#I’m going to combust seeing this live in a few months

[hotcinnamonsunset]

cause of death: vibrating out of my skin listening to self respect by bleachers

[paarksunghoon]

DEEP HONEY | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.

NOTES: felt some type of way and naturally i need a hug from sunghoon. best i can do is write about it.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: angst, typical rough day stuff and typos, probably.

MASTERLIST

***

Your car comes to a complete halt when you situate yourself on the curb of Lee Heeseung’s apartment. The rumble of the pavement beneath your tires ceases to amplify the slight movement that naturally shakes your car seats and you sit in the driver’s side like you’re a zombie.

The muggy atmosphere from the heat attempting to displace the freezing air makes your skin feel sticky and gross as you turn your engine off. The overhead lights temporarily blind you as you stare ahead into the dark night and feel the tension building up in your body.

Your jaw clenches and your cheeks become warm with the sheer amount of frustration seeping into your bones. The cold sweat you harbor makes you feel hot and freezing at the same time. The coolness of your glass window does nothing to quell your body’s temperature.

The familiar two-story house beside you is where Heeseung lives. He rents the bottom property and has lived with Park Jongseong ever since you all collectively started the last year of university.

You don’t necessarily want to be here. Coming to Heeseung’s apartment because you feel like you might combust at any minute seems like an invasion of privacy. Your boyfriend Sunghoon had let you know that he was sleeping over at his friends’ apartment tonight and you had no qualms with the proposition. He deserved to have his time with his friends too. Although it seems that your mind has its own agenda and you find yourself in front of Heeseung’s place in no time.

You step out of the car and lock it. Your feet carry you around the hood and you step onto the hard sidewalk with a slight wobble. The air is chilling, throwing a stark shiver down your spine as you huddle in your arms for warmth. The jacket you have sprawled on the backseat looks at you with concern.

You’re a step away from ringing the doorbell but your finger hovers the white button as tears well up in your eyes. The feeling of desperation and burden weigh on your chest as you listen to the muffled laughter that comes from Heeseung’s living room. Sunghoon hadn’t seen his friends in a few weeks between classes, work, and you. The last thing you want to do is impede on his time with his friends when you’ve spent the better half of this month glued to his side.

But you can’t help it. Your nose feels like it could be burning from the cold and the weather forces you to ring Heeseung’s doorbell when it ripples through your shirt. You hear him padding to the front door and can make out his figure from the bottom, his shadow blocking the light from inside.

Heeseung opens it just slightly ajar to assess who’s standing outside his apartment at this late hour. When he opens it, seeing you standing in the cold with red eyes and no jacket makes him panic.

“Y/N?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

You think he might close the door with the look of confusion on his face but he opens it wider to allow you into his apartment. He shuts it quickly behind him and notices your chattering teeth, eyes softening at the sound when you look up at him. Heeseung watches your eyes begin to water and puts a hand on your upper back to soothe your emotions, but it makes you spill a few tears.

“I-I’m sorry for coming here,” you hiccup. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can always come over if you need something.”

You speak faster than you can think. “Today was so awful.”

Heeseung purses his lips and tells you to stay put. You watch him retreat into the living room and stare at the wall clock in front of you until you hear Heeseung say, “Hoon, your girl’s here.”

Sunghoon hears the worry in his friend’s voice because he stands up from the couch like he’s on a mission. With his eyebrows furrowed and heart beating in his chest, Sunghoon follows Heeseung to the front door and is immediately presented with you.

You look nothing like the happy-go-lucky girlfriend he said goodbye to before heading over to Heeseung’s. This morning, you’d woken up next to Sunghoon and he’d given you a tender kiss before heading to spend the day with his friends. Now, your eyes are swollen and your cheeks are stained with salty tears.

His heart plummets when he sees you standing in Heeseung’s doorway with no jacket on. You look helpless in a way he doesn’t see very often. Your knees buckle in your pants and the goosebumps on your arms are prominent to his eye.

Sunghoon wastes no time and envelopes you in a hug, pulling you into his chest until your face is situated in his neck.

“Baby?” he asks, feeling your hot breaths against his skin. “Talk to me. What happened? You’re so cold. Where’s your jacket? Did you bring one?”

His deep, honey-like voice that utter sweet concern only makes you cry harder. You try to keep your chokes and sobs as quiet as possible but the hiccups emitting from your throat make it impossible. You try to ignore the fact that Sunghoon’s friends can likely hear you weeping, instead focusing on your boyfriend’s warmth.

His arms encircle your body, one hand protectively around your waist and the other secured behind you. Sunghoon’s hands cup the back of your head and he strokes his fingers through your head lovingly.

“I had a bad day.” Your broken whispers makes Sunghoon’s heart sink even further. He pushes your hair out of the way and kisses your temple with plump lips.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rethinking the events that led to your arrival at Heeseung’s place only fuels your tears and you shut your eyes, burying yourself further into your boyfriend’s neck.

Heeseung, helplessly standing around the corner, walks closer to tell him the two of you could use his bedroom. Sunghoon rubs the small of your back and slowly walks towards the room, guiding you inside without so much as a word spoken. Heeseung closes the door behind you two and Sunghoon immediately perches the two of you on the edge of his bed.

“My baby.” Sunghoon lifts your head and pushes the tears underneath your eyes away with the pads of his thumbs. “What’s got you upset, hm? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you choke. “I’m not hurt.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sunghoon pulls you into his chest and further onto Heeseung’s bed when you give into him. He lets you cry against him, not caring that his shirt is becoming damp as the seconds pass by. His palm soothes the entirety of your back and he kisses the crown of your head, periodically squeezing you tighter when his heart breaks at the sound of your sobs.

“Life is so hard,” you say into his chest. “I feel overwhelmed and scared.”

“Scared of what, baby?”

“I don’t know. Everything? I had the worst shift at work today. A customer ordered a hot coffee but I made it iced by accident and instead of letting me remake it for her, she involved my manager and was making a scene in front of everybody there.”

“I’m sorry.” Sunghoon whispers against your temple and kisses it again. “That’s frustrating.”

“My manager tried to get her to leave but she was pushy. Usually I could handle that but I’m overwhelmed with school and my senior project that I just broke down when the manager sent me home.”

“Your manager doesn’t think you’re at fault, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He said I looked like I needed some rest and told me to take the rest of the night off.”

“Thank God.” He squeezes you tighter. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. You shouldn’t have to put up with mean people who get mad at you for making a small mistake.”

“Everybody is so fucking mean, Hoon.” You roughly push away the tears from your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I’m tired of everybody expecting so much from me. Between work, school, and my parents asking me what job I’ll have after graduating, it’s all too much.”

Sunghoon coos. “You’re so precious, you know that? You’re dealing with so much and you’re allowed to cry about it. I’m sorry everything is affecting you like this.”

“Sorry for ruining your boys night,” you sniffle. “I feel awful that I took you away from your friends.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’d come to you in a heartbeat if you called.”

His words only make you cry harder. Sunghoon is the perfect boyfriend. He dotes on you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved in his entire life and lets you know how beautiful you are any chance he gets. He gets along with your friends and family, welcomes you into his own life, and makes you feel like you can achieve anything whether he’s in the picture or not.

Being with him has made you feel safer than you have in a long time. His arms provide the kind of comfort you’ve always been seeking and despite the amount of frustration and sadness in your body, it seems to be melting away with every kiss Sunghoon puts on your forehead.

Heeseung knocks gently and opens the door just slightly. You feel silly being held like a baby in front of Sunghoon’s friends who you’ve met only once before. It was at Heeseung’s house that you first met the three guys Sunghoon is closest to after they made an effort to invite you over to a night at the local dive bar before coming back to watch a marathon of Marvel movies. Your love for Iron Man catapulted the start of your friendship with Heeseung in particular and Sunghoon was starting to love how well you fit into his life.

“It’s been a while and I wanted to check in. You doin’ okay?”

You sniffle and hold onto Sunghoon’s arm. “Bad day. Everybody sucks.”

Heeseung laughs. “Preaching to the choir.” You immediately realize you neglected to take your shoes off when entering the apartment and scold yourself for bringing dirt onto his hardwood floors.

“Shit,” you say, pulling your legs higher so they’re farther from the surface. “I’m so sorry Heeseung. I’m sorry for barging in.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Take them off, I’ll put them by the door.”

You oblige. Sunghoon holds you to balance your body as you hand each sneaker to Heeseung, who doesn’t look at you weirdly or scold you for interrupting his time with your boyfriend. Instead, he smiles at you and lets you know Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun, another one of Sunghoon’s friends that you met during the movie night, are outside and concerned for you.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” Sunghoon tells you as Heeseung closes the door behind him for a second time. “But they really like you and I know they care about you.”

“I only met them once,” you hiccup, toying with the hem attached to the bottom of his shirt. “How could they possibly like me?”

Sunghoon laughs and kisses your cheek. “I talk about you all the time. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you and would rather hang out with you instead.”

“You do?”

He nods. “Mhm. I have the best girlfriend in the world, you know. They had a lot of fun getting to know you and were planning on inviting you to a barbecue Jongseong’s having next weekend.”

“Really?”

Your doe-like eyes makes Sunghoon’s heart melt. He nods and kisses your nose. “Yes, baby. They love you. Not as much as I do, but a close second.” Hearing you laugh makes him breathe easier.

“I still feel bad for ruining your guys’ night,” you say with a pout.

Sunghoon eases your mind and presses a tender kiss to your lips to displace said pout. “We’ve all been there. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to your place and sleep?”

You shake your head. “This is your night. I don’t want to interrupt and make things awkward.”

“Why don’t we at least get you some water. You don’t have to say anything but at least drink something so you’re not dehydrated.” You don’t want to get up and face the embarrassment of the other three boys seeing you cry, but you know Sunghoon is right. After all the crying you’ve done, you’re feeling parched.

You nod and stand from him, all while he still has one hand in yours. Moments like this make you appreciate Sunghoon even more than you already do. He’s willing to do anything for you at the drop of a hat and it gives you butterflies when you remember this handsome, generous man is your boyfriend.

Jongseong and Jaeyun look at you with concerned eyes when you meet them outside. You try to speak but your mouth keeps opening and closing as you find the words to say.

“I’m okay,” you tell them. “And I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Jongseong hands you a glass of water. “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. Everyone has bad days.”

“Yeah, but you guys haven’t seen Hoon in forever and this was supposed to be your weekend.” Your sincere apology and the cracks in your voice make Jaeyun’s eyes water too.

“It’s alright,” he tells you sincerely. “We love hanging out with you. You should stay and we can watch movies. We were gonna do that anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Jongseong and I want you to stay,” Heeseung says. The two of them nod. “You shouldn’t be alone when you feel like this.”

“Fuck,” you say, voice cracking to the point where it makes you laugh. The four boys laugh as well and feel the relief in the air around them. “You guys are too nice.”

“We were gonna order takeout too,” Jongseong says, pulling his phone out. “We were thinking maybe fried chicken but Hoon says you love Thai food. Why don’t we order stuff from the place around the block and eat it family style?”

“Oh, you don’t have to change it for me.”

Jongseong waves you off. “Nah. We all love Thai. Any excuse to eat it.”

“And don’t think about paying us back,” Jaeyun says with a genuine smile. “I’ll pay for it.”

“We’ll split it by four,” Heeseung adds.

Jongseong lets you put in your order and everybody else follows suit. Sunghoon has you tucked underneath his chin as the whole ordeal happens and kisses the side of your face every so often.

“Feel better?” He asks, mouth against your ear. His warm breath is comforting, as to remind you that he’ll always be there for you.

“Much better.” Your voice is no longer brittle from your cries. Sunghoon smiles.

“My sweet baby,” he coos. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

“What about when I’m not crying?”

“Still pretty.” He squishes your cheeks with his hands and pressed a kiss to your fattened lips. “Adorable, even.”

Jaeyun looks at the two of you and laughs. He can only hope that he’ll feel like that with someone someday. It compels him to say something.

“You guys are stupid cute.”

Sunghoon says nothing. He smiles at his friend and squeezes you tighter. Having him to lean back on makes you feel like you might be the luckiest girl in the world.

***

comments and reblogs would be appreciated! xx

[tateypots]

The Party

18+ MDNI

Pairing: multiple dark characters (see moodboard) x f!reader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Offering to help your new stepdad host a party for his family doesn’t turn out the way you expect.

A/N: full disclosure, this is fully unhinged. This is very dark, please heed the warnings before reading. I am not responsible for what you consume on the internet.

I tried to post this last night but tumblr was being an ass and wouldn’t let me so now I’m posting at 5:30am on my phone in the airport so chances are it’s riddled with issues that I’m too tired to check for 😬

Warnings: non-con, drugging, step cest, oral (f!receiving, tit play, anal play, unprotected piv, anal, creampie, talk of previous non-con activity. Let me know if I missed anything.

“Well now ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Joel told you as you skipped down the stairs.

“Really?” you asked, twiddling with the hem of your sundress, your skin warming at his praise.

“Absolutely babygirl, give me a twirl,” he directed, spinning his index finger at you. You bit your bottom lip to try and stifle the huge grin that was threatening to break over your face and complied with his request, spinning on the spot, causing the hem of your dress to flare out, flashing more of your bare thighs to his gaze.

“Hmm, pretty as a picture. You sure you want to waste your Saturday hanging out with us crusty old fellas?”

“Of course, I’m dying to meet the rest of your family.”

“They’re your family now too babygirl.”

“All the more reason for me to get to know them.”

When your mom had found out she had to go away for work the weekend of the party you’d offered to help host. Truthfully you did have a slight ulterior motive for opting to stay in and help your new stepdad throw a birthday bash for one of his many cousins. You’d seen photos of them and knew they were all impossibly handsome, the family resemblance striking. You were hoping one of the younger ones might be single and would help distract you from the devastating crush you had developed on Joel.

You felt like such a sicko lusting after your stepdad. But he was so broad and strong and handsome. And kind and attentive too. When you’d returned to Austin after graduating he’d insisted you move in with him and your mom despite them being newlyweds when he found out all you could afford were shitty apartments on the bad side of town.

“You’re family babygirl, I wouldn’t be able to live myself if somethin’ happened to ya,” he’d told you with a grin.

And three weeks ago when you’d arrived with a car packed full of your belongings he wouldn’t let you lift a finger unloading. He and Tommy had transferred everything from the car to your new room which he had freshly decorated in your favourite colour.

Watching his biceps bulge while lugging boxes had been where it started. The urge to go over and bite them was almost overwhelming. Suddenly you understood your mother rushing off to Vegas with him after only 6 months of dating.

///

“Is there anything I can do to help set up?” you asked him, desperate to get away from him for a few minutes before you spontaneously combusted.

“Could start settin’ the table, the boys’ll be here any minute.”

You scurry out into the yard, letting out a deep breath and trying to pull yourself together, purposefully ignoring the dampness in your panties and start laying the table on the deck.

Joel is in the kitchen piling up burgers and steaks for the grill when the door opens and the boys pile in, led by Tommy and all carrying cases of beer, bickering over who was at fault for the Longhorns latest defeat.

He greets them all with a hug and a slap to the back, stealing Frankie’s cap and ruffling his hair, “happy birthday Frankie boy, gettin’ old now.”

“Not as old as you, getting greyer every time I see you,” Frankie retorts, grabbing back his cap and plonking it back on his head.

“That’s not cos he’s old, that’s just what bein’ married does to ya,” Tommy guffaws, setting Joel’s eyes rolling.

“Speaking of which, I hear your beautiful lady won’t be joining us tonight. Such a shame, I hope you have lined up alternative entertainment for this auspicious occasion,” Ezra enquires as he cracks open a beer.

“What do you take me for?! Of course I have, and honestly, I’m spoilin’ you boys tonight,” Joel tells them as he notices you peeking round the door from the kitchen, “ah there she is, come in babygirl, let me introduce you.”

You scuttle over to his side, suddenly flustered by the group of big burly men surrounding you. You’re grateful when Joel wraps a big arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Fellas, this is my lovely stepdaughter,” he gives them your name before pointing them all out to you, “this here is Dave, Javier, Ezra and the birthday boy Frankie. Tommy you know.”

You shake their hands as they’re introduced, wishing Frankie a happy birthday as well. Tommy pulls you away from Joel’s side into a tight bear hug that sets you giggling, “Tommy!” you squeal as he squeezes you tight.

“That’s Uncle Tommy to you sweetheart!” he retorts, finally releasing you with a laugh of his own.

///

You spend the afternoon getting to know them all. Dave you learn is married with two daughters, he is calm and serious, Javier is quiet and aloof and smokes like a chimney. Ezra could talk the hind legs off a donkey and spends hours regaling you with tales of his travels. But Frankie. Frankie is sweet and charming and so adorably handsome you almost want to swoon. Much to your dismay though your growing attraction to Frankie does nothing to dampen your attraction to Joel and more than once during the day you zone out thinking of them bending you over and spit roasting you on their cocks.

The sun is setting when you first start to feel it. You’d decided to stop drinking an hour ago having sunk far more beer than you were used to throughout the day and you were feeling more than a little buzzed. But they’d all cajoled you into one more beer which Joel had handed to you before you could change your mind.

The now empty bottle slips from your hand as your head begins to feel foggy. Surely one extra beer couldn’t have tipped you that far into drunkenness could it? But your arms and legs feel heavy and you’re struggling to coordinate them.

You try to push away from Frankie’s shoulder, where you’ve been resting your head for the last few hours, cuddled into his side. You manage with a struggle to push yourself into sitting upright but you feel off kilter and you can’t tell if it is your body or the ground beneath you that is swaying.

“You ok babygirl?” Joel asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, should’ve stopped before that last beer,” you mumble, fighting to get the words out.

“Ok babygirl I got ya. Fellas why don’t we move this party inside,” Joel suggests as he saunters over and helps you to your feet. You hear the others heading inside as Joel supports you towards the house.

You’re embarrassed for getting so drunk and showing yourself and Joel up. You want to cry with shame. “M’sorry Joel, think I just need to go to bed and sleep it off.”

“Oh baby, you can’t go to sleep just yet, the party’s just getting’ started,” he murmurs in your ear as he guides you into the living room. The rest of them are there, eyes on you. Hungry, dangerous eyes.

Joel brings you to stand in front of him and you lean back against his massive frame to keep yourself upright. His huge hands settle on your belly, the heat of them searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Alright fellas time for the main event, let me show you what’s on offer tonight.” His hands run up your body until they’re cupping your breasts, gently squeezing and leaving you breathless. You struggle to keep up with what is happening.

“Joel, what’re yo-“

“Shhhhh babygirl, its ok, just stand there real pretty f’me ok.”

His hands leave your breasts, one settling back on your belly as he pushes you forward slightly. You hear a zipper and feel cool air on the skin of your back, feel his hands pushing the dress off your shoulders, feel the gentle caress of the fabric as it slips down your body. Joel pulls you back into his torso, his hands now rubbing over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Fuck she’s pretty,” Frankie says with a whistle.

“Ain’t she just,” Joel replies, kissing up your neck. The confusion spills over into upset and tears start to fall from your eyes. You had wanted him. Had wanted Frankie too but not like this.

“Don’t cry babygirl,” he coos in your ear, “we’re just goin’ to have a little fun, you won’t even remember in the morning.” You choked out a sob, far from reassured.

“You sampled her yet Joel?” Dave asked.

“Course I have, she has the sweetest little cunt.”

“As good as her mama’s?”

“Better.”

You wailed and tried to wriggle free of him but your body was slow and uncooperative, his grip on you tightened as he slipped his hand beneath the elastic of your panties, running his fingers over your clit sending a jolt through you.

“Liberate her titties Joel,” Ezra demanded, leaning so far off his chair he was in danger of falling off, licking his lips as Joel undid the clasp of your bra. You futilely brought your hands up to try and keep it in place but it was ripped from your body and thrown to the ground, your hands wrenched down to your sides leaving you on full display for the perverted group you had foolishly hoped to call family.

“Jesus, Mary and all that is fuckin’ holy, I cannot wait to suck on those beauties,” Ezra declared, palming at his crotch and groaning with pleasure.

“Alright boys, lets get this show on the road,” Joel said, turning you and all but dragging you into the hallway and down towards your bedroom. You stumbled and struggled and tried you pull away but Joel’s persistent grip around your midsection kept you upright and moving towards the site of your impending violation.

Once in your room he dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed. He leant over to kiss your forehead, and grope at your breast. “It’ll be easier on you if you’re good babygirl, you might even enjoy it. But if not, some of the boys prefer it with a little bit of fight.” Another sob wracked through you as he moved to pull your panties down and off your body.

Turning to face the group clustered by your bedroom door he walked over to Frankie and shoved your panties into his shirt pocket.

“Frankie gets first go as it’s his birthday,” he said, clapping him on the back. Needing no further prompting and ignoring the groans of the men behind him, Frankie made his way over to you, swivelling his cap round to sit it backwards on his head. He spread your legs and dove face first into your pussy, moaning in delight.

He ate you like you were his last meal, sloppy and desperate. His tongue was everywhere, sampling every nook and cranny of your cunt.

He flicked and licked and suckled your clit until you were moaning and jolting beneath him, his beefy arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep them spread for him.

“She’s so fucking sweet, Jesus, I’ve never tasted a pussy this good,” he moaned before diving right back in, stuffing his tongue into your hole and fucking you relentlessly with it as his thumb circled your clit. You came with a cry, sobbing through your aftershocks as the others watched with rapt attention.

Frankie didn’t relent, diving right back in and began devouring you again.

“Alright fellas you know the rules, no marking, and no one fucks her ass, everything else is fair game,” Joel instructed. “Ok, lets give Frankie some privacy now.” He herded the others out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

///

You came on his tongue twice more before he pulled his cock free of his pants and pushed himself inside of you with a low groan. You were unsure whether it was whatever drug they had slipped you or his preparation that dulled the burn of his massive cock stretching your walls.

“You feel so fucking good baby, perfect fucking pussy,” Frankie crooned in your ear as he thrust himself into you. You couldn’t even look at him, your head turned to the side, tears streaming down your face, and your eyes closed tight. It didn’t seem to bother him. He just kept using you and singing your praises, honeyed venom dripping in your ear. Just a few short hours ago you would have given anything to have this man between your thighs. Now all you felt was despair.

His hips pumped relentlessly into you in a slow, steady pace as he lay atop you fully. That made it so much worse. The intimacy of the position. He took you as a lover, not an assailant, and it made you want to crawl out of your skin.

His thrusts turned sloppy and uneven and with one final brutal thrust he came with a cry, emptying himself deep inside you, rope after rope of hot cum spraying your walls.

He sagged on top of you before pulling out with a groan, pulling his boxers and pants up from his knees and bending over to give you a kiss on the forehead before exiting the room.

You wanted to curl up into a little ball but your body remained frozen and disobliging exactly as he left you, lying with your legs spread wide, the torturous slow drip of his cum from your fucked out hole staining the sheets below you.

You closed your eyes, praying for the oblivion of sleep, Joel’s words echoing in your head, “you won’t even remember in the morning.” The idea left you sickened but you hoped for it all the same. You’d give anything to go back to a few hours ago, when you’d felt safe and secure, when you’d looked into their eyes and seen nothing of the depraved monsters they turned out to be. You supposed memory loss was the closest to a time machine you’d get.

