#and she's just scrambling after him trying to pick up his pieces

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[96theater]

DON'T BELIEVE HIM SKYLER DIVORCE HIM RIGHT NOW HE'S A LYING BITCH!!!!!!!! LEAVE HIM

edit sorgy to everyone going through the brba tag and seeing this

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I’m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[changetyre]

My weakness II Mafia!Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Lando is a man known to be cold, unfeeling, overflowing in strength and composure...except when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: Assault, Blood, inaccurate medical terms, not proofread.

A/N: This is something I posted over on Wattpad a few days ago, thought you guys might want to start seeing some for fluff rather than pure smut ;)

It was a miracle you were walking down the streets on your own right now...well partially. Lando had been obliged to fly over to territory 55 after a business deal had gone wrong with his partner who urgently needed his assistance. 

Lando hated leaving you alone even if it was for short periods of time just hating the feeling of not being able to protect you himself. Nevertheless, he reluctantly had to sometimes and he wasn't one to force you to go with him everywhere especially if he knew he would be putting you in more danger around him. 

For this specific instance, he had needed to fly for a few days and it had taken a whole lot of begging over the phone for him to let you leave the house to go shopping, a treat for yourself (and a little for him). He only agreed because he had your location on your phone but also as long as you agreed that his best man Max Fewtrell would accompany you. 

The day had been wonderful for you, Max wasn't sure how much longer he could stand at another store watching you try on what felt like hundreds of pieces of clothing only for you to walk out with just 1 piece or none at all.

His feet were aching more than they would when he went on a mission and he was about ready to force you back home if it weren't for the stores closing that forced you to finally call it a day. 

You were walking to the car, Max a few steps ahead of you as he worked to get all the multiple shopping bags and boxes into the car. His struggle to do so distracted him enough not to notice the other eyes in the empty parking lot. 

Max heard you scream but by the time he turned around and drew his gun you were already down on the ground badly beaten, Max could only watch as the men delivered their last few kicks and punches before they scrambled disappearing in the night. 

Max attempted taking shots but they were futile as they ran in multiple directions and instead he focused on you instead of running after whoever they were. He saw a note left beside your beaten body.  

Max picked you up getting you in the car to quickly drive you to the hospital as you groaned in pain trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

"Max don't tell-" You struggled to breathe properly. 

"Shh don't hurt yourself." Max was stern, he knew what you were going to say and he also knew he wasn't going to listen.

"Don't tell Lando." You finished feeling as though this wasn't bad enough to have him fly back and panic over you. 

Max sees as you're wheeled in, panic filling his face at the amount of blood he can see down your face and body. At the hospital, apart from a few cuts and bruises to the rest of your body it's determined you have a mild fracture to your skull and you required a few stitches to a medium-sized gash to your head, explaining the large amounts of blood.

You fail to recall at what point you'd lost consciousness or been put to sleep as you woke up to see Max on the couch next to you, his leg jittering nervously, his phone in one hand and his head in the other hand.

"Max, are you okay?" You ask him, his head popping up and his eyes meeting yours, a wave of relief flooding them.

"NURSE!" Max screams out.

"Ouch." You grab your head as Max's loudness makes your head pound.

"Sorry." He gritted his teeth guiltily. "You get attacked and you ask me if I'm okay?" Max stifles a laugh.

You shrug. "Are you?" You ask again. 

"I'm fine...lucky for me he's decided to take his anger out on the poor nurses and doctors." He shakes his head.

"He? Max I-" A nurse comes in interrupting you, she explains everything to you, and checks your vitals before finally walking outside.

You're about to engage in conversation with Max again when Lando runs into the room.

"Y/n?!" He calls out, desperation and panic audible in his voice.

"You called him?! I told you not to." You turned to Max.

"He'd kill me if I hadn't." He argued back.

"He's right...if he wasn't like family he'd be dead already." Lando replied so nonchalantly it made a shiver run through your body. Lando walked towards you, a frown on his face as he looked at the bandage around your head. 

"Baby it wasn't his-" you were gonna speak.

