#{let me know if this is okay or if you're not feeling comfortable with Roan going into Kiran's mind}

[roan-wayland]

Roan nodded solemnly while he listened to Kiran's explanation, which sounded more like a list of excuses. He couldn't blame the man, in his shoes Roan would have done the same, but he knew how unhealthy this type of behaviour was and hoped that he could nudge his friend back on track. "So you're procrastinating," he replied brusquely. Patrick cawed at him to go easy on the kid, which made Roan's expression soften. "You've made it here, what's another room going to do to you?" he asked, "You can always opt out, reschedule for another time and place, but... Would you admit defeat? Ask yourself why you really came here."

While Kiran busied himself with starting on the herculean task of cleaning up the mess, Roan watched him with folded arms. Patrick wasn't as idle and took this as his cue to be useful and start gathering shiny rubble into a pile. "With the risk of repeating myself," Roan began and cleared his throat, "The key to mind-control is strength. Not just strength as in magical power, but physical and mental strength. This is the same in both attack on the mind and the defense of it. Since you don't have magical powers, you'll have to rely on the remaining two." Roan picked up the head of a broken dummy and put it back in its place, making the material mend itself with magic. "If your body is weaker, you are more susceptible to attacks against the mind. If your mind is attacked, your last line of defense is your determination. Find your core and hold on to it. Don't let anyone control who you are."

After finishing his exposition, Roan looked like he was about to begin the next step of the lesson. He gave Kiran a probing look, wondering if the human would withstand an attack in his current state. But another witch wouldn't be kind enough to ask before they searched Kiran's mind for anything they wanted to know. "Are you ready?" he asked, before sending his mind towards Kiran's mere seconds later. "Hold on to what you know is safe. Don't let me see your secrets," Roan warned as he read the surfacing thoughts of Kiran's mind.

"Ah. I promised to give a lecture on the intricacies of fusing magic and circuit boards. Seemed like a good idea when I agreed to it." Kiran's smile becomes a little more strained, before he finally releases an exasperated sigh, a hand reaching to the back of his neck. "Truth be told, I think I've wandered every corridor in the building at least three times to avoid going to the tech labs. And I'm currently..." He glances down to his watch, then grimaces. "Twenty minutes late. I have a feeling most of the students will have abandoned ship by now, anyway." He sighs, allowing a small amount of sadness to show through his usually cheery exterior. "A few too many ghosts around here."

Kiran is happy for the distraction as Roan gestures to the mess around them. Quickly dropping the satchel from his shoulder to one side, he makes his way to the nearest collapsed dummy, shoving it gently upright. "Yes. I see the place is basically falling apart without me." Kiran chuckles, turning back to Roan as he slips into his teaching persona. He busies his hands with lifting up the next broken piece of furniture, pushing it into a neat pile towards one side. "Of course, how could I forget? You've always taught me the value of protecting myself, and you're an excellent teacher. But... I suppose a referesher could always be useful, a student always has more to learn. Especially from a master in the art."

[luveline]

hi jade! I just want to preface this by saying I hope you’re having a good day. I noticed that you were hoping for some hotch requests and I figured I would send one in. if this is too vague or you just don’t feel inspired I completely understand, but maybe you could do something with a stressed hotch getting a little short with reader? he could be on edge because of a high pressure case, or something along those lines! nothing too angsty just some hurt/comfort, heavy on the comfort towards the end if you like! (p.s. I personally love all the eddie and roan as of late, so don’t let anyone make you feel obligated to write for characters you don’t want to.) <3 -w

hi! that is so so kind!! and please don't worry I feel no obligation for that, honestly!!<3 grumpy hotch x fem!reader

Hotch is in his office, like always. If you can't see him, you only ever need one guess as to where he is. And you haven't seen him for a few days now, which is weird and unlike him. When he's in your home state, he makes an effort to see you, to dote on you. 

You take his stairs slowly. Hotch will know it's you before you so much as knock on his office door. He has a hypervigilance that doesn't switch off —he could probably guess who it was by the sound of your breathing. 

"Hotch?" you ask, knocking his door for politeness' sake. 

He looks up for a split-second and not a moment longer. You're disappointed at his lack of reaction. How many times has he come home from wherever it is he's flown off to and hugged you hard enough to crack your spine? And, what? He doesn't like you anymore? What sort of reaction is that? 

"Um, I texted you. That I was coming by. Did you see?" you ask. 

"I've been preoccupied," he says, staring hard at the papers on his desk. He doesn't sound like himself. 

"It's been, like, four days since I've seen you. Since you've seen me. You don't wanna even look at me?" you ask. You wish it had come out softly, sweetly, but his behaviour (or lack of) has caught you by surprise. You sound as wounded as you feel. 

"If you'd looked at my text, you'd see that I'm busy," he snaps. 

Your lips part in silent shock. You drop your hand from the doorway where it had been resting and take a half step backwards and out of his office. Your movement draws his attention, and he finally sees the look on your face. 

"Are you serious?" you ask. 

He exhales bodily. "No." Hotch closes the folder. "No, I didn't mean that." 

You hover awkwardly. Truth be told, you want to run away from the situation entirely, unused to him being anything but kind. You'd like to turn around and leave before you can further embarrass yourself by showing your affection and having it rejected. He's caught you so off guard. 

"Come in, please. I do want to see you." 

You step inside and close the door behind you. It takes a gap of silence for you to decide on where you're going to stand, but eventually you round his desk and lean against it, forcing him to push his chair back in order to be face to face. 

"Is it a bad one?" you ask. 

He nods. "Right here in Quantico." 

You look at his shoulder rather than his face, worried you'll find more vehemence in his expression. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I did read your text, I know you're busy, but busy doesn't tell me if you ate recently, or if you're tired, and those are the kind of things I worry about." You meet his eyes. They're always sombre, but affection softens his brow. You put your hands between your thighs to stop from touching him. "I worry about you, Aaron." 

He must know what you're doing. Tentative, as though worried he's overstepping, Hotch pulls one of your hands into his. He has very big hands, and they dwarf yours near completely when he sandwiches them together. 

"Don't think I didn't hear you, when you first came in," he says. "Hotch, you called me." 

"That's your name." 

He looks you straight in the eye, unabashed. Love lines his face, and apology, his lips curving slowly upwards in an uncommon smile. "Not to you," he murmurs. 

You're still mad at him for being snippy, but the relief of his fondness can't be understated. Your shoulders sag as you relax, your posture arching forward. Hotch leans upward so he can align your faces. If either of you moved an inch, you could kiss. 

"I spoke to you out of turn because I'm stressed. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry. And I'm grateful to have you looking out for me." His smile abates. "It won't happen again." 

"It won't?" you ask. 

"I'll try my best not to let it." 

You swallow and lean down like you might kiss him, but in actuality you need a second to collect your thoughts. You try to be objective like he is, and it never works. 

Eyes closed, you say, "You've never snapped at me before." 

"I have no reason to." 

When he speaks, it's warm against your cheek. Hotch pulls your arm in a kind encouragement toward him and you follow blindly, setting as much of your weight as you trust him to take on his thigh. He wraps an arm around your back. His lips touch your forehead. 

"Sorry," he says again, rubbing your back. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"I upset you. You weren't expecting it from me. It makes sense for you to feel disappointed." 

"It's not that," you say, thumbing his tie, anything to keep your fidgeting hands busy. "I'm being silly." 

"You're not." 

You're positioned in a twist on his lap, your leftmost ribs to his stomach. He hugs you to his chest and closes the gap between you, his arm encircling you, his hand stretches out across the space under your breasts. It's a comforting, all-encompassing hold. You basically collapse into him, hands desperate at his sides. 

"I missed you," you confess. 

"I miss you," he says, "I'm sorry for being mean." The hand that isn't stretched out across your front appears. He traces your face with two fingertips from the corner of your eye to your jaw, like he's following the path of an invisible tear. His hand flattens, his marriage and pinky finger weave behind your ear, and his thumb pulls at the corner of your mouth. It's so gentle you question if he's even touching you at all. 

He lifts your face to his and kisses you softly. 

"You're not mean," you whisper. "Just grumpy." 

He huffs a laugh through his nose. "Very grumpy. But two minutes with you is enough to make me feel better." 

You hum, "Mm, you're just saying that 'cos you're still in the doghouse, Hotchner." 

His hand falls to your lap. It isn't especially sexual, more intimate than anything as he eases your legs apart to squeeze the soft fat of your thigh. 

"You won't win me over that easily," you say. 

He smiles at you. "No, I don't think I will." There's a secret promise hiding between his words. 

[skateordiebitch]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

stoner!dominic x innocent!reader

likeeeee maybe they meet at a party which reader was forced to go to by a friend. reader like, doesn’t drink, never let a joint touch her lips. she somehow gets rlly attached to dom, then he offers her a blunt but reader’s like “oh, i don’t smoke” and he’s FLABBERGASTED

maybe he tries to get her to smoke, idk, just thinking “i don’t care that you’re a stoner” red wine supernova vibes. ty lovely 💋💋

RED WINE SUPERNOVA || D.F x reader

‘baby, why don't you come over?

red wine supernova, falling into me

i don't care that you're a stoner

red wine supernova, fall right into me’

summary: you aren't a party person, yet you end up at a party. you don't drink or smoke; but lucky for you, dominic desires a little more than just weed.

word count: 2.6k

note: this is so cute like omg 😭 inspired by 'red wine supernova' by miss chappell roan, obviously. this request captures the chemistry perfectly!!! i hope you guys love it as much as i loved writing it. as always feel free to send in requests! <3

You weren’t really sure how you ended up at this party. 

Your best friend had convinced you with the usual promise of "just an hour" and "you need to get out more," and you hadn’t had a good excuse to say no. 

Now, though, you were wedged between strangers in the dimly lit house, clutching a cup of water and feeling out of place. The air was thick with the smell of weed and the thumping of a bass that seemed to pulse under your skin. 

You scanned the room, already trying to find your friend to suggest heading home.

But, that’s when you noticed him: a guy leaning against the doorway, laughing with some friends. He had an easy confidence, a wild mess of curls, and a smile that could light up the darkest room. 

Every now and then, he’d stop to take a drag from his blunt, blowing the smoke to the side, always careful not to send it your way. It was a small gesture, but somehow, it made you feel like he was paying attention to you in a way no one else had tonight.

As if sensing you were looking at him, he turned, catching your gaze and holding it for a beat longer than comfortable. Before you knew it, he was weaving through the crowd toward you, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Not having fun, huh?" he asked, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. His voice was warm, edged with amusement.

You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness tighten your shoulders. "I guess I’m just... not really a party person."

He raised an eyebrow, his grin turning playful. “A rebel, then. ‘Not a party person’ at a party—how daring.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide a smile. “Oh, yeah. Breaking all kinds of rules over here.”