You heard footsteps and felt the bed dip as someone sat beside you. Your eyes remained closed. You had no desire to look at whoever it was that had come in. As much as you’d like to hope that your ordeal would end with Frankie, you knew better. You’d seen the hunger written over all their faces. You knew this night was far from over.

The feeling of something soft and damp between your thighs had you whimpering.

“There, there cariño, let’s get you all cleaned up.” Javier. “Frankie gave you a big load huh? That boy always cums so much, spurts like a fucking geyser.” This was the most he’d spoken to you all day.

You sobbed again, fresh tears gathering at your waterline as you felt his fingers exploring you, spreading you wide for his greedy eyes.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mused as he stroked you. “Thought your mama’s was the prettiest I’d ever seen but it’s no competition baby.”

You felt nauseous at the comparison. Had they done this to her too? Drugged her and used her or had she gone to them willingly? Had she known what she was leaving you to with her absence?

You tried unsuccessfully to pull your body away from him. Tried to raise your arms to push him away but he batted them away as if they were made of straw.

He manhandled you onto your front with ease, grabbing a pillow to stuff under your hips and pulling down his pants, moving with urgency now, “got to get inside you baby, your little pussy is calling for me.”

He stuffed himself inside you in one brutal thrust and a deep groan, immediately setting a brutal pace, hands tight at your hips to hold you steady.

“Fuck yes, take it baby, take it all, just like that.”

And you did. You had no choice. You lay there and let him pound you into the mattress, wishing you could block out the sounds of his pleasure.

He reached forward and grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you up and forcing a deep arch into your back, his other hand reaching round to grab at your tit, pinching and rolling your nipple until you were moaning beneath him.

“That’s it baby, cum on my cock, make a mess all over it.”

You had no energy to fight against it. Your orgasm washed over you as you clenched around him. You felt him pulse and twitch as he unloaded inside of you.

He released your hair, letting you slump back onto the bed. He ran his hands down your back to give your ass a squeeze as he dismounted.

You heard the shuffling of fabric and the sound of a zipper as he stuffed himself back in his pants. He leant over to press a kiss into your hairline.

“Good girl baby, took it so good for me. Hope Joel lets us have another turn with you someday, that’s not a one time pussy you got there.”

Leaving you with the sickening thought of enduring this again he departs, leaving you once again spread on your bed unable to move, soaking your pillows at both ends.

And so one by one they used you. Tommy jackhammering into you, whispering praises about what a good little niece you were. Ezra worshipping your “glorious titties,” pinching and licking and sucking until your nipples were swollen and raw before shoving his cock between them and squeezing them tight around his thick girth, fucking them til he exploded, painting them in thick, creamy white. He ate your ass until he was hard again and then dove into your pussy like he owned it, the loud squelching of his cock pummelling through other loads of cum you’d already taken making you feel nauseous once more.

Dave came next. By this point the drugs were starting to wear off, your movement freer, your head clearer. You punched and hit at him, managing to scramble off the bed and away from him. But even at full capacity you’d be no match for Dave. For any of them. He let you stumble out of the room and lurch your way down the hall, following you at a leisurely pace, pulling his hard cock out as he went, enjoying the game.

Just as you reached the front door he pounced on you, wrestling you to the floor and forcing your legs apart before taking you right there on the floor of the hallway as you fought and screamed and cried. He came with a roar, the now familiar heat pulsing in your thoroughly used pussy.

He pulled out and you felt a gush, semen spilling out of you onto the hardwood floor. He walked away from you without even bothering to push his softening cock back into his pants.

You finally curled up into a little ball, as your body had been craving to do since this nightmare began. But you weren’t left in peace for long.

“C’mon babygirl, lets get you back into bed.” Joel hauled you back to your feet and once again dragged you back to your bedroom. You sniffled and whimpered, out of energy, out of resistance.

When he left you on your bed you hoped and prayed that was the end of it. But he returned a minute later with a glass of water and you curled yourself up into a ball once more as he sat on the bed next to you.

“You’ve done real well sweetheart, been such a good girl for us. It’s nearly done babygirl, you’ll be able to rest soon,” he promised, his big hand settled over your hip and his thumb stoking your skin in what you assumed he intended to be a soothing way.

“Please leave me alone,” you bawled, “I can’t take anymore.”

“Shhh babygirl it’s ok. Here, drink this, it’ll make it all better.” He shuffled up the bed closer to your head but you pushed yourself away from him, rolling to the other side of the bed.

“I’m not going to drink that, I’m never touching anything you give me ever again you sick bastard!”

“Watch your mouth babygirl, you don’t talk to me like that. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way but you are gona drink this down one way or the other. If I have to call in the others to hold you down you might not like what happens. Those boys are itchin’ for another round with you and if you’re gona be a brat I might be inclined to let them have at it.”

You wailed, “no, please no more. Please!”

“Then drink it down like a good girl, c’mon sit up.”

Closing your eyes and crying your heart out you hesitantly complied with his instructions.

“There we go, that’s it. This’ll make it all better I promise, you’ll fall right to sleep once it kicks in and you’ll wake up and it’ll be like this never even happened, don’ that sound nice?”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, it did. You hated yourself for your weakness but the thought of being burdened with the memory of this night was devastating. You wanted, no needed the oblivion of ignorance. So you took the glass from Joel and downed it in one go.

“There we go, that wasn’ so hard was it?”

You shook your head, the motion already leaving you feeling woozy. You slumped back on the bed and let the tendrils of fog slowly start to take over your brain. You felt Joel part your legs but made no move to stop him. You closed your eyes and concentrated on the feeling of weightlessness that was settling over your body.

“Oh baby, your poor pussy, she’s all used up huh?” he asked, running his fingers through your defiled slit. You assumed it was rhetorical and didn’t bother responding. “Don’ worry baby, she’s done for the night, once you’re asleep I’ll get her all cleaned up and she’ll be good as new by the time you wake up.”

Before the relief could fully consume you at his words you felt his fingers dip lower, spreading the wetness down around your other hole. You tried to tell him no, to leave you alone but all that slipped from your mouth was a loud moan as he applied more pressure to your puckered asshole and slipped a finger in to the first knuckle. He slowly began pumping it, sinking further and further into you.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. I thought I was never gona experience anything better than your tight little pussy but think I’m gona have to start fuckin’ this ass every night from now on.”

The words floated through your hazy brain but with nothing to latch onto they flitted away like feathers in the wind.

You felt his finger retreat. Felt him spread your legs even further apart. Felt the insistent pressure of his large cock finally sinking into your previously unclaimed hole, his moan loud enough to wake the dead.

“Jesus babygirl, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

He pushed your thighs up towards your chest as he slowly sawed in and out of your tight channel. You were aware of the movement but felt nothing more, your brain fully detaching from the physical world as the drug took over your body.

He sped up as he looked down at you, so fucking beautiful all spread open for him, tits jiggling with every thrust. His movements got faster and harder, sinking into previously unreached depths of your body.

“That’s it, takin’ it so good for me. This hole’s mine babygirl, those boys ain’t ever gonna get it. Fuck, so good,” he moaned, feeling as close to heaven as he was ever likely to get.

He railed into you, chasing the orgasm he’d been staving off all night listening to his family fuck you. He dropped his thumb over your clit and went to town, your body responding on autopilot to the sensations he was forcing on you.

He watched your battered pussy clench around nothing as you came, pushing out globs of cum and it sent him hurtling over the edge. He pushed himself as deep as he could go and filled you with a growl, safe in the knowledge that his deposit was pure. All him, not the mixed up medley currently leaking out of your cunt. How he wished he could plug you up to keep it all inside. But he couldn’t risk giving the game away.

After all, he was fairly certain he was close to having you give yourself over to him willingly. He didn’t want to jeopardise that. And until then, Javier had refilled his drug stash to tide him over. Because willingly or not, you were made to be his perfect little fuck toy.

///

Tagging some people who showed interest in the WIP, let me know if you want to be removed. @magpiepills @itwasntimethatdidit40 @baronessvonglitter @strang3lov3 @romanarose @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @pinkypromisepascal @sunshinehaze1

[pleasuretrade]

hi here's the very rough(!) first chapter of a fic that i'm not done with.

if anyone wants to beta or just offer feedback i would be grateful :') but i'm writing this very slowly and don't plan on seeing it done for at least a few more months

March x Healy

Summary: 1980. March and Healy take your classic "reunite me with my estranged adult child" case and may or may not wind up getting involved with a cult, irritating 80's toys, shady business, gardening, and drugs. Oh, and they're pretending to be boyfriends because that's totally a perfect cover??

Rating: 18+ for the eventual porn

Length: I'm gonna guess 30k? I'm at 15k rn and we're maybe halfway through. frankly i got no idea

Tags that aren't exhaustive and mostly aren't applicable to this first chapter, but just a sneak peek: pretending to be boyfriends and there's only one fucking bed anyway bitch, March wearing jeans

 The thing about kitsch dolls was that they were supposed to be cute. In abundance they became disturbing. An uncanny noise of soft pastel abstraction, dotted with innumerable eyes, staring at you from living room walls and display cabinets. It didn’t help that almost all of them were religious; angels with halos, praying children, robed biblical figures. March felt like he might combust if he made direct eye contact with the teeming mass of holy ceramic.

“March, did you write that down?”

 Holland whipped his head toward Healy, and then at their client, and then at his open, empty notepad. See, you shouldn’t have that many dolls in one room, it’s distracting. It’s weird. “Sorry, ma’am, could you repeat that?”

“Benjamin Larry Hooper. We called him Benny.”

“Bejamin….L… Hooper… Benny.” March mumbled, pen dashing across the page with a show of gumption.

 Mrs. Hooper nodded at him, all patterned dress and curled hair, hands placed politely on top of their respective thighs. “He was fifteen when he left, he’ll be twenty-six now. Tall for his age, I’m sure he’s giant by now.”

 Holland wrote in big block letters: DOB 1953 TALL

“This is my most recent picture of him, just a few months before he left.” Mrs. Hooper, Francis, reached across her doilied coffee table to hand Healy a framed photograph. It was obviously some kind of family reunion, the photo lined with folks like a tin of sardines. “That’s Benny.” she said, tapping a young man sitting cross legged in the very front row.

 Benny Hooper looked like any other fifteen year old at a family reunion, irritated or bored or both. He had a great mop of hair, a downright halo of pitch black curls reaching every direction. The slacks and short sleeved button-down were probably not his normal choice of attire, so that wouldn’t be helpful even if the kid had disappeared less than a decade ago. The shot was too wide to memorize the details of someone’s face on top of being old. The Benny in the photo hadn’t even finished puberty yet. Overall, the photo wasn’t great.

“Very helpful, thank you. We could use any other photographs you have, too.” Healy smiled pleasantly the way he did. It was freakish, the way the guy could go from deadpan bruiser to soft-eyed teddybear in an instant.

 Holland smiled along, ignoring the everpresent eyes of Mrs. Hooper's kitsch, even though he knew that there was no chance in hell they were finding Benny Hooper.

-

 “There’s no chance in hell, man.” March lit his cigarette in the passenger seat and donned his sunglasses.

 Healy tapped his fingers where he rested his arm in the open window. “We have a lead.”

“If you wanna call maybe seeing a glimpse of someone you haven’t seen in eleven years driving a truck a couple of times a lead, sure, we have a great lead. Can we stop at Hammy’s? Told Holly I’d bring home dinner.”

“Y’know, I bet I could count on two hands the number of times you’ve gone proper grocery shopping since I’ve known you.”

“That’s not true, you went grocery shopping with us like two weeks ago.”

“And you bought eggs, bread, a gallon of neon colored juice, a gallon of whiskey, and five frozen pizzas.”

“Are those not groceries? Is that not sustenance?” March waved his cigarette for emphasis.

“Anyway,” Healy redirected, taking the turn toward Hammy’s, “all we have to do is stake out the spot she saw the truck, right?”

“If everything worked out just that easy we’d be out of a job, Jack.” March took a drag from his cigarette, thanking the stars that loaded, aging ladies were willing to shill out for the most unfeasible asks imaginable time and time again. Healy let it sit because he knew it was true by now, well over two years down the line as a PI.

“Why do you think the kid really left?” Healy asked after a while, expertly flat when Holland had figured out eons ago that the guy really was invested in each case, even the small ones.

“I don’t know, too many doilies? An aversion to puce colored carpet? I wouldn’t stay long either.”

 Healy ignored him. “I find it hard to believe he just up and left for no reason.”

“Maybe Mrs. Hooper’s chicken is dry.” Healy purposefully hit the curb pulling into Hammy’s, jostling March’s cigarette nearly out of his hand. “I mean, it’s not like it matters. Even if we find the kid, he’s not comin’ back. Ten fuckin’ years. Remember that girl, Arrow or Rainbow or whatever she named herself?”

 Healy grunted in reluctant remembrance. They’d found her after a long, boring two months and by the end of it all she’d had to say was ‘thanks for letting me know my family's looking for me, you can go now.’ Not that it mattered much to Holland. They made out with enough money to take a couple of weeks off so they could take Holly to Catalina Island. She got food poisoning on the first day but still claims it was the best trip they’d been on in years (which wasn’t very meaningful considering they’d gone on maybe three of them since she was little).

“Guess you’re right.” Healy parked the car in the crowded parking lot. The line at Hammy’s was always so damn long. “Not getting paid to psychoanalyze the guy.” He sounded reluctant. Any time Healy couldn’t slip in one more act of Good it made him feel like a failure. It was something March secretly admired, however harebrained it was. He glanced a punch off Healy’s shoulder before getting out of the car. “That’s the spirit.”

-

“So why do you think he really left?” Holly asked through a mouthful of burger.

“Jesus, you two should become shrinks.” March grumbled.

 Healy sat comfortably sunken into the couch, a March sitting cross legged on the floor on either side of him. “It might be useful to know.” he added.

“Right. Like maybe you’ll be able to narrow down what kinds of places he’d go if you knew.” Holly agreed.

“Our only lead is a truck. Anyone can drive a truck. I don’t care why he’s driving it. All we have to do is follow.”

“So you admit, it’s a lead.” Healy pointed at him with a french fry.

“It’s a crumb of a lead. It’s the suggestion of a lead. It’s a lingering scent of maybe a lead.”

“Says the guy with no sense of smell.” Healy winked at Holly, who bit her lip to stop her smile from blooming. “A lead’s a lead.”

“Did you notice anything about Mrs. Hooper’s house? Like, anything that might make someone want to run away?” Holly was fifteen and already putting in more work than March.

“Yeah, puce carpet.”

 Healy nudged March with a socked foot. “She seemed nice. Boring, maybe. Said her husband died a few years ago and her other kid’s off at college somewhere, so the house was pretty quiet.”

“Boredom could drive someone away.” Holly said thoughtfully.

“And if it did that still gives us absolutely nothing to go on. Some kids just hate their parents, alright? Guy probably just hitchhiked to New York or something.” March said.

“Sounds nice.” Holly murmured under her breath. Healy nudged her with his other foot.

 March, begrudgingly, loved the gentle way Healy mediated. Fatherhood was something Holland hadn’t really been prepared for, much less being the single dad of a teenager. It didn’t help that he was a big time fuckup or that Holly was too smart for her own good. Having another person in their lives— having Healy in their lives— was a saving grace.

 Recently, Holly had started dating her first boyfriend. Or at least the first that she’d admitted to when she’d lost all plausible deniability after that time they’d picked her up from school and seen her drop some young punk’s hand like a hot iron. It was a point of contention now, between Holly and Holland. Boys were pigs, and Holland would know, he used to be one. It was one of the endless number of things Healy had become referee over, but also something Holly had adopted a near constant attitude because of.

“So when are you starting the stakeout?” Holly asked, fiddling with the cracked straw of her milkshake. March looked at Healy for an answer. He was always better at managing their schedule. Unlike March, he usually remembered what day of the week it was. Healy looked back at him and shrugged. Wasn't like they had another case on, much to the dismay of their wallets. “Tomorrow, I guess.”

 Holly got that look on her face. “Can I come?” Tomorrow was a Saturday.

 March shook his head. “Don’t you have normal teenage things to do? Shouldn’t you be like sneaking vodka out of someone’s mom’s cabinet on a Saturday?”

 Healy chimed in before she could argue. “It’s gonna be boring anyway, Holl. You’ll be sitting in the backseat twiddling your thumbs all day.” She knew that. She’d been on stakeouts with them before. But Healy’s say was more valuable to her than her dad’s, apparently, so she dropped it.

 It was late when Healy headed home, agreeing on the asscrack of dawn to reconvene and start their stakeout.

“Why doesn’t he just live here? You guys spend every day together anyway.”

 March wandered into the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of rye. Their (second) rental, real house unbuilt as ever, was always so still when Healy left. Another item on the laundry list of things March tried not to think about. “Because he’s a grown man, Holly, with his own house.”

“I wouldn’t call that dump a house, and anyway it’s an apartment. He should be sleeping here and not in an attic with a laughtrack that plays until two in the morning.”

“Well then you can invite him to stay for a sleepover next time. You guys can paint nails and read magazines.” Holland wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t really what girls’ sleepovers were like. One time he’d walked in on Holly and her friend eating donuts and saying such depraved things about Joe Strummer that he’d vowed to not open the door without knocking ever again. He never looked at that Clash poster on her wall the same way.

 Holly scoffed in time with the ice tinkling into Holland’s tumbler.

-

 The sun shone way too brightly for Holland. When he’d woken up he’d still been a little drunk, but now out of the house and into Healy’s car a hangover had eagerly seeped in. They���d agreed to start the stakeout before the sun came up, but March had skillfully convinced Healy to take him through a drive-thru breakfast and they were running late. He now nursed a coffee as the sun rose into the perfectly wrong spot in the sky. They watched cars zip lazily by from the corner of a parking lot.

“I just think it would be good to have a dog around.” They’d had this discussion every other day for a month now. March wanted a dog in the house for the very logical reason of alerting them to intruders, Healy nay-sayed because he was a killjoy with no imagination.

“I’m telling you, March, putting in a doggy door just isn’t gonna be enough for a German Shepherd. And we all know you’re not gonna walk it.”

“Why do you even care so much, man? It would be my dog.” And more importantly, why did Healy even have a say in whether or not they got a dog?

“I care because I’d somehow get stuck taking it out half the time. And your sorry ass wouldn’t train it. We’d have an untrained, overpriced menace tearing around the house.” The house. Not Holland and Holly’s house, but The House.

“Well, whatever, even if that was true it’d make a good guard dog, right? No one’s getting past a pent up, feral German Shepherd. Might shit on the carpet but it’ll take a guy’s dick off. Balls too.”

“You should really consider a shrink. I think you’ve lost your damn mind.” Healy shook his head, but Holland caught his smile.

“You taking new patients, doc? I’ve been told by my teenager that I’m a headcase.”

“I could make some room in my busy schedule. Gonna cost you about the same as a purebred German Shepherd, though.”

 March smiled and leaned back into his seat. Absolutely nothing of interest was happening outside at all, which was just fine now but give March three or so more hours and he’d start going stir crazy and the headache wasn't helping.

 Mrs. Hooper had seen the truck twice, once in the morning and once in the early evening, which gave them an unfortunately broad window of time. She’d described it as a white, short cab semitruck, maybe a GMC, with a small trailer on it, which narrowed it down almost not at all. It sounded like every third short haul semi chugging around Los Angeles, of which there were many. Very many.

 The only thing they had to go off of was that the second time around she’d seen what she thought was some kind of blocky hand-lettering on the driver’s side door, done in “nearly illegible” multicolor. When Healy had asked what she meant by “multicolor” Mrs. Hooper had only elaborated as “horribly garish.” So at least there was that.

 The odds that the guy driving the bespoke truck was this Benny person were essentially zero. That was about half their cases these days, desperate longshots funded by desperate rich people. The other half was still taking photographs of idiots who fuck with the curtains open. It was wearing a little thin. Couldn't people invent more important problems to investigate? Whatever. A job’s a job’s a job.

 The coffee in March’s cup had gone cold just in time to meet the creeping heat from outside. He downed the tepid sludge before wrenching the little metal fan out of the back seat and plugging it in. It whirred to life gracelessly.

“Hey.” Healy tapped him on the arm, which startled and excited Holland enough that he flung his empty coffee cup onto the floorboards.

“What—what, you see something?”

 A short cab semi puttered toward them from a distance, aiming for a perfectly timed red light. Healy pulled up the binoculars and squinted through them, waiting for the cab to pull into view enough to see the driver’s door. March’s breathing was shallow in anticipation.

 The truck moved, and Healy tutted, and March could see the glaringly blank door even without the binoculars. “Driver’s blonde. Ginger beard.” Healy said, still staring through the eye pieces like the truck and driver might magically change. “False alarm.”

“They’re all gonna be false alarms. This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack, only the needle was never in the haystack to begin with.”

 Finally, Healy let the binoculars fall into his lap. “I ever told you how much I love your optimism?”

[vodika-vibes]

Hi,

You knew it was coming. 😂. Request for Darman with "God, you feel so fucking good." And Don't be gentle with me-I like it when you're rough."

Hesitant Darman at first then not hesitant.

You can pick an existing fic or a new one.

Please and thank.💕

A Surprise

Summary: Darman returns from a mission, and you decide to surprise him in the hopes of getting what you want.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 1176

Warnings: Smutty, though there's no penetration

Tagging: @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry this took so long! And I had to alter the prompts, just a little, to make them work. They're bolded. And thank you so much for the request!

You’ve been dating Darman for months now, and he seems more than happy to move at the pace of frozen molasses. Oh sure, his kisses involve more teeth and tongue than any chaste kiss would, and sure, he’s brought you to bed on a few occasions, but it’s been just that…few.

And honestly, you’re at your wits end.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s pathetically head over heels in love with you, you’d think that he was just jerking you around. Which he’s not. The way he looks at you sometimes, when he thinks you're not looking, when he thinks you’re not paying attention…well, it’s enough to make heat shoot to your core.

There’s something feral lurking behind Darman’s genial nature and you want it more than you’ve wanted anything in your life.

Which would be utterly humiliating if you had to say that to anyone. But you don’t have to say anything. Not really. You are confident enough, maybe, in yourself to push Darman, just enough, to give you what you want.

You just need a plan.

And, you know, to not spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

No problem.

Easy as pie.

**********

Your chance comes sooner than you thought it might.

You spend a whole two weeks, two weeks that Darman’s away on a mission, coming up with a plan, and working out the kinks in your brain, and when he returns, exhausted and bruised, you meet him in his room.

Everything about you is carefully designed to push him, just a little bit.

The robe you’re wearing is the softest silk you’ve ever felt (and cost more than the entirety of your wardrobe combined) and your lingerie is also silky and in the colors he likes to see you in. Hell, even your hair has been perfectly styled in the way he prefers.

Are you going a little too hard? Maybe. But he has his armor and you have yours.

You greet him with a smile, and he pauses in the door. His gaze darts from your hair, to your robe, to the way the robe creeps up your thighs as you cross your legs at the knees, and he swallows, hard.