"Who did this?" He looked at Max, you could see the ridiculous amount of anger in his eyes, his lips in a slight pout as he tried to keep it together and his breath incredibly heavy as if he'd just ran a marathon.

"Lan-" you tried calling him again.

"WHO?!!" He repeated himself to Max.

"They left this." Max handed him the note that was left beside you.

You saw Lando's eyes darken as he read the words. "Gather the men. Call 3, 16, 33, and 81. I want them dead." He instructed Max.

"Yes." Max didn't argue as he left the room, his phone already dialing.

"Lando-" another failed attempt.

"Did you see their faces?" He turned back to you.

"LANDO!" You raised your voice finally getting him to stop.

You grabbed your head, the volume and sudden jerk of your neck making it soar.

"Darling" Lando panicked when he saw your grabbing your head. "I'll call the nurse-"

You cupped his cheek before he could turn back around. You made him look at you. "Baby I'm okay." You spoke softly.

Lando let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It appeared that his efforts to keep it together were expiring.

His breathing started becoming irregular as he tried his best not to break down in front of you. He tried to quietly grasp for air that he didn't seem to be able to find.

"Lando take a deep breath." Your hands moved to his once you realized he was shaking, you gave them a tight squeeze.

"I can't..." he tried to suck in air. "I can't breathe" you could see him starting to panic.

"Lando breathe with me, baby." I grabbed one of his hands placing it on my chest, my hand tightly over his as I placed the other on his own chest. "Breath in."

He did as I told him.

"Breathe out." His breaths began matching mine.

We repeated this a few times.

"You're okay baby...I'm okay." Once I saw him calm enough I pulled his face closer to mine leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm okay."

He closed the space kissing you softly. 

"This is my worst nightmare-" a few tears escaped his eyes.

"I know baby...I know..." I pulled him into a much-needed hug from both of us. His embrace was tight against me but still not as tight as it normally would be, like he was afraid to break me.

"I can't..." his voice broke. "I can't lose you." He whispered to you.

This time you placed a kiss on his lips. "You're not going to. I'm okay I promise." 

"I won't let them touch you ever again," Lando promised as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb lovingly. 

"I know." You didn't doubt him one bit. 

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

Summary: . . . You and your kids wake Eddie up with a surprise for Father's Day. warnings: fluff and Eddie being down bad for Reader 🤭, implications of baby making.

word count: 2k

more dad!eddie here

“'Shhh', mama?” Your four year old asked as she trailed behind you in the hallway.

  “Yeah, we have to be quiet so you can wake daddy up with a surprise.” You were trying not to make too much noise with the flowers, wrapped in apparently the world’s loudest brown paper, hitching your nine-month old up higher on your hip.

  Thank goodness neither of your kids were in a fussy mood, especially considering you’d gotten them up early after the terrible night before. Wayne had a new tooth coming in, he was absolutely miserable and your poor baby made sure to let everyone know. He’d been wailing most of the night and Eddie took it upon himself to soothe him, rubbing some baby friendly orajel along his gums, massaging them with fingers dipped in cool water, and offering frozen teething rings and plenty of comfort in the form of nonstop cuddles.

  He hadn’t joined you in bed until the early hours of the morning, which worked out perfectly. Eddie had been dead asleep when you got up, squishing a pillow you’d planted in place of yourself to his chest.

  Next came getting the kids ready, which was also surprisingly easy. Penny was pliant with sleep, letting you dress her without whining (she kept trying to lean forward so she could rest on you and go back to sleep—it was the cutest thing) and your baby was still soothed by Eddie’s remedies, letting out content coos as you changed his diaper and also got him ready.

  After a quick trip to a music store downtown (and by quick you meant 45 minutes, Penny took delicate care in picking out another final gift for her daddy and told you not to rush her every time you’d ask her to hurry) and a stop at the flower shop, you arrived back home and it looked like Eddie still hadn’t stirred, which gave you time to make breakfast.

  You’d sat Waynie in his high chair, gave him some cut up pieces of banana to gnaw on—which he did so as aggressively as possible—and went about making pancakes, eggs and bacon (which Eddie liked to devour until he felt ill).