“So, tell me,” he said, leaning back and giving you a mischievous grin, “what do you do for fun if you’re not out at parties like this?”

You laughed, “I don’t know. I’m probably not as exciting as you. I’m usually reading, or maybe watching movies, writing. Not much.”

“Reading?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re one of those girls, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, laughing.

He shrugged, a teasing smile on his lips. “Just that you’re probably smarter than anyone else here. Maybe smarter than me.”

“Only maybe?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He smirked, taking another slow drag from the blunt. "Oh, it was. Besides," he said, his gaze turning more intense, “I like a girl with brains. Keeps things interesting… Keeps me on my toes.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly under his stare. He had this way of looking at you that felt like he saw right through all the walls you’d built, straight to the person beneath them. 

It was both exhilarating and a little intimidating.

You didn’t know what it was—maybe the playful glint in his eyes, maybe his easy confidence—but you took his hand, and before you knew it, you were laughing and talking like you’d known him for years. 

His name was Dominic, and he was as charming as he was magnetic. Every time he laughed, it was this free, infectious sound that seemed to light him up, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

At some point, he leaned back, pulling a blunt out of his jacket pocket. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a look that was both mischievous and expectant. "Care to join?"

You shook your head, smiling slightly. “Oh, no. I don’t smoke.”

He stared at you, clearly shocked. “Wait, really?” He laughed, almost incredulous. “You’re telling me you’re this cool and you’ve never even—”

“Nope,” You crossed your arms, trying not to smile at his reaction. "Never even held a joint. I like breathing air.”

Dominic looked at you like you’d just told him you were from another planet. “You’re serious?”

You laughed, a little bashfully. “I guess I just… never got into it. It’s not really my thing. It kinda scares me.”

He shook his head, chuckling, and took a slow drag from the joint, blowing the smoke to the side as he watched you with that same look of fascination. 

“Wild. Here I was thinking everyone’s at least tried it once.” He paused, then tilted his head with a smirk. “You mind if I...?”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I don’t care that you’re a stoner, Dominic.”

That earned you a laugh, and he took another drag, his eyes flickering to yours with a hint of a challenge. “You sure I can’t change your mind?”

“I think I’ll survive without it,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Though I appreciate the, uh, enthusiasm.”

“You know,” he continued, still watching you, “I think you’re the first girl I’ve met here who isn’t already, like, wasted out of her mind or trying to do shots off the kitchen counter.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not exactly my style. No offense to your friends or anything.”

“None taken. Trust me, I’d rather be here talking to you than watching another failed attempt at a keg stand.” He grinned, but there was a softness in his expression that told you he meant it.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a moment before he spoke up again. “So, not a drinker, not a smoker… how’d you even end up here?”

“Blame my friend. She insisted I needed a night out.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was light. “Dragged me here, practically kicking and screaming.”

Dominic chuckled. “Well, then I owe her a thank you.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing against yours as he looked at you with that same captivating intensity. “Because if she hadn’t dragged you here, I wouldn’t have met the most intriguing girl at this party.”

Your stomach did a little flip, and you tried to play it cool, giving him a raised eyebrow. “Oh, really? That’s quite a line.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m serious! You’re different from everyone else here. Most people are just here for a good time, but… you seem like you’re here because you’re looking for something else.”

You tilted your head, feeling strangely vulnerable under his gaze. “And what do you think I’m looking for?”

“Maybe someone to make you realize parties aren’t all that bad?” He winked, the suggestion playful but somehow carrying a weight that made your heart race.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I think that might be a tall order.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He took another drag from his blunt, still watching you. Then, he held it out toward you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on. One hit won’t kill you.”

You scrunched up your nose, giving him a mock glare. “Are you trying to corrupt me, Dominic?”

He laughed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours. “Maybe just a little. You’re already here, right? Why not go all in?”

“You’re very convincing…” You bit your lip, feigning consideration. “But no.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also slightly impressed. “You’re really not going to budge, huh?”

You shrugged, smiling up at him. “Guess I’m a little stubborn.”

“I like stubborn,” he said, his voice dropping a little, softer, as his eyes flickered to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Besides, it’s kind of refreshing. You know how many people just go along with whatever I say?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re used to getting your way?”

“Usually, yeah.” He grinned, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how charmingly cocky he was. “But I think I like it better when I don’t.”

For a moment, the air felt electric, like something unsaid was hovering between you two. The noises of the party seemed to fade into the background, and you became hyper-aware of how close he was, of the slight pull you felt toward him.

He leaned a little closer, his gaze turning soft but intent. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Why is someone like you, talking to someone like me?” 

You blinked, a little taken aback by the question. “Geez. Someone like you? You make it sound like you’re some lost cause.”

He gave a half-smile, a touch of vulnerability flashing across his face. “I don’t know… Just feel like maybe you’re a little out of my league.”

“Really?” You laugh, “Me, out of your league? Have you seen yourself?”

“Let’s just say I’m not exactly the guy who gets lucky. Especially with the girl who doesn’t do this,” he said, holding up the joint with a grin.

“So, you don’t like girls who smoke?” You asked.

“Well, I like all women,” He emphasizes, “but, a lot of the time I feel like girls only talk to me because I have weed.”

“I highly doubt that’s the case.”

“They’re always like ‘Oh, Dominic, can I have a hit of that?’” He mocks in a high pitched voice, “Dominic, you’re sooo cute… Can we like, smoke?” He mocked again.

You couldn’t contain your laughter, “Wow, what a great impression,” you say sarcastically, “Let’s just say… if I was looking for someone exactly like me, I’d be bored out of my mind.” 

He grinned, visibly flustered for the first time since you’d met him. 

Then, looking down at you, he tapped the blunt against the side of the ashtray, leaning closer than necessary. “Well, then I guess I’m just a lucky guy, tonight.”

“I guess you are.”

He held your gaze a second longer, the warmth of it spreading in a way you weren’t expecting. 

And as the night went on, Dominic kept finding ways to keep you close—whether it was brushing your arm as he reached for something, leaning in just a little too close to make a point, or flashing you that dangerous smile that seemed to cut through all your defenses.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your head felt lighter than you could remember, and you realized that, somehow, without even trying, Dominic had made you forget about how much you didn’t want to be there. 

He poured himself a shot of tequila, keeping his eyes on you the entire time, “To meeting you,” He said, tipping his head back as you watch his face turn sour. “God, that’s disgusting.”

You nodded your head, eyes bright with a smile, “Exactly why I hate it.”

“So, you’re seriously telling me no one’s ever tempted you to even take a sip of this life?” he asked, still sounding incredulous, leaning back on his elbows as he looked at you. 

You shrugged, smiling slightly. “Maybe they did, but no one’s convinced me as much as you did tonight.” You glanced at him, feeling a shyness you hadn’t felt all night. “Honestly? You’re the first person that’s made me think maybe I should stop being so boring.”

Dominic’s smile softened, and he looked at you for a moment, something warm and almost tender in his eyes. “You aren’t boring, but I guess I’ll take that as a win.”

“Only if you promise not to get too full of yourself,” you teased.

“Can’t make any promises.” He chuckled, leaning closer until his face was just inches from yours. “But maybe you could stick around and keep me humble?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the proximity, his gaze suddenly intense and unwavering. 

“Do you like me or something?” You giggled, “Does Dominic have a little crush?”

Dominic laughed, and the sound was rich, deep, filling the space between you. "A little? Oh no, I don’t do anything halfway," he teased, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m starting to think you might be trouble for me.”

You bit back a smile, looking down to hide how fast your heart was racing. “Trouble?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you’re the troublemaker here.”

“Well, what can I say— Guilty as charged,” he murmured, and without warning, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that seemed completely at odds with his usual bravado. His fingers lingered, tracing softly along your cheek as he studied you.

For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade, replaced only by the pounding of your heart and the feeling of his hand resting on your face. 

"I don’t know what it is about you,” he whispered, his voice lower, softer. “But the second I saw you… I just knew I had to know you.”

Your breath caught, and you didn’t know if it was the way his words were so honest, or the feeling of his hand on your skin, or just the fact that he was looking at you like he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I think you’ve had too much tequila,” you whispered back, barely able to keep the smile off your face.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I know what I’m saying.” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, his voice barely above a murmur. “You’re the most interesting person in this whole place. And I think you know it, too.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, “Well, then, maybe you’ll have to work a little harder to keep me around.”

Dominic grinned, that signature smile making your stomach do flips. “I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice like a dare. He held out his hand, palm up, his eyes daring you to take it. “Come on. Let me show you something.”

You hesitated only a moment before slipping your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours, warm and reassuring, and he led you through the crowd, past groups of laughing friends and scattered red Solo cups, until you reached a quieter corner of the house where the music was only a faint hum.

He stopped and turned to you, his gaze so intense it made your cheeks flush. “You know, I don’t really do this whole… romantic thing,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck almost shyly. “Usually I just… I don’t know. But tonight… you have me acting out of character.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head at him. “Are you saying I make you nervous?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Or maybe you just make me want to try harder.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing as you took a step closer. “Then show me what you’ve got,” you murmured, challenging him with a small smile.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Dominic closed the distance between you, his hands resting lightly on your waist as he dipped his head down, brushing his lips softly against yours. 

It was gentle, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring the moment just as much as you were. 

But then his grip on your waist tightened, and the kiss deepened, becoming something electric, something that made you forget anyone else was even there.

When you finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’m pretty glad we met,” he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laughed, feeling lighter and happier than you had in a long time. “Guess that makes two of us, then.”

“Guess it does.” He leaned back, his fingers lacing with yours again as he held your hand. “So, what do you say? Stick around tonight… and maybe tomorrow?”

The party noise picked up again, but it was all a distant hum. Right now, all you could think about was him, and the way his hand fit perfectly around yours.

You looked up at him, your smile soft.

“I think I’d like that.”

[girlylukehughes]

Casual ~ Luke Hughes

Description: Luke thinks things are casual between him and y/n… she doesn't feel that way anymore.  Warnings: angst, unresolved ending, smut, p in v(protected), oral(f receiving), mixed signals, asshole! Luke, anxiety attack/symptoms mentioned, naive reader(i think??) 

authors note: i’ve never written smut before this so bear with me okay

(flashbacks in italics)

When you agreed to be friends with benefits with Luke 6 months ago you never thought the argument you were having right now would happen. On opposite sides of his room in the sophomore house, his head in his hands as he sits on his blue comforter, you basically burning a hole into the carpet with your pacing. This whole argument started when you overheard the conversation he was having with Ethan and Mark outside of Yost. 

“So you and y/n have been together for a while now huh?” Mark said to Luke.

 “Yeah it's been like 6 months now bro, when are you finally gonna post her on  your insta?” 

