much softer now, “are you okay?”
Steve nods mutely. Of course, he’s okay. He’s always okay.
Eddie’s arms drop from their crossed position across his chest. “Stevie,” he says, and Steve loves it when he calls him that, “where'd you go, just now?”
Eddie’s wrapping his hand around Steve’s, now. Which is good. Touch makes sense. And this kind of touch, the ones Eddie gives him, are always soft. Always gentle and reassuring. 
“Sorry,” Steve whispers again. “I don’t like arguing. It makes it hard to think.”
Eddie’s thumb starts running gently over Steve’s knuckles. 
“Okay,” Eddie sounds uncertain. “Baby, look at me.”
Steve lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s. His boyfriend smiles at him. It’s a sad smile. “I love you,” he says, “even when I’m frustrated, I love you, okay?”
Steve nods mutely again. 
“Was it something I said?” And Eddie sounds so sad when he asks, and Steve would do anything to make that sadness go away.
“No,” he reassures, and he tries to smile. “No, Eddie. It’s nothing you did.”
Eddie doesn’t look convinced. He looks even sadder, now, and Steve doesn’t know how to get this to stop.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “tell me what’s going on in there.” He brings his free hand up to Steve’s head, rests his thumb against his temple.
Steve leans into the touch, closes his eyes, because it’s easier that way. “I dunno,” he whispers, “it’s like my whole brain shuts off when I know someone’s mad.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. He wraps his arms around Steve, brings him into his chest even though they’re the same height. Steve’s always liked it here, in Eddie’s chest. It makes him feel protected.
“I’m not mad anymore,” Eddie promises. He presses a kiss to the top of Steve’s head. “It wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ve had a bad day. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. I’m sorry too, my love.”
It takes many more fights after that one before Eddie completely understands. But eventually, through the years, Steve feels comfortable enough to start little fights of his own. To tell Eddie off for leaving his dirty socks in their bed. To tell him no we can’t keep an entire litter of kittens.
And Eddie would listen every time. And sometimes his boyfriend would get mad, too. And those times they would fight. Once or twice they’d even slept in separate beds. 
But always Eddie made him feel safe. Steve could respond without fear because Eddie made space for him. He made space for Steve’s anger and irritation and insecurities, because Eddie loves him through it all.
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goggles-mcgee · 3 months
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Phantom Fudge
I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.
My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!
His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.
I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.
So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.
That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.
From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.
Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.
Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.
One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.
Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.
They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.
A coincidence surely.
Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.
Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.
The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'
Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.
While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.
The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.
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Burns Like Rum
Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav
Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.
Word Count: 7,840 words
Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet
18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock
Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)
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☟ Continue below the fold ☟
Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.
The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.
He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.
It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.
But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.
You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.
"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.
Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.
And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.
You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.
"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.
"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.
"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"
You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.
"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"
Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."
She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."
You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."
You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.
It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.
The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.
She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.
"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."
"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.
She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.
You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"
"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.
But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"
"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."
Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.
Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.
He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.
You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."
From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."
Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."
He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."
"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.
"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."
You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."
"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.
You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.
Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"
"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.
Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"
"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.
He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.
"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable
"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."
He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.
"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.
Astarion sighed. "...Night."
~❊~
You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.
You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.
"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.
"Stop what?"
"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.
Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"
"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."
You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"
Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."
You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"
"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."
You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.
His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.
"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."
"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"
Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.
"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.
Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.
"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"
"I could go for a little," you said.
Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.
You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.
He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.
"You're starving, aren't you?"
"You have no idea," he whispered.
"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."
Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"
You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."
His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"
A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.
Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."
"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.
He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."
~❊~
Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.
You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.
You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."
Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.
He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.
A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"
You nodded. "Just a bit."
Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."
You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.
"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.
He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.
"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"
Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."
Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.
"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.
"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.
You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.
It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.
Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"
You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.
The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.
"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.
You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.
Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"
You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."
"Are you ready?"
You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.
Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.
One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"
"Please do," you said.
"Arms up."
He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.
"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.
"Yes, dear?"
You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."
He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.
"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.
You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.
"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.
You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"
"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."
Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.
Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.
The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.
"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"
You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.
Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.
Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.
He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.
Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.
Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.
"Look at you," he whispered.
The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.
He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.
He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.
You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.
"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."
You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.
You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.
"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.
He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.
"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.
He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.
"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."
Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.
He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.
You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.
Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.
Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"
"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.
He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."
He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.
You smiled. "There's more where that came from."
Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.
You nodded. "I can take a few more."
He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."
You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."
The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."
He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.
Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.
He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.
"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.
You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."
The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."
You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."
He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."
You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"
Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.
"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.
Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.
You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.
You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.
"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.
He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.
Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.
Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.