  Penny was of course your little helper, sitting on your lap while you assisted her with whisking the eggs in a bowl for Waynie’s scrambled eggs, and then perched on your hip to help you flip the pancakes. She’d insisted that Eddie’s pancakes all be heart shaped and you loved the idea, so after a couple of failed ones that would be on your plate, you eventually got it down and she wrapped her arms tightly around you in a hug for it.

  Once breakfast was plated and the table was set, you gathered Wayne and the flowers while Penny carried Eddie’s decoy gift towards your bedroom.

  Quietly, you opened the door and peaked in, smiling  at Eddie’s sleeping form.

  “Okay, let’s go wake him up. Shh.” You propped the door open for Penny to slip in before you and she grinned up at you, using her free hand to hold her finger to her lips, she’d be quiet.

  She set the rectangular box on the end of the bed and then climbed on top while you sat Wayne down on the bed.

  He was just starting to crawl, so he very shakily made his way towards Eddie—face planting quite a few times but it didn’t deter your baby.

  Penny looked back at you for confirmation and you nodded in encouragement. That was all the permission she needed.

  “Daddy! Daddy, wake up! It’s daddy’s day! Wakey, wakey!” 

  She poked and prodded at his side when he groaned and shifted onto his back, eyes squinting open. That wasn’t good enough for her, she moved to sit on him and Wayne finally reached him, using his dad’s shoulder to prop himself up enough to sit back on his bum while he let out a happy shriek, chunky little palms slapping eagerly at his dad’s face to do the trick.

  Eddie made a face, nose scrunching up but you could see the smile curling on his lips, dimples appearing.

  “Okay, okay! I’m awake! Stop the assault!” 

  Penny laughed as he sat up, which almost sent her sprawling on the bed but she caught herself on his leg. Eddie tutted, that wouldn’t do.

  Eddie reached out and pushed her off of him and she laughed hysterically as she bounced against the mattress which made the two of you chuckle. For some reason your daughter loved to rough house with him. 

  Penny didn’t stay down for long, quickly crawling back up to lay down along the side of his pillow and Eddie turned his head to look at her after he’d gathered Wayne and sat him on his chest.

  “Happy Fodder’s Day, daddy. You aw the best daddy in the whole wide everywhere.” She whispered to him, very seriously, and he leaned in to give her a smacking kiss on the nose.

  “Thank you, baby.” His voice was raspy but you could detect the emotion under it. Eddie was so gonna choke up.

  “You wanna give him his present?” You prompted her, and Eddie’s head darted in your direction, grin widening at the sight of you in his favorite dress.

  “Oh, yeah!” Penny scurried to the end of the bed and knee-crawled back to Eddie, hands outstretched to offer him the rectangular box.

  “What’s this?” He asked, tucking Wayne into his side so he could grab the box.

  “You gots to open it, daddy.” Penny demanded, eagerly leaning in to stare at the box while he did.

  “Sorry,” you both traded looks of amusement before he took off the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal a new guitar strap; black and decorated with crossbone skulls. “This is for me?”

  “Yeah!” Penny nodded her head ecstatically. “Mommy lemme pickeded it out!”

  “Thank you so much, little pretty one.” Eddie moved his hand to the back of his daughter’s curly little head to bring it in so he could press a kiss to her forehead, then he turned to the baby at his side. “And you, too!”

  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the sweet smelling curls on his baby’s head. In return, Waynie started gnawing on his arm.

  You sat on the side of the bed and pulled him away from Eddie’s arm. Your son looked at you, affronted,  like you’d committed the ultimate crime until you held a pacifier to his lips. He eagerly gobbled it up and relaxed back against Eddie, once more content as he suckled.

  “Penny, do you wanna go get the other thing?”

  “Wha─?” She looked at you, confused for only a moment before her big brown eyes lit up. “YES, YES, YES!”

  Penny quickly climbed off the bed and ran to her room, where you’d hidden it.

  “What are you up to, trouble?” Eddie asked and you turned your head away from the doorway to find him looking at you, sleepy eyes clouded with love and affection as he reached a hand out to stroke along your exposed thigh.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

  “You’re trying to make me cry again, aren’t you?”