Luke let out a chuckle, “Never gonna happen.” Mark and Ethan turn to each other, confused, “what do you mean Luke? Is this like a Hughes thing and you don’t want her to get hate?” 

“Mark, I could truly care less. She’s just a girl I bang on our couch sometimes. We're not together. Not gonna ever happen.” You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, throat burning. Over Luke’s tall shoulder Ethan spots you, mouth in a frown, a single tear slipping down your cheek.

 “Bro…” He whispers quietly, his tone full of sympathy and worry. He nods his head behind Luke causing him to look back at you. You stand there roughly rubbing that tear off your cheek so he can't see it, but he already saw, he felt nothing about it though.

 “Y/n,” he sighed out, you cut him off with a sniffle, “You know I thought you thought of me better than that but I guess I’m just the girl you occasionally fuck. Only good enough to keep your dick wet when you got tired of fucking anything in a skirt.” The tears are freely falling now, Ethan and Mark behind Luke look devastated for you, Luke himself just looks pissed.

 “Y/n we agreed that there were no attachments. You can’t get all upset when you’re the one who broke that. We said if we catch feelings it will stop.”

 “Then it never should have started Luke!” you screamed at him. His face turned to one of shock before going back to its pissed off scowl. 

“We're not doing this here. Get in the car, we're going home.” Luke starts walking towards his car, looking back once he realizes you're not following.

 “Luke, I'm not doing this. I’m done freely following every word you say, I'm not gonna follow you like a lost little puppy.”

 “Y/n please just get in the car so we can talk. I'll let you have the floor, you can talk. I'll listen please.” You sigh, following him to the car. The drive over to the sophomore house takes less than five minutes. The quietest five minutes of your lives. This leaves you where you are now. 

“Are you gonna say something or what?” Luke says, his voice muffled by the hands over his face. 

“You know Luke, you said this was “Casual” but what's casual about you, a week ago, your head between my thighs while you ate me out in the front seat of your car while you whispered things like ‘i love you’ and ‘you’re the only girl for me’? What is casual about that?” Your voice raises with each question. Luke looks up from his hands, his face twisted with confusion and regret. “Y/n/n-”  “No,” you cut him off, “It's my turn to talk. That's what you wanted right? You said I got the floor. So now it's your turn to shut up and listen. How was it casual when two weeks after this started your mom came up to me talking about how much you ‘talk about me’ and then she  invited me to the lake house this summer? Was it casual when Jack called me mid anxiety attack because he felt like his chest was caving in and I had to talk him through it?” You make your way over to his dresser opening the top drawer, “What's casual about me keeping my favorite clothes here because YOU asked me to? My favorite bra literally lives in your dresser Luke. You know I try to be the cool, chill girl but you know what I can’t fake it anymore! I’m not that girl! I have feelings, I care!” 

“Why didn’t you fucking say something then!” He finally shouts, “You didn’t have to leave your shit here if you didn’t want to! You didn’t have to deal with Jack, he’s not your fucking responsibility!” 

“But I fucking wanted to! Jesus Luke! I was delusional enough to think that you actually liked me! I had this stupid idea in my head that when you went to Jersey you’d ask me to go with you! That next year it would just be me and you! We’d have an apartment and you’d finally show me off to your friends! But no, I’m just dumb and in love with an asshole.” You sigh, sliding your back down the door, sitting on the floor with your knees to your chest. 

“You’re in love with me?” he whispers out. “Why?” 

“It was that dinner with your parents last month. That did it for me.” 

“Hey, are you almost ready?” Luke asks as he walks up behind you in the mirror, his hands on your waist. 

“Yeah, I just need to put my earrings in and we can go.” Smiling at Luke in the mirror, his face goes to your neck and he lightly sucks on the pulse point a small whine coming from your mouth. “Luke stop, I can’t show up to dinner with your parents with a giant hickey on my neck.” 

“Fine,” he huffs out. 

The drive to the restaurant is about 45 minutes of his hand inching further and further up your thigh, at one point teasing the edge of your panties before moving back down. Knowing you’re all worked up, Luke smirks at you before parking the car and getting out to open your door. Holding hands the whole way to the table you greet his parents with hugs and take a seat across from Ellen, Luke next to you and across from Jim. Halfway through dinner, Luke’s middle finger makes contact with your clit through your panties. Crossing your legs and trapping his hand, you lightly shift your body for more contact, that's when the idea sparks in his head. “Hey while we wait for dessert to come out I'm gonna go show her the tulip garden outside, they’re her favorite” Luke smiles at his parents. 

“Alright hun just don't take too long, wouldn’t want your dad to eat all the dessert,” Ellen jokes. 

“We’ll be quick, promise” You smile at her. Luke helps you out of your chair before taking your hand and leading you towards the back door. Once his parents are no longer watching he pulls you down the side hallway and into the bathroom, trapping you between him and the sink. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with his thumb before kissing you long and hard. Your body sinks into him, deepening the kiss. 

“Need you Luke,” you say looking up at him through your eyelashes. Your hands fumble with his belt as his hands work your dress over your hips, and sliding your panties down. His strong fingers find your clit again, rubbing in painfully slow circles on the bundle of nerves before slipping them further back and into you. A sigh leaving your mouth mixes with the groan leaving his as you palm him through his boxers. Pulling away before he slides his pants down and grabbing the condom out of his back pocket, you unbutton his shirt, raking your fingers up and down his toned stomach.

“Please Luke,” you whine, rushing him to put the condom on as you slide the straps of your dress down exposing your chest. In two seconds flat he's lifting you onto the counter and sliding his hard cock into you, hushed moans leaving both of you before he reattaches his mouth to yours before pumping into you harder and faster. 

“Love this pussy,” he whispers against your lips. “Love these lips too.” Your brain fogs over at the words leaving his mouth. Love.  He’s never said that before. Usually it's just possessive things like “this is mine” and “no one else gets you like this”. Love meant something else to you. Angling your hips, he hits that soft spongy spot in you and you’re seeing stars and your orgasm hits you hard, clinging to him tight. The feeling of you squeezing around him tips him over the edge. Luke waits a minute before pulling out and throwing the condom in the trash before wetting a paper towel and cleaning up between your thighs. Instead of giving you your panties he slips them into his back pocket before saying with a smirk, “You can have them back later if you're a good girl.” Straightening out your dress and  turning around to face the mirror you get a sense of deja vu as the scene from two hours earlier repeats itself with Luke kissing up your neck from behind until he reaches your lips. Pulling away a minute later he helps flatten out your hair as you fix his curls. Making your way back to the table hand in hand before digging into the dessert that arrived long ago. 

“Y/n, that was just a bathroom fuck. Why are you being so bitter about it?” Luke scoffs. 

“Luke I fucked you in a restaurant bathroom, while your parents were sitting at a table waiting for us and you wonder why I’m bitter? God you’re more dense than I thought. You know what? Just go back to bragging to your friends about fucking me and having me sit there and look stupid while you clearly don’t give a fuck about me for more than my body and what you get from it.” You open his bedroom door, making your way down the stairs with him following you. 

“Y/n, baby don’t leave, come on we can fix this.” 

“No.” you whisper, before finally looking into his eyes. Eyes that are now filled with a shine of tears and regret. “I hate that I let this drag on for as long as I did. I fucking hate myself for it.”

“Y/n please-” cutting him off, looking straight into his eyes, “Go to hell Luke.” Slamming the front door and walking home, the heavy weight on your chest gone.

[tojigasm]

What Is and What Should Never Be

Authors note: Here is the long waited Sam Worthington fic <33. im very proud of this one, so enjoy my sexy hotties ♡

Warnings: nsfw 18+, minors dni, fem reader, fluff, a smidge of angst, Sam is very dilf daddy in this, pet names, gentle love

Synopsis:

"Y/n?" Sam's looking at you. Baby blues worn with worry and brows furrowed. He strokes his thumbs over your jaw, gently prying your lip from your teeth, "where'd you go, sweetheart?"

You search his eyes for a moment. Deciding whether or not to tell him the truth. To tell him you'd done specifically what he'd asked you not to do. Tell him you'd spent hours only earlier that day scrolling through comments and articles, searching for the worst one just to have it wrap around your brain for the rest of your life. Tell him you'd needed something to balance the ache.

You sift your hand through the thick tufts of roan, sighing into the cool air of your room.

"Know you're the only girl fr'me, right, hon?" Sam whispers from beneath you. You run your fingers along the bristles of his beard.

"Yes, I know." You whisper back, letting him kiss up the skin of your collar.

Can't help but think back to the articles you'd read earlier that day, 'Avatar star, Sam Worthington in LA with young nobody', 'who is she?', 'Is this start of Worthington's stardom decline?'

The words ring out in your mind as Sam presses kisses to your jaw, planting his chin to your chest when he realizes you're not quite all there anymore.

Your mind wanders to the comments you can recall, "surely they're just friends, he wouldn't date someone out of his league." "She doesn't deserve him like I do." "Praying they break up." "She's not as pretty as I had expect–"

"Y/n?"

Sam's looking up at you. You hadn't realized you'd dug your nails into the thick of his shoulder so tightly small crescents lay in the wake of your hand.

"Sorry," you whisper, "I don't know what's up with me."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Mulling over his words before he settles on a gentle, "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

You shrug, letting yourself fall into his lap rather clumsily. "Guess m'just not in the mood," you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, pressing and tearing at the plush of it. "M'sorry."

"S'okay, baby," Sam rests his hand at the base of your neck, thumbing at your skin gently.

The pull and push of his hand on your neck sends a soothing warmth throughout your body, and you're suddenly reminded of the knavish comments once again. The words bleed and rot into your mind like a dead weed, infecting and throbbing and piercing your mind like a dying root and it—

"Y/n?" Sam's looking at you. Baby blues worn with worry and brows furrowed. He strokes his thumbs over your jaw, gently prying your lip from your teeth, "where'd you go, sweetheart?"

You search his eyes for a moment. Deciding whether or not to tell him the truth. To tell him you'd done specifically what he'd asked you not to do. Tell him you'd spent hours only earlier that day scrolling through comments and articles, searching for the worst one just to have it wrap around your brain for the rest of your life. Tell him you'd needed something to balance the ache.

"I–" the confession slips past your lips in a defeated sigh. The thick of it choking at the back of your throat with a sickly tease.

You tell him the truth, and he listens, nodding along to your broken and shattered words. And when your voice cracks and turns wet and you crumble in his arms, he holds you.

There's a long pause of silence, comforted by a rough hand soothing the top of your head and shoulders. You bite at your finger pad until it burns.

"Feel like they can hear me. Like they can see everything I do." You whisper, "I feel so alone."

You'd remembered what your parents, your friends had told you when you'd first told them you were dating Sam. The mixed reactions weigh heavy in your mind some nights.