He steps further into the room, and allows the door to slide shut behind him, and he takes a careful moment to lock the door. Darman hasn’t once taken his gaze off your thighs.

Your smile broadens, “Welcome home, Dar.” You say warmly.

“This is quite a welcome,” He agrees, his voice rough. He pauses several feet away from you and starts to pull off his armor, his gaze locked on you. Of course, he doesn’t need to see the clasps to his armor to remove it. “That looks new.”

You smile broadly, “It is new. So is what I’m wearing under it.” His fingers fumble on the clasp to his chest piece, and you feel a surge of triumph.

Darman’s gaze snaps to the belt holding your robe shut, “What are you wearing under it?” He asks, almost nonchalantly. You’d believe that he wasn’t curious, if it wasn’t for how rapidly he’s removing his armor.

You hum thoughtfully, “Well…” You drag the word out teasingly, “You’ll just have to unwrap me and see, won’t you.”

His fingers slip on another clasp, “Holy shit, cyare.”

“Of course,” You say as if he hadn’t spoken, “If you’re too exhausted, I can always go back to my room.”

“Exhausted? Who’s exhausted?” He finally rips off the last of his armor and tosses it, unconcerned, to the side, “I’m suddenly very, very awake.”

You laugh and stand smoothly and walk over to him, you even practiced this part, and Darman can never find out. You’ll never live it down if he does.

His hands settle on your hips, his touch feather light, as though worried that he might ruin the delicate material covering your body, he releases a slow exhale, “Soft…” Darman murmurs, and his fingers dip to the tie around your waist, “Can I?”

You just smile at him and slide your hands under his shirt so that you’re able to glide your hands over his stomach. 

Darman, rightfully, takes that as permission, and he lightly tugs on the string, allowing the robe to fall open, revealing your body to his searching gaze.

The lingerie you chose not only is in his colors, but it’s also very sheer and very lacy, and for a moment he just stops. Stops moving, stops thinking, stops breathing.

“Holy shit, babe. I feel very underdressed all of a sudden.”

You giggle, and allow the robe to slide to the ground, before you twist for him, “Do you like it?”

“You look…holy shit…I don’t even have words for how good you look-” He trails off, “Did you do all this for me?”

“I missed you,” You say lightly, “And…I might have had a plan.”

“Please tell me this plan involves you riding me until I’m speechless?”

“Hm…not quite.” You say with a laugh, you reach up and slowly trail your fingers against his jaw.

“What’s your plan then?” He asks, his hands settling lightly on your hips.

You hum thoughtfully. You didn’t want to have to actually say it, but he’s proving harder to push than you thought. Maybe…just a little more. So you stand on your toes until your lips are right next to his ear, “Don’t be gentle with me- I want you to be rough.”

Darman’s hands tighten around your hips, and you pull back enough to look at his face. His jaw is slightly slack, and his pupils are dilated. But he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move.

You tilt your head to the side, “Dar?”

His gaze snaps to your face, and slowly he grins. It’s a dark, almost dangerous, grin. “Safe word?”

“I prefer to use the color system,” You reply, almost breathlessly.

His grin widens and his grip tightens even more, “Color, kitten?”

“Green.” You breathe out, “Very, very green.”

“Good girl,” You squeak when he pushes you back onto the bed, “Keep those on, I’m fucking you while you’re wearing them.” Darman has his clothes off in a matter of seconds, and then he’s on top of you, using his body to press you firmly to the bed.

His hands slide down your body and then back up again, and he presses his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to your soaked cunt.

You squirm against him, and release a breathless moan as he presses against you even harder, “Stars, you feel so fucking good against me-” Darman murmurs, “Go on baby, get yourself off. I know you can do it.”

You whine, low, “Want you-”

He coos and kisses you deeply, taking care to catch your lower lip between his teeth, “My sweet cyare,” Darman whispers against your lips, “Only obedient girls get what they want.”

You whine again.

“So,” He presses his thigh even harder against you, “Go ahead, cyare. Get yourself off, and then you can have my cock. And not a moment sooner.”

[whispersbelongingbird]

Ivantill theme before Round 6? 😭😭

Anon.. It’s been a Year and 3 month wait and it’s coming out in a few hours. I’m literally about to combust I can’t handle this. If Ivan dies I will cry. If Till dies I will cry. If they both die I will cry. If they both live I will cry.

Doesn’t matter how this round ends, I’m going to be in tears. I’m begging for Hyuna and Mizi to save them because we see them pull up to the stadium at the end of ‘All-in’. At this point all we can do is hope for the best..

[wawa-boonliang]

Flufftober Day 2: Family, Friends, Loved Ones

Summary: brotherly bonding between Hitoshi, Dabi, and Shouto. Based on my BNHA fanfiction Never and Always, Eventually

Aizawa-Yamada Shouto isn’t entirely sure why he’s doing this.

It’s been six months since the adoption was finalized. Life had simultaneously calmed down and become more hectic than ever. Shouto didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to his quiet, shut-in life-style. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever had to go back to where he was. What he’d do if he lost all of this, all of the hugs in the morning, all of the hair ruffles in the classroom, all of the forehead kisses and sweet wishes goodnight. What he’d do if he didn’t have the warmth of Bakugou… Kacchan… leaning against his side as he sat on the couch with Explodocat spread across his lap, watching TV as Yamada Sensei… as Papa Mic and Shins– Hitoshi argued over the channel.

What he’d do without the warm flutter in his stomach every time he saw Izuku.

But sometimes… he can’t help but fall into old patterns.

Hitoshi froze and peered over Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto held very still, hoping that if he didn’t move, somehow his… brother… wouldn’t be able to see what was on his screen. Unfortunately, Hitoshi didn’t seem to have turned into a T-Rex, so after a few seconds, Hitoshi cleared his throat and read outloud “New theory, Endeavor is secretly in love with All Might.”

Shouto knew it was hopeless at this point, but he still didn’t move, or speak, or breathe.

“Halfy… what the fuck?”

“...it’s not my theory. I’m just reading it.”

“Why are you reading it? What even is this?” Hitoshi gestured to the screen, before heaving himself over the back of the couch and sliding in next to him, pulling the laptop onto his own lap and exploring the page. “ProShippersUnite.com?” Hitoshi read out in glee. “Is this what you fucking do all day in your room?”

“...not always.”

Hitoshi scrolled back up to the post that had initially got his attention due to the giant fan-created splash art of Endeavor and All Might in a passionate embrace. “Don’t show this to Deku, I think he’d actually combust.”

“I wasn’t planning on it? I wasn’t planning on you seeing either.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have been on it in the living room.”

Shouto flushed. “I didn’t know anyone else was home.”

Shouto, truth be told, had been feeling a little lonely today. Izuku and Kacchan were with Mrs. Midoriya… Aunty Inko… and Papa Mic was at work doing a Charity Marathon stream for the local children’s hospital for cancer awareness month. He wouldn’t be home for another three hours if all went well. Dad was covering patrol today for Mrs. Joke who was out of town visiting family. And up until a few minutes ago, he’d been under the impression that Hitoshi was with Tokoyami at the other boy’s house. Somehow, being in a public space, even in an empty house, was a bit less isolating than being alone in his room in an empty house.

Hitoshi didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment, or if he did he didn’t comment on it. He was too busy reading through the post. “Oh my god, this person made a timeline. All Might says in an interview that he enjoys a specific spicy noodle dish at a certain restaurant, four days later Endeavor is seen at that restaurant ordering that same dish. God, look at that picture. You’d think with being on fire and all he’d be able to handle spice. All Might changes his costume, a few months later Endeavor also changes up his look with the same shade of blue being the predominant color. That’s hilarious, I never noticed that.”

“It’s oddly compelling,” Shouto breaks his silence hesitantly. These days, even though he… he does love Hitoshi… he isn’t always sure when the other boy is making fun of him or not. He never feels like Hitoshi means to hurt his feelings, even though he occasionally does, but he’d rather not be teased about this.

“I…” Shouto wants to explain how, before he had friends, before he had this… theories were all he had. Stupid things to waste time thinking about, because keeping his thoughts occupied was the only way he was able to… just get through the day. Every day. He’d run ridiculous stories through his head, each one more preposterous than the last, and do his best mental gymnastics to justify them. It was fun.

Some of the only fun he’d been able to take for himself for years.

Hitoshi must hear something in his voice, because he stops scrolling and gives Shouto his full attention. “Yeah, Halfy?”

“Sites like these were how I learned about Dad and Papa,” Shouto said slowly. “And Kacchan and Izuku. Them being a family. Theories about Aunty Inko and Mrs. Bakugou being surrogates. Theories about what quirk Izuku had or which father was biologically connected to which son. And before that… I didn’t really have any friends. Theories like this were… the only way I knew how to talk to people. Pros were always happy to share their own, and they always seemed to like mine too.” Shouto huffed. “But now I know they were probably laughing at me half the time. I hadn’t realized it at the time.”

Hitoshi hummed, but his gaze was focused on Shouto. Shouto knew he was listening.

“I just,” Shouto had no idea how to elaborate on how important things like this had been to him, and the more he said out loud, the sillier it seemed. “I just liked them,” he finished lamely.

Hitoshi kept looking at him silently for a few more moments before clearing his throat and closing the laptop. “Let me ask you something, little brother.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Have you ever tried to prove a theory?”

Shouto blinked. “Only…the EraserMic one.”

Hitoshi grinned. “Ferb, I know what we’re gonna do today.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

“How does this prove that Endeavor is in love with All Might?” Shouto asks Hitoshi an hour later as they hide behind some bushes with a video camera liberated from their parents’ room.

Hitoshi, when he answers, addresses his response towards the camera. “I’m glad you asked lil’ listener,” Hitoshi grins, throwing the camera a couple of finger guns. It’s disconcerting, because the grin is all Dad, but the voice is all Papa Mic. It makes Shouto smile despite himself. “We’ll be able to tell by his reaction. Surely, if he isn’t madly in love with everyone’s favorite hero, then he won’t bat an eye. But if he is get ready for an explosive time!”

“Please stop talking like Papa.”

“No. We ready to go live?”

“Oh. We’ve been live.”

Hitoshi freezes, and by his face, Shouto can tell he regrets talking like a mini Present Mic. Shouto feels a strange, unfamiliar sense of glee. A type of glee he’s only recently discovered and is usually reserved for when one of his brothers gets caught doing something harmlessly stupid.

Hitoshi slowly pulls out his phone and clicks onto their website where Momo had hired somebody to set up a page for live streaming. Sure enough, Shouto had been streaming for ten minutes already. Two thousand people were watching, and the chat was very active.

Lmao dude wat

Endeavor? He hates All Might

no no let them talk

lil listener hahaha

omg my babies

Hitoshi kinda hot tho

dat smile damn

Who let them out of hte house unsuerpvised

Present Mic come get ur kid

im worried

plz dont do anything stupid

why

Wait wut imlate to stream

lmaoooo

let him cook

why r u in a bush

put todoroki on camera!

hes not todoroki anymore he got adopted and changed his name

he’s not todoroki

I think his last name is Yamada like Mic

yeah put him on camera!

Where are the adults? Am concerned?

are we sure they aren’t blood related?

Hitoshi punched Shouto in the arm. “Dude, why didn’t you warn me?”

Shouto frowned at him. “I’ve been pointing it at you for the last ten minutes with the light on.” Shouto gestures to the little green light that indicates that the camera is in use.

“How was I supposed to know! I wasn’t looking at you! I was busy.”

Shouto ignores him and points the camera towards the villain fight that they definitely weren’t supposed to be anywhere near. Endeavor had a villain cornered. Shouto hadn’t been paying attention to what the villain in question had done to get the new number one hero on his tail, but that wasn’t what was important. What was important was the several life-sized All Might cardboard cutouts that Hitoshi had sourced from somewhere, and then used his Aizawa-honed skill set to sneakily place just so, peeking out of alleyways, on rooftops gazing down benevolent, inside someone’s car, and even in the window of a shop – the owner lady had been nice when Hitoshi had told her it was a prank on Endeavor.

Since the court transcripts had been made public, the public opinion on the new number one hero had tanked to all time lows. Shouto felt suitably vindicated by this.

They knew the exact moment when Endeavor clocked the first one, the one in the alley, because he froze, letting the villain with the telekinesis quirk get a good hit in with a piece of rubble from the torn up street. A group of civilians cheered. As did their live chat.

yoooooo ten points

Oooooh face shot

lmaoooooooo pog

ouch. i mean lmao. But ouch.

Rofl nice shot

go for the crotch next time!

GIVE HIM THE CHAIR

ahhhh come on, there was a perfectly good car right there. throw that!!!

Shouto the fuck are you doing and why didn’t you invite me

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Dabi stared in disbelief at his little brother’s livestream.

(He wasn’t entirely sure if he was still able to claim that connection. Not that he’d wanted to for the better part of ten years. But now he wasn’t sure that he could if he did want to. Not since Shouto had been adopted by that sickeningly sweet hero couple. Not since Shouto had been given two new brothers. Or maybe even before. Not since he’d left. But his little maybe-brother had grown into someone that Dabi could see himself being friends with. His little maybe-brother had grown into someone that made Dabi feel a strange feeling of loss in his chest whenever he thought about lost years and lost chances.)

He was all for tormenting Endeavor. But this was lame as hell.

Dabi could do so much better.

“Hey,” Himiko whined. “Are you going? I want to come!”

“No,” Dabi told her sharply, but not unkindly. “One, your obsession with my… brother is weird.”

“Not him! I have a crush on Katsuki!”

“Two,” Dabi steamrolled past, ignoring that. “This is Todoroki business.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

The fight went well.

For the villain.

Once Endeavor noticed the second cut-out, he seemed to be on the lookout for more. The villain had used his distraction to first rough him up, and then get away. Endeavor roared as he gave chase, blasting down the street, almost burning a few civilians in his wake.

Hitoshi and Shouto ran to keep up, making sure to stay out of sight.

“Okay,” Hitoshi panted. “Step two.”

“And what would step two be?”

The two of them stumbled into each other, surprised. Out of an alley came the burned, but amused figure of none other than Touya. Shouto blinked twice, then gave an awkward smile. “Hello, To— Aniki. Would you like to play with us?”

A look of irritation came over Touya’s face, but it disappeared just as fast. “Don’t call me that.” Shouto nodded, knowing that Touya wasn’t talking about aniki. Shouto wasn’t sure why Touya didn’t want to be called Touya, but Shouto also didn’t want to call him Dabi. Dabi was a villain name. Touya wasn’t a villain. Touya was just his brother. But then Touya smiled a smile that wouldn’t look out of place on Dad. “But, yes. I would.”

“Great,” Hitoshi said, accepting this immediately and rolling with it, which Shouto thought was just one of the many things that made his new brother amazing. He couldn’t help but feel a burst of warmth at the thought of spending time with both his little brother and his older brother. “So the plan is–”

“No, no, no” Touya interrupted. “I saw what the plan was. It was dumb. No, you need to listen to me. I know how to fuck with Endeavor.”

Hitoshi and Shouto passed a look between them.

“What do you have in mind, Aniki?” Shouto asked. Touya’s eyes glinted in a way that reminded Shouto that while Touya wasn’t a villain, Dabi was.

“I have a plan.”

♡ღ‿ღ♡ ʕ•̫͡•ʕ*̫͡*ʕ•͓͡•ʔ-̫͡-ʕ•̫͡•ʔ*̫͡*ʔ-̫͡-ʔ ♡ღ‿ღ♡

Shouto had never thought that he’d be back here.

Even more than that, he never thought he’d be back here laughing.

Fuyumi and Natsuo had moved out ages ago, so the empty manor seemed even emptier than it ever did. Endeavor was still out, and hopefully would be for a while. Technically, they didn’t break and enter, and therefore committed no crime. Originally, Touya had planned on busting through a window, but Endeavor had never asked for Shouto’s house key back. He’d also never officially banned Shouto from the property.

“So,” Hitoshi said to the camera. “My little brother–”

“I’m older than you.”

“-forgot some things when he left, and so we’re here to help him get his stuff. That’s the official story and we’re sticking with it.”

Touya snorted and hefted his bag of supplies. “Now, for the record, I definitely wasn’t in favor of burning down the entire house and dusting off my shoes,” Touya said over his shoulder. “But trust me when I say, this will be better.”

“Also,” Hitoshi continued. “I, as a hero in training, am absolutely not bugging the house in order to get Endeavor's reaction. No siree.”

“Neither am I,” Touya says, gleefully as he hides a small camera in a painting’s frame. “As a dutiful friend of the family, I’m helping with security.”

From behind the camera, Shouto added. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

oh yes we absolutely agree with you

I believe you entirely

Nope nothing sus here

perfectly innocent yup

I mean i actually do believe Shouto

so we not burning down his house?

omg thats a fucking huge ass mansion

steal a tv

With that, Touya started pasting a giant wall art of All Might’s face to the wall.

“It’s beautiful,” Hitoshi wiped an invisible tear from the corner of his eyes. Then, he got to work moving every piece of furniture ever so slightly to the left, dropping tiny but very sharp plastic All Might figures between cushions and behind pillows. And then he scattered the extras around the floor to hopefully be stepped on by bare feet.

“Which is his bedroom?” Hitoshi asked.

“Furthest door down that hallway,” Touya answered before Shouto could.

“Got it,” Hitoshi disappeared. Shouto debated for a moment for as to which brother he should be filming, but then he decided to follow Hitoshi. Touya seemed to be struggling a bit with getting the wall art to stick. Hitoshi was in Endeavor’s room, putting little stickers of All Might’s face on everything, but in unobtrusive areas where they wouldn’t be discovered right away.

“And the best thing is,” Hitoshi said without looking up from what he was doing. “These are all cheap ass dollar store shit, so if he tries to peel ‘em off they’ll leave that shitty resedue that you need glue remover to get off.”

Shouto nodded, accidentally moving the camera as he did so. When Hitoshi was done, he stepped back and took in the room as a whole. It was spartan, with the only decorations being various awards and trophies that Endeavor had been awarded over the years. The overall color scheme was mostly gray with a few splotches here and there of brown. For as long as Shouto can remember, being called into this room meant pain. It meant kowtowing on the ground until his knees went numb as his father ranted. It meant whipping. It meant a heavy boot on his back. It meant fire. It meant whatever he’d done or hadn’t done had been serious. Going into his father’s room to “talk” meant–

“This is boring,” Hitoshi declared after a moment. “Honestly, we’re doing the man a favor.”

That startled a laugh out of Shouto. Hitoshi darted out of the room and was back moments later with spray cans in All Might red, blue, and gold. Hitoshi tossed Shouto the gold. “Here, baby bro–”

“I’m older than you.”

“-that’s for you. Just put that down on the window sill so it can still see us.” Shouto obliged, and then looked for a long moment at the can in his hands. He tried to think of the perfect thing to say. The perfect comeback to years of abuse. (It was easier to think that word now, now that he’d talked about with the Hound Dog and Dad and Papa and Kacchan and Izuku and Hitoshi. It didn’t hurt as much anymore. Nothing hurt as much anymore.) He tried to think of something profound. Something eloquent. Something suitable to match the crime.

He couldn’t think of anything.

Hitoshi noticed his hesitation. “What’s wrong, Halfy?”

“I don’t know what I want to say to him.”

“I mean…” Hitoshi trailed off and Shouto looked up at him, and then noticed that Hitoshi hadn’t been writing anything at all. Rather, there was a rather impressive mural of a dick on fire. Hitoshi shrugged at Shouto’s bemused look. “It’s not like you have to write a poem.”

Shouto looked at his can. He climbed on the bed, standing up, taking joy in not removing his shoes and idly hoping he’d stepped in dog poop at some point that day. Then he reached up as far as he could go, and started spraying the ceiling above the bed.

“WORLDS WORST NUMBER TWO

I HAVE A BETTER DAD THAN YOU

YOURE A FUCKING DOUCHE CANOE”

Hitoshi watched him, his face twisting with laughter. Then he stood next to Shouto and added a final line.

“PEEPEEPOOPOO.”

Together, they admired their work.

“I am a mature hero in training.” Hitoshi announced.

Touya peeked his head in. “Hows it going in here.” Then he spies the poem. He barks out a short laugh. “Beautiful. Art. Poetry.” He has a drill in his hand, and he makes a hole in the corner of the wall where there’s a good angle to see the rest of the room. He presses one final camera bug into the hole, smoothing it in so that it’s flush against the plaster and nearly invisible unless you know what to look for. Then, he grabs the camera from the sill and points it at the ceiling. “Behold.”

All was still for a moment. And then they heard the unmistakable sound of the front gate opening. “Scramble” Touya hissed. They dart down the hall and towards the back of the house, exiting through the garden and leaping over the back fence. They don’t stop running, keeping up the pace as they leave the manor behind them, but after a moment, Touya starts laughing.

It’s a more free laughter than anything Shouto has heard from his older brother in… ever. He sounds young. He sounds free.

He sounds a bit evil.

Hitoshi starts laughing, too. “Please tell me you got all the cameras set up.”

“They’re recording as we speak.” Touya assures him, still smiling widely as they run.

Gradually, they slow their pace until they’re jogging side by side. Shouto is a little surprised that Touya hasn’t gone his own way yet, but he still has their camera, which is presumably still live streaming, so he doesn’t say anything. Afterall, he’s not exactly complaining that his older brother hasn’t disappeared for parts unknown. Again.

And yet, Touya seems a bit surprised when he sees where the two younger boys have led him. “This… is your new home?”

“Yup.” Hitoshi pops the p. “Papa’s probably home by now.”

Touya stops walking. Shouto and Hitoshi look at him in question. “I’ll, uh,” he pushes the camera into Hitoshi’s hands. Hitoshi looks at the screen for a moment, before saluting and turning it off. Touya watches him do this and swallows. “I’ll see you guys–”

The front door opens.

“LIL LISTENERS YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE HOW MANY CALLERS TOLD ME ABOUT oh, hi Touya.”

Touya ruffled up in affront. “That’s not my name.”

“Sorry, sorry, Dabi.” Papa Mic smiles at him. “Thanks for watching the boys today. Come on in! Shouta set some soup to cook this morning and I think it’s ready!”

“I’m not sure-”

“There’s a place at my table with your name on it,” Mic continues, his face carefully open and welcoming. “Even if you don’t claim it today.”

Touya swallows. “Um.”

“All of our family is welcome whenever.”

“I’m not part of your family.”

“Friends?”

“I’m not your friend.”

“Loved ones, then.”

“I’m not–” Touya blinks rapidly. Mic wags a finger at him.

“Rule number seven in this house,” Mic tells him very seriously. “No one gets to decide who someone else loves.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Mic lets his hand fall back to his side, then he steps back, leaving the door open. “No, I don’t.” He admits. “But I’d like to.”

Touya looks lost. Shouto grabs his hand. “Aniki,” he says. “We have to watch the reaction together.”

Touya swallows. “Are you sure? This is your family. Not mine.”

“You’re my family.”

Touya stares at him for a long moment.