  “Not me, no way. No how.” 

  “I GOS IT, MOMMY!” Penny ran back in, chin raised to peak over the box she carried. It wasn’t too heavy for her, just big.

  She brought it over to you and you handed it to Eddie before pulling her up onto your lap as you watched him unbox it.

  “I wonder what it could b—.” Eddie’s mouth parted just slightly as he pulled a small amp from the box. It wasn’t just any amp. It was an amp you’d sneakily picked up from the music store last week—he had a ton of amps sprawled around the apartment but Eddie’s favorite portable one had recently gone out on him. 

  The amp itself would have been a fantastic gift alone, but you’d taken a few extra steps to personalize it for him. You’d painted the black amp with a solid red background and then let Penny and Wayne paint whatever they wanted on it. 

  Penny had gone all out, making sure to paint her family holding hands on it, along with plenty of depictions of her dad, one of which was him wearing a cape because he was her hero and since Wayne was too little to use a paintbrush, his little hand and foot prints were on it. 

  On one of the sides was your initials (last name replaced with an ‘M’ to represent the Munson name you’d taken on when you’d married him) + EM 4Ever, tucked into a heart with Cupid’s bow shot through it. 

  “SUPISE! D’ya like it, daddy? I drews on it, and it got Waynie’s feets and hans.” Penny looked so proud of herself, smile nearly taking up her entire face.

  Eddie sniffled and you hid your grin in Penny’s hair. You got him.

  He licked his lips and cleared his throat to try and keep himself together but you could see the shine in his eyes when he raised them.

  “I love it so much, baby girl.” He choked out, holding Wayne a little tighter to his side.

  “You wanna give daddy a hug?” You whispered into her ear and she crawled off your lap to throw herself at Eddie, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

  Eddie was careful to make sure Penny didn’t squish Wayne as he held her to his chest, eyes squeezing shut and his freehand cradling the back of her head.

  “I luh you, daddy.” Penny mumbled, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

  “I love you, pretty Penny.” He pressed a multitude of kisses to her curls as he basked in the moment before his eyes shot open and over to you. “What are you doing all the way over there? Get over here and give me some love.”

  You affectionately rolled your eyes before you complied, lifting Wayne out of his arms and into yours to take his place tucked into Eddie’s side. Eddie demanded kisses the moment you were near, and because you loved him, you ignored his god awful morning breath and let him have his way.

  His lips remained pressed to your temple, an arm slipped around your waist so he could lift the skirt of your dress, fingers tracing the words I love you along your thigh as Penny explained all her paintings in great, excessive detail.

  Later, when you were all at the table eating the breakfast you and Penny had made, Eddie could barely get a bite in without staring at you. Wayne was in your arms, face pressed against your breast as he nursed (always did it before he ate solids), while Penny babbled to you about how fun cooking with you had been and how yummy it was as you helped her scoop up her food on her little fork.

  Eddie knew Father’s Day was a day meant to celebrate him and essentially all the other fathers of the world, but he’d much rather appreciate you. You’d given him Penny and Wayne; his sweet (usually) little girl and his baby boy. Without you, he wouldn’t be able to be a part of this day, really.

  Eventually, you felt the weight of his stare and looked up at him, gaze inquisitive.

  “What?” 

  He just huffed out a gentle laugh, brown eyes warm and making a certain feeling stir in your belly, “Nothing. Thank you. For them.”

  Eddie nods towards Wayne and Penny.

  “Well, you definitely played a part in getting them here.” You mused, reaching a hand out to stroke over Penny’s curls. 

  Sure, you made them but it wouldn’t have been possible had Eddie not finished inside of you on a regular basis. 

  When you looked back at him, Eddie was smirking, his eyes were heavily lidded and darkening–his bedroom eyes. The warmth in them was simmering into something much more intense as he leered at you with absolutely no shame. Lustful.

  You could feel yourself heating up, bashful nature hitting you full force as he nearly ate you alive with his gaze alone. You knew what was coming next, what he was about to say.

  “Wanna make another one during nap time?”