"He's famous, y/n. You know how it is." "Just don't let the fame go to your head." "Well, it's not gonna be easy."

Sam running the back of his knuckles over your cheek softly brings you back to your room. Your room with your pink sheets and your movie posters. Your room with your flower vase full of lily's Sam had bought you and your vanity with white wood that's been chipping away.

"I don't wanna feel this way anymore." You speak into the cool air.

"I know, honey." Sam whispers, massaging his hand into your hip.

"Make me feel better," you whisper, "Please, just make me forget."

Sam stops his hand and doesn't say anything.

You let a few moments pass before sitting up, looking at him from over your shoulder. Your lashes are strung together with tears, and your cheeks are hot.

Sam watches you, carefully lifting his hand to run the pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip.

"Can I kiss you?" He speaks softly.

"Please," you choke, crawling into his lap.

His hands wrap around your waist, squeezing at the plush of your ass and hips. He kisses up the bow of your chest, biting and nipping small marks into your soft skin.

"Sam." Chills rush over your skin.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to fuck me," you drop your head to the side, letting Sam kiss up the collum of your neck, "wanna forget everything n'just feel you. I don't want to think." You pull back to kiss him, "think for me."

You trail down the skin of his neck to his shoulder, biting at his freckled skin and leaving flushes of pink in your wake.

Sam adjusts beneath you, slipping his hand between your thighs to flick your clit before sliding two fingers into your tight cunt.

Your breath hitches at the stretch, and you let your head roll back, sighing into the chilled air. You find purchase in his shoulders, digging your freshly manicured nails into his skin, tracing the pads of your fingers over the indents from your teeth.

"What do you like about me?" Your voice wavers – somewhere in between lost and held. You can't calm down, yet you find solace in the violence rapt of his fingers curling against your gummy walls.

Sam groans into the soft of your breast, licking a stripe along chest to your collar.

"I like your eyes," he kisses your nipple, pulling it between his teeth gently, "I like your lips," he kisses your ribs, "I like your hair," his thumb circles your clit, "I like your voice–"

"Need you," you whimper, voice so soft he thinks it might crack and shatter in the frigid air of the room.

Sam nods, letting you straddle him as he sits on the foot of your bed. He guides you to take him in full, sinking onto his length as he holds you to him.

The stretch aches and you tip your head back at the pleasure, nearly slipping from Sam's grasp before he pulls you back. He cups your head to his shoulder, helping to guide your hips back and forth along his thick thighs.

"Feel so good," he whispers, planting sloppy kisses along the ridge of your shoulder.

You pant through wavered breaths into his neck, working to soothe at the bruising tip of his cock that presses at your cervix.

"You feel okay, sweetheart?" Sam pulls you back by the neck, forcing you to meet his eyes. The baby blues seeped into a much richer navy, pupils blown wide.

"Yes," you nod through a watery choke and he moves to tuck you into his shoulder again, "S'okay."

Sam nods, cupping your wrists in one hand to hold behind your back as he massages his grip on your waist. His fingers dig into the plush of your hips, leaving tender heat in their leave.

"Tell me what you need," he kisses the length of your jaw when you tip your head back again.

Shaking your head, you roll your hips upward to bask in the stretch of his veiny girth. You can feel him run along your walls in such a way that sends your lashes fluttering.

"Wanna cum," your voice is flat.

"Don't be a brat." Sam's tone deepens. He knows what you need, whether you'll tell him or not. Knows you need to be told what to do. Knows in the way you cower away at the thought, the thought of – "m'gonna let you try again."

You peak an eye open, looking him up and down before letting your eyes fall shut again.

"Wanna be told what to do forever," You admit, "I don't wanna think – don't want to think about the stupid articles and comments and things they – ah! – things they say."

"Then let me do the work." Sam nods to you, brows cinching before you're falling into his arms again, letting him rub gentle kissing touches into your sticky clit.

Your eyes roll at the pleasure, deliciously paired with the thrusting stretch of his length.

"Yeah, that's it." Sam coos, thighs flexing under you, "you're such a good girl, y'know that?" He kisses your jaw. You tighten around him, and he chuckles loosely, pressing his cheek into your own, "y'like that? Like being my good girl?"

You nod, "Yes, yes!" Your voice tapers into a hushed whimper.

"Y'gonna cum? Can feel you gettin' tight."

You nod again, biting into his shoulder with a cry when your release washes over you. Walls spasming around his cock.

When he cums, he twitches under you. Soft jolts that shake you alert to pull yourself off of him.

Sam falls to the bed beside you, the two of you panting into the cool air of your room.

"I love you." Sam calls to you, and you nod warmly. His knuckles trace over your cheek as he watches your eyes flutter shut. The fan sifts gently and clicks in the quiet. A car passes by.

You don't remember the sound of your own voice.

[gay4ddlovato]

Chappell Roan Imagine - she won’t let go when you hug her 🧡🐈

{This is my original work from my wattpad gayforddlovato. Please don’t steal, copy, or claim my work as your own.}

"Hey, baby," Chappell happily greeted you as you stepped into your shared room. "You're just in time, I was going to order some food for us."

You could tell that she was in a very good and cheerful mood today.

For a moment, you thought about swallowing the lump in your throat and trying to pretend as though your entire day hadn't been terrible from the moment you arrived at work early this morning.

But you just couldn't.

The day had been so long and so overwhelming and you know that Chappell would never expect you to force a smile just because she'd had a good day.

When you didn't reply to her, your girlfriend looked over at you and saw that your head was hung.

"Baby, what's the matter?" She asked before she walked over to you.

She placed her hand on your shoulder and her touch was so comforting that you almost broke down.

"I had a rough day, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it? You know I'll listen." She spoke as she rubbed your shoulder.

But you looked at her and shook your head, deciding to ask instead,

"Can you please hug me?"

She cracked a little smile before you threw your arms around her.

"Darling, you know you don't even need to ask. Just throw your arms right around me whenever you want or need to, it's okay. I've got you."

You held onto her tightly and took in a deep breath before letting it out shakily.

"Don't ever let me go."

"Okay." She whispered and peppered kisses across your skin as her fingers brushed along your back and you hugged each other tight.

A couple of minutes passed by when your feet started to ache and you realized that you hadn't even taken your shoes off.

You had just walked through the door and tried to find relief in being home, though you had only felt it when Chappell hugged you.

You went to pull away only for her to tighten her grip on you slightly.

A chuckle left your lips before you shook your head.

"Baby, I need to take my shoes off."

"Do it then. I'm not stopping you. I'm only doing what you asked of me - to never let you go."

"Yeah, but I need to take my shoes off!" You laughed.

Chappell just dragged you over to the couch and gently pushed you on top of it before your laughter filled the room and brought a flutter to her heart.

"There's that smile and laugh that I adore." She whispered and brushed her fingers along your cheek. "Stay still."

She took your shoes off for you before tossing them across the room and then moving back up to wrap her arms around you again.

She kissed your face for a moment before her lips brushed against yours and your heart began to swell in your chest as you felt just how much she loved you.

"I hope you know how much you mean to me and how much I love you." You said.

"I do, baby. I know you know that I feel the same."

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked into her eyes.

"Do you want me to let you go? Just say the word."

You shook your head before holding her a little tighter against you.

"No. Never let go."

"Okay." She replied before kissing you. "Things are going to get better, my love,"

"They already are, all because of you, Chappell,"

[spencecreates]

Hello The Roan Family make me Feral, I need you all to know about some of them.

Warnings: cannibalism, possession, murder, gore. And the character enacting these things is like 8 years old, I know that can change if you're comfortable or not with it if it's a child

Words: 3376

Also there's so many mistakes, I wrote this feverishly at 4 am weeks ago and haven't looked at it since

----

Oleander paced through the aisles of books. He did all his best thinking here, and now he needed to keep his head clear as he tried to keep a handle on himself. He took a deep breath, looking over at his wife as she found him. 

“Mm, I thought you might be here,” she said as she walked over to wrap her arms around his shoulders. 

“I’m surprised you managed this maze of a place,” he said with a crooked smile. She snorted. 

“Thankfully, I’ve been managing for a while now.” She poked his nose with a smile before taking in the sullen look in his eyes. “What’s troubling you?”

He sighed heavily. “It’s Yarrow. I don’t… I don’t know how but I think Edos has found their way to him.”

“Edos?” She frowned. “Are you sure?”

“He’s been talking to nothing, he hasn’t been sleeping well. I don’t… I don’t know, something is wrong.”

“Maybe that’s just being a boy. They have imaginary friends in this realm, perhaps he picked it up from them. How could Edos get through those protections?” Agate gently ran her fingers through his hair. “Don’t work yourself up.”

“But if Edos is getting their claws into one of our sons.” He swallowed. “They said they would collect whatever means possible.” 

“I know… I remember.” Agate closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Perhaps you should talk to Oliver. Yarrow tells him everything and if anyone would feel Edos in this realm…it’d be him.” 

“I don’t want to bring it to him. I don’t want to worry him. You remember why we left--”

“He’ll be okay. It’s been almost ten years. He’s grown now. And if he can help Yarrow, he’d want to.” 

Oleander looked at her, taking in her stern features. She had a beauty that this realm overlooked. But he never would. And he would never overlook her advice either. He took her hand, lifting it to press a kiss to it. 

“I’ll give him a call. Hopefully this all is…nothing,” he said. He rubbed a hand tiredly down his face. “After all this time, they still…have a hold on us, don’t they?”

“You give them too much credit.” Agate kissed his cheek. “I’m going to check on Yarrow. Try not to overthink things before you call Ollie, okay?” 

“Heh, I won’t…I won’t…” He squeezed her hand before she left, letting himself lean against a sturdy bookshelf as he thought. 

They had left to escape Edos. The idea that they had followed the family terrified him. Would they not just leave them be? Was getting what they wanted really worth all of this? He missed his home. Earth, as lovely as it was, wasn’t where he belonged. It wasn’t where he envisioned his children growing up. 

He sighed heavily and looked towards the back of the library, towards the large stone door. Over the top, carved into it, was the runes he had painstakingly taken to carve into it. They glowed faintly, pulsating in a steady rhythm. It was barred from this side. Nothing could come through it without his allowance. 

At least that was his hope. 

The runes had been learned from Edos. He had worked so dreadfully hard to get them to work on Earth, away from their influence.

He finally left, finding his way to his desk, in a hidden alcove of the library, to sit and call his son. He smiled when he answered, relieved to hear his voice. He sounded so…happy. It’d taken so long for him to be this happy. 

“Hey, Ollie. I hope you’re not busy,” he said lightly. “How’s school?”

“No, not busy. I’m waiting for dinner to be delivered.” Oliver chuckled. “It’s going well. Just took a test that I’d been dreading but… thankfully I’d been prepared. Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.”