Of course, it’s Hitoshi that breaks the silence, tossing his comment over his shoulder as he embraces Mic and goes inside. “Yeah, Aniki, get your butt in here. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Dad’s pho. Its fucking to die for.”

Touya turns wide eyes at Hitoshi’s back disappearing into the house. Slowly, he nods. Mic’s smile grows as Touya slowly walks up the front steps, hesitating just before crossing the threshold into the house. Mic, moving slowly so there’s time for him to move, places a hand on Touya’s shoulder. Touya flinches anyway.

“Are you sure?” Touya asks again, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I’m sure.”

Touya meets his eyes, then nods. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

He goes inside.

Shouto follows, pressing briefly into Mic as he passes.

Mic closes the door behind them.

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Racing the Public Eye ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: A few hate comments(?), that’s really it

Note: Literally had a moment where I paused and went, 'wait why is she flying in first class if she's a socialite?' but like she's like that humble environmentally friendly queen you know (LMAO). Also I think this might be one of the longest parts of the series, so like good luck reading all of this word vomit 😭

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

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yvesaintlaurant best plot twist of the year, mon amour

lando you’re so beautiful

— yvesaintlaurant i love you 😕

lando IS THAT ME 😁😁

— yvesaintlaurant unfortunately

The soft glow of your bedroom lamp lit up the space as you lounged on your bed, phone propped against a pillow. On the screen, Lando’s face filled the frame, his signature pout on full display.

His hair was slightly tousled from what you assumed was an afternoon spent in the simulator, and his brows were knit together in playful frustration.

“So, you’re really not coming to Austria?” he asked, his tone laced with mock sadness.

You sighed dramatically, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

“I told you, Lando, I can’t. Dior’s hosting this big event in Paris, and my family decided to throw a reunion the same week. Believe me, if I could skip out on it, I would.”

“Paris is closer to Austria than Saint Tropez,” he argued, leaning closer to the camera as if that would persuade you. “You could just… you know, make a little detour.”

“Right, because sneaking away from a major fashion house and my family would totally go unnoticed,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “I think my manager would actually combust if I skipped out on all my schedules and events.”

Lando groaned dramatically, flopping back against his couch. “This sucks. I’m going to miss you.”

You softened, tilting your head as you watched him through the screen. “It’s just four races, Lando. I’ll see you at the Dutch Grand Prix.”

“That’s over a month away!” he exclaimed, sitting up again. “Do you know how long that is in race weekends? It’s an eternity.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being serious. Who’s going to be there to roll their eyes at my bad jokes? Or to remind me to fix my hair before an interview?”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” you replied, biting back a grin. “Besides, you’ve got Oscar. He can roll his eyes at you just fine.”

Lando narrowed his eyes at the camera, his pout deepening. “It’s not the same, though.”

“Lando…” you began, but the affection in your voice gave you away.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop sulking. But only because I know how busy you are.”

“Thank you,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Just survive Austria without me, okay?”

“Barely,” he muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched upward.

You continued chatting for a while longer, the conversation veering into lighter topics as his mood lifted. But even as you said your goodbyes and ended the call, your heart raced with anticipation.

What Lando didn’t know was that your schedule wasn’t as set in stone as you’d made it seem. You’d already worked out a way to attend his home race at Silverstone, and the thought of surprising him there, seeing his face light up when he spotted you, filled you with excitement.

As you set your phone aside and glanced at your calendar, you couldn’t help but smile. A month might feel like an eternity to Lando, but you knew the wait—and the surprise—would be worth it.

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lando Making jpgs with @fai_aviation_group

lnfour Boutta drop the hardest image of 2024 📸📸📸📸

fai_aviation_group Have a great flight ✈️🧡😎

@GridGossip101 Socialite and suspected girlfriend of Lando Norris, Y/N Laurant stuns in Paris, but I low-key thought she’d be in Austria this weekend. Guess the Monaco/Spain GP appearances were just coincidences?

@SocialiteTeaTime So, Y/N’s in Paris and not in the paddock? I thought she was secretly dating someone in F1. Maybe we jumped to conclusions too fast 👀

@FashionAndFast Honestly, respect to Y/N for living her best life in Paris. Not everything has to revolve around F1, even if she’s rumored to be seeing a driver

@OversteerStan Theory: Y/N’s actually not dating anyone in F1, she’s just vibing. Paris > paddock life this week

@LightsOutLooks Imagine being Y/N: living life in Paris, going to Dior events, and having people speculate about your love life because of two F1 races. Goals tbh.

@Sector1Gossip No paddock for Y/N this week. Austria fans, we can all breathe easy—she’s not stealing the grid’s attention this time

liked by lando, flavy.barla and others

laurant.yn work and love balance

iamrebeccad 😍💋

lilyzneimer ♥️

The McLaren garage buzzed with post-qualifying energy—engineers reviewing data, cameras capturing the drivers’ reactions, and the hum of the paddock just beyond.

Lando sat on a stool in the corner, still in his race suit, absently sipping water as his mind drifted. His eyes scanned the crowd for a face he knew wouldn’t be there, and the realization made his chest tighten.

Oscar, perched nearby and flipping through some team notes, noticed Lando’s uncharacteristically quiet demeanor. A mischievous grin crept onto his face.

“Alright, spill. Who’s got you looking like you just lost pole when you actually had a solid quali?”

Lando sighed dramatically, setting his bottle on the counter. “It’s not a big deal.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“Right. Because you’ve totally been this mopey all season.” He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“This is about her, isn’t it?”

Lando gave him a look but didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“I can’t believe this,” Oscar teased, shaking his head with mock disbelief.

“A girl we met in Miami, of all places, has got you so smitten you’re pouting in the garage. I mean, mate, it’s impressive, really.”

Lando shot him a half-hearted glare. “I’m not pouting.”

“You’re absolutely pouting.” Oscar smirked, tilting his head. “And you’re not even denying that it’s about her.”

Lando rolled his eyes, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s supposed to be in Paris this weekend. Dior event and a family reunion or something. I get it, she’s busy, but...” His voice trailed off, and he ran a hand through his curls.

“But you miss her,” Oscar finished, his teasing tone softening slightly.

Lando huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I do. Is that ridiculous?”

“Not really,” Oscar admitted. “She’s cool. Elegant, graceful, probably way out of your league—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Lando interrupted, a grin finally breaking through.

Oscar chuckled. “I’m just saying, she’s got that vibe. The kind that makes you actually look forward to something other than racing.”

Lando nodded, his grin fading into a softer smile. “She’s... different. It’s like, when she’s around, everything feels less... chaotic, you know?”

Oscar pretended to wipe an invisible tear.

“Lando Norris, the romantic. Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut up,” Lando muttered, throwing a balled-up towel in Oscar’s direction, though he couldn’t hide the laugh that escaped.

As the banter continued, a part of Lando couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N. He’d never been one to count down the days until a race weekend ended, but now he was counting down to the Dutch Grand Prix—and secretly hoping for a miracle that might bring her to Silverstone.

The summer breeze swept through the open terrace of your family’s villa, the faint hum of conversation from the main gathering drifting through the air.

You sat cross-legged on the cushioned bench, nibbling on a strawberry from the fruit platter in front of you, when one of your cousins, Bianca, leaned forward with an eager glint in her eye.

“Alright, spill,” she said, pointing her perfectly manicured finger at you. “What’s it like secretly dating Lando Norris? Is it wild, sneaking around like this?”

Your other cousin, Marc, chimed in with a smirk. “Yeah, how does it feel being a ‘secret WAG’? Do they, like, initiate you or something?”

You groaned, sinking back into the cushions. “Please, you’re being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Bianca gasped, clutching her chest theatrically. “You’re dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the world, and we’re supposed to act like this is casual? You’re practically living the plot of a rom-com!”

Marc laughed. “Don’t forget the part where the paparazzi are dying to figure out who she is.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing a grape at him. “He’s just... my boyfriend. That’s it. No labels, no weird titles, and no rom-com plots, thank you very much.”

“But he’s Lando Norris,” Bianca pressed, drawing out his name like it was dripping in gold. “An F1 driver, a literal star. And you’re acting like you’re dating a guy from down the street.”

“Well, he’s not just Lando Norris to me,” you said, brushing invisible lint off your flowy sundress. “He’s just... Lando. He’s sweet, funny, sometimes annoying, and surprisingly normal. You forget about all the glitz and glamour when you’re with him.”

Marc raised an eyebrow. “Normal? You’re telling me dating someone who drives cars at 300 kilometers an hour for a living is normal?”

“Okay, maybe not entirely normal,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “But you’re socialites! You should understand this more than anyone. The career stuff fades into the background when you’re with someone who actually matters. It’s just... him.”

Bianca leaned her chin on her hand, studying you.

“You’re totally smitten,” she said, her voice softening.

Your cheeks warmed under her gaze, but you waved her off. “Whatever. You’re making it a bigger deal than it is.”

“Sure we are,” Marc teased. “But don’t think we’re letting you off the hook so easily. We want all the details eventually.”

You shook your head with a small smile, standing and smoothing out your dress.

“I’ll leave you two to speculate. Besides, it’s time for dessert, and I’m not about to miss out because of your little interrogation.”

As you walked back toward the villa, you could still hear them whispering behind you, plotting their next round of questions. You couldn’t help but smile.

Despite their antics, it was nice to know you had people who cared, even if they couldn’t quite see past the Lando Norris headline to the person he really was.

@paddockchic can’t tell if y/n laurant is flying to silverstone or if we’re just collectively manifesting it. either way, the airport sightings have me stressed

@gpdetectives it’s probably nothing, but y/n at the airport days before the british gp feels suspiciously timed. coincidence? i think not

@lando4lyfe plot twist: y/n laurant is at the airport for something completely unrelated, and we’re all clowns for thinking she’s going to silverstone. but what if we’re right…?

@highsocietytea Does anyone else think Y/N being at the airport might mean she’s going to support a certain someone at Silverstone? Or is this just another Dior trip? 🤔 #SocialiteWatch

The bustling energy of Heathrow Airport greeted you as you stepped out of the arrival gate, suitcase trailing behind you. Blending into the crowd, you barely noticed the usual humdrum of the terminal.

For once, you weren’t whisked through the private VIP lounges or flying first class with a chauffeur waiting at the gate.

Instead, you were just another traveler, like you’d been before your life had shifted into a whirlwind of social events and constant jet-setting. It felt oddly refreshing to be navigating through the crowds on your own terms.

As you made your way to the exit, you spotted Max right away, standing with a big grin, surrounded by the rest of the group—Pietra, Ethan, and Ria. They looked casual as if they did this all the time.

Max quickly jogged over, grinning ear to ear.

“You made it! The regular terminal and everything, huh? Didn’t think you’d be so brave.”

You shrugged, a light laugh escaping you. “What can I say? I miss the simplicity of it. No security dramas or fawning over my bags—just getting through the hustle like everyone else.”

Ria smirked as she took your carry-on bag from you, the playful glint in her eyes clear.

“Well, you’ve definitely become one of us now. No more glamorous VIP exits for you.”

Ethan, leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow. “You sure Lando knows what he’s getting himself into? You’re going incognito today, huh?”

You smiled knowingly, turning back to them as you headed for the car park.

“He has no idea. He thinks I’m in Saint Tropez for a family event, so let’s keep it that way. The surprise needs to stay under wraps.”

Max grinned, shaking his head. “Honestly, I think he’s going to lose it when he sees you. You’ve got him so whipped already.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin.

“We’ll see about that. Let’s just get me there without anyone finding out, alright? The last thing I need is the paparazzi running wild.”

The group piled into the car, the energy high with excitement as Max started the engine. You caught snippets of conversation between them about how much Lando had been texting and how much he gushed over you—even though he didn’t know you were on your way.

“So, what’s the plan for Friday?” Pietra asked, giving you a side glance.

“I’ll show up after he finishes his media duties,” you explained, the anticipation building inside you. “I’ve got paddock passes from McLaren. Hopefully, no one spoils the surprise before then.”

Max chuckled from the driver’s seat. “Good luck with that. The guy’s basically got radar when it comes to you. It’s impossible to get away unnoticed.”

You shrugged with a confident smile. “I’ve got a plan. Besides, he won’t know what hit him.”

As the car drove through the streets of London, your excitement only grew. This wasn’t just about the thrill of the surprise. It was the first time you were really going to be able to show up for Lando—not as some secret or hidden part of his life, but as someone who was there for him, in full view of the world.

It wasn’t just about the track—it was about something deeper. Something you both had yet to name, but couldn’t ignore.

The paddock felt like a maze, bustling with energy as cars zipped by and crew members hurriedly prepped for the upcoming race.

You were doing your best to blend in, dodging any curious eyes as you hid behind the familiar faces of Max Fewtrell, Pietra, and Ria.

The last thing you wanted was to be spotted by anyone, especially Lando. You’d been waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him, and you weren't about to ruin it by being discovered early.

Lily Zneimer had already spotted you—she was no stranger to the inner workings of the paddock, always tuned into the comings and goings of every person present.

She gave you a knowing smile when she saw you hiding behind Max. The two of you exchanged a quick nod, and you could tell she was enjoying the fun of it. Oscar, too, had an amused grin on his face when he noticed you.

“You know, if Lando sees you hiding like this, he’s going to be suspicious,” Ria teased, her eyes scanning the crowd. “I’ve never seen you so secretive.”

You just shrugged, giving her a playful smile. “I’m just doing my best to keep the surprise under wraps. He’s been asking me so many questions about my schedule, I don’t want him to catch on.”

“You’re right, though. He’s sharp. But don’t worry, we’ve got this. I’ll take care of distracting him when he gets here.” Max, standing next to you, chuckled.

As if on cue, Lando arrived, walking through the paddock with his usual energy and focus, surrounded by a few members of the McLaren social media team.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he made his way toward the media area. Max, ever the pro at keeping Lando’s attention, immediately stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Oi, Norris, media’s waiting for you,” Max said with a grin, nudging him toward the interview area.

Lando glanced at him, a little surprised. “Already? I thought I had a bit more time before—”

“Nope, they’re ready for you. Come on,” Max insisted, practically pushing him toward the media zone.

Lando shot a quick look around the paddock before following Max, who gave you a wink as they disappeared into the crowd. The relief that washed over you was palpable. Now, you could finally get the moment you had been planning for.

You waited a few minutes, keeping your eyes peeled, making sure there were no cameras in sight. The last thing you wanted was for Lando to be surrounded by a throng of people when you finally made your appearance.

Then, when you spotted Lando heading back toward the team garage after finishing his interviews, you made your move.

You stepped out from behind your hiding spot with a quick glance toward your friends, who were grinning in excitement. You took a few strides forward before he noticed you.

His eyes locked onto you almost immediately, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Before you could even smile or say a word, he was there—his arms opening wide to pull you into a tight embrace, shielding you from the prying eyes of the paddock.

"Didn't think you'd be here," Lando mumbled into your hair, his voice soft with genuine surprise. His hug was warm, almost protective as if he was afraid someone might try to take this moment away.

You could feel the rush of affection and relief fill you as you rested your head against his chest, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“You really thought I wouldn’t show up?”

Lando pulled back just slightly, his hands still on your arms as he looked you up and down. There was a quiet adoration in his eyes as if seeing you here, in the midst of all the chaos, was exactly what he needed.

“I didn’t expect you to surprise me here, of all places. But I’m glad you did.”

You returned his gaze, taking in the softness of his expression, and a warmth settled in your chest. The thrill of the moment was undeniable. Here, amid all the cameras and noise of the paddock, it was just the two of you, sharing something an intimate moment.

“I couldn’t stay away forever, could I?” you teased, keeping your tone light, even though the moment felt so much more significant than just a surprise visit.

Lando chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your face. “I guess not. But I’m glad you came. You have no idea how much this means.”

You smiled, heart racing just a little. “I think I do.”

The room was dimly lit, only the soft glow of city lights from the balcony filtering in through the curtains. You and Lando sat on the couch, the silence between you comfortable but heavy with the unspoken.

The buzz of the race weekend had faded into the background, leaving room for something more intimate.

Lando had changed into something more relaxed after his busy day, and you, too, had slipped into something comfortable. The evening had started like any other: casual, and easy, but now it felt like it was building toward something more.

Lando was fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie, clearly distracted. You could tell that something was weighing on his mind.

The constant flurry of media, expectations from fans, and the relentless pace of the F1 circuit was always a part of his life, but tonight, there was a palpable shift.

He let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into the couch and running a hand through his hair, his eyes momentarily closing in frustration.

“Sometimes, I just feel like I’m running on empty,” he admitted softly, not quite meeting your eyes.

“It’s non-stop. The pressure, the expectations... It gets to be a lot sometimes. I feel like I’m always under a microscope, never really able to just... breathe.”

You gave him a moment, sensing that there was more he needed to say. He had always been so upbeat, and so focused on his career, but you knew that the constant attention could be exhausting.

And now, in the quiet of the room, you could see it clearly—how the weight of everything, the victories, the losses, the media, and the constant eyes on him, were slowly starting to take their toll.

“I get it,” you said, your voice soft but steady, offering him a knowing look. “Being in the public eye is... intense. It’s like you can’t ever be just yourself. There’s always someone watching, judging, speculating.”

Lando finally turned his head to face you, his gaze softening. “Yeah. Exactly. It’s like everyone expects me to be this perfect version of myself all the time. And sometimes, I just want to take a step back, but I can’t. The moment I do, the headlines start rolling in.”

You nodded, understanding exactly where he was coming from.

“I know how you feel. Everyone has an opinion on what I do, who I’m with, what I wear. It’s not even about me anymore. It’s about the image they’ve built of me. People forget that behind all the glitz and glamour, I’m just... a person. With feelings. With my own challenges.”

Lando's eyes softened as he leaned forward slightly, his body language open now, vulnerable. "It’s not easy, is it? The spotlight. It feels like you have to live up to this image that’s been created for you, but you never asked for it."

You smiled gently, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you. "No, and sometimes it feels suffocating. I love my life, don’t get me wrong, but... it’s a lot. It’s a lot to keep up with, and when everyone expects you to be perfect, you start to question who you really are outside of all that.”

Lando reached out, gently placing his hand on yours, a silent gesture of reassurance.

"I think I get it now," he murmured.

"You and me, we're both just trying to figure out how to live under the weight of all this. But maybe... we don’t have to do it alone now, right?"

You looked at him, your heart skipping a beat. The way his words made you feel grounded, seen, and understood—it was a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. “Maybe not, anymore,” you said softly.

Lando squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

"We’ve both got our challenges, but maybe we can help each other through them. It’s not about the headlines or the glamour—it’s about being able to trust someone. To have someone who gets it."

There was a quiet pause as the two of you just looked at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in. You could feel the emotional connection between you growing stronger, and more real, and it wasn’t about the flashing cameras or the perfect moments.

It was about this—just the two of you, leaning on each other, finding a bit of peace in the chaos of your lives.

“I like that idea,” you whispered, feeling something warm settle in your chest. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

Lando smiled, a rare softness in his expression, and for the first time in a long while, he seemed truly at ease. “Me too.”

And in that moment, you both understood that this connection wasn’t just built on the physical attraction you’d shared, but on something much deeper—something you both could nurture, away from the scrutiny of the world.

It was a quiet, grounding bond that neither of you had expected, but one that had the potential to grow into something that could withstand the pressures of everything else.

The world outside would always be there, but for now, it was just the two of you—finding solace in each other’s presence, building something real amidst all the noise.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[harringtown]

sorrow is a season

a/n: ik I've been super sporadic these last few months, but book revisions and tight deadlines have had me v busy!!!! anyways I’ve spent so so long on this and wanted to pull off some wild plot stuff but then I got busy and I figured I couldn’t just let the 2k I had go to waste and so, here we are. apologies for the wait anon, its been TOO long, but I hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie munson is dead. or is he? (aka a kas/vampire Eddie au)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood/death/violence mention

-

In the end, he is alone, like he always knew he would be.

Even the bats, either bored of a limp plaything or drawn away, fly off. The lightning seems to follow them, leaving Eddie alone on the grass in a cold, gray version of a place he never liked all that much to begin with.

The only thing that ever made the trailer park worth it was you. Though, to be fair, the only thing that made a lot of things in this shitty town worth it was you.

You. You, smiling at him from the passenger seat as you sing along to the radio, and you, whispering to him under the stars at midnight, and you, looking at him like you never want to stop.

He would give anything to see you one last time. To make sure you’re alive. Because he can’t be sure—he doesn’t know if his sacrifice is amounting to anything, or if you’re dying, too, just out of sight. Panic clears some of the fog from his brain.

At first, he doesn’t realize he’s speaking, calling out the word, “Please,” until his raw throat protests. Even then, he doesn’t stop, forcing his voice louder, screaming into the twisted ether.

Please, don’t take me away.

He isn’t sure who he’s yelling to, exactly, because he’s never believed in God, and even if he did, God sure as shit can’t hear him down here.

“I don’t want to die,” he says. Tears have mixed with the blood on his face, and his vision blurs red.

What are you willing to give in order to live?

The voice asks, and Eddie isn’t entirely sure it isn’t just some figment of his dying brain.

He shakes his head, letting it thump back against the grass. Above him, the dark red sky doesn’t hold a single star.

What are you willing to give? The voice asks again.

Later, he’ll understand what he’s about to do. But not yet. Not yet.

“Anything,” Eddie croaks. “Anything.”

A tall, hulking silhouette moves through the shadows, but Eddie can’t see their face, or anything, really. All of his senses disappear, and he’s lost in an endless sea of darkness.

Eddie Munson dies. And then, he wakes up.  

-

Eddie Munson is dead.

Three months of telling yourself those words, and they still don’t sound real.

Two months since he was legally declared dead—there wasn’t a body, still isn’t, probably never will be, but in Hawkins, this is no longer a strange occurrence—and three months since you dragged Dustin away from his body, and it still doesn’t feel real.

You’re beginning to doubt it ever will. Maybe it will always be this way. You, looking out your front window every time you pass it and expecting to see his van idling at the curb. You, accidentally ordering his coffee alongside your own enough times that even the barista pities you.

You, still waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.

“But you’ll be there, right? 10 am?” Robin asks, her voice garbled through the phone.

Lounging on your bed, you push up, keeping the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder.

“10 am, on the field. I know. I’m not going to miss my own graduation,” you say.

“Our graduation,” Robin says. “And thank the heavens, because I swear to God, I don’t think I’d have survived another week with Mrs. Burton. If I had to read another sexist, poorly written poem by a long dead man, I was going to spontaneously combust.”  

You laugh, but something about the words our graduation sticks to the back of your throat like phlegm. You and Robin’s. It was supposed to be three of you, though.

It’s as if Robin can hear your spiraling thoughts, because she says, gently, “If you want company, I can force Harrington to buy us beer and drive me over.”

You smile. “I’ll live. Besides, there’ll be plenty of beer at all the after parties I’m dragging you to tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Robin quips. “For once, I don’t mind hanging out with these people, considering I’ll never have to see most of them again.”

“One can dream,” you say.

“One can,” Robin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow.”

You exchange goodbyes with Robin and walk the phone back to the receiver, untangling the twisted cord, and hang it up. Before going back to your bed, you bring two fingers to your lips, then press them to the red electric guitar hanging over your dresser, like you do every night.