[athenaluthor]

Living Daylights ~ Darth Vader.

summary: Husband!Vader comes home angry and he needs to let out some anger.

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, SMUT, Unburnt!Vader, Dubcon, Creampie, Rough, PiV, Domestic Vader, mentions of kids.

Word count - 1.6k

masterlist

Comfortably sat on the living room sofa, she waited for her husband. Though he would never admit it, he enjoyed having someone greet him after a long day. A familiar face to wash away the troubles of the day right when he walks through the door.

Truth be told, she needed it too. Working from home while taking care of two incredibly restless boys was exhausting, especially when both were terribly ill from a flu being passed around at school. Between runny noses, high fevers and tears; she clearly needed a break from being pulled in a million different directions.

The attendants scurry to open the door for him, quickly scrambling away right after, none wanting to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

The sound of Vader's ship landing snaps her out her trance rather abruptly. Looking out, she sees him storming out of it the moment the ship is secured on the landing pad. He was infuriated, his footsteps echoing loudly, a clear show of his anger.

Testing the waters, she gently calls out to him “Vader..?”.

She receives no reply. His body is unusually rigid, making the hairs on her body rise. Days like this would usually end with her laying on her back, legs spread and him mercilessly pounding away at her. Not that she minds, but tonight she prays that it wouldn't be the case, she barely had any energy left. Vader undeniably enjoyed fucking the living daylights out of his wife.

Usually, he would give her a chaste kiss on the lips or cheek before grabbing her hand to retire to their bedroom. He wouldn't ask for much, just some help with his suit and sometimes a bath. On some occasions, he'd ask her to help with his strained muscles or injuries.

Today, he was nothing of that sort. Vader grabs her arm and pulls her roughly towards their shared quarters. A chill runs down her spine. The last time this occurred, she could barely walk after. Vader had taken her so many times and so hard that night that she blacked out several times. Thank the Maker that their bedroom had been soundproofed. She prayed that their children would never see what Vader would do to her. Vader's was insatiable especially when he was angry.

“Vader? What's wrong?” she asks again only to receive a low grunt from him.

Admittedly, the past few months had been hectic, Vader had been engulfed and utterly preoccupied with work, while she tried to wrangle two young boys at home. They've barely seen one another without being interrupted by work or their children. She didn't need to see his face to know he was angry and frustrated.

The moment they make it through the door, Vader tosses her onto the bed. He was mostly careful with her in bed, save for the occasions where he was angry. The rough act earned a rather terrified whimper from her, surprised by his abruptness.

Then, he unclasps his helmet, dropping it to the floor with a loud clang. Wasting no time, he pounces on top of her, roughly kissing her with vigor. His hands were roaming her body as if he was mapping her out. Taken aback, she places her hands on his chest, trying to make him slow down and to let her breathe.

Within no time, Vader managed to tear off her clothes off her body. Judging by his acts, he was in no mood to play and jest. His eyes were filled with rage and lust, he looked every bit the Sith Lord people feared.

Vader begins to strip himself of his suit, each piece thrown aside without a thought. He would pick them up later once he was done fucking his wife, his beautiful wife.

Then, Vader buries his face in her neck, beginning his assault of kisses and leaving a trail of red spots in his wake. He adored marking her skin, letting the galaxy know she was his.

Vader's hand moves down to her clit, pinching it. She lets out a small noise, surprised at the action. Vader toys with her clit and runs his tongue across her nipples.

“Vader! Gods, slow down!” she begs him.

Without warning, he inserts two of his large fingers in her. Earning a moan of both pleasure and pain escapes me at the sudden intrusion. She wasn't wet enough for it yet, and he knew it. Vader thrusts his fingers in and out of her without care, sending a sharp pain through her. He knew she liked it when he was rough, how wet she would get when he had his way with her.

Vader's mouth is now on her clit, his tongue flicking the bundle of nerves while his fingers violate her. Vader knew how to make me pliable, bending to his every command. He knew how to turn her to a pile of moans, to have her pussy leaking for him.

He begins to toy between flicking his tongue on her clit and sucking it, making her so,so wet. Her hands reach down to his head, grabbing the head of soft blonde curls as he made her head spin.