“Oh wonderful. I’m not surprised though. You’ve always been smart, godling, I doubt there’s much to give you a challenge.” “I suppose we’ll see. I still have a few years ahead of me. So what did you call for? Just to check in again?” 

Oleander chuckled. “I suppose we will…” But his expression dropped and he felt the weight of his question. “I wanted to…ask about Yarrow, actually. He tells you everything, hm? I…I’m worried about…Edos.” The line went silent for a moment and Oleander furrowed his brows as he worried it had dropped. “Oliver?”

“Edos?” His voice was small, childish fear drowning the maturity of his age. “What… Worried about what? Have they done something?” “No, no. They…they haven’t done anything. I…I just fear that they may have contacted Yarrow. Somehow..”

“You said that’s not possible.”

“I said they shouldn’t be able to.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I…I wouldn’t have called to ask if it…wasn’t important. But I suppose he hasn’t said anything then?” “N-No, he hasn’t. I’d have told you and Mom immediately.” He still sounded so terrified. It broke Oleander’s heart. “That’s…that’s what I suspected. I suppose it might just be my worrying. I didn’t mean to scare--”

Oleander stopped, hearing something from the back of the library. He stood, walking over to try to see towards it. The portal was there, glowing faintly, like something had come through. He looked around wildly. “Dad?” “H-Hold o--” He froze, hearing the claws click against the ground and the guttural growls. He turned, seeing the shadowy hound that was staring at him. He backed up but it lost interest quickly. 

It dashed for the stairs to leave the basement, Oleander frozen for another second before the thought of it reaching his wife and son overwhelmed him. He didn’t even hang up, dropping the phone as Oliver shouted for him. 

Oleander yelled for Agate, making her look up from the book she was reading to Yarrow. She glanced at her dozing son and slowly stood up, putting the blanket over him. She opened the bedroom door to see the hound, at the top of the stairs, staring at her with lavender eyes that pulsed with light. 

She moved, trying to slam the door shut again as it threw its weight against it, nearly knocking her off balance. “Ollie!”

“I’m here!” Oleander grabbed for the hound, the smoke-like creature escaping past his fingers. He tried to dive after it, eyes wide as he disappeared under the door of his son’s room. “Agate!” She moved back from the door, staring at the hound as it looked at her with soulless eyes as it reformed in front of her. 

“Mommy?” She looked back at Yarrow as he sat up again, looking at her with his wide brown eyes. 

“Y-Yarrow, come here, quickly.” She rushed back to his bedside, arms outstretched for her son. But she froze, a feeling of dread overpowering her as the hound passed through her. She stared wide eyed, frozen as the smoke slipped through her fingers as it flowed through her body.

The hound leapt forward. Yarrow screamed as it tackled him, sending them both over the other side of the bed. Behind her, the door was thrown open as Oleander got in. 

“Yarrow!” She dove for her son, over the bed to grab him, pulling him into her chest as she curled over him.

Her heart was in her throat, tears welling up. She jumped, swinging as she felt a touch. She looked up with wild eyes at Oleander before realizing that…nothing was happening. She looked around them, seeing nothing..

“What-- Where is--”

“I don’t know where it went.” He looked around frantically, before shaking his head at himself. “Is Yarrow okay?” 

They both looked at the boy, who was shaking in his mother’s arms. Oleander gently pet Yarrow’s hair and paused as Agate winced. 

“What is it?”

“He’s…he’s scratching me. Yarrow, honey, it’s okay…” she said, her voice still gentle with her son. Oleander looked at her arms where Yarrow gripped, blood dripping down from under his nails. 

“Yarrow… Yarrow, look at me…” Oleander gently nudged his chin up, staring at the eyes that looked back. They pulsed softly, a soothing lavender color. 

He took him from Agate without a word, standing to rush him from the room. He started down the basement stairs, Agate rushing to follow. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, watching her husband look around frantically. 

“Look at his eyes,” Oleander said and she paused, looking at him. Her hand went to her mouth. 

“Oh, Yarrow…”

“Mo-om… M-Mommy…”

“I’m here.” She reached to gently touch his cheek, Yarrow looking up at her before he moved. His nails scratched down her face, making her yelp as she backed away. Her hands went to her face, feeling blood slick her skin. Yarrow growled, squirming in his father’s arms. It was deep and guttural, the sound inhuman. 

“Yarrow… Yarrow, It’s going to be okay. Please, I can figure this out.” He furrowed his brows, a hand running along the spines of books. “It’s…it’s okay.” 

He pulled one, dropping it onto a nearby desk. He flipped through it with one hand, behind him Agate trying to sooth Yarrow and petting his hair as his face stayed pressed to Oleander’s shoulder. His eyes found the incantaction but as he opened his mouth to start, he cried out as Yarrow’s teeth sank into his shoulder, into the meat joining it to his neck. 

He moved, dropping Yarrow and the child scrambling back from them. He snarled at the two again, Agate staring at the flesh hanging from his mouth and looking at the blood spouting from her husband's shoulder. 

“Yarrow--” As she moved forward, he lunged for her too. His teeth met her bicep, tearing into it with all the ferocity of a feral dog as he pulled muscle from bone. Her cry was of shock and pain, Oleander moving finally to pull Yarrow away. Agate staggered back, hand going to her arm hanging uselessly at her side and the bone showing past the blood. “What is happening?”

“That hound…” Oleander said, trying to keep him at bay. Yarrow’s nails, elongated and curling into claws, lashed at his father’s face. Tearing into him. He gasped, struggling to get away from it while keeping a hold on his son. But Yarrow managed to squirm out. 

The boy looked between them, teeth bared and growing sharp and jagged in his mouth and blood staining his face and the front of his shirt. Neither of his parents had any idea what to do. This was their boy. What could they do? 

Agate moved for him as Oleander reached for the book away. Yarrow dodged around his mother’s injured arm, latching himself to his father and his teeth sinking into his neck. 

“Ollie!” Agate reached for them, trying to pull Yarrow off. He clawed at her as well, nails hooking her arms and shredding them down. As she yelled through the pain, distracted for that one second, he turned back, nails digging into his father. Into his feast. 

Oleander pushed at him, looking at Agate. Whatever creature had taken him, the strength was greater than they were prepared for. The pain shot through him again as a strip was yanked from his arm. 

“Lock it, call Oliver,” he said before Yarrow was at his throat again. Agate turned away before he tore it out, But she heard the husband’s choked sounds behind her and the animalistic sounds of Yarrow tearing into him. 

She ran up the stairs, pushing the door closed and locking it behind her. Her breath caught as she slid down the door, closing her eyes as she held her still bleeding arm. She felt dizzy, tears welling into her eyes as she tried to stem the blood. 

She didn’t know how long it took her to steady her breathing and her vision to clear, adrenaline dropping her into the pain of her body. She forced herself up, pausing as she heard slow creeping up the stairs. She held her breath, falling into the door across from it as she listened. 

“Mommy?” came the soft innocent voice of her son. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes, fighting her instinct to go to him. She staggered towards the phone. “Mommy!” The terror in his voice cut through her heart, hurting worse than anything that had been done to her before. Or could ever be done to her. “Mommy…” 

Her feet moved before she told them to, back to the basement door. She reached and unlocked it, her heart hammering as she opened it. 

Yarrow lunged. He was unrecognizable, but she hardly had a moment to register it before he was on her, nails digging into her shoulders and teeth at her neck. 

She was already weak from blood loss, trying to push him away. 

“Yarrow… Yarrow, baby, please…” she pleaded, sliding down her face. 

There was no recognition as Yarrow’s teeth sank into her flesh. Her cries were cut short. 

And he ate. His second course. 

--

Oliver raced to the house, his heart pounding. His father’s terrified voice still rang in his head. He couldn’t breathe, could barely see where he was going as fear overwhelmed him. 

The hour drive was too long and his worry grew with every microsecond.. He screeched to a halt, nearly choking himself on his seatbelt in his rush to get inside. 

He fumbled with his keys when the door was locked, hitting the door with his open palm until he got it open. 

The house was dark and he followed the only sound to the hallway, to the open door of the basement. 

His eyes fell to the scene there, Yarrow bent over their mother whose face was frozen in the shock and pain of her death. 

“Yarrow! What happened? Are you okay?” He rushed to his little brother, the sounds hitting his ears a moment later. The smacking and slurps and crunching of a savory meal. He froze, finally taking in the sight properly. 

Yarrow was hunched, spin contorted down as he crouched over her. His pajamas were covered in blood, it also in his hair and covering his hands and arms to the elbow, chunks falling from his hands as anything he reached was shoved towards his mouth. 

“Yarrow?”

Finally, he turned to Oliver, making him recoil. His eyes glowed a gentle lavender color, pupils blown wide and vibrant against the dark blood smearing his face and dripping from his chin and open mouth. 

He backed from him slowly, eyes never leaving the gruesome image of his brother. Yarrow stood up. He followed Oliver, taking a step each time he did as Oliver’s eyes darted around looking for anything. 

He rushed for a blanket, grabbing it as Yarrow lunged. He cried out as his teeth sank into his arm, making him snarl as he got a taste of his blood. He moved, throwing Yarrow into the coffee table and the boy standing up from the broken glass. It didn’t deter him, pushing himself back to all fours as he bared his teeth at his brother. 

Roan moved towards him but Yarrow was faster, darting back until he was cornered. He threw the blanket, watching him struggle with it before moved to grab him, arms around him as he trapped him in the hug. 

Tears slid down Oliver’s face as he held the squirming animal that was his baby brother. He tried to not sob, begging himself silently to think. To do anything to put a stop to this. He stopped. 

Keeping a hold on Yarrow, moved to pull the necklace off of himself. It was a pendant, a simple rune carved into a stone. He put that over where Yarrow’s head was. 

There was no change. 

“No…No, get out of him! Leave us alone!” he shouted, sobbing finally as he broke, leaning over Yarrow as his nails started to tear at the blanket over his head. 

As Oliver begged and sobbing into the night, words he didn’t know started to fall from his lips.

The strange incantation wrapped around the brothers like a blanket of its own. As he finished, Oliver looked up. The shadowy hound stood before him, glaring at him down. Its tail tucked itself between its back legs and moved back. 

It snarled at him once more before turning tail and running back to the basement and down the stairs. 

Silence filled the night as he held his breath. Tears continued to fall onto the blanket still over his brother’s head. 

“O-Ollie?” He blinked and quickly moved it, looking down at Yarrow, eyes a sweet brown again as he looked up at him. “My head hurts…”

Oliver broke. He pulled Yarrow close, much to the boy's confusion, and sobbed. He clung to him, Yarrow letting him do so. 

After too long, he stood, scooping Yarrow up and taking him outside. He placed him on the porch stair, telling him to remain there. Yarrow nodded, watching him curiously before he was distracted by the distant hoot of an owl, repeating the animal’s sound back. 