The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.
Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.
You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.
But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.
He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"
You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.
"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."
He snorted. "Excuse you!"
"It's all over your face!"
He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."
Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."
He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.
"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.
"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"
Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."
You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.
"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.
You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"
The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.
"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."
He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."
You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.
His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.
His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."
You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."
Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.
"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."
He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.
You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.
When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."
You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."
You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."
He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."
Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.
You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.
He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"
~❊~
You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.
Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.
Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.
You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.
You were wrong.
Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.
"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.
"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"
You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"
She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"
"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."
She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."
You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.
You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.
Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"
You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"
"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"
"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"
You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."
Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.
"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.
Astarion smirked.
"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."
He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.
Karlach squeaked.
"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."
"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."
You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"
Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.
A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.
"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.
You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."
Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"
Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"
"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."
"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."
☞ ❊ ☜
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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin
part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!
Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}
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You Call Me Love & I Call You Home - Max Verstappen
Summary: Max realises that Y/n shows her love in it's purest form and Y/n realises that she didn't know what home felt like till Max .
Ok, after the absolute filth I wrote for Lando in my last fic. I'm going to follow up with some soppy love for Max. I promise one day Max's day will come to get smut because I swear this man gives me some vibes that are...unholy.
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Max didn't believe in love at first sight till he saw y/n. It almost felt like he was drowning from the second he saw her to the second she appear walking with Christian, she hadn't even looked at him but her presence spread a warmth through him and made his heart trip for a moment.
Y/n works in the Red Bull team as a photographer and she was new for 2023.
A good year to join the team by any standards.
But Max couldn't stop his nerves from lumping in his throat with this young woman.
It only took an introduction for him to know that he was going to have to do something about how he felt as soon as possible. So he did, and while at first y/n was hesitant for a few reasons. She did eventually agree to a date.
That date led to another and then they slept together and then she started going home with him between races and the relationship moved fast but they were both so happy.
"It's cold. Did you bring your jacket?" Max asks as they arrive at the paddock and she yawns having not slept all that well just because of the timezone change being so drastic for Australia.
"No. I forgot it." She sighs knowing that it was stupid not to bring a jacket. "I'll be fine. It's not that cold."
Max looks at her for a moment, his expression is hard to read but she just grins at him then kissing him quickly before she closes the space between them and begins to climb out the car.
It takes less than 3 seconds for Max to watch her shiver as she closes the door. He kind of has to smile over her insistence that she'd be fine before he climbs out grabbing his stuff from the back but most importantly grabbing the jacket he brought for himself and moving around to her where she's just sort of waiting for him.
"Arms, love." Max instructs making her look up from her phone with a small frown of confusion. "You are cold."
Y/n's expression softens before she accepts the branded Red Bull jacket and smiles as he helps her into it with a focused expression, clearly not noticing her completely love-struck expression as he adjusts the jacket that is really too big on her to try and fit better.
"Do you have everything?" Max asks before noticing her expression. "What?"
"Just...you...you're the best." Y/n shrugs with a bright smile and shrug earning a small smile before he leans forward and kisses her.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Her hand links to his own as they walk into the paddock and as soon as y/n is in the Red Bull unit, she rushes to his driver's room, digging around till she finds a fleece and puts it on Max so he isn't cold and he notices that she is too focused one er task to car that Christian is trying to speak to Max or that Helmut is discussing something with him.
All she cares about is returning the love towards Max that he gives to her. But then she goes a step further, grabbing him some breakfast and snacks for through the day since like many F1 drivers, he needs to make sure he's eating enough to make up the amount he burns off just as part of the sport.
Y/n makes no secret that she loves Max because she loves him. There's no other reason that she treats him with so much care and love.
She loves him.
-
Y/n fell asleep on the flight home and since Max didn't want to wake her. He decided to drive from Nice to Monaco rather than get his helicopter like he usually would.
So when she wakes up in their bed, slightly confused over how she got there.
"Max?" Y/n calls out as she gets up, aware of the fact Max must've changed her out of her outfit for travelling and into something else. Meaning she was definitely in one of her deeper sleeps.
"Hello, sleepy." Max smiles as he sits down seemingly having a sixth sense in her waking up since he's just made them some food. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah, super good." Y/n nods as he slides a plate over to her. "Thank you."
Y/n is honestly feeling a bit rough and it's only part way through the meal that she begins to think she knows why she was sleeping so heavily.
"Are you ok?" Max asks noticing her zoning out from listening to him. Which a lot of people would assume is normal, but y/n is always actively listening to him, so her not listening is unusual.