It isn’t the guitar he used to draw the very bats that killed him. That guitar was lost with Eddie.

It, along with a few tee shirts, the rings he pulled off his fingers and jammed into your hands before you left him, and a few photos, are all that remain of Eddie Munson.

You’d made a thousand plans together, and even if 99% of them were impossible, the 1% that weren’t still clatter behind you everywhere you go.

I think it’s finally my year.

1986 should have been the beginning of the rest of his life; hopefully, a life alongside you. It should have made high school and the monsters you’d fought an old story.

This, an empty grave, shouldn’t be the end.

-

The lock on the window in your room has been whining as long as you’ve lived in the house. A few years back, your parents tried to get it replaced, but you’d refused. You couldn’t tell them why, but you weren’t about to get rid of a built-in alarm on that window.

The whining sound pulls you out of sleep and off the mattress in under two seconds. You pull out the sledgehammer you have hidden under the bed before your eyes find the silhouette slipping through the now-open window and into your room.

Of all the nights for someone to break in, it had to be one of the miraculous few you weren’t having a nightmare. At three in the morning, that alone feels worthy of at least a tap with the hammer.

The second the figure hits the middle of your room, you lunge.

The figure ducks the swing, and jerks to the side, face illuminated by moonlight streaming in the window.

A face that can’t possibly be standing in your bedroom.

Eddie Munson. Or his ghost. Or something—

“Jesus Christ, babe, where the hell did you get a sledgehammer? Were you going to hit me with that?” Eddie exclaims, except it can’t be Eddie, because Eddie died in your arms. Because you pried Dustin off Eddie’s body. Because you’ve seen his death in your dreams every night for months.

It can’t be. It isn’t. But someone, or something, is wearing his skin, masquerading as the boy you love, and it’s the last of many, many straws.

You swing the hammer, but faster than your eyes can track, Eddie’s hand moves—you blink, and he’s holding the metal edge in one fist.

The hammer’s head is too heavy to be caught without breaking a finger—but the speed with which he moved is more troubling.

“Who the hell are you?” You snap, wrenching the hammer out of his fist, swinging again. “Get the hell out of my house, now—“

“Hold on, hold on—“ Not-Eddie backs up, hands raised, and with each second that passes, your brain files away the subtle differences. The color of his eyes, that beautiful brown, almost has a red tint in the dark. “It’s me. I swear to God, it’s me.”

“Whatever this sick game is, I’m not playing.” You raise the sledgehammer parallel to the floor and point it at him, using it to push him back toward the window. “Out.”

“Okay, okay, just—just wait.” He jumps to the side just before hitting the window, skating along the wall and darting around you. You whip around, and Eddie is there in a blink, plucking the hammer out of your hands. He tosses it onto your bed and slides into place directly between you and your weapon.

“If I wasn’t me, how would I have known how to open the window?”

Your Eddie could pop the lock in seconds. It was why you always kept it locked, because the only person who might need to get in could.  

“Anybody—anything— can jimmy a lock,” you snap.

Maybe it’s your lack of a good night’s sleep in the recent past, or the darkness of the room, but you swear, he almost looks hurt.

“Harsh, but fair.” He takes a breath. “But it really is me.”

“Eddie Munson died three months ago,” you say. “I was there.”

“Yeah, I saw the gravestone. Bet my funeral had a hell of a turnout,” he says.

“Just stop. You’re not him. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not him.”

Eddie seems to chew on his words for a moment. “We met in gym class. You were a junior. I was a senior, the second time. You were hiding behind the long jump mats during the mile run, and I army-crawled my ass over to you so that ancient gym teacher didn’t bust us both. Naturally, he saw me, and the second he yelled, you shoved me out onto the track on my ass.” He grins. “I was pretty much done for, after that.”

You shake your head. “Twenty other people were on the track  that day—”

“Fine. Okay.” He huffs a breath. Folds his arms over his chest. “Right, okay, so a few weeks after we started hanging out, I took you to Lover’s Lake. We ate Cheetos and drank warm Coke on the dock, and you told me about that field trip, the one to the museum in middle school. You got lost, ended up in the art exhibit for two hours until a chaperone tracked you down. After that, you couldn’t get enough of all those old—what is it? Abstract paintings.”

Your heart beats like a kick drum, so loud you’re surprised it hasn’t woken the whole house.

Eddie’s gaze darts down—and you don’t remember much of the few anatomy lessons you had, but you’d swear he looks where your heart is.

“This isn’t possible,” you say softly.

Eddie’s lips pull thin. “You kissed me outside that gas station on main because you said you were tired of waiting for me to do it.” A smile softens his expression. “And the first time you told me you loved me, we were in this room, in that bed, but you had to whisper because your parents were downstairs.” He takes a step forward. “And I said it back. Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t whisper either, but you weren’t even pissed. Y’know, I’d only said that to one other person before you, but I didn’t hesitate.“

“No. You can’t be here.” You swallow. Shake your head. Hope is banging its fists against your ribcage, desperate to break out of the prison you locked it in. Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall.

Eddie shrugs. “But I am.”

He takes a step toward you, and when you don’t move away, he takes another. Only when there are no more steps to take does he stop, the rubber of his sneakers kissing the tips of your toes.

He doesn’t move any further, like he’s leaving the last inch up to you.

You hold his gaze. Reach a hand up and let it settle on his cheek.

“Eddie?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into your hand. “It’s me.”

Just like that, the sob that’s been sitting at the base of your throat for months dislodges, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He still feels like your Eddie, still smells like him beneath that overhanging scent of ash.

The moment he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, you know it’s Eddie. You’ve been in these arms so many times, you fit like puzzle pieces.

“Eddie,” you say again, voice muffled by his hair, and he just holds you tighter, so tight you can barely breathe but you don’t care.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in months, you can breathe.

-

For ten minutes, everything is like it was. Eddie is all bravado and big smiles, like the last three months never happened, and you let the lie hang because you’ve missed him too badly to pull it back. But it’s more fog than curtain, and it evaporates fast.

Eddie pulls you onto the bed and into his arms, just holding you, and the way your bodies fold together may be the same, but nothing else is.

His skin is cooler, dryer. Covered in scars. His scent, one you can’t describe but know, isn’t totally different, but it’s not the same, either.

And his eyes. He clearly took efforts to keep them out of the light—asking you not to turn a lamp on, keeping his chin ducked—but up close, there’s no mistaking it.

The deep, dark brown is more like a deep red wine someone spilled on a carpet. It’s a beautiful, inhuman shade of red. And you may have seen enough weird shit to fill a museum over the last few years, it sets off every alarm bell inside you. Like an ancient voice is urging you to run while everything else tells you to stay.

Your first observation was right. He isn’t your Eddie. He’s something different. Evolved. And you’re not sure if it’s for better or worse. You’re also not sure if you give a shit.

There are so many questions to ask, but they’d all break the bubble you’re resting in, so you settle for the softest you can think of.

“Tell me what happened to you,” you say gently, keeping your forehead pressed to his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye; that, and because you’re trying to find a heartbeat. You haven’t. “How you survived. I’m not an idiot, Eddie. And I can only pretend I haven’t noticed that your eyes are a different color or that you move faster than you should. That somehow, you’ve been in the Upside Down for three months, and you’re not a decayed corpse.”

Eddie’s hands, steady as they glide up and down your back, your arms, your sides, stall, and his fingers curl slightly into your hoodie.

“You were there,” he says. “You saw it all.”

“Clearly, not everything. You were dead when I left—”

“Almost dead.”

“What?” you stiffen.

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was mostly dead. Kissing Death, straight on the lips, tongue and all. And then…”

“And then?”

He inhales, and says, “And then, I made a deal with the devil. A deal I can’t take back.”

You lean back. You may not have all the pieces, but you have enough to get some understanding at the full picture.

The only devil in the Upside Down is Vecna. And if he brought Eddie back—whatever the definition of back is—he didn’t go it out of the goodness of his heart.

“Eddie, what did you do?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Look, I know you want answers, and I want to give them to you, but I…” He pauses. His hand comes up to your cheek, his cold fingers tracing a line down to your jaw. You shiver. “I’ve spent the last three months waiting for a single minute he wasn’t on my ass, watching me, and I don’t have a lot of time. So, I swear to God, I’ll answer all your questions, but right now, I just want to be here. With you.”

You frown. “You’re not staying.”

Eddie is silent for a long time before he says, “I can’t. Not yet.”

You shift back, sitting up so that only his outline is visible in your periphery. From this angle, blurry and out of focus, he still looks like the Eddie you lost. An Eddie whose biggest problem was whether he’d actually graduate this year.

Eddie sits up beside you, a hand on your arm. He exhales, dropping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s a familiar position, and without thinking, you tip your head against his, temple to temple.

“I’m still a puppet,” he says softly. “Just because he’s not holding my strings right now doesn’t mean he’s not coming back for them.”  

You scoff. “If you’re just… some puppet, how are you here now? I mean, am I even talking to the real you right now?”

Eddie stiffens.

“I’m me,” he says. “A lot of the time… I’m more him than me. But right now, right here, I’m me. I’m just Eddie.” He lifts his chin. You crane your head to meet his eyes.

“I spent months waiting for a chance. V—He’s been so weak after everything that went down, he’s been stuck down there. Healing. Even when I came topside to fee—” He stops abruptly. Changes course. “But now…” Eddie pauses. It’s like he’s battling two voices in his head, one telling him to speak, the other urging him silent. “Let’s just say, he’s on a business trip, and I’m supposed to be down there, keeping an eye on things. I only had a few hours.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, like if you keep your voice low enough, the world won’t hear and jinx you.

“I know, angel,” he says. He drops his chin and presses a long kiss to the side of your head. When he pulls back, his expression has shifted, freezing over like Lovers Lake every December. His voice isn’t entirely his own as he says, “But there’s something I need to take care of before I can stay.”

“Something?” you ask. “Or someone?”

Eddie lets out a long sigh. He rolls onto his back, hands coming up behind his head, and the posture, his presence beside you, the tickle of his hair against your shoulder, is somehow familiar and foreign at once.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I want you to stay alive—” He lifts his brows, and you huff, pressing on. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. And you know that it wasn’t some… miracle that brought me back. It was—” He stops. “If he’s still around, I’m not really me. I’m just another one of his weapons.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. No human should be able to hear it. But Eddie does.

“I’m gonna try,” he says.

“And if you can’t?”

Eddie shrugs. He pointedly averts his gaze as he says, “If I can’t, then I go out fighting. Maybe I can get a few decent shots in before he takes me out.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie twists, shifting so he’s half in front of you. He takes your face in his hands and forces your gaze. The angles of his face are sharper, his eyes are clearer. He isn’t the Eddie you lost, but he’s still your Eddie, under it all.

“I’m already on borrowed time, sweetheart. Might as well make it worth something.”

You shake your head. “No. That’s bullshit. We’ll just… we’ll get out of here. Tonight. We can get in my car and drive until we get to a city big enough to disappear in. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You know, I’ve been running since I learned to walk.” His thumb traces a line up and down your jaw. “I never even thought about stopping. Never wanted to.” A sad smile ghosts his lips. “Then, one day, I met you. And I had a reason to stay. So, I’m gonna fight for it. And I’m gonna come back for you.”

Before, Eddie Munson could have won a contest for stubbornness. It appears dying or almost dying didn’t change that.

You take a breath. Close your eyes for a long moment. When you open them, you say, “You better. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And I’ll make sure it takes this time.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and loops his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. For a long time, you stay that way, holding each other and pretending the seconds aren’t rolling by.

And then, much sooner than you’d like, Eddie peels himself out of your arms. He climbs off the bed, and you follow him back to the window. The latch whines in protest as he lifts the windowpane, like it too is dreading his departure.

He climbs out onto the roof and turns back to the window, his slender hands on the sill. His fingers look naked without their rings.

Your stomach clawing up your throat, you lift the thin chain out from under your shirt, the metal rings hanging from it clacking. You unlatch it and pull off a thick, black ring. Unlike the others, taken off him in the Upside Down, you’ve had this ring for ages. He gave it to you a long, long time ago.

You lift one of his hands, sliding it onto his middle finger. He curls his fingers around yours, squeezing hard.

“Come back to me,” you say.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. “Promise.”

Eddie leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, and the cool touch of his lips disappears. When you open your eyes, he’s gone. Like he was never there at all.

Maybe he wasn’t.

-

Three weeks pass. By the fourteenth day, you’re halfway convinced you hallucinated Eddie. By the twentieth, you’re sure of it.

Call it your brain trying to process the mountain of grief inside you. Or the end of the slow spiral into madness you started three years ago, when a Demogorgon nearly dragged you through a portal in a tree.

Fantasizing a conversation with your dead boyfriend isn’t exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened. It’s better than the alternative: that Eddie is gone, for real.

And then, on the twenty second night, the latch on your window whines open.

In seconds, you’re up and out of bed, standing in the middle of your room just the way you were a few weeks ago. Staring at a silhouette near the window just the way you were a few weeks ago.

The figure half-covered by shadows is limping, and something dark drips off their hands—what you can see of them is covered in a dark substance that has to be blood.

“I know, I know, I’m an asshole. I don’t write, I don’t call…” A familiar, if not a little rough and raw, voice says, and the massive knot that’s been coiling in your gut for weeks untangles itself in an instant.

“Eddie,” you breathe, as he steps into the moonlight.

“Told you I'd be back,” he says, flashing you a smile between heavy breaths. His canines are wickedly sharp, longer than they should be, and shining with blood. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re really here? I’m not hallucinating?”

A smile twitches across his red lips.

“You’re not hallucinating. I’m here,” he says.

“For good?”

“For good,” he says. His mouth curves up, and his smile appears here to stay.

Like him.

And you don’t care how he got here. What he had to become just to be standing here right now. You don’t care what it might take to keep him here, either.

All that matters is that he’s here. Period.

So, you cross the room in three steps, and pull him into your arms. Blood and all.

-

taglist: @milkiane​ @robiin-buckley​ @copycatkillerfics​  @robinbuckleyssgf @isshecrazyorissheclever @peanutbutter-y-jams​ @hellfire1986baby​ @minksblog @comfortcharactercraze​  

[lizandbo]

Snuggly s/o with bnha bois

as you see I’m trying to write and post a lot cuz I feel bad

prolly no one cares but yk

kirishima

- this man won’t care

- he would want all the snuggles in the world

- if your busy with almost anything he would get upset

- he’s just so used to the way you treat him

- just snuggles is all his mind would say

- would almost probably start losing his training time because of it

- maybe idk

- he’ll be wanting to be more cuddlier than you

- so y’all might be in some intense cuddles sessions

- so many fucking cuddles

- will kiss your knuckles and compliment you each kiss

- ya guys will prolly have a competitive competition about who can cuddle With the most best quality cuddles ever

- if you do do this he will eat and cuddle at the same time

- kiribby would feed you kinda forgetting he has his own

- just all the fluffiest fluff of the fluff kind

Tenya

- look hes a bit shy the first time or 5 but that that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love your cuddles

- he jus gotta get used to it

- like a month or two

- but when he gets into he gets into it

- very stiff the first couple times it jus not that great tbh

- he feels like everything is too good to be true

- omfg he blushes so much and gets so hard

- I feel like he twitches when he’s nervous

- your jus hugging iida and kissing like theres no tomorrow

- while he’s malfunctioning inside like there is also no tomorrow

- he’s kinda insecure bout everything when ya guys cuddle

- like the one movement and you could die kinda thang

- if you question him while you just tryna cuddle your boyfie like twitching much?

- he’ll get so confused like he doesn’t know that he makes it a living hell because of his mental rules

- like dont do this position cuz they might be uncomfortable like bitch you just want some snuggles but all you get is struggles

- but after the 20th time cuddling then he’s the master

- just take your time amf he’ll be the best cuddle to cuddle with

- jus make sure that your not sleeping with a wooden board

sato

- yeah you guess it but he def baking you shit and cuddling no matter what

- look your gonna gain at least a pound or two when your dating him kk? - he so big and broad and no matter what your size he’ll try to make you feel small if you want to feel that way

- he’s also very snuggly but give him a chance or two cuz he a lil shy too

- his face is priceless when you hug him first

- ok let’s be honest here he doesn’t have the balls to initiate the first physical action

- I’m sorry but he doesnt

- so when you do go first he’ll be all for it with a bit of shyness

- if ya wanna cuddle all day he will cuddle all day

- one day he will wanna test who cuddles better

- also he loves when y’all nuzzle into each other’s necks or any area

- he jus has these really fluttery butterflies in his tummy

- he jus wanna be lovedddd

Katsuki

- hella hesitant

- he doesnt wanna hurt you if you do cuddle togther

- blushes like a mf tomato

- he wants to face you but he doesn’t wsny you to see his face so he just nuzzle his face into something

- be stiff as a board the first few times

- over time he’ll come into an end of being overreacting each time you touch him out of affection

- he’s lovign this but he just doesn’t know how to react enough to your standards

- so awkward trying to receive your affectionate side

- just squeeze him and he’ll combust

- he’ll be angry at himself by acting childish and being so weak to the point of not knowing how to handle a simple situation so he jist goes all in for it

- you love all of it and just tell him yk bring it in

- thinks its cringy af sometimes

- hols your hands wihtout looking

- kiss his face and he’ll be so blushy it’s so fucking cuteee

- look everything bout him is cute but when you cuddle AHHH his cuddles are so good

[vicvpcvke]

Home is Where The Heart is

Vi x reader 

Not exactly a hc but also not a full imagine? I’m not quite sure what this is but enjoy! 

Warnings: none 

if a woman vi ever looked at me like this id actually combust

you and Vi lived together in the undercity after she’d gotten out of Stillwater 

You sometimes missed that old worn down apartment, with its leaky pipes and quirky floor plan. One thing you missed the most was the ledge a few floors up, where you and Vi would look out onto the city. 

Vi couldn’t wait to get out of there, she made this very clear. But wherever you were was home to her. 

One night you two were laying on the ledge, looking out into the array of neon green and purple lights against the rust of the buildings. You watched the city but Vi was admiring at a much smaller and beautiful canvas. She brought her hand to your cheek and told you softly, “I’m going to get us out of here. You deserve the world, and I’m gonna try my fucking hardest to give that to you love.” 

You assured her you were happy, that all you needed was her. You would’ve been perfectly satisfied with an apartment in the undercity that didn’t shake when the neighbours walked around upstairs, but Vi promised you the world and she gave that to you. 

A few months later she managed to become an high status enforcer (with the help of Caitlyn of course), and was able to move to two of you into a home in Piltover, provided by the government. 

You just about cried the first time she unlocked the doors to your new, much grander apartment. (Vi was tearing up too but wouldn’t let you see) 

She’ll never forget how the golden light from the enormous windows embraced you while you danced around the open living area. You stopped to look back at her, and caught her trying to wipe her cheeks. You stepped toward her, gently grabbing her calloused hands and pulled her towards you. You set your hand on her cheek and wiped away the remaining streams of tears with your thumb, gently kissing her after, “I love you Vi.” “I love you, y/n”

The first night in your new home you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t noisy enough. There weren’t enough iridescent lights blaring into your room. You didn’t realize how much you’d feel like an imposter moving from  the undercity to the golden streets of Piltover. you detangled your self from the sheets that were probably worth more than your old home, and walked out to the living room. 

The massive floor to ceiling sliding door had been opened, and there your girlfriend sat, outside on the balcony overlooking Piltover. You came up behind her and softly traced your hands from your shoulder down to her stomach, hugging from behind. You moved beside Vi and leaned against her. She watched the city as you watched her, until your eyes started to close on themselves. 

Vi didn’t notice you’d fallen asleep until the sun had started to rise over the buildings in the distance. Once you woke up for the day you found yourself back in bed wrapped in blankets. Vi had left you a note on her pillow

Good morning princess, Sorry if I wasn’t the most comfortable pillow, I thought you’d get a better sleep in a real bed. I know the move is hard for you, it is for me too, but we’ll make this place our home. I promise. Wherever I am with you, is home. The nights will get easier. What do you say we give this fancy place some undercity flair when I get home huh? See you after work, I love you. Vi ~ p.s. theres so many rooms in this place I think we should…test them all out if y’know what I mean >;)

[catboyantichrist]

hi! may i please request the brothers with an MC who's cat came with them to the Devildom?

the cat is very loud and very mischievous but also very sweet :)

bonus cat photos:

thank you so much!! have a wonderful day and good luck with the new blog!

BHJFLHRAUGARL YOUR CAT IS ADORABLE- they deserve the best out of this world. You have a good day too ^^ and thank you!

☆The Brothers Living With GN!MC's Cat☆

Let's paint the scene. You just got home after a long day, and you just wanted to forget everything that happened. You decided to spend time with your precious cat! Sadly the little shit decided to scratch you and all of the furniture around you.

"Can we just have one calm day?" You yelled out at your cat. The cat doesn't give a response and just decides to jump off of the fridge they resided on.

You caught your cat and was about to give them the lecture of a lifetime (as if they could listen) when suddenly you stumble back. You, and your cat both land on the floor of RAD.

It's been a few months. You and your cat both live in the House of Lamentation. Your cat has never been more well behaved. I guess cats do belong in Hell, cause (most) of the brothers adore them. This is some of the things you've caught the brothers doing with your cat.

Lucifer:

-"Is that... a cat? Why must Diavolo never warn me about these things."

-Lucifer is frustrated. I mean you can even see his eye twitching slightly if you look fast enough. He's been telling Satan for centuries that he isn't allowed to get a cat, and now there's one here. Another responsibility to look after.

-That frustrated with your cat lasts a total of 2 weeks, until he actually connects with the cat? He's like the Dad who never wanted a pet and then loves them the most.

-He keeps tons of cat toys in his office, and a special cat bed so that there's somewhere where they can hide if the brothers are fighting for their attention. Of course, MC is always welcome to do the same.

Mammon:

-"AHHHH SOMEBODY HELP! THE GREAT MAMMON IS GETTING ATTACKED!!"

-Mammon's not getting attacked, your cat is just playing with the feathered keychain on his belt.

-It takes Mammon a minute, but eventually he understands what the cat is doing.

-"Not on my watch! How dare ya play with my precious keychain!". Mammon gives in almost immediately once your cat scratches him.

-Your cat and Mammon have some sort of rivalry going on, as Mammon will continuously hide objects from your cat that they're trying to steal.

-Mammon will also try to take pictures of your cat asleep so that he can sell them. One time he found you sleeping with your cat, and immediately got jealous. I swear you could even see the cat make a face similar to a smirk

-"I'm their first ya hear?! You wont get away with this!"

-Make sure to treat Mammon and your cat equally, they'll eventually make a truce and get along

Leviathan:

-"Don't let that little normie anywhere NEAR my fish!"

-Yeah um... Levi isn't a huge fan of your cat. Mainly because they tried to eat Henry once and it traumatized the both of them.

-Although Levi and your cats relationship started to mend once he saw them annoy the crap out of Mammon. Of course he recorded it and uploaded it to DevilTube!