Oliver returned back inside. He went to his mother and knelt over her. He gently brushed a hand over her cheek, leaning down to kiss her head and closing her eyes. He stepped carefully over her, going downstairs. He looked at the portal, visible between aisles of books and still alight. 

He ignored it for now. He went to his father, kneeling down beside him as well. He kissed his head and closed his eyes. He sat there, lifting his eyes away from the mauled remains of his father. 

He sobbed again, a scream of grief ripping from his throat. He sat there and broke, feeling his heart tear itself out of his chest. He backed from his father’s body, curling into himself as he wept and yelled and cursed. 

As his grief turned to rage, his head lifted. His eyes found the portal door once again. He slowly staggered to his feet, grabbing the first thing he could. A tall metal candle holder, as tall as he was as he dragged it to the portal. 

Summoning all his strength, he hit it into the portal, the stony side barely giving way. He panted for a moment, staring at it. With a yell, he hit it again and again. He cured everything it stood for. He cursed his home, he cursed their gods, he cursed Edos. 

His hands finally dug into the stones, tearing it apart and scratching out the runs carved into the top. He dismantled it, yelling into the night about what Edos had taken from him. His home, his parents, his safety. 

The library around them flickered, the magic keeping it locked onto Earth breaking down as the portal fell. Slowly the stone shelves broke into themselves as Oliver stepped back. He panted, looking around them as slowly the library vanished into the pocket dimension his father had used, leaving him and his father’s body in the real basement, cold and dark.

He picked up the phone that his father had used to call him. He finally ended the call with his own phone back at his dorms. With a shaky breath, he trudged his way back upstairs, his body feeling heavy and exhaustion finally settling over him. 

As he went outside, he looked at Yarrow, who was holding the blanket around himself. He only left his side once more to throw up into the bushes beside the porch. He sighed as he wiped his mouth, sitting himself down heavily beside his brother. 

He heard sirens distantly, figuring someone had called them over the noise. He wrapped his arm around Yarrow, pulling him close as he struggled of what he could possibly say. 

“There was a dog,” Yarrow said finally, pulling Oliver out of his thoughts. He looked down at him. “It attacked mommy and daddy.” 

“Yeah… Yeah it did,” Oliver said softly, closing his eyes. 

“There was a man too.”

Oliver stopped, eyes flying open again. 

“They didn’t have a mouth. But they said they would help me, because I was stuck.” 

“What?”

“We’re stuck, Oliver, they need to help us.” 

Oliver couldn’t breathe, staring at the red and blue lights as cars screeched to a halt in front of them. 

They were here.

[maxirueee]

AU Alberu's POV as the experimented Beru

Alberu: Cale?

Cale: ...nggh..yes?

Cale rubs his eyes as he tried to open them slowly only to see his lover looking right at him with a nervous expression.

Alberu: I suddenly had a bad dream.

Cale: It's literally 3am in the morning.

Alberu: mm..yea- well *fidgeting*

Cale: Spit it out. What was your bad dream about Beru?

Alberu: DON'T CALL ME THAT ANYMORE- PLEASE just please I'm begging you...

Cale was in deep shock that his lover raised his voice at him just because of what? He called him by his nickname?

Cale: Didn't you tell me multiple times that I should stop calling you 'hyung' when we finally got together?

Alberu: I-its not that.. I just-

Cale: Tell me what's wrong Beru.

Alberu: THAT'S the PROBLEM.

Cale: Which is??

Alberu: That nickname, in my dream I was suddenly trapped in a flat boxed screen, I couldn't move but all I could do was smile. Smiling while looking towards the horizon which seemed endless. White. Blank.

ALberu: After a few minutes I suddenly heard voices. At first, there were a lot of compliments about how radiant I loo-

Cale: Are you even sure that's a bad dream?

Alberu: Yeah it is a bad dream!

Cale: Aren't you just totally flaunting how good-looking you are? You're srsly waking me up in the middle of the night because of this? I'm going back to slee-

Alberu: I SWEAR THAT'S NOT IT!

Cale looks back at Alberu who had a look of desperation. Cale couldn't distinguish if what he's seen rolling down the face of his beloved was sweat or tears. Maybe both. Well, he might as well comfort his lover since that was his job. Alberu: I heard giggles, squeals, people were shrieking with how I finally appeared. They kept saying that I looked so dazzling, how I sparkled. They were even speaking the same annoying lines that you tell me every time with your glib tongue.

Cale: Whatever do you mean oh shining sun of the Roan Empi-

Alberu: My point exactly *glaring at Cale*

Cale: Alright go on.

Alberu: It went on for days, I couldn't tell how long I was trapped in that frame-like screen window, all of a sudden I reverted back to my dark elf form.

Cale continues to stare at him, already feeling bored as he watched Alberu continue ranting his struggle of a mere dream. Although he found it amusing as he heard him say the next lines.

Alberu: But it didn't stop there, my hair color suddenly changed to a blood-red color just like yours Cale. I was the spitting image of you. And the voices agreed on how we really are sworn brothers if we just switched hair colors.

Cale: Hoh...

'There must be something more to this if it actually made the emperor of the Roan Kingdom have buckets of sweat rolling down his pretty face.'

Alberu: It was until I heard somebody say, 'How about a Pink Haired Beru?'

Cale: Huh?

Alberu: My hair color immediately changed to pink, then sky blue, then green, then orange, then red again. I didn't know when it'd stop but I couldn't even budge. Even when I wanted to so bad.

Alberu looked dead straight in Cale's eyes, with both his hands firmly holding his partner's shoulders, but ironically he was shaking. Alberu Crossman was shaking in fear. For what reason? Is this another one of the Sun God's pranks to his lover? Perhaps it was the God of Death again? He continues to ponder at the annoying thought that maybe divine beings were messing around his precious people again but stopped as Alberu continued speaking his worries.

Alberu: I thought it was okay since it was just a hair color change..then a woman's voice asked with great anticipation, "HOW ABOUT A BALD AND A MOHAWKBERU?"

Alberu: I continued to smile, even when my luscious golden blonde hair was instantly gone and I was suddenly bald. BALD! I saw numerous hearts floating in front of me and I could hear the mockery and laughter of beings I could not even see. Yet I continued to smile.

Cale was speechless.

Alberu: For some reason, I could read the words floating in front of me. "EVERYBODY GIVE IT UP FOR THE ROAN KINGDOM'S FAVORITE SHINING SUN- BALDBERU" is what it said. More hearts appeared at a scary rate and I couldn't even shout or move. I was terrified.

Alberu glared at the person in front of him like a mad man. Cale just shut up and listened to whatever he said, Alberu really looked mental.

Alberu: The woman from a while ago spoke again, I swear her voice was scary beyond belief. She added "Okay everybody hold up- Now imagine DELINQUENT HAIRCUT AlBERU"

Alberu: My hair suddenly grew back twice as much and it was styled into this weird looking hairdo...

Cale continued to have his stoic face which made Alberu feel relieved. Little does he know Cale was on the verge of laughing his ass off-

ALberu: I suddenly heard "JOSUBERU I CAN'T WITH THIS FANDOM- YA'LL REALLY DID IT U PUNKS" again from that mortifying woman since earlier, apparently it was done by a group of people claiming to be my fans?! BUT THE MONSTROSITY THEY'VE- no that wasn't even half of it

Cale: 'There's actually more?! PFFFFFT' I see, continue then. The prince saw his darling sweetheart Cale shaking as if he was sympathizing with what he was going through. At that very moment, he felt touched by his lover's empathy towards himself.

Alberu: The horrors didn't end just there as I was still waiting for the whole nightmare to be over, they were begging for a 'Voldeberu' which I don't even understand, at that point, I SUDDENLY LOST MY NOSE!!

I WAS BALD AGAIN AND MY NOSE DISAPPEARED YET I WAS STILL SMILING. I HAVE NEVER FELT SO MUCH FEAR IN MY LIFE.

Alberu: Somebody then proposed a 'Clowberu' AND MY FACE SUDDENLY BECAME A CLOWN WEARING MAKEUP. The hardships I had to take while staying still like a fucking mannequin. BUT IT STILL DIDNT STOP THERE.

Cale almost broke into laughter as he wanted to continue listening to his lover's amusing dream! If he laughs now Alberu might as well punch him in the face.

Alberu: I wanted to cry, I pleaded with the Sun God in my head that I want this to stop but I didn't get what I wanted. Instead, a chatbox suddenly appeared, I almost pissed my pants reading at the schemes of those so-called 'fans' had for me.

Cale: Oho.. what did you s-see then? 'Pfft'

Alberu: "LET'S MAKE HIS SKIN GREEN WITH ONLY ONE EYE, MIKE WAZOWSKIEBERU" "We need a butt, BUTTBERU" "I still didn't get my mohawhkberu!" "TWIN TAILESBERU" "AFROBERU!" "MONKBERU!" "SANGWOOBERU" "COWBERU" "UCHIHABERU" "I SAY NUNBERU! NUNBERU SUPREMACY RISE!!!!!!"

I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MIKE WAZOWSKI BERU! BUT THEY WANT MY HEAD TO BE A COW?! HOW COULD THEY TO THE EMPEROR OF THE RO-

Cale couldn't handle it anymore he bursts out laughing, almost in tears.

Cale: BUHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! If only I was there to see it all! I ca- I CANT! MIKE WAZOW- WAZOWSKI HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH AND AFRO?! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Alberu: How could you be laughing at my pain?!

Cale: Oh dear emperor of mine, isn't it fine that you have such 'entertaining fans' of yours?

Alberu: Entertaining can't even describe those lots... They all praised me for how I was the rising sun of the Roan Kingdom as they humiliated my every being. To the point where they even planned on turning me into 'LIGHTBULBERU'. A FUCKING LIGHTBULB BECAUSE THEY WANT ME TO SHINE LITERALLY. A WALKING FLASHLIGHT KING. ME. ALBERU CROSSMAN.

Cale: PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Alberu: Haaaahh... You don't understand because you were never in my position. Those fans were a bunch of lunatics I say, LUNATICS!

What Alberu doesn't know is that we, the fandom won't just stop there...

Alberu felt shivers down his spine as he recalled the very vivid and realistic experience he had inside his dream.

Cale: I am so telling this to Tasha, my esteemed and very much adored Beru <3

Alberu: JUST CALL ME HYUNG PLEASE!!

The trauma seemed to have sunken deep into his mind that every time Cale calls him by that nickname, he subconsciously touches his hair and nose in order to reassure himself that it's still there.