Vader then curls his fingers towards my sweet spot, earning a rather loud moan from her. His cock was so hard by now, he needed to fuck her soon.

She could feel the pressure build in her lower belly, taut and dizzying. Vader knew how to read her cues. How her walls would clench when her orgasm was building or how cunt would be dripping wet, soaking his fingers and the sheets. His pace was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of her so quickly.

Trying to hold herself together, she grasped at anything she could. Feeling the pressure grow tauter and tauter until it eventually snaps, sending her body into blind pleasure. Moaning and tossing around as her body came.

Vader drank up her moans, reveling in how her back would arch and how she clenched down on his fingers as she came. He did not stop, continuing to finger her through it, his mouth also continued its assault on her. He loved overstimulating his wife.

“Va-vader! It's too much! Give me a break, please!” she begs, back arching from pleasure.

“You can take it. Even if you can't, I'll make sure you do.”

The second orgasm builds up so quickly, the pleasure made her body shake. Her clit was overstimulated and her hole was sore from his fingers. She tries to close my legs together but Vader quickly pins them down.

“Try that again and you'll regret it, wife.”

Her second orgasm hits and her mind is empty. Only thoughts of her husband having his way with her remained. The pleasure was too much all at once, earning incoherent moans and screams from her. She can't seem to catch her breath,her body wildly thrashes on the bed. As Vader slips his fingers out of her, her body is limp, tired from the overstimulation.

Vader positions his hard cock between her legs and she had no energy to resist. Vader's lust was insatiable at times. Regardless of what she wanted, he would fuck her when he wanted to fuck me.

Vader slides his cock inside her, her cunt was dripping, making it easier for him to fuck her. Her walls were so warm and tight, Vader had to resist the urge to come immediately like a teenage boy.

Despite being wet enough, the stretch still stung. Vader's cock was long and girthy and a few months without sex made it even harder to take.

It didn't help that Vader was not gentle, he thrusted his whole length in without hesitation, bottoming out in her. She let out a pained groaned while he moans loudly.

He wasted no time. Vader began thrusting in and out of her roughly, his pace unwavering. He needed to fuck her, he needed to bury himself so deep inside his wife. The head of his cock hit her cervix repeatedly, making her scream. She hoped he wouldn't fuck her all night, she didn't think she could take it.

Vader was sure she would be so sore in the morning. He hadn't fucked her in so long, her pussy was so tight.

“God, you're so deep. Just, slow down.” she pants.

“I can't. I kriffing can't! You feel too good wrapped around me.” he says, sounding breathless.

Vader buries his face in her neck as he continues to pound into his wife. Grunting into her neck with each thrust, shaking the bed as he does so. The sharp pain his rough pounding caused made her head spin, reducing her to moans and whimpers of pain and pleasure.

Vader pins her hands above her head, while he kisses her lips roughly. Vader loved to kiss her while she moaned, her moans drive him crazy. So crazy that he'd fuck her for hours just to hear them.

As he fucked her hard, her third orgasm approaches. This time, the pleasure builds so quickly she could barely think. Her body hadn't felt this much pleasure in months.

One of Vader's hands reaches down to rub her clit, he knew by the way she tightened around his cock. He knew she was close. So, Vader's fingers reach down and plays with her clit. Vader's fingers on her clit pushed over the edge.

She screams into their kiss as she came around his cock. Vader grunts in reply as her walls clamped down on his cock. Vader loved the way her legs shook, overwhelmed by pleasure. He loved how fucked out she looked under him.

Vader pulls away from their kiss and says“You’re so tight when you come on my cock. I can barely move, fuck! You love it when I fuck the living daylights out of you, huh?”.

Vader's pace does not falter even after she came. By this point, she could barely process what was happening. His thrusts, his grunts and his kisses all pushed me to edge of her limits. Her body was riddled with pleasure and exhaustion as he fucked her.

Vader pinches her nipples and slaps her breasts and he fucks her. His roughness made her breathless. His grunts only spurred her on. Fueling the pleasure in her veins and she could feel his thrusts becoming more and more frantic, he was close. He would come soon and he would fill her with his come, stuff her so full of him.