-When the video went viral, an idea stuck Levi, he helps Asmo run your cat's Devilgram, but Levi mainly uploads videos of your cat attacking Mammon.

-One time Lucifer made Levi come to school for a student council meeting and he took that as the opportunity to bring your cat to school to scare other demons.

-Levi isn't required to go to school for anything anymore.

Satan:

-It is taking all of Satan's power not to spontaneously combust at the sight out of your cat. First of all, it's a cat second, Lucifer will go INSANE at the sight of this. Or well, he will overtime.

-Definitely tries to spend the most time with your cat, mainly by hanging out with you. At first he was just using you for the cat but overtime he started enjoying your company more and more.

-Did... did Lucifer connect with the cat? Satan is devastated. You're probably going to have to spend a few days with Satan and cheer him up, preferably by dates to the library? 😏

-Well there's no problem anyways, after one of the dates you and Satan went on, your cat came rushing to Satan. Did this make him tear up a bit? Maybe, but he knew your cat loved him!

-Which of course they do, but I think they loved the food in Satan's pocket a bit more.

Asmodeus:

-Congratulations! Your cat is now the centerpiece of Asmo's new outfits. They're perfect for the aesthetic he's wanting to go for anyways.

-He will spend tons of time caring for your cat, and also buying them accessories! Sometimes... a bit much. You'll see your cat waddling around with a massive sweater on them sometimes.

-Asmo now brings a fur roller everywhere he goes. He finds your cat absolutely adorable! But the cat fur not so much. He will not hesitate to completely bar off his room if he has too. What if one of his future admirers come to his room and are allergic to cats!

-Asmo does enjoy cuddling with you and your cat of course! After all he would get to spend time with two adorable creatures!

Beelzebub:

-Beel no. Don't eat the cat!!

-It doesn't take long for Beel to catch on that the cat isn't food, and once he does he immediately gets attached to the small creature. He always makes sure that your cat is well fed.

-Although sometimes a bit too well fed, you know he means well but you're gonna have to teach him how much food is okay for a human world cat to eat.

-Playing with the cat is so much fun! If your cat wasn't active before, they are now. Beel's cheery attitude even puts your cat in a good mood! Although he did try to take your cat on a walk once... never again.

Belphegor:

-Two words. Cuddle buddy. Normally your cat is fine with cuddling, but sometimes Belphie's death grip is hard to handle. If your not careful you can hear your cats faint meows for mercy as Belphie is latched onto the cat for dear life.

-Obviously he's not hurting the cat, he tries to be as gentle as possible but unlike Belphie, the cat doesn't sleep 24/7.

-One night Belphie turned on his star projector in his room and noticed your cat bouncing around trying to scratch/eat the stars. He now likes to turn on the projector and move it around to let your cat play. Extra points because it requires minimal effort.

-If he finds you and your cat cuddling while asleep he will join you. The cat doesn't dare to even try and scratch him because even they know that Belphie gives no mercy.

[obeiii-mee]

Hello! Can I request an hc about a shady MC who's not phase by anything in Devildom with the brothers (and Diavolo?? he deserves love!!!)? Like, when Luci's like "i CaN KiLL yOu hUmAN", MC's reaction was like "Oh... congratulations then." i need more shady mc who may or may not be planning to ruin your life😂😂 Thanks and take care!!❤❤

The Brothers + Diavolo with an MC that is not phased by DevilDom

__________________________________

Pls I need more shady MC, they would not take any shit from the brothers. Put any Gen Z-er with these guys and you’ve got yourself a suicidal and reckless human exchange student.

They wouldn’t know what to do with one of those ahaksbakanhaka you’re right, Diavolo deserves all the love >:(((((((

You better take care too >:( thanks for sending me this big brain request. I’ve been preoccupied with other projects so I took a while to get to this ask. Hope you’re doing OK💙

____________________________________

Lucifer:

-He thought having a human exchange student was going to be bad enough as it is but this…..this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined

-The moment you arrived, he already knew you were going to be a problem child and a persistent one at that

-Literally the first thing you asked him was : “Why do you look like an off-brand Levi Ackerman?”

-And he was left there, astounded, confused and offended because he had no idea who you were talking about (cuz at that point you hadn’t met the third eldest) and the tone you had was, frankly, pissing him off

-You kept wondering off on your own????? Without looking like you gave a shit even though you almost walked into a butcher’s shop that specialises in human meat???? Tf MC?

-Also really irritated that you couldn’t be intimidated and that DevilDom was like a playground to you, for some reason? Like, MC get out of the fiery pits of eternally tormented souls- this is Hell, not the McDonald’s ball pit ffs

-Things did not improve for him lmao, by the end of the first week he had already ripped out a good chunk of his hair because of you

-“MC, you should know by now provoking demons like this for no good reason is only going to make life harder for you. Keep this up and you’ll get killed in no time because of your behaviour.”

-“Great, can we have a hip-hip and a hurray?”

-In the span of one day, he’s had to come to your rescue six times (approximately) because you’re too nonchalant about your surroundings around literal creatures of hell

-He doesn’t have enough coffee or will to live for this bs

-“Lucifer, I found this dead plant and brought it here because it reminded me of you.”

-“…..sigh. Why? Why does it remind you of me?”

-“Because it’s cold and unresponsive.”

-He made the consecutive decision to ignore you

-(low-key kept the plant tho)

-Honestly, you get on his nerves a lot and he has definitely contemplated killing you in the past but at the end of the day he really can’t bring himself to do it

-We both know he tried a few times lmfao

-“I will tear you limb from limb, human-“

-“Can I finish my tea first.”

-“You…wait, what?”

-“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting this tea get cold. Try to kill time before I’m done and I’ll smash this cup against your head.”

-If you try hard enough, you might even elicit a laugh out of him, especially if your shadiness is directed at any of his brother which results in him patting your head affectionately

-Nowadays he’s just concerned because you seemed to have made an alliance of sorts with Belphagour and Satan and that’s not a good sign

-For his sake, if not yours, at least try to survive the year without getting chomped on by a random demon please

-He’s too stubborn to let you die just because you’re unbothered by everything so cut him some slack and help out damn it

Mammon:

-“Oi Lucifer, how come I’m stuck babysittin’ this stupid human?”

-“And how come I’m stuck with this asshole for a tour guide, with his fake ass designer shoes and no brand sunglasses. That’s a lot of smack talk from someone with crow shit stains covering the back of his jacket. Also, did you stick your hair in a bucket of mayonnaise?”

-……..

-He was so offended lol

-Normally, humans like you cower in fear whenever demons are as much as mentioned because of the whole “I can eat you whole” thing

-And here you are; insulting the Avatar of Greed and one of the princes of Hell himself just because you didn’t like his attitude

-Don’t worry tho, he warms up to you in less than a fucking month simply because you still come to his rescue whenever his brothers start insulting him and wow, look at that, his heart is now combusting on the floor

-“Y’all have no right to criticise Mammon when he has the most self control out of all of you.”

-“Since when does Mammon have any self control? He can’t keep himself from nicking anything that looks shiny.”

-“Motherfucker, I don’t see him trying to choke me to death, respectfully pls shut the fuck up. I don’t want to say I have favourites but if I do, it’s definitely him.”

-While Mammon’s in the background, with hearts instead of pupils in his eyes like ❤️👄❤️

-He doesn’t even mind running around after you anymore (will still complain about it though because your ass is in constant danger and he’s had enough)

-Honestly, you keep starting shit with random demons, some of which are quite powerful mind you, and you don’t back down even when he’s there to step in

-Would low key love to watch you fight one of your classmates at RAD and organise a ticket selling booth for the event but Lucifer will hang him a new one if he does

-So for now, he sticks to baring his teeth at the aggravator in question and you’re there, giving the same demon the middle finger

-The way you sometimes match his energy gets him so hyped up lmao

-“Mammon, did you steal Levi’s money again?”

-“T’s none of her business human. Now go away, shoo!”

-“Bitch, don’t ‘shoo’ me, I ain’t a bird. Now tell me, did you?”

-“…..Why do you ask?”

-“Because a new flavour of instant noodles just got announced, called ‘Super Hell-Sauce Flavour’ and I thought you might be more interested in that than wasting the money on gambling.”

-“….ok but only if you come with me to buy some.”

-This…this is true love right here

Levi:

-Oh no, now there’s two of you

-Why do I feel like his energy would match MC’s almost immediately? Maybe it’s because he spends too much time in his room on the internet like the rest of us do

-“What do you want, you stupid normie?”

-“300…..”

-“….300 what?”

-“300 mangas collected, thousands of episodes of anime watched, over 60 character figurines, plushies, body pillows, merchandise and several posters only to be called a fucking normie by a demon weeb that’s only known me for 10 minutes.”

-Boom, instant friendship

-He becomes attached to you almost immediately and now that he knows how unphased you are by DevilDom, he is seriously worried

-Hell, you’re making him consider going outside his room just to make sure you’re alive and not dead in a ditch somewhere because you decided to get on someone’s nerves that particular day

-Even during the quiz thing, when he almost kills you, you’re just sitting on the floor and awkwardly watching him as he throws a sissy fit

-Levi feels sort of conflicted with you because one one hand you’re good company and he loves having you around, you’re his Henry after all

-But on the other hand, you put yourself in so much danger it makes him paranoid so often to the point where he wants to keep you locked in his room and wrapped in bubble wrap

-Nearly had a heart attack when you almost walked right into a pit of lava like MC???? This isn’t one of his video games???? You’re not gonna respawn if you die????

-Besides all that, he gets a bit jealous of you confidence and your ability to just do whatever without fearing death or consequence

-“MC, how do you do it?”

-“Do what?”

-“How do you go about your life without a care in the world?”

-“I guess I’ll tell you my secret Levi. I’m not like other humans that’s why, I’m just so unique I do things differently.”

-“You sound like a pick me-“

-As long as you’re OK and not injured because of your carelessness, he’s indifferent about your behaviour and will even applaud you for your bravery when it comes to this sort of thing

-“lmao the human exchange student just dumped Solomon’s cooking in the trash while looking him dead in the eye 💀💀💀”

Satan:

-Your attitude towards DevilDom and demons in general kept him entertained, if nothing else

-You rarely seemed to consider how much of a threat that place really is and usually you were just running around, completely ignoring Lucifer’s rules and doing your own thing

-Which, you know, he’s all about

-I can’t say there were no incidents between the two of you

-With his short temper and your tendency to say things without caring about the consequences, there were definitely moments when he might’ve snapped on you

-“MC for goodness sake, what happened to my room?”

-“What do you mean?”

-“It’s an absolute mess! I just told you to bring me my spells and curses book, not mow through everything!”

-“It’s not my fault this place is built like a fucking labyrinth. You should be grateful I went to get it for you at all, I almost tripped and died several times on my way back. Also, you should get a new ladder for your shelves. It did the broken.”

-“MC….”

-“Yes?”

-“You are so lucky I love you.”

-Other than the fact his anger takes over him when things like these happen, he not so subtly encourages you to keep going because seeing Lucifer scowl at your antics gets him wheezing his lungs out

-I like to think Satan would be very impressed, even in the beginning, at the amount of nonchalance you can radiate at times

-I mean, you sure as hell don’t see it often and he loves how unpredictable you are more often than not

-If anything, he should probably thank you-idk how, but his patience has increased significantly every since you got here and he appreciates having some more control of his emotions

-“I’m gonna go put oil in Lucifer’s shoes.”

-“Do you have a death wish?”

-“Satan, I am old enough to make my own decisions and I concluded that this action is necessary.”

-“Necessary for what?”

-“Raising everyone’s morale! All of you seemed to feel down lately so I thought this would be fun for everybody!”

-“Except Lucifer, right?”

-“Except Lucifer. He grounded me from my D.D.D like I’m a fucking teenager who needs to be supervised-pssshht, I’m the most responsible one here.”

-“Yes clearly.”

-“Goodbye dear Satan, I may die today. But it’s for the greater good! (Dramatic exit with sound effects)”

-“WAIT MC!”

-“(pops head back in) yes?”

-“May I offer you my assistance?”

-You’re basically taking turns pranking his brothers and it’s hilarious

-Satan is not too worried about your well being simply because he knows his siblings and him are always going to be nearby to save you if you pull something stupid again

-Even so, he checks up on you throughout the day; just to make sure

-“Where were you?”

-“Running from a bunch of demons. Who wanted to go munchy crunchy on me, I assume.”

-“……”

-“Either that or people here are a lot friendlier than originally expected.”

-You can be such a handful and it really tests him, especially when he’s angry enough to begin with

-But despite your amazing talent at either getting completely lost around Hell, purposely walking into a prohibited place just because you felt like it or riling up others with how blunt you are, he still cares about you deeply

-You may be a pain the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass <3

Asmo:

-He should’ve known something was up with this particular human when you stood there, completely calm and collected, while Beel salivated at the thought of eating you on your first day

-Asmo just brushed it off for a while but it kept happening???

-The first time Lucifer ever told you off, you really went and said “Or what? Are you going to eat me? If so, you can go ahead and start with-“

-He came to your rescue and covered your mouth before you got to finish and before Lucifer unleashed his wrath on to everyone in that house

-“OOPSIE! I think MC has been spending too much time with me. Sorry Lucifer, we gotta run now! We have a party to attend, don’t we MC darling?”

-“You mean the one hosted by the guy that tried to kill me because I shoved into him on the hallway at school and then proceeded to tell him to go fuck himself right back into whatever hell hole he was born in before you came and charmed our way out of it?”

-“Yes.”

-“Ah OK. “

-You’re tiring for sure but you’re not exactly unlikeable

-You have a certain charm hanging about you that Asmo loves

-“I almost died like…30 minutes ago.”

-“WAIT WHAT?? WHY?? WHAT HAPPENED-MC ARE YOU OK???”

-“Yeah, I almost drank some poison today because someone told me it was water. It smelt off though so I didn’t.”

-“….”

-“Anyway, I got you this bracelet on my way home.”

-He really does wish you would take things a bit more seriously

-This is your life on the line, you know? What would he do if you died?

-“MC, you’re not immortal, you can die so much more easily than I can, you know that right???”

-“I don’t care.”

-“Well I do! And you should too….”

-A lot of people don’t see past his vanity tbh, because he can be such a caring person towards the people he loves

-The amount of videos he has of you appearing to be completely calm while pure chaos is descending in the background is pretty impressive

-Every time he uses his charm on you to try and get you to commit his sin, it just doesn’t work???? For some reason???? And even if it’s just with simple, innocent affection for now, he is determined to tempt you into it

-“MC~gimme a hug!”

-“But that’s social interaction and I don’t support it- do you have a charger for my D.D.D by any chance?

-Or at least die trying to ig

-Asmo loves having you around but you’re giving him wrinkles and that’s not okay >:(

Beel:

-The moment he realised how carefree you actually were, he sort of started checking up with you quite frequently throughout the day

-It’s his way of protecting you but if he could, he would follow you around all the time

-Becomes your body guard because you may not care enough about your safety but he certainly does so get ready to be carried everywhere

-You will not get hurt nor will anyone mess with you if he has a say in it and let me tell you, he does

-Thing is, his brothers mostly know him for being slightly dense in some aspects of day to day life

-He’s not perceptive of things that don’t involve food or his loved ones

-And because you most definitely are a loved one of his, he does notice how careless you are really often

-And it scares, rather worries, him because DevilDom is an incredibly dangerous place-even with all the precautions they had taken when you came

-“MC get down, you could fall.”

-“But Beel, look-I’m finally taller than everyone else! Taller than you even! Hey, should I do a backflip?”

-He has no idea why you thought jumping from 60 meter high cliff into a small river of squashed demon blood was a good idea but he wasn’t going to risk anything just because you felt like showing off your diving skills

-Proceeds to carry you away, completely unfazed

-In this case, I feel like Beel is not someone who gets bothered by the horrible things happening around there either

-As long as he has food and his family is safe and happy then he’s also happy, as mentioned above

-But he knows he’s alright with DevilDom because he’s been living here for centuries now

-A bit curious as to why you’re so unbothered

-And even more curious as to why you weren’t terrified of him transforming in his demon form after he lost control when he found out you ate his pudding

-Or more like Mammon did and pushed the blame on you

-“YOU. ATE. MY. PUDDING!”

-“Beel I love you but if you did not just see Mammon shoving the damn container in my mouth two seconds prior to this, then you might need glasses.”

-He apologised to you later for it but even so, you didn’t seem to mind like at all and he didn’t really understand why

-Unless you end up explaining why exactly you feel so indifferent about your life being in potential danger, he won’t really pry

-But now he has even more reason to follow you around like a lost puppy

-Since it’s clear you don’t really care about protecting yourself

-So now it’s his job to do it

-MC protection squad? Mostly Beel and Mammon

-ahhh he cute

Belphie:

-Oh

-You piss him off so much

-He’s trying to have his moment, you know?

-Finally getting that glimmer of satisfaction after killing a human as a way to avenge his sister’s death

-Trying his hardest to make it as miserable as possible because he has so much rage in him, he needs you to suffer

-“Harder Daddy-“

-“Oh fuck off.”

-Nah but for real, what the fuck MC

-Why does he even bother, he feels like he should be sleeping instead of dealing with your bullshit

-Even afterwards, when your future self shows up and he tries to kill you again, you look more thoughtful than irritated???

-Lucifer and Beel are literally holding him back from doing another Chocky on you and you’re standing there, looking at him with your eyebrows raised

-“Hey Belphie, I have a quick question. I know you’re trying to kill me and everything but do you like the colour blue?”

-“HUH??!?!”

-“It’s a simple yes or no question Belphie. Do. You. Like. Blue?”

-“WHAT DOES IT MATTER???!!!”

-“BELPHAGOUR, AVATAR OF SLOTH-YES OR NO, JUST FUCKING ANSWER!”

-“YES! FUCK YOU!”

-“Ah ok thanks. I like blue too :)”

-????????????

-Pls he felt like sticking his foot down your throat

-As of late, he’s kind of glad he didn’t manage to scare you away that day and that he didn’t traumatise you or something

-At the time, he was mad because he didn’t understand why you weren’t scared but now he just wants to make it up to you

-“You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry MC, I won’t blame you if you decide to stay away from me now.”

-“Stfu dipshit, what’s gotten you so depressed? Did you have another fight with Beel? I told you not to eat the last slice of cake.”

-“Rude ass, I was trying to apologise for my past mistakes-let me repent will you?”

-“Said no demon ever. Now let’s go hang out you emo bitch.”

-Y’all vibe together on a spiritual level once that shit gets sorted out

-But he’s kinda scared you might pull out a knife on him ngl

-Obviously, you’re still annoying as fuck with that indifferent attitude of yours but he can live with it

-He appreciates the fact that you’re not scared of him, even after what he’s done

Diavolo:

-Ah yes, the future King of DevilDom himself

-He’s very enthusiastic about the idea of you having fun this year…..and to keep you alive….

-He, of course, expected a range of reactions from you when he first summoned you here

-None of which were “Ok but could you not have given me a heads up? Before the whole teleportation thing? I face-planted your onto marvellously polished the floor and now I think I lost even more brain cells than before.”

-He felt so bad gagajajahahwgehhsb

-He apologised for bringing you out here without any warning like that and then proceeded to introduce you to everyone

-Diavolo is actually kind of relieved to see you’re handling everything pretty well

-He thought that maybe DevilDom was too much for a human to deal with

-Meeting Barbatos also went incredibly smooth

-“Barbatos? The one that cleans the floors right? Big fan of your work, I could eat off the floor of the main hall.”

-He’s so glad to see you getting along with everyone and not getting intimidated by the brothers

-It gets him excited thinking about how the exchange program is gonna work and all three realms will be united

-But he’s not stupid so don’t think he’ll allow you to stumble around, getting up to all sorts of mischief

-He always has someone watching you because he would hate to see you die, despite being pretty fond of your carefree attitude

-“MC, please be careful. Most demons here aren’t all that nice.”

-“Aye aye Captain.”

-He fears that many demons would take your indifference as a challenge and try to assert dominance or something by kidnapping you

-As far as creatures of hell go, they love installing fear in people

-So he always keeps an extra eye open for you

-And he’ll be there to help you if something goes wrong

-But other than that, he’s pretty chill as well and he finds you so hilarious, it’s been a while since he’s seen someone as eccentric and dramatic as Mammon and Asmo

-Idk what else to add here, Diavolo is very accepting and as long as you don’t get hurt, he’s glad you can get used to your new surroundings so easily

———————————-

Al~

[hops-hunny]

Just a Flight Away

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Ilvermony!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Request N/A

Summary: Neville has a cutie who lives in America but no one seems to believe him.

Warnings: None! 

A/N: This isn’t a request but it’s based off of me rambling here and slightly off of the vibe telepatia by Kali Uchis gives off.

If there was one thing Neville was thankful was it was the absolute goddess he got to call his girlfriend. It was funny the way they first began talking to one another. (Y/n) had been trying to contact a friend at Hogwarts but after the long trip from Ilvermony to Hogwarts, her owl was quite exhausted and ended up bringing the letter to Neville instead. Neville saw the poor bird, giving it a bit of bird seed and water that he kept in the green house before he set off to find the rightful owner of the letter. Luckily he had 3rd period with the girl who thanked him before excitedly yanking the letter from his hands. When Neville went to go check on the owl, he saw that it had already left, leaving a heart shape in the bird seed.

After that day, Neville hadn’t really thought about the incident that much. Well, that was until he saw the same owl fly towards him with a letter in its mouth. He smiled fondly at it rubbing under its chin with his finger before going to give the letter back to the owl until he noticed it had his name on it.  He ripped it open, careful to not damage the envelope before reading the letter.

Dear Neviile,

Thank you so so so much for getting the letter to Gwen! Gwen is a good friend of mine who I had been missing dearly and if not for your kindness she would have never received my letter. 

As you may be able to tell from the seal on the letter, I attend Ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry. I've heard of how grand and great the infamous Hogwarts is, is it true? How is England in general? I've never had the pleasure of traveling out of America.

Oh yes! The main point of this is as a thank you, I've attached a package of my favorite American sweets as a token of my gratitude. The package is enchanted which is why it's so small. To restore it to its original state, place it on a flat surface before tapping it with the tip of your wand.

Sincerely,

(Y/n) (L/n)

Neville felt his face grow warm at the girl's kindness. (Y/n). 'What a beautiful name..' he thought to himself before pulling out the galleon sized package from the envelope. He pushed aside a few plants on the table in front of it before placing the package down, tapping the top with his wand. He gasped, watching in amazement as he saw the package expand. Neville wasn't quite familiar with this enchantment, perhaps he'd ask her about it in his response. His cheeks turned a brighter red. Response?

Did she want to speak to him more? He didn't want to assume but by her letter and her asking questions, it made it clear that this wasn't the last exchange she wanted to have. Was this a prank? Were the Weasley twins up to this? There was only one way to tell. Neville reached a shaky hand forward, opening the package as he closed his eyes expecting something to pop out at him but when he opened his eyes there was nothing but a box of snacks he had never seen before. He let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the racing in his heart.