I'm tagging these superb beings for making the thread LEGENDARY: @cale-alberu @chunnicalesimp @thescarletguard @trashduchesshenituse-reblogs @farmercale @just-a-sleepy-person @annerisk @pile-of-sticks @trash-duchess-henituse @icyteaa

[luveline]

could you please write an early!roan fic where maybe she thinks Y/N is actually just coming around to spend time with her and then she finds out that it’s actually cause of her eddie, and gets all grumpy like “i thought you loved me” and Y/N comforts her “i do love you, but i also love your dad!”

thank u for requesting!! eddie and roan 1k, fem

There's a distinct smell of burned toast coming from the trailer. You trust Eddie but you rush up the steps anyhow, alarmed to find him coughing in the kitchen, window thrown open. 

"Will you take her?" he asks you immediately. 

You spy Roan sitting at the kitchen table and swap her for your bag of groceries. She gasps and giggles at your sudden appearance, quick to wrap her arms around your neck when you offer your embrace. You walk her to the open door and stand there sucking in clean breaths as Eddie fans a dish towel around under the smoke alarm. "What's dad burning?" you ask. 

"Um. Bagels?" 

You rub her shoulder. "Hey, I missed you, huh? It's been a long time since I saw you." 

"I missed you too!" Roan says quickly, eager, wrapping her arms tighter around your neck to squish your cheeks together. 

You smile into her hug. You and Eddie have been busy once again, and when you did manage to steal a date night, Ro was at Wayne's. You really have missed the little girl and you intend to show it, stroking your fingers through her hair gently. She dissolves like always. 

"Shit," Eddie says, throwing two blackened bagels into the sink and running the water. "Shit, fuck. I'm sorry, girls, I don't know where my head's at." 

"Cream cheese can't fix that." 

"It's okay, dad," Roan says. "We can get burgers." 

"I can't always feed you burgers, babe, it's not good for you." Eddie rubs his hair out of his face. "And Y/N just got here from work, she doesn't wanna go out again." You're dying to flop on their couch, but if she wants a burger for dinner, who are you to stop her? Still, Eddie puts his foot down. "No, bub. I'll make some more bagels. It'll be yummy. We have salami and everything." 

"Uh," she whines, laying back in your arms. You nearly drop her. You laugh at her dramatics as she slowly drags herself back up, her eyes practically sparkling with an idea. "Me and you can go get burgers," she whispers. 

"I really am tired. Let's get burgers on the weekend, maybe." You don't like letting her down but you have to be a united front with Eddie. Usurping his authority helps no one, especially when she wants something she isn't going to get today. "And I'd miss dad." 

"Who cares about dad?" she says. 

You laugh. "I do! He's my boyfriend." 

"He's your what?" 

Eddie looks up from where he's cleaning. The burned bagels have been disposed of, the kitchen sink washed out and the toaster cleared of scorched crumbs. "You knew that, Ro." He sounds puzzled. 

"He's my prince," you say. "You know? The prince to my princess Polly." 

"What?" Roan stares at you with an extremely amusing expression, her eyebrows tugged in betrayal. 

"Sweetheart, you know me and daddy are together, don't you?" you ask, hosting her higher on your hip. "That's why we go on dates and stuff. And why he brings me flowers, why we had that anniversary dinner, remember, with the melted chocolate?" 

"I thought you loved me." 

"I love you so much," you say, looking to Eddie for assistance. He seems as lost as you feel. "Like, so much. But I love dad too. He's hard not to love, isn't he? He's handsome and funny, and he makes great grilled cheese–" 

Roan does not look happy. She pushes at your chest to be put down and sprints out of the kitchen to her bedroom, where you hear a clattering of things being pushed over and a whine filled to the brim with attitude. 

"Should I…" 

Eddie shakes his head. "In a minute. Let her be angry for a bit. This is her first heartbreak." 

You meander into him and pinch his waist. "Don't say that to me, that's awful. Poor baby, did she really not know we were dating?" 

"Of course she knows. She just forgets, 'cos she loves you and she thinks you're best friends" He wraps an arm over your shoulders. "Wow. I wonder if she thinks of me as the third wheel when we hang out." 

You take the bread knife out of his hand. "Don't bother with that. We're getting burgers." 

Eddie's laugh is more of a girly, cute giggle, like he's just had a shot. You elbow him in the stomach until he cuts it out, and beg forgiveness for being grouchy with a hug. You press your face into his neck and huff. "I missed you before you got me in trouble," you mumble. 

"Nuh-uh, that had nothing to do with me." He kisses your temple. "She loves you. It's nice. It's… You're awesome. It's great that she thinks you love her more than you love me, even if she's wrong." 

"I do love her more than I love you." 

"Are you trying to piss us both off? You can go get burgers by yourself." 

Roan is face down in her bed when you knock on her door a couple of minutes later, completely still. You pick up the plushies she's flung off her bed and sit them up in pride of place against the wall. "Princess, you know I love you," you say. "Don't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"But you know I love daddy too?" 

"Ugh." She shakes her head in disgust. 

"Ugh," you say agreeably. "You're my favourite, though." 

She turns very slightly to peek at you. "I am?" 

"Obviously. That's why I just told dad we were going for burgers whether he wanted to or not." You tickle her side until she laughs and turns on her back to escape you. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, I wasn't trying to. We're still friends, right?" 

"We're best friends." 

"That's what daddy said." You scoop her up into your side for a squish. "We're best friends forever," you whisper. 

She leans up to rub her nose against yours. 

[luveline]

For the Eddie/Roan/reader series have you written the first time Eddie and reader say I love you to each other? And if not could we get a little blurb for it? Like maybe Roan says it to reader first and Eddie is all like damn, I think I love her too and is just all heart eyes 😍🥰 please and thank you! This series it literally my fav 💕

thank you for your request beautiful ♡ eddie and roan—the munsons tell you they love you for the first time. fem!reader

Eddie's wearing the brand new pair of jeans you got him and feeling like a kid at Christmas. Seriously, this has to be the fucking life. Beautiful daughter, great Uncle, a home he's proud of and a job he doesn't mind, and now he has you, and you like him enough to bring him presents. What the fuck. 

They were on sale, you'd said easily, dropping them in his lap with a kiss hello on the cheek. He'd been reading on the porch, didn't hear you coming until you were already there. Where's Roan? I got her a nightie, is that okay? 

Said nightie flares pink around Roan's knees as you twirl her. She's standing on the green play table, every rapid footstep wobbling the hollow plastic. In each flash of her face before she turns away, Eddie sees himself —same sugary brown eyes, same smile. You're laughing, the nervous, overjoyed kind, 'cos you both know you shouldn't be doing it but you're not the one who has to say no to her. (Not that Eddie does it as often as he maybe should.) 

The jeans you got him are surprisingly soft. They're straight cut and need a little adjusting, but beside that they're perfect. Eddie really, really likes being thought of, trying to squeeze a thank you in between girly giggles. 

"This is super dangerous!" you warn Roan, drawing circles over her head with your joined hands.

"This is super fun!" Roan corrects, squealing as you speed up.

One too many spins has her losing her footing, but you'd been expecting it, and you catch her without any fuss. "Woah!" she yelps.

"Woah, I got you," you say, pep unfailing. You're getting better at carrying her, pulling her up your side to rest on your hip.

Roan giggles but otherwise goes quiet, not talking, only laughing as she looks up into your welcoming face. You cushion her legs on your arm so she doesn't fall, your smile turning puzzled. "You okay?" you ask, giving her a bounce like she's much younger than she is, a baby in need of comfort. 

"I love you," Roan declares, planting a kiss on your cheek. 

"I love you, too," you say without hesitation. Your gaze flickers to Eddie's, but it's not long enough for him to gauge any one emotion. 

Roan hums like this has answered a question and puts her arms down on your chest, not quite hugging you, not not hugging you. Your fingers spread over the small breadth of her back. You steal a moment, pressing the fat of your cheek to the top of her head. "Princess," you murmur, "that's so nice. Thank you for telling me. I knew you loved me because you're always showing it, aren't you?" 

"I am?" Roan asks. 

"I think so." Your smile turns bright, the parentese tone you've been learning like sugar on your lips as you say, "Ooh, I love you so much, beautiful girl! Let's have some cookies to celebrate." Your smile lands on Eddie. "Can we?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, of course you can."

You put Roan down. Eddie's lovely daughter immediately takes your hand and together you walk to the kitchen, little steps. Eddie stands there thinking to himself for a few seconds, new jeans and your big heart, a thousand things.

"Hey!" he calls, rushing into the kitchen after you. "Wait a second, Y/N."

You stare at him with wide eyes, hand stopped where it's extended to the kitty cat cookie jar. "Don't tell me there's, like, a fake spider waiting to jump out at me. I can't take it again, Eds, my heart will explode like that freaky movie." 

"I love you," he says. Smiling big, not particularly afraid to say it. He's known for a while, but Roan saying it so easily reminded him. He should let you know. 

You don't react with any subtlety. Roan's confession was easy, water off of a duck's back, you said it back fast. Now, you're still. Your funny smile is in a pouting frown, your eyes soft with emotion. "Yeah?" you say. 

"Yeah. I love you." 

"Well I love you too," you say. 

Eddie nods nonchalantly, a show, saying, "Yeah, I know," before he drops the facade and crosses the kitchen for you. Roan giggles as he picks you up in a hug, wrenching you from side to side. "You should know already–" 

"I do!" you say, wrapping your arms around his neck jubilantly. 

"Then why are you asking?"

"I wanted to hear it again," you say.

Eddie smiles into the skin beneath your ear. "I love you. Duh." 

"Duh," you say, sounding about as happy as he's ever heard you while he pulls his head back to grin at you. 

Roan laughs and pats at Eddie's thigh to be picked up. He grabs her under her arm with some effort and you help to bring her up into the hug. "I love you, too, daddy."

"You should definitely know I love you," Eddie says to her. He tells her enough, three times a day or more. He tells her he loves her when they're brushing her teeth, when they're putting their shoes on, when they're driving home from school. He tells her between mouthfuls of spaghetti and through laughter, Love you, weirdo. "Is this, like, lame if I start telling you both all the time, or am I allowed?" 

"Definitely allowed," you say quickly, eyes bright with enthusiasm. 

"For sure!" Roan cheers. 

Eddie can see the possibilities now, I love you shouted from car windows and down the phone, said into your neck and the palm of your hand. He doesn't know why he didn't say it sooner. 

[luveline]

Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack

🧡.

thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.

Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour. 

"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun. 

"Hey, mommy." 

You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?" 

"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner." 

"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."

You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?" 

"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs. 

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it. 

You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work. 

Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.

"Anything I should know about?" you ask.

Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.

"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face. 

"Nothing for you to know about." 

You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?" 

"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly. 

"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?" 

"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want." 

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful." 

"Can I go get changed first?" she asks. 

"Yeah, bub. Want help?" 

"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom. 

You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order. 

"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"

Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door. 

"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss. 

"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street." 

"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?" 

"Yet to be determined." 

Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck. 