She loved being filled by him, having his seed in her. She loved it when he treated her like this.

Suddenly, Vader grips her hips and lifts them slightly. He increased his speed, pounding her like his life depended on it. Anyone watching would think Vader had gone insane.

His pace was relentless and his grunts echoed through their bedroom. Vader wraps one of his hands around her throat, putting slight pressure on it.

She moaned his name repeatedly, trying to hold on to the edges of her consciousness as her Vader fucks her. The lack of air making it harder for her to stay conscious.

Vader comes with a loud groans and grunts, rutting wildly into her. Vader shoots his seed deep inside her womb, painting her insides.

The feel of his seed her was euphoric. It pushed another orgasm through her body. Her body shook as he continued to thrust into her softly through both of their climax. Vader lets go of her throat right as she was about to faint.

Her vision darkens for a few moments, her body unable to handle the pleasure and exhaustion. Laying there limp and satiated with her husband buried deep inside her, where he belongs.

Vader softly strokes her cheek, trying to rouse her back to reality. She opens her eyes to the sight of him looking at her with worried eyes.

“You still there?” He softly asks.

Too weak to answer, she merely nods. Her skin was sticky, her heart was beating wildly and she was barely able to catch her breath.

Vader slides himself out of her slowly, his seed dripping out of her and soaking the sheets. Vader's cock hardens slightly at the sight. His seed coming out her hole was enough to make him want to fuck her again.

Worried about over exhausting her, he refrains. He slowly lifts her up and sets her on the bed properly. Laying her limp body down, head on the pillow and comfortable.

Somewhere in her daze, he cleaned her up with a damp towel and tucked her in. The room was warm and cozy which made her smile. He adjusted the temperature so they both would be comfortable.

When she woke, he had just came out of the shower and dressed only in long pants. Sliding into bed, his skin was cool against hers. He pulled her into his arms, allowing her head to be resting on his chest.

“I heard the boys were sick today. You stayed home with them?” He asks.

“They were. Some flu has been going around at school. Their fevers have broke so they should be better in a few days.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“Not much. Gave them medicine and advised they rest. Told me to monitor their temperatures and coughs, and call him if they get worse."

“I'm sorry.”

“Hmm? About what?”

“I came home and fucked the living daylights out of you without even greeting you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Was it too much?”

“A little. What was it about, hm? You don't usually come home that angry.” I ask, tracing patterns on his chest.

“Nothing you should concern your pretty little head about. You should sleep. I can tell you're tired.” He replies while rubbing my arms softly.

He's avoiding telling her about it. She's learned not to prod when he's not ready to talk, he's Vader. He won't talk until he wants to.

Once she's asleep on his chest, Vader's mind wanders off. He would not include her in his plans, it was too dangerous. But soon, very soon, they would be free.

Free from the Emperor.

He slips out of bed and heads to his children's bedroom. Vader couldn't sleep anyways, he might as well check on his children. Seeing them would help him ground himself and calm down.

He slips inside their rooms quietly, not wanting to wake them up. He checks on each of the boys' temperature, making sure their fevers weren't too high. He stood there for a while watching them peacefully sleep. They were pure and untainted by the world around them, unlike him.

He would make sure Palpatine would never touch any of them again. Not his wife, not his children.

His youngest stirred awake, the bluest sleepy eyes staring back at him. He could tell the little boy was on the verge of tears, probably uncomfortable from being sick.

He gently picks up the boy and soothes him. His wife and eldest were sound asleep, he didn't want them to wake up as well. Vader's youngest son melts in his arms, and so does he. His son buries his tiny face into Vader's neck.

The little boy still had a slight fever and was probably still uncomfortable. Vader could feel the little boy's tears on his neck. Vader couldn't resist loving his two boys. He would much rather die before letting Palpatine dig his claws into them as well.

So, he'll fight. Palpatine will be gone and defeated. He swears it.

[ayyy-pee]

hii lexi!!! hope you’re doing well :)) would you be interested in writing a suguru first date kinda thing? i thought it might be cute ^_^ (also i love your pfp!! it looks so good!)