After that, Neville and the girl started to talk quite a bit. Months had turned into years and he couldn't have been happier. It felt nice to have someone he could talk to, someone far away from all the hustle and bustle of the castle. To her he wasn't the kid with unfortunate luck or the "cowardly" boy in Gryffindor. He was just Neville, her boyfriend. Neville, her kind boyfriend in another continent, far away. 

(Y/n) loved Neville just as much. It wasn't that she never had suitors approach her. In fact, she had quite a few. (Y/n) was what you could consider popular, not that she cared. She was kind, smart, and beautiful. Who wouldn't want that? However, she always felt like none of the men who'd approach her got her. They all just saw her as a beautiful woman instead of what she was, a normal girl deserving of love. That's why she liked Neville so much. No matter what he always treated her with the utmost respect and that hadn't stopped when they started to date either. 

When the two had first exchanged photos, Neville was stunned. He had been talking to that beautiful of a girl? He couldn’t believe it. It was as if Olivander himself had sculpted and carved her out of the best of wood. She had glowing (s/c) skin, soft healthy looking (h/c) (h/c) hair, and a smile that could compete with the sun on its brightest of days and win. And when he found out she was single? He would’ve been a fool not to make a move. Angels as sweet as (Y/n) didn’t come around that often. 

And although their relationship was as great as can be there was the underlying sadness: they lived across the world from one another. Every time either of them would see a couple hug or kiss in school, they’d feel a twinge of jealousy pierce their hearts. It wasn’t fair that the most perfect person in the world was off enjoying themselves in their respective countries. Although (Y/n) tried to ignore it, Neville was the type to bring it up. He’d describe in the most beautiful of words what he’d do if they were together. How he’d hold her in his arms and show her off to all of his friends. Where he’d take her on a date, the plants he wanted to show her as they were both herbology geeks. Meanwhile she’d end each of the letters discussing this topic with the same phrase as usual. ‘You know I’m just a flight away. If you wanna I could take a private plane.’ He could never ask that of her though. As much as he’d love everyday to be filled with his flower, he wouldn’t wanna rip her away from the things she had going on in her own life.

It wasn’t all bad though! After the girl had taught him the charm she used when she first sent him something, they both would send each other gifts back and forth as much as possible. Neville sent her sweaters with his scent embedded, charmed flowers, chocolate frogs, anything she wanted was hers. She’d send her own things to remind him of her as well. Her favorite stuffed animal, loads of photographs, little crochet hats she made for Trevor, more...unsavory things as well definitely not her underwear. Despite the increase in objects Neville owned, none of his friends had questioned it until he started to wear a necklace with a heart shaped piece of onyx on it with the letter (Y/f/i) carved into it.

“Oi! Neville. Where’d you get that necklace from?” Ron questioned his friend who sat across from him in the Gryffindor common room. The boys had all decided to study together which of course turned into Neville studying as they goofed off. Neville tensed as his cheeks heated up turning a pink color.

“O-oh um..it’s from my girlfriend.” He said, saying the last word as soft as possible. He prayed to Merlin that his friends hadn’t heard him but unfortunately for him they had. It wasn’t that he didn’t want anyone to know about her. It was far from that. He was just a bit protective, he didn’t want anyone to try and steal her from him. Even though it was impossible since they had no contact with her, he never knew when it came to his friends. They always found a way to make the impossible possible.

“What year is she in?!”

“Who is it?!”

“No way, is she fit?!”

He finished at the chorus of voices, trying to calm them down so he could speak. They all scooted closer to him, looking up at him expectantly. “Well you see..” he trailed off, looking away as he played with the pendant around his neck. “She doesn’t go here. She attends school in Ilvermorny. But to answer your question, yeah she is bloody fit.” he responded, turning his attention back to the scroll of paper in front of him. Dean, Ron, and Seamus exchanged a look with each other trying to suppress their laughs.

“Yeah I’m sure she does Nev.” Dean said sarcastically as he joined the other two in laughter. Neville looked up at his friends confused at their behavior.

“Yeah Nev, if your nan sent it you could’ve just told us! Better than saying you’ve got a girl halfway across the world.” Ron said, pushing the boy slightly as he continued to laugh at him. Seamus was doubled over, snorting with laughter as fire whiskey shot from his nose causing the other two to howl with laughter.

“It’s not from my nan! My girlfriend really did send it to me.” he exclaimed, smacking Ron on the back of the head, before doing the same to the other two men. “Besides, you have some fucking nerve accusing me of lying when none of you have birds yourself.” he sneered, causing the boys to quiet down some.

“So harsh Neville, you didn’t have to go there mate! Well what’s this ‘girlfriend’ of yours called.” Seamus asked, doing air quotes as he mentioned the topic at hand. “You’d think it was a bit strange too if your friend suddenly mentioned a girlfriend who lived all the way in the states too wouldn’t you.”

“(Y/n). And I’ll have you know this isn’t a new thing. We’ve been dating since around 2nd year. Sure, I’d find it a bit strange if you mentioned a girlfriend in America that you had never brought up prior, but I wouldn’t find it impossible! Now if you excuse me, I have to go.” he quickly stood up, packing up his materials as he stormed off to the direction of his dorm. He sped up, ignoring the protest and begging of his friends to come back and continue to hang out with them. He had enough of them and he wasn’t gonna sit there and let himself be called a fucking liar by Hogwart’s biggest ones.

--------------------------------------------

“Did you guys hear? Students from Ilvermony are supposed to be coming to visit!” Ron said, running up to the other four boys. “I’m just picturing how hot all the girls from the states are gonna be. All hot and leggy with those bloody accents. I could combust just thinking of it!” he exclaimed, flopping down on the couch. Neville gasped softly, looking up. Did he hear him correctly? 

“Where’d you hear that from? I didn’t hear anything of the sorts.” Hermione questioned, looking up from her book at the interesting news she had just heard. However, Neville was still frozen. Was this true? And if so, why hadn’t (Y/n) mentioned it. No, no it couldn’t be. She surely would have told him.

“I just overheard it from Dumbledore himself. They should be arriving in a few minutes! They’re staying here for a few months. It’s a part of this new thing that they’ve set up. Something about wanting the students to learn different methods and what not. They decided it’d be a good idea since summer is coming soon.” he said nonchalantly, looking over at Neville who hadn’t moved since the news left his mouth. He went to question what was up with him before his eyes lit up, recalling the conversation they had a few months ago. “Hey Neville? Didn’t your supposed ‘girlfriend’ go to Ilvermony.” the boys all suddenly interested began to ‘ooo’ exchanging looks with each other.

“See Neville, this is why you don’t lie. Lies will always come back to bite you in the rear. Perhaps Ronald i-”

“I wasn’t lying, Hermione! She really does go to Ilvermony.” he exclaimed, standing up as he wiped his hands on his pants. All of a sudden, there were the sounds of a bunch of American accents speaking which caught all of their attention. Many different students in Ilvermorny uniforms (some without them) roamed freely to explore the large and intense castle.

“God you weren’t kidding Ron, the girls are bloody fit.” Dean muttered, eyeing some girl who gave him a wink before giggling and running off with her friends. “Woah look at that one, are you kidding me? She’s a fucking goddess!” Neville’s curious hazel eyes followed his friend's words as he saw a familiar shade of (h/c) hair styled in the way his girlfriend wore it. Wait, was that his sweater? 

“That’s not just some fucking girl, that’s my girlfriend!” Neville exclaimed, standing up from his seat.

“No chance.”

“You couldn’t pick a more believable one?”

“Prove it then.”

Neville went to say something before the girl turned around, locking eyes with him. She gasped, tearing up some as she pushed through the crowd of people running to him as quickly as possible. “Nev! Neville babe, is that you?” she exclaimed. Neville’s face flushed brightly taking in the girl’s appearance. She had worn the first sweater he had given her, a mossy green sweater with an obscure pattern, with a pleated skirt pairing it with a pair of boots. Neville nodded his head quickly, holding his arms out as the girl ran into him almost knocking him over. He picked her up, spinning her around quickly before setting her down, holding her soft face between his hands.

“W-what are you doing here?! You never told me you were coming to visit!” he exclaimed, wiping at the stray tears that had left her eyes. He moved his hands from her face securing them around her waist as he stared down at her. God she was even more beautiful in person.

“I wanted to surprise you! I actually found out a few weeks ago and let me tell ya, it was SO hard not to tell you!” She giggled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He leaned into her touch, smiling at her. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get even more handsome but bloody hell. You’re so fucking hot, Nev.” she said, feeling her face heat up. Neville flushed a bright red before leaning down, kissing the girl on the lips. She pulled him down more, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed back. The kiss was full of the love and affection they had both been craving from one another. (Y/n) tangled her hands in the back of his hair as he deepened the kiss, moaning softly. They both jumped away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Ah sorry! Nev, are you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asked looking up at him as she intertwined his large hand with her smaller one.

“I suppose I will, even though for some reason they thought you weren’t real.” he quipped, glaring at the four boys who looked away ashamed. “From left to right there is Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus. And over there,” he said pointing to the big arm chair in the corner. “That is Hermione.” he said as they all muttered ‘hi’ and ‘sorry’ from some of them. (Y/n) giggled some, waving at them all.

“It’s very nice to meet you all! Nev talks about you guys all the time in his letters. Oh!” She said, eyes looking at his chest. She reached a hand forward, grabbing the engraved onyx in her hands. “The necklace I gave you!! You like it? I think it looks really good on you.” she exclaimed with a smile, happy her boyfriend enjoyed the gift she gave him. Neville once again looked at his friends chuckling some at their wide eyes.

“Of course I do, petal. I wear it everyday, everywhere I go. Right guys.” he teased, watching as they all stuttered out ‘yes ‘yep’ ‘sure does. “Come on flower, I’ll show you around the castle. I know you’ve been looking forward to that for a while. Also, you look quite cute in my sweater.”

“Thank you. I wear it quite often, even though the smell of you has worn off it still brings me good memories.” she said, playing with the slightly worn out sleeves of the sweater. “I’d love to!! Can we check out the greenhouse first? I wanna see that plant you were talking about. Maybe we can work on identifying what species it is!” he nodded in response, taking her hand once again as they began to walk off. Before they turned the corner, he quickly turned his head around using his unoccupied hand to flip off his friends before turning his attention back to his lover.

“Who would’ve thought? Longbottom with an absolute fox.” Ron said, slumping back down as he frowned. Hermione took the book she was reading smacking him upside the head.

“Maybe if you knew how to treat women you’d be with one too.”

[therealvinelle]

What do you think the Cullens would do if some person they were talking to, out of nowhere just quite literally exploded in front of, and on them? Kinda like in that movie Spontaneous. Would they lose control and slurp up the mess on the ground, (and themselves) or would their bloodlust be curtailed by shock of wtf just happened?

I'd say something witty about how this is a strange anon to receive, but holy jesus you've sent me down a rabbithole.

Here's a trailer to the movie Spontaneous. It looks amazing. Kevin Feige wishes this had been his plot for Infinity War.

Here's a trailer for the movie Spontaneous Combustion, which I found by accident while searching for your fic. This looks amazing too. Can't believe Marvel didn't buy the rights to this guy.

I'm serious, people, you definitely want to watch these trailers. I just about died laughing.

So, on to your ask.

In the spirit of your ask, which implies a level of randomness, I thought the people blowing up should be random too. So, being in the mood to procrastinate through spending way too much time on tumblr things, I wrote a program that'll generate for me random Twilight characters.

Unsure whether the explosion should kill vampires or not, I generated an answer. The answer is yes, any generated vampire dies.

Without further ado:

Alice watches Vladimir blow up.

Alright, alright.

The first question to be answered here is why Alice is in Vladimir's presence in the first time. In canon they only meet once, at the end of Breaking Dawn.

For the sake of simplicity, we'll have Vladimir blow up then.

The Cullens and the witnesses are all celebrating being alive, when Vladimir suddenly explodes.

For the sake of the ask, Alice is sitting closest to him when this happens and making conversation.

Her first thought is utter shock. Not just that he blew up, but that she didn't see it coming (she wouldn't, because I randomly generated him. No decision was made). Her second thought is horror.

The Cullens just confronted the Volturi, now mere hours afterwards their allies are blowing up.

Holy fuck, Aro has a gifted ace up his sleeve, and he's using it to kill them remotely.

Panic ensues, not just for Alice, but among all the witnesses. Some of them refuse to leave, Bella has to shield those 24/7, though given the belief that her gift is psychic that doesn't make them feel very safe.

The others decide to go after the Volturi and beg for mercy, assuring them they never meant to challenge them.

Aro, of course, is very confused, but agrees. Why, yes, he does have a vampire who blows people up. Yes, yes he does.

Bella watches Aro blow up.

Oh I'm dying laughing at this one. And wishing I'd put this down for Carlisle, that would be even funnier, but alright.

Bella is walking about post-Breaking Dawn, minding her own business, when suddenly Aro appears in front of her. He looks around himself, utterly surprised by his sudden deplacement, and then blows up.

Bella has been living in terror of this man for years.

In Volterra he had his servant torture her and Edward and then made ominious threats, then a few months later the Eclipse disaster unfolded, finally we have Breaking Dawn where he showed up to murder her and everyone she loved.

Her shield may be powerful, but for as long as Aro was alive her family was never truly safe.

His untimely implosion changes all of that.

I imagine after a long moment of incredulity, Bella burns the rubble, just to be sure, then tells her family the joyous news.

Carlisle gives the guy a funeral. It's weird.

Carlisle watches Vassilii blow up.

Close call, due to my not switching out the names we almost had Angela. In which case Carlisle have stood there, covered in blood and in shock for several long seconds, before bringing out the bleach and gasoline for a crime scene clean.

As it is, Carlisle is minding his own business when suddenly an immortal child dressed like a medieval Eastern European appears before him. It says something in a foreign language that might mean "hi", he doesn't know but he says "hi" to it back, then the child blows up.

Carlisle stares at the rubble for a very long time, wondering if he is perhaps losing his mind. If, perhaps, Aro was right about animal blood being a slow suicide, and Carlisle has finally hit the limit for how long a vampire can go on without human blood.

He burns the rubble and prays for the child's soul, as an immortal child is doomed anyway, and keeps his silence about what happened. In part because there's a solid chance this was all in his imagination.

If Aro ever touches his hand again, and sees the immortal child that he burned a thousand years earlier resurrect, travel through time, all in order to blow up in front of Carlisle, he... well there comes a point where you say "nothing to see here" and refuse eye contact with the universe glitching.

Edward watches Randall blow up.

Randall, for the ignorants, is one of Carlisle's friends that came to witness for the Cullens in Breaking Dawn.

Suddenly he appears in front of Edward, says hi and how do you do, and then he blows up.

Edward tells Carlisle, who is saddened by this, and they try to piece the guy together. They fail.

Edward sends a somber thought to this noble man who agreed with Edward that the Cullens are awesome enough to be worth dying for.

Emmett watches Mary blow up.

Emmett will never admit it, but it's the coolest, raddest thing he's ever seen.

Esme watches Eleazar blow up.

Oh boy.

The Cullens are visiting the Denali. Irina has not been dead for long, but given the crystal clear memory of vampires, and the loss they already suffered (Sasha's death traumatized them) it doesn't really matter how long it's been, the Denali are devastated anyway.

The whole coven is as fragile as it can possibly get.

Then, Eleazar goes to join Esme in the kitchen, and explodes all over her and the kitchen.

The remaining Denali and the Cullens are called to the kitchen by the sound of Esme's screaming, and find her in hysterics, surrounded by gray rubble.

The Denali are near catatonic with grief at this point, while cooking has been ruined for Esme. One moment you're making food, the next people are exploding all over your kitchen.

Yeah.

Esme is not okay.

Jasper watches Nahuel blow up.

It's a shameful moment in his life.

But, hybrids are edible.

And that blood was splattered all over him.

Jasper has the worst control fail of his life, worse even than when he failed with Bella because this fail means he can't be around Renesmée anymore.

It's miserable all around.

The one highlight here is that it didn't happen when they were headed to the Volturi trial together.

Rosalie watches Emmett blow up.

Jesus christ, random Twilight character generator, just when I thought you were just going to give me boring results.

Not only does Rosalie lose the love of her life, the guy who kept her together, the one good thing she had going for her who made her life worth living, but he did so right in front of her, blowing up out of nowhere.

There's no explanation to be had, no culprit to be found, no reason for it. She had no goodbye, just as she can have no revenge.

She will never have closure.

Renesmée watches Renée blow up.

We go out on a high note, my god. Well done, generator, I'm laughing.

Renesmée is curious enough about her grandmother to go to Florida. She was going to watch from afar, but finds herself talking to the woman who raised her mother.

It's all going well until Renée suddenly explodes all over Renesmée.

Renesmée's first thought is nothing, she's in shock.

Then...

Well, she was controlled as an infant, so I don't think an adult Renesmée would lose it unless under extreme circumstances, like if she encountered a singer.

More, though, Renesmée might have any reasons of her own not to drink human blood, but she has been raised with this being a big no-no.

So she shouldn't.

However...

Is she ever going to get a better chance?

Ethically, she could easily argue this is the right choice. No one will be negatively affected by this, at least not directly.

The human is right there, already dead, and there's no body so while Renesmée does have to clean up the gore. Hell, if she laps up the blood on her clothes and the ground she will be cleaning up. Why waste perfectly good blood?

If Renesmée Cullen is ever going to have human blood, this is it.

It will come down to how much she respects her grandfather, and how important she believes Renée was to Bella.

-

Bonus, because I'm having way too much fun with this:

Bree watches Atheonodora blow up.

Bree is minding her own business when suddenly a vampire unlike any she has ever seen before, one with hazy eyes and odd skin, appears before her. They stare at each other. Then the woman blows up.

Bree takes this to mean that exploding is apparently something vampires just do sometimes, runs off in a panic and, sobbing, tells Riley.

Riley, having no idea what to make of any of this, tells her it was those evil yellow-eyes with their witchcraft and sorcery.

[pedrito-friskito]

a place among the stars - chapter 2 - the marshal

summary: you make good on your side of the deal, an old familiar face returns, and something starts to blossom.

warnings: din being soft and gruff in the same chapter, canon-typical stuff, reader flirts hardcore with the walking tin can, some descriptions of injuries again

a/n: if we get a helmet-less din actually smiling and laughing in s3 I might physically combust, just for the record

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

It’s been nearly a decade now, since Cobb Vanth worked for your father. It was back on Corellia, before the metal plant was filled with Empire troops. When things were…normal. As normal as they could be.

He’d been a liaison of sorts for your father, planet-hopping his way around the galaxy, securing trades and deals with other merchants in far-reaching systems. You liked Cobb from the get-go; he had a smooth way of talking, a permanent grin on his stupidly handsome face, and he was protective of you in a way that never felt overbearing. He was older than you, and that only added to the attraction. You knew your father would be furious if anything ever happened and he found out about it.

He didn’t need to find out about it, you reasoned, but by the time you plucked up enough courage, you walked into your father’s office and overheard a holo-call between him and Cobb. It was after the fall of the second Death Star, and Cobb had gone home to visit friends on Tatooine. You listened to him tell your father what sounded like the plot of a space opera, the details choppy and fuzzy in your mind now, but the story ending in Cobb’s ownership of Mandalorian armour. You caught sight of it on the holo-call. The distinct shape of the visor, the rocket peeking out of the pack on his back.

He was giving your father his resignation, you realized after a moment, listening as Cobb continued to talk. The people of Mos Pelgo needed someone to lead them, and Cobb had decided he was the man for the job. Your father was sad to see him go, and you were even more so, but you were glad, too, that Cobb had found a place meant for him.

There’d been a few holo-calls, over the years. He never forgot your birthday and always told you to visit if you ever made it out to Tatooine. When the Empire took over the plant, you made a point not to call, not wanting to give them any more than they already had, and after your father had been killed, you’d destroyed what you could in his offices, wiping the names of his former associates from records that now only lived in your head.

But it’s been a decade now, since you’ve seen Cobb in person.

+

location: hangar 3-5, mos eisley — tatooine

You still look weary when you land in Hangar 3-5 again, but Peli’s enthusiastic greeting seems to lift your spirits. Din is hiding a half-grin under his helmet as the woman fauns over you, hugging you tightly and lamenting over your lost brother. He’s grateful, that he found you in time. He spares Peli the specifics of your rescue, but he can feel you watching him as he speaks. The kid is still passed out, barely even rousing when Din had deposited him into the floating crib.

You’re quick to explain to Peli why you’ve returned, and, just as you said, she barks at her R-5 unit and it produces the pre-war map, the hologram slowly spinning between you all. Peli points out Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, and then your destination, Mos Pelgo. Or where it should be.

“I don’t see anything,” Din says, and Peli waves a hand at him.

“I’m telling you, it’s there,” she says. “Or at least, it used to be.”

You’ve leaned yourself against a stack of metal crates, and Din glances at you. “How long has it been since you spoke to your friend?”

“A few months,” you say, tilting your head back until it rests against the metal. “He was in Mos Pelgo then, I swear.”

Din just looks back at the map. From what you’ve told him, the armour your friend has was most likely stolen, which puts him at yet another dead end, unless your friend knows who the armour belonged to before him. There are too many plausibilities, too many pieces that Din can’t rely on. But it’s a start; it’s the only start he has.

“You still have that speeder bike?” he asks Peli.

She nods. “Sure do. It’s a little rusty, but I got it.”

“We’ll leave at first light,” he says, jutting his chin towards you. “She needs rest.”

“There’s a cot in the workroom,” Peli tells him, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “It’s all yours, for the night.”

“You’re gonna charge me extra for that, aren’t you?”

“You bet your shiny, metal ass I am.”

He just shakes his head, walking over to you and tugging one arm around his neck, holding onto your wrist and putting his other arm around your waist. “C’mon,” he murmurs, and your temple leans against the blade of his helmet. “You need sleep.”

“Mm, slept on the ship,” you mumble back and Din scoffs.

“Sleeping upright in a chair doesn’t count,” he says, and leads you into the workroom Peli had pointed to. Sure enough, there’s a one-person sized cot laid against the wall, a grey woollen blanket folded atop it. Maneuvering you towards it, Din grabs the blanket after carefully lowering you onto the cot, lifting your legs onto it slowly. Your eyes slip shut immediately and he drapes with blanket over you, pulling the fabric to your chin.

He turns to leave, and your hand shoots out from beneath the blanket, warm fingers wrapping around his wrist. You’ve managed to fit your hand between his glove and vambrace, and he can feel just how soft you are at his wrist, the tiny heartbeats in your fingers thumping against his skin.

“Stay with me,” you croak out, and your voice alone is enough to keep him nailed in place. Coupled with the pleading expression in your eyes that he finds when he lifts his gaze to yours, Din is a goner.

“O-okay,” he stutters. Cautiously, he lowers himself to the edge of the cot, careful to keep a few inches between you and him. Even like this, he can feel your warmth seeping through his armour, through the fabric of the flight-suit beneath. How are you so warm, even after everything you’ve been through?

You turn on your side under the blanket, and your hair falls into your face, loose braid flopping against the pillow. Without thinking, Din reaches out, brushing the strands from your cheek, tugging ever so slightly when they catch on the tape he’d put on your split skin. You let out a quite hum as his gloved fingers trace your cheek, angling your head into his touch. It startles him, and he lifts his hand, letting it hover in the air between you.