You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.

"Is Roan back in her cat phase?" 

Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again." 

"Eddie?" 

He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room." 

The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you? 

"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."

You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate. 

Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.

"I don't have anything, daddy!" 

Meow. 

"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby." 

A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door. 

Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.

"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat." 

"Dad–" Roan starts. 

"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.

You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says. 

"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens." 

"She looked hungry." 

You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?" 

"Well, I…" 

You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet. 

"What?" you ask patiently. 

"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small." 

"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye." 

"I think he's a girl," Roan says. 

This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you." 

"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.

"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that." 

You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy. 

"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.

Roan shakes her head. 

You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."

Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling. 

"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask. 

The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks. 

"We could keep her," Roan says. 

"Don't push your luck, Roro." 

You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.

Roan holds out her arms with a grin.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I love your writings so much. I often keep them as a treat for my way to work - only if I can be patient.

There is a big thunderstorm right now and I rememberd how when I was little my dad took me in his arms and went to the window to show me I don't have to be afraid of a thunderstorm. That got me thinking about Eddie and Roan. I can really picture them doing this. And r witnesses, maybe before the proposal (somehow I mentally devide their timeline in bevor and after the proposal and moving houses).

I don't know if you would want to write something like that. Perfectly fine if you don't.

hi my love, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you like it! eddie and roan —eddie comforts roan during a thunderstorm. 2k, fem!reader

Eddie knows without looking out of the window that the crunching sound outside is the tires of your car as you park. A slamming follows, then your footsteps hurried in the rain bumping up the stairs. You open the door, ushering in a hail of rain and your funny awkward smile he adores so much, like you're surprised to find him in his own home. 

"Hi, sweetheart," you say, rain rivulets racing down your cheeks, "it's raining bad." 

"Yeah?" he asks, semi-serious. 

He's feeling slovenly today (and pretty much every other day too, though he's allowing himself the indulgence of listening to his wants for once) and so he remains laying down on the couch, but he reaches out with two grabbing hands for you, encouraging you in. 

You frown at his teasing, slipping out of your shoes and your coat, and letting them fall as you walk toward him. He knows you aren't so rude as to leave your stuff lying around. You're as eager to see him today as he is to see you, because you've been separated for a few days; you've been at work and your own home, Eddie at Roan's art and crafts summer workshop, both slightly too busy to come and see one another without causing upheaval. 

You walk into his arms, which is to say you kneel on the couch and then collapse like a dry sand castle into his chest. You're a grown woman with enough weight to make him groan at your sudden landing. Eddie wouldn't change a thing about you, including your roughness, and he takes your hug in stride. 

"I missed you so much," you say, kissing his jaw. 

You hadn't meant to kiss his jaw; you go in for a corrective peck against his lips, your smile sticky with clear balm and smelling of oranges, peaches. Sweet, citrusy. Eddie licks his lips when you pull away and beams at the transferred flavour. 

"Ew," you murmur, wrinkling your nose even as you smile.

"You taste nice, what can I say?" Eddie looks at you through one eye. "You actually got prettier while you were away, didn't you? I missed you so much I made you prettier." 

"You have freaky mind powers," you say agreeably, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek. He must shine in the light from all the spread gloss. 

"It's really raining out there. Did you get that leak fixed last time?" you ask. 

Eddie puts an arm behind his head and looks up at the ceiling. "Ah, she'll be okay. It can't get that bad again, can it?" 

You try to cover his mouth and prevent his jinx, but it's too late. Within five minutes, the rain has turned to a hammering spatter against the roof and ceiling of Eddie's home, and the windows shake in their frames as the wind howls. 

You ease to one side of Eddie to take your weight off of his chest and the two of you peer out at the quickly darkening sky, perturbed but nothing anymore severe at the suddenness of the weather. 

"Maybe that's why it's been so warm," he suggests, trailing a fingertip down your back. "It was waiting to break." 

"The heat?" You rub your cheek against his shoulder, and take a sneaky breath in that Eddie pretends he doesn't notice. 

"Isn't that what it is, the pressure? Weather systems? Cyclones?" 

"Sorry, handsome, buzzwords won't turn me into a weatherologist." You put your hand on his cheek and rub the pale, stubbly skin beneath it with an adoring thumb. "I bet you're right. Do you have enough stuff to survive if we get rained in for the weekend?" 

"Sure. Got a whole crock pot of stew going, with tiny carrots and pearl onions and the works. Sautéed, by the way." 

"Sounds delicious," you say, smiling down at him like he's hung the moon. He'll never, ever get sick of the sweetness with which you see him. "Can I try some?" 

"It should be done now if you want me to fix you a bowl." 

You climb off of him as carefully as you're able to, so you almost jab him in the crown jewels. You're sorry kiss makes up for it, and better the little sound of happiness you make from the kitchenette after your first taste of stew. You eat another spoonful quickly, and Eddie's content to let you do as you like as long as you keep smiling like that. 

He's thinking Roan's been suspiciously quiet for a while when his daughter miraculously appears. She looks exactly like him, though Roan has a slightly different nose. Her dark eyebrows are pulled down and in, her little pink lip pouted out. 

"What's up?" he asks gently, always sorry when she's unhappy. He clambers up into a sitting position and holds out his arms. She rushes forward, burying her face in his KISS shirt without a sound. "Ro, what's wrong?" 

He pet's her hair out of her face. She whispers something, but Eddie can't hear her. He ducks his head and whispers too. "What's wrong? I can't hear you, you're so quiet. Shout at me, please." 

"I don't like the storm." 

Eddie's eyebrows rise in realisation. "Ah, I know. Sorry, baby, I should've come to see if you were okay, you don't like the loud noise, huh?" 

"It flashed, dad." 

"Did we have lightning?" 

"It was really bright, and then the sky cracked." 

Eddie rubs the short stretch of her back, her grubby t-shirt bunching under his hand. He decides that's as good a distraction as any he'll get and hugs Roan to his chest as he stands. "Let's put pyjamas on. Wanna say hi to Y/N first?" 

Roan perks up when she sees you. You're caught red-handed, still standing at the kitchen eating spoons of stew over your hand, but neither Munson cares. You waylay them with cheek kisses and offer to plate up dinner. Eddie things it's a great idea. 

"Before she eats it all," he murmurs to Roan cheekily. 

You harrumph, but the emphasis is lost on account of your full mouth. Eddie's kidding, but if you did want to eat that whole crock pot he'd let you, he likes you that much. Or, he'd let you given you save enough for Roan. She loves loves loves pearl onions. 

He wrangles her into new pyjamas and brushes out her hair, but Eddie's affection and hugs can't hide bellowing rain and thunder, and by the time he's braided her hair out of her face in loose pigtails she's shaking in his lap. 

"It's really scary, is it?" he asks. 

"It's so loud," she says, her voice tenuous as a string of silk. Eddie senses a bout of tears approaching. "Daddy, I don't like it, I want it to go away." 

Eddie bundles her up into his arms again and carries her slowly back into the living room. You frown at them as they pass the kitchenette, concerned by Roan as she hides her face in Eddie's front. 

He pats her back, swaying her from side to side. Eddie can't make the rain stop, and he can't quieten thunder, but he can comfort her. He can explain it so it feels less huge and out of reach. 

"Baby," he says, approaching the window. "Have a look. It's okay, I promise, just have a look." 

Roan brings her head up reluctantly. 

"See all that? It's not scary if you don't want it to be." Rain hits the window, the sound dulled by walls but still abrasive. He turns his body so Roan can see the huge dark clouds above them. "I know the clouds are scary because they're dark, but they're dark because they're full of so much water. The water comes out, and the clouds go white again, that's all it is." 

"What about the banging?" she asks, wide eyes glassy as she peers between the window and her dad's patient smile. 

"You know lightning, the big white flash? The lightning moves through the cloud so fast that it makes a loud noise, but it's not mean. Think about if me and you were running real fast down the hallway. Our footsteps would be loud, but we'd be having so much fun we don't think it's bad." 

Roan looks out at the rainy road and field outside of the trailer window. She's pouting.

"Like a sponge?" she asks quietly. 

"Want to go look?" 

"Outside?" she asks, shaking her head vehemently. "No, dad." 

"No, in the sink! In the sink, I'll show you."

Eddie carries her to the kitchen. You're looking at him with hearts for eyes, and he has no idea what it's for but he sends you a joking wink. He props her on the counter, his hand on her knees to stop any accidental slipping, and passes her the sponge. 

"Alright, RoRo, you have the sponge and hold it under the water." He flicks on the cold top. Roan holds it under the water, watching intensely as it starts to darken. "Now squeeze it, all the colour goes away." 

She squeezes it. Cold water splashes the side of the empty sink basin and it sounds loud in the relative quiet of the kitchen. "It's like the thunder," she says.

"Exactly!" He rubs her little shoulder. "Wanna try the sponge again?" he asks. 

It's simple, but it helps her calm down, and his explanation is seemingly good enough. Roan doesn't suddenly start to enjoy the awful banging of thunder or the rain as it batters the metal roof, but she isn't petrified to tears anymore, and after a nice warm dinner she turns too lethargic to worry. 

You and Eddie sit together on the couch, Roan in his lap, dozing. You've changed into the pyjamas you keep in his top drawer, the fabric soft against his naked arm. You don't have a designated drawer and Eddie kind of loves it, all your things mixed in with his like you live here with them. You should. He's asked you twice, but you've turned him down gently each time, unafraid to be be honest about how you feel: I love you, Eddie, and I don't want us to rush into things, don't want to be the evil stepmom stealing her space and her dad. 

One at a time, then, he'd joked. First we'll get married.

"You did a really amazing job, earlier," you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you've never looked so pretty, not ever. 

"When?" he asks, voice warmed by affection, a stickying fondness like the word has been coated in honey.

"When you were explaining the rain to her. You're always patient. You're just as lovely as she is." 

He stares at you for too long. Seconds upon seconds, his eyes tracing the cuve of your nose, the bow of your top lip, and the softness of your jaw, up to your eyes again. 

"You're the nicest person I ever met," you say. 

"Hey, don't go spreading that around," he warns, faux-fierce. 

You're answering laugh is like silver sewn into the air, one slow loop of your breath at a time. Eddie can't believe it, this life, his girl in his lap and his love on his arm, warm and cosy and waiting out the storm without any worries at all. 

"Luckiest guy on earth," he says, kissing your hairline tenderly. "That's me." 

"Luckiest, kindest, prettiest–" 

"If you're gonna do this all night me and you are gonna have a problem." 

You burst out laughing. Roan rouses on your chest, joining in on instinct, her giggles tiny and tired. "What's funny?" she asks hoarsely. 

Eddie scoots forward in his seat to grab her drink. 

"We're just happy," he explains.

Super, uber happy, even with the bad weather.