"I...I don't think I feel well." Y/n murmurs standing up as she feels the food in her stomach unsettle itself. She steps away from the food while Max moves closer to her but the moment he goes to put his hand on her forehead to check her temperature, she takes off running.
Within an hour Max has a doctor there and y/n is being fussed over once the doctor has confirmed it's a stomach bug. Likely something she caught while they've been travelling.
Essentially there is no quick fix and she just has to sweat it out.
What that means in Max's eyes is that she is going to need to be coddled, comfortable and kept a close eye on. He even keeps emptying the bucket of its lets than appealing contents once y/n has been sick yet again. By this point it’s only bile coming up so it’s not really anything too sickening. Plus his concern for y/n’s welfare overpowers any potential disgust of clearing away her vomit.
"You're supposed to be on the simulator." Y/n mumbles as she wakes up from yet another deep sleep and finds that Max is still there on the bed with her.
"I don't want to leave you if you're not well, plus you keep shifting like you're not comfortable." Max shrugs like it's no big deal then moving to shift some loose strands of her hair. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit better...it is nice that you're here." Y/n smiles watching him smile down at her before she groans. "Can I have some water?"
"Yeah, of course you can." Max smiles before he reaches over grabbing a glass of water as she sits up, though she can't help but smile a little more when he holds the glass to her mouth for her and even places a hand on her back while she takes some small sips.
Even too much water has proven to upset her stomach enough for her to vomit, so instead she just sips enough to stay hydrated.
"Thank you." Y/n mumbles with a yawn. "Can I move?"
"Can you move?" Max frowns in confusion clearly not sure what she means till she begins to shift and closes the space between them with him. She positions herself to lie back on him after settling between his legs.
He kisses the top of her head softly as he feels her burning body against his, and while his instinct is to move and get her something to help cool her down. She's already fallen asleep against him and he's certain that she's more comfortable, and really her fever will break at some point on it's own.
Eventually she's well enough for him to get her to the bath where he gets in with her, just so she can sort of be as comfortable as she was in the bed.
"You know...I know this isn't technically home." Y/n mumbles quietly while feeling Max wash her back. "But you make this always feel like home."
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Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko
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AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo
~1400 word count
Part 2 once your done reading :)
SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...
The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.
You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.
"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.
On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.
Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.
"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.
While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.
You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.
Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.
Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."
Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.
Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"
'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'
You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.
Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.
You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.
Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.
"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.
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munsonhoneybaby · 10 months
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Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader
Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???
A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.
part one | finale
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When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.
“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 
Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”
“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”
“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.
Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”
“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”
Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”
“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”
“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.
“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”
“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”
“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”
“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.
“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”
“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”
He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”
Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 
“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.
“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.
“You should be.”
“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”
Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”
Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”
“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.
“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”
Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”
You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”
“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”
You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”
His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”
Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”
“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.
“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”
A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”
“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”
“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”
Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”
“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”
Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”
He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”
“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”
“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 
“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.
He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”
“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”
“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”
“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 
“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.
“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 
“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”
The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”
“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 
“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 
His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”
“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.
Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”
“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 
“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 
Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.
He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”
“Happy to return the favor.”
“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.
“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.
“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”
“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”
“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”
Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”
Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”
“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”
“I’ll call you, okay?” 
Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.
Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.
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Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”
“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”
There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”
Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”
“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”
“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”
“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”
Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.
You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.
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You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”
“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”
He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”
“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 
The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”
“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”
“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”
“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.
“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”
Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”
“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”
“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”
“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”
He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”
Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”
“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”
“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”
“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 
“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”
His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”
“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”
“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.
Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”
His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 
Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”
“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.”
When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”
Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”
“See, that? Mean. So mean.”
“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”
He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”
“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”
“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 
Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.
He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”
“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”
“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 
He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”
“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”
“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.
“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”
Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”
You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.
Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”
He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”
“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”
“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.
“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try.”
Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”
Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.
He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”
The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.
“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”
“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.
Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”
“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”
Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 
He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”
“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.
“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”
You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”
“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”
“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”
“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”
Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.
He was gonna change that.
Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.
Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”
Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”
“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.
Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.
When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”
But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.
“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.
Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”
Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.
“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.
Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.
“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.
“I’m listening.”
He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.
He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”
 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
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finale
tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute
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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)
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loveemagicpeace · 4 months
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🪐Saturn in Signs🪐
⭐️Saturn in Aries- in your early childhood, it can be more difficult for you to express yourself and your energy. Maybe it's hard for you to show that you're angry or you're getting better so that people won't accept it. You can be afraid of many things. You may be afraid of speed or of heights. Your talents are not noticed that much. Later in life you become fearless and you have a lot of courage. You do a lot of things that people will never thought that you will actually do. You become imune about what other people think of you. You can express yourself in a very nice and easy way. So you can be afraid of things that include needles so that means piercings and tattos can be scary for you. But later in life you start to love it. You can change your appearance a lot. Saturn asks you to stand confident in your own skin. You take charge of your destiny, and this helps you win your own respect.