The hum turns into a whine and you burrow deeper into the blanket, your knees bending and knocking against Din’s back. Your brow pulls down on your forehead, a tiny crease he instantly wants to smooth away. Your words are muffled and almost indecipherable, the only thing he can make out is the word safe. And it breaks his heart.

He’s not used to this. First it was being careful with you, cautiously carrying your wounded form from the camp on Jakku. Now it’s this, his chest aching for you, the obvious fear you’re experiencing affecting him more than it should. He’s a scary guy; he knows that. He chases people down for a living, hunts them until they have no where else to run. But with you, he feels different. Some baser part of him just wants to make you feel better, wants you to know you’re safe with him, and that he’ll do everything he can do keep you safe. He’s not used to this.

Maker above, there’s just something about you, and Din already feels like it’s going to split his heart in half.

“I’m here,” he whispers, and slowly, peels the glove from his right hand. He grips the fabric with his left, and then slowly, so, so slowly, he places his bare hand on your head. Warmth and softness envelop his senses, and he lets his fingers trail through your hair, feeling the silken slip between his knuckles. He thinks his brain short-circuits at the sensation; warm, soft, pretty, safe, you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he continues, and your face softens. His palm comes to rest against the curve of your neck, and he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and erratic but slowing beneath his touch. “You’re safe with me.”

One of your hands snakes out from beneath the blanket, and your fingers rest over his, gentle against his knuckles. The corner of your mouth lifts in a sleepy smile.

Safe.

+

location: mos pelgo — tatooine

Mando goes into the bar ahead of you, and holds up a hand as he does, signalling for you and the kid to wait outside while he checks it out. You adjust the squirming creature on your hip, who babbles and reaches his arms out as Mando walks into the bar.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, bouncing him a little. “He’s just inside.”

The kid huffs a sigh and lays his head on your chest. It’s stupidly cute. You’d woken this morning to find the little creature perched on your stomach, his big eyes peering down at you, head tilted to the side. Mando had mumbled an apology, still in the same spot at the edge of the cot that you remembered from last night.

The phantom feeling of his bare fingers against your skin is still bright in your mind, and you have to avert your eyes as you watch his towering form step into the small building.

Mos Pelgo is nothing special, by any stretch. It’s not even half the size of Mos Eisley, the buildings are all worn and sand-dusted, and the people equally so. You’ve earned more than a few looks, sliding into the town on the back of the rusted speeder, your arms tight around the Mandalorian’s middle, and the kid, squealing with delight in the saddlebag.

You look back and see Mando curl his fingers at you, and with a slight ache in your back, you step into the bar behind him. The bacta patches he’d used on you had worked well — almost too well — and you feel better than you should.

Mando angles himself in front of you and the kid as the Weequay bartender looks up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for, uh…” Mando trails off, and you realize you haven’t actually told him Cobb’s name. The helmet turns, and you can feel him looking at you.

“Cobb Vanth,” you supply, leaning around Mando and looking at the Weequay. “He’s the marshal of Mos Pelgo, isn’t he?”

The barman stares at you long and hard. “And who are you?”

“An old friend,” you reply, a smile tugging at your mouth. “Cobb used to work for my father.”

Over your shoulder, a voice calls. “Best gig of my life.” You turn, and sure enough, there he is, decked in beskar, blaster on his hip and marshal stripes on his belt. You’re a young girl on Corellia once more, all of a sudden, standing shyly in the corner of your father’s office while Cobb Vanth speaks of his latest trip to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, all with a broad smile on his face and the occasional wink in your direction.

Cobb’s grin matches the one in your memory, but it wipes away once he catches sight of you, no doubt seeing the state of you, bruised and bandaged. “Maker above, what happened to you?” Cobb crosses the distance between you, and Mando takes the kid from your arms as the marshal gathers you into his. It’s a careful hug, his arms soft around your shoulders, hands gentle against your back. “I heard about your father,” he whispers, and you shut your eyes, slipping your own arms around Cobb’s middle and hugging him back. “I’m so sorry.” He pulls back slightly, and the bare pads of his fingers land on your jaw. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispers, and you have to blink back the tears that have formed. “Val?”

You shake your head, and a single tear slides down your cheek. “He’s gone.” Cobb wipes the tear away.

“Shit.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mando take a slow step back, and you remember all of a sudden why you’re here. “The armour,” you say, laying a hand on the beskar chest plate. “Mando, he—”

Suddenly, you’re pulled out of Cobb’s grip, the kid is thrust back into your arms, and Mando steps in front of you. “Where did you get the armour?” he asks Cobb, and it’s jarring, how you can almost see the waves of anger rolling off of him, even without seeing his face.

Protector, a primal part of your screams, and you hold the kid a little closer.

“Bought it off some Jawas,” Cobb supplies, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hand it over,” Mando spits, the words harsh even through the helmet’s modulator.

“Mando, that isn’t—” you start, but Cobb takes a step forward, closing the distance between him and the Mandalorian.

“Look, pal,” he starts, and you can see the veins in his neck throbbing. “I’m sure you call the shots where you come from, but ‘round here, I’m the one tells folks what to do. And you just showed up with the presumed dead daughter of my former employer. Give me a second to catch my bearings here before you start barking orders, yeah?”

“Take it off,” Mando says, his voice still harsh, but smooth and steady now, “or I will.”

Cobb’s eyes cut to you for a second, linger on the child squirming in your arms. “We gonna do this in front of the kid? And the girl?”

Mando’s shoulders go stiff; you can see the movement ripple through his armour as he makes himself taller, looming a little closer to Cobb’s height. “He’s seen worse, and I don’t doubt she has too.”

“Right here, then?” Cobb asks, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. There’s too much testosterone in this bar.

“Right here,” comes Mando’s response, but before he can so much as lunge for Cobb or reach for a blaster, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The kid makes a concerned noise in your arms and you hold him closer, following Cobb and Mando as they step through the bar and back out into the open air. People are yelling and clamouring, disappearing into buildings. Alarms start to blare and the kid cries out, so you try to cover his ears with your hand. There’s the sounds of banthas lowing off at the edge of the town, and you’re stuck in your spot as the sandy road that cuts through the centre of Mos Pelgo starts to quake.

As you watch, it’s like the sand turns to liquid, and a giant creature moves through it like a fish through water, blowing right past you on the front stoop of the bar. It swallows the bantha whole, and the sand returns to normal.

Mando and Cobb look at each other, and Cobb glances at you over his shoulder. “Maybe we can work something out.”

“Is that a…?” You can’t even finish the question.

“Krayt dragon,” Cobb supplies. “Yeah. Come on, we can chat somewhere more private.”

You both follow him through the town, towards one of the slightly bigger buildings at the edge of Mos Pelgo. Cobb hits a button beside the door and it slides open, allowing you entry. The home inside is sparse and sandy, which doesn’t surprise you. You are in the desert, after all.

The kid stays in your lap as you take seats around Cobb’s table, Mando taking the spot beside you, lingering close. You try to ignore it, try not to read into it, and listen to Cobb talk.

“That creature’s been terrorizing these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established. Thanks to this armour,” he gestures to the helmet he’s laid on the table, “I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect them.”

“The Tuskens?” you ask, the mention piquing your interest. “My father sent you to barter with them before, didn’t he?”

Cobb nods. “It didn’t work then and it doesn’t work now. They’re vile.” He looks back at Mando. “A krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone. Help me kill it, and I’ll give you the armour.”

The helmet lifts and Mando straightens slightly. “Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait.”

“Not so simple,” Cobb counters. “The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground.” Another glance shot your way. “But I know where it lives.”

“How far?” Mando asks, and it’s like you can see the wheels turning in his head, plotting his mission.

“Not far.” Cobb looks at the kid, and you feel his gaze linger on your face. “The girl and the kid can stay here.”

Mando turns in his chair, angling his body until he’s facing you almost completely. “Is that okay with you?” he asks, and the helmet tilts towards the kid. “He can be a…handful.”

“Of course, it’s okay,” you reply, running your hand over the kid’s fuzzy head. “I owe you one, after Jakku.”

“You don’t—” Mando starts, but cuts himself short, turning back to Cobb. “I’ll ready my speeder.”

Cobb just nods, and you both watch as Mando gets up and walks from the room, doors sliding shut behind him. The kid whimpers in your arms, but then presses his face against your shirt. “He’s cute,” Cobb comments, nodding his head towards the little creature. “How long you been hanging around the tin can with legs?”

You can’t help but smile at the joke. “Only a couple days. He saved my life.”

“I heard. Jakku?”

You nod. “That’s where they took me. Shoan Baize’s men.”

His eyes go wide. “Shoan Baize? The slave trader?”

“And the man who killed my father,” you say, and Cobb’s face goes dark. “They killed Val when he tried to rescue me, and tried to beat information out of me.” Your face twinges at the memory, the pain feeling fresh for a moment before melting away to an ache once more. “It didn’t work.”

Cobb just stares for a moment, then reaches across and takes your free hand in his. “Your father would be proud of you.” You both fall silent, and it’s a long while before Cobb speaks again. “I should have been there, on Corellia. I never should have given up my position.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t know, Cobb. There was nothing you could have done. And you said it yourself, the people here need you.”

“I could have kept you safe,” he replies, squeezing your fingers between his. “I could have stopped them.”

“You did, in a way,” you tell him, huffing a laugh when confusion sweeps through his features. “Mando came for me because a woman Val and I stayed with told him that I knew you. We had been swapping stories about Tatooine, and I mentioned I had a friend with Mandalorian armour somewhere in the desert. She told me about Mando and this little creature, and that was that. But if I hadn’t told her about you, I’d still be on Jakku. And I’d probably be dead.”

Cobb moves into the chair beside you, getting closer, still holding your hand, his other cupping your cheek. “Maker, I missed you.”

You smile. “The feeling is mutual, Vanth.”

“You could stay here, you know,” he says, and your stomach drops into your feet. What? The surprise is clearly plain on your face, because he squeezes your hand again and nods. “I mean it, you could. With everyone gone, I could…I know the thought of a town with a krayt dragon blowing through isn’t the best offer, but once me and the tin can take care of it, it’ll be better. You could stay here, rebuild your life, stay with me.”

Stay with me. The words strike a chord somewhere deep in your chest, and the kid pulls at your shirt, his eyes slipping shut as he falls asleep in your lap. Two days, and you’re already attached to the kid. Already attached to the…

Nope, don’t go there.

You look at Cobb, and you ache. It’s clear that he’s genuine in his offer, his eyes nearly pleading and his touch gentle. You could. You could stay in Mos Pelgo, rebuild some semblance of your life. You could find work doing something, help Cobb protect the town or build a school for the few children you saw running around. You could stay with Cobb, be his wife, have his children, keep his house. It all seems so plausible, right there for you to take, hanging in front of you like a ripe fruit low on a branch.

But you can’t.

“Mando agreed,” you start to say, and you see Cobb’s face fall, “to take me to Naboo. My mother had friends that were there, last I heard. They might be able to help me, take me in.”

Cobb shakes his head, pulls his hand from your grip. “And if they’re not?”

You lean forward, careful not to jostle the kid too much. “If they’re not, then I’ll get my ass back to Tatooine quicker than you can say bantha fodder.”

His face is hard a second longer, but then the classic Cobb Vanth grin appears once more. “It’s so good to see your face again.”

“Yours too,” you reply, “though a few more greys than I remember.”

Before he can send a quip in your direction, the door slides open, revealing Mando in all his beskar glory. He looks at Cobb. “You ready to kill a dragon?”

Cobb sighs, pushes himself up from the table. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You bid them both goodbye, and then you’re alone in Cobb’s house, the child fast asleep in your arms.

+

They’re gone for two days, and Din worries for most of them. Dealing with the Tuskens and Vanth’s less than agreeable behaviour is one thing, but the thought of you and the kid alone back in Mos Pelgo has him more anxious than he’s felt in a while.

When they return to plan with the rest of the town, he’s quick to check on you. Vanth had promised you’d both be safe in his homestead, but he wants proof. And he gets it, finding you sprawled in the living space, knees tucked up on the couch and the kid playing in the space behind them. He’s got the little metal ball from the Crest in his hand, and is rolling it up and down your thigh, cooing away.

“Did you kill it?” you ask as he approaches, your gaze moving from the kid to him. Din has to swallow the lump that rises in his throat when he sees you; you look better than when he’d left, the bruising on your face already fading and the cuts looking closed to healed. The one on your cheek will probably leave a scar. He wonders if the kid had worked his magic on your again while he’d been gone.

“Not yet,” he responds, crouching in front of the couch and looking up at you. “The Tuskens are helping, I was able to barter a deal.”

Your brow lifts and he resists the urge to reach out and trace it with his thumb. What is it about you that makes him feel like this? Maker above. “You seem to be good at making deals.”

Beneath the helmet, Din grins. “Comes with the territory. How’s the kid been?”

You lift a shoulder. “Squirmy. Loud. We napped a lot, he’s a good cuddler.”

Din laughs. Actually laughs. Your eyes go wide.

“Did I just make the big, scary Mandalorian laugh?”

He does it again. “You think I’m big and scary?”

You flush bright red; he can see the heat spike through his visor. “I think you’re big,” you say, choosing the words carefully, and it sends a bolt of something through his core. “But not so scary.”

Your mouth curves in a grin and Din is…well, he’s floored. And half-hard in his flight-suit, but that’s a whole other thing. Are you actually flirting with him?

Flustered as anything, he gets up, pats the kid on the head, and mumbles a goodbye in your direction, making up some excuse about needing to oil his blaster and disappearing from Vanth’s house. Your tinkling laughter follows him all the way out.

And it’s still ringing in his ears in the aftermath, the krayt dragon half-exploded and sprawled dead in the sand. The Tuskens are overjoyed, the town even more so, and Vanth hands over the armour without argument. “Better get back to that kid of yours,” he tells Din, “and that girl. Special thing, she is. Take care of her.”

Din busies himself with strapping the helmet to his speeder, along with the giant hunk of dragon meat the Tuskens had bestowed to him. “I’m taking her to Naboo,” he says, the words halfhearted. “She says she might have friends there.”

Vanth nods. “She told me. I offered her to stay, but she turned me down.”

You what? Din’s head lifts. “What?”

“I made her an offer before we left,” he explains. “Told her she could stay in Mos Pelgo, stay with me, rebuild her life. Even better now that the dragon’s taken care of, but she said no. Said she’d come back if she didn’t find anyone on Naboo, but part of me doubts it.” Someone calls his name, and Vanth turns to leave. “Tell her goodbye for me.”

Din doesn’t know what to say. From what he had surmised, you and Vanth were good friends; there was history. Sure, Din’s not in the business of friendship. He doesn’t have many friends, save for maybe Karga and Cara Dune, maybe even Peli if he’s feeling generous, but he could see the connection between you and Vanth from the moment you’d arrived.

And you’d turned him down.

He tries to push it from his mind, gets back on the speeder, and heads back to Mos Pelgo as quickly as he can. He parks the speeder outside of Vanth’s house, goes inside to collect you and the kid. There’s nothing to pack, and no one to say goodbye to, with Vanth and most of the village still at the dragon’s corpse. Din repeats Vanth’s farewell to you, and you just nod, the kid squirming in your arms as you clamber onto the back of the speeder.

+

location: razor crest — airspace above tatooine

The moment you’d walked back into Hangar 3-5, Peli started bothering Mando about credits. She wouldn’t accept any from you, not that you had any to give, but when he presented her with the slab of dragon meat that had served as your backrest the whole ride from Mos Pelgo, she’d gone silent before shouting at her droids to get cooking.

Peli had given you a few things to take with you to Naboo; a new blaster and holster, an old leather jacket that was too big for the smaller woman, and a small pouch filled with credits. The last item had made your eyes go wide, but Peli had shushed you and muttered, “Just don’t tell the bucket-head, okay?”

After sharing a meal with your favourite Tatooine mechanic — dragon meat is surprisingly tasty — you piled onto the Crest, lifted out of the hangar, and Mando has yet to reappear from the cockpit. The kid, tired from the ridiculous amount of meat he’d eaten, is fast asleep in his hammock. After tucking a scrap of blanket around his tiny body, you climb the ladder and join Mando, who doesn’t look at you as you enter, but adjusts himself in the seat. The beskar jetpack is still strapped to his back and you don’t miss his sharp, pained inhale, coupled with the unmistakable scent of blood in the air.

“Are you hurt?” you ask instantly, moving past the chair you’ve silently claimed as your own and putting a hand on the back of the captain’s chair. “Mando, what happened?”

He adjusts himself again and makes the same pained noise. “I’m not sure. Something at my back.”

“Well, get up,” you say, reaching for his wrist. “Let me look.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Shush,” you cut him off, lifting a hand and pressing a finger to the black part of his visor, over where you imagine his mouth would be. “Let me see.”

Slowly, clearly in pain with every movement, he stands and turns around, reaching for his cowl and pulling the cape off his shoulder. The jetpack looks fine, although most of his armour is covered in some kind of green sludge that smells something awful. The cloak hits the floor with a muffled thump and you start looking for some kind of hinge to take the pack off.

“There’s a release button under the thruster,” he tells you over his shoulder, voice straining through the modulator.

It takes a second, but you find it, the jetpack tumbling into your arms. You nearly stumble back with the surprising weight. “Maker, this thing is heavy.”

“Sorry,” Mando grunts, and your hear the tinkling sound of something metal hitting the ground. When you look down, there’s a small, rough piece of steel at your feet, smeared with blood. At Mando’s back, his flight-suit is torn where the jetpack had covered it, and you can see a jagged cut in his skin.

“Shit,” you curse, and set the heavy pack down in the seat behind you. “Take off the armour, I’m gonna have to clean this.”

Mando grips the edge of the captain’s chair, turning the helmet towards you. “I can’t.”

“Leave the helmet on,” you amend, and his shoulders drop. “I need to clean it. Maker only knows where that hunk of metal has been. Where’d your medkit?”

“Fresher,” he grunts out, and you disappear to retrieve it. When you come back, Mando is struggling with the armour, grunting in pain as he reaches for a pauldron.

“Let me,” you say, setting the kit down and stepping toward him. “Tell me what to do.”

He does, instructing you how to remove each piece of metal. You place them gently in a pile on the third chair, making a mental note to find a rag to clean the green sludge from the beskar before he puts it back on. With the cowl gone, you can see the part of his neck that is now uncovered, and beneath the helmet, the ends of dark curls stick out against the nape, swirling against his skin.

Golden skin, you notice silently, and you have to admit your breath catches in your throat when he unzips the flight-suit, carefully pulling his arms from the sleeves. You reach for the collar, trying to ignore the shaky breaths that make it through the modulator as you slowly, cautiously peel the fabric down his back. The wound has soaked the fabric with blood, and it’s stuck to his skin in places. You grit your teeth against the pained groan he makes when you finally pull it free, the top half of the suit settling around his hips, the sleeves dangling at his sides.

His back and shoulders are a muscled expanse of scar-littered, golden skin, and it makes your throat go dry. You turn away, bending down to rummage through the medkit for antiseptic wipes and… “You don’t have any more bacta patches?”

“Shit,” he bites through the helmet. “Used the last ones on you.”

Your eyes go wide. “Mando—”

He lifts a gloved hand, cutting you off. “You needed them more than I do. There should be some spray in there, at least.”

Sure enough, he’s right. You produce the bottle of bacta spray, antiseptic wipes, a roll of bandages and tape. Inspecting the wound, you’re automatically worried. You’re no medic, but you don’t think it’ll hold closed with just a bandage. He needs stitches. Or a bacta patch.

“There’s a needle and thread in there too,” he says, and for a moment, you have to wonder if that helmet also grants him the ability to read minds. If so, you’re in more trouble than you thought with the Mandalorian. “I can take it.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, and there’s a tremor in your voice.

If he notices, he doesn’t say it. “I trust you.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, settling around you like a warm blanket with a familiar scent. “Okay,” you say slowly, turning back to the medkit. It’s easy to find the needle — a retractable, self-cleaning thing that makes your gut roll — and thread meant for just such a job. You clear the kit off of the seat and lower yourself so you’re more level with the wound on his back.

It’s awful. It’s awful and it takes forever and you have to redo at least three of the stitches. The Mandalorian shakes every time the needle pierces the skin around his wound, and it makes your chest ache, knowing you’re adding to his pain. You know in the long run, what you’re doing is in fact helping, but the way his breaths tremble and his now bare hands dig into the cushion of the captain’s chair makes you feel terrible.

Halfway through, desperation oozing off of both of you, begging for this to be over, he speaks. “Why didn’t you stay in Mos Pelgo?”

The question catches you off guard, and the needle nearly falls from your grip. “Cobb told you.”

A moment of silence before, “He did. Why didn’t you stay?” More silence, and then, “I saw how he was looking at you. He cares for you.”

“Cobb is…” you trail off, shaking your head and leaning closer to see the stitch you’re tying off. Mando wheezes when you start the next one. “It’s complicated. I couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” he grits out, clearly hoping this conversation will distract him from your current predicament. “He’s a good man, he could keep you safe. You could have a life with him.”

Your mind is whirling, still trying to piece together what you’re currently trying to accomplish, the fact that your old friend and your rescuer just killed a krayt dragon, and that not two days prior, you were fighting for your life on Jakku, having your ass beat every waking moment. It’s all…a lot, is what it is.

“You trying to get rid of me, Mando?”

“No,” he answers, too quickly. “I just think you deserve a good life, after what you’ve been through.”

“Thank you,” you say, and it’s genuine. He sounds genuine, too. “But no, I want to go to Naboo. Like we agreed.” The wheels start to click, and paranoia starts to sink in. You lean back, keeping the needle tight in your grip. “Wait. Are you backing out of the deal? You promised to take me to Naboo. You’re not about to drop me in Mos Pelgo and take off, are you?” You get to your feet, and your mind is racing now, faster than a fathier on a track. “You’re backing out, aren’t you, because Cobb isn’t a real Mandalorian. I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t know. I just knew he had the armour, that’s all. And I told you that. I didn’t know about the Creed. I’m sorry.”

You heave a breath, and slowly, Mando turns to face you. Your eyes catch on the light dusting of hair on his chest, the curves of muscles all the way down. Tattooed onto his shoulder is the skull of a mythosaur, identical to the pendant you’ve seen hanging around the kid’s neck, and you have to stop yourself from tracing the shape with your fingers. The helmet inclines slightly, and he reaches a hand up, letting it rest against your collar, the tips of his bare fingers just touching the side of your neck.

“I’m not going back on the deal,” he says, and for a moment, you can imagine him blin king at you behind the dark visor. “I’ll take you to Naboo, if that’s what you really want. But Vanth is a good man. He could give you a good life.”

“I don’t want Cobb Vanth,” you answer, the words falling out too quick for you to stop. It’s a loaded thing to say, and you know it, but there’s a certain truth in it, once you’ve felt growing and expanding since you first opened your eyes on the crates in the hull, taking up the space between your ribs and filling your heart with an unfamiliar longing.

You don’t want Cobb Vanth. Not at all.