🌙Saturn in Taurus- in your early childhood you may be afraid of expressing your true value to others. Losing money or not having enough can also be your fear. Maybe you've never found true pleasure or you've never been able to enjoy the things you love or luxuries enough. You may have felt less worthy or not noticed enough. Later in life you find a way to enjoy money and the things you love. You find your true value. You set a lot of boundaries for yourself. Also such people tend to be thrifty, and spend only on what they actually need. You can have a lot of patience in life.
⚡️Saturn in Gemini-in your early childhood you feel like you'll never been seen or heard enough. Maybe you're communication was not that good and people misunderstood you or treat you like you are not smart enough. Maybe you had some kind of issue with neighborhood or siblings or relatives or this kind of things. However, these natives are also prone to bouts of sudden sadness and even depression because overthinking comes in, along with pointless worrying, and an exaggeration of the uncertainty in their lives .Later in life you find a way to communicate with others in a completely different way. People can find you as a person who has a good mindset.
🌸Saturn in Cancer- in your early childhood you may felt like your family was not around much or your mother or not that much you will want her to be. Maybe you felt like black sheep in your family or that you are not seen enough. You felt you didn't get enough emotional care. You have a strong fondness for children and friends but you do not like to show your love and emotions to them. Later you find people around whom you feel more noticed and you find your comfort zone where you feel safe.
🐚Saturn in Leo- in your early childhood you felt unseen. You felt that people don't notice your talents. You were afraid that you would never be seen enough and that you would never find passion. It could also be that you didn't have a special hobby or that it was difficult for you to find it. Later in life you find your joys and something you really enjoy. You also become seen for who you are. You can best live your dreams by taking calculated risks and developing your considerable talents.
🧸Saturn in Virgo-In your early childhood, you may have been very concerned about what others thought of you and how you would look. You took criticism very poorly and it could have hurt you many times. Maybe you listen too much to the advice of others instead of listening to yourself in general. Later this changes and you start to listen to yourself more. Your challenge is not to leave your whole self, including the body, behind, as you go about your day. The more you believe in yourself and do calm things, the better you will feel.
👄Saturn in Libra- in early childhood you may have felt that you were not worthy of love or that you would never be good enough for someone. It is also possible that you had the feeling that no one will love you as much as you would like. It could also be that you didn't love yourself. In the long run, this can also result in you looking for someone who will really suit you for a long time. But it becomes easier because you start to believe more in love and that you deserve to be loved.
🦂Saturn in Scorpio- in early childhood you may have felt as if only bad or dark things are happening to you. You felt like you had no control and no power. You felt like everything was taking away your power. This can sometimes result in you having problems letting others be in control. You may have felt like people don't see you for who you really are. This is an intense, deep experience that challenges you to dig into your soul for purpose and meaning. Means this placement will change the way you will experience life. You’re an intense seeker of wisdom and meaning.
🎆Saturn in Sagittarius- in your early childhood you felt like you didn't have to find happiness in anything. Maybe you had trouble finding the meaning of life, the path and optimism. It can make you feel like you're never truly happy or finding the happiness you're looking for. Your gift is that you are willing to share whatever knowledge you have with those around you. Later in life you find happiness in many things and shine more than others.
🌁Saturn in Capricorn- in your early childhood you felt like your parents weren't with you as much or your father wasn't there for you. When born under this influence, you tend to take your responsibilities seriously and value the importance of planning. You probably had a lot of chores and grown-up things as a child that others didn't. You learned many things before others. You probably feel the heaviness of life, as if you are carrying the world on your shoulders. But later in life you really shine and you achieve a lot of goals and you have a very good career. You get recognition.
🪼Saturn in Aquarius- in your early childhood you felt like as if you were not accepted into society or friend groups. You may felt like outsider. Maybe a lot of people didn't like you because you were too smart. You know how to find the people in this world you can make the most change with. As a natural leader, others will often lean heavily on you with your Saturn in Aquarius. You’ll create an even stronger foundation that both you and your world can depend on.
🪷Saturn in Pisces- in your early childhood you felt like as if people don't know you, don't see you, as if you're not so much in the foreground, that your talents and the things you do aren't noticed as much. Many times people may have accused you of things you did not do. You may have been wronged many times. U were always in your own world. Reality was too much for you. You may take on the pains or joys of others as their experiences interplay with your own. Later in life you find your own way and deal with your subconscious which becomes very strong.
-Rebekah⭐️🐚💕
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