AHHH THANK YOU NONNIE! <3 I'm so late, but I imagine Suguru would be exactly like this for a first date when he's really into reader lmaooo it's short but i'm trying to flex my brain with little drabbles. i appreciate you sending this request in! i hope you like it! <3

𝐹𝐼𝑅𝒮𝒯 𝒟𝒜𝒯𝐸

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader

Warnings: Cutiepie sweetie face nervous Suguru Geto!, downbad Suguru, Gojo being an annoying shithead, fluff and cuteness <3

It's so hot here.

Is it hot in here?

Has to be. Or else Suguru wouldn't be sweating so much. He can’t even hold his drink, the damn glass keeps slipping from his hands.

Maybe it’s the lights making his palms so moist?

Are the lights too bright? Too hot?

Was this restaurant the right choice? If it’s making him this uncomfortable, surely you’ll be uncomfortable, too.

Maybe he should have chosen another place. Do you even like Italian? Fuck, he should have asked you before making a reservation. What if you’re allergic to…pasta or like…tomatoes? He didn’t even think about that. Maybe it's not too late to change plans.

The soft buzz in Suguru’s pocket pulls him from his scrambled thoughts, and he takes his phone out to see a text sitting at the top of his notifications.

Beauty: Pulling up now. See you soon :) <3

Fuck! It's too late to change plans!

Okay. Okay, this is fine. It will be fine! He’s got this. What’s there to be nervous about? Nothing, because Suguru doesn’t get nervous. He asked you out, anyway. Not the other way around! There’s no reason he should be reduced to this clammy, sticky mess he’s become. 

And yet, it seems that’s all Suguru ever is when he’s in your presence. Although, it’s only been one other time.

It's been an entire week since Suguru first laid eyes on you coming down the aisle at his best friend's wedding. You would have thought he was the one getting married, the way his face grew red watching you smile, so stunning in that gown the bride had picked for you. The way his heart practically tried to punch its way through his ribcage when you’d graced him with a glance, aiming your beauty right at him. How you watched, teary eyed as your very best friend married his very best friend and it’s so insane of him, he knows. But Suguru thought he could see himself in this exact position one day…with you. And he didn’t even know your name.

It's so cliche, truly; a groomsman and a bridesmaid getting together at a wedding? It’s a romcom waiting to happen, but Suguru couldn't help himself.

You were the epitome of beauty. Your eyes, your lips, your smile, everything about you. They were all things Suguru could not get out of his head after you'd danced with him at the reception. With that cheesy love ballad playing way too loudly, you slipped perfectly into his embrace, like the missing piece of a puzzle, and he had to get to know you.

"Fuck your honeymoon," he'd told Satoru, rolling his eyes as his best friend panned his camera across the beautiful powdery sands of Turks and Caicos. “Can you ask your wife for her number?”

“Hmm…” Satoru flipped the phone back around and Suguru could see him pretending to think about it, tapping his chin just to irritate Suguru. “Beg me.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Beg…me…”

That stupid grin on that long limbed bastard’s face. If Suguru could, he’d reach through the phone and smack it right off of him. Why would he beg for your number? He’d get connected with you some other way. Suguru is not a beggar. Nothing in this world could make him open his mouth and plead for something.

“No.”

“Then I’m not asking. Good luck finding her! Gorgeous girl. Hope she doesn’t find someone else because there were quite a few people asking about her at the wedding…”

Suguru knows what he’s doing. And he fixes his friend with a deadpan stare as he says, “Nice try. Not begging.” 

And Satoru chuckles. “Okay! See you in three weeks!” He sings on the other end.

“Wait!”

And so Suguru…begged for your number. Not his proudest moment, but as he sees you slip through the doors of the restaurant, grinning and waving excitedly when you spot him…well, it makes every bit of groveling worth it. He just saw you exactly one week ago. A full 7 days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. And you look just as breathtaking, if possible.

This feeling is familiar, the heat radiating from his cheeks and the intense pounding of his heart and this sensation to get on his knees before you and offer you the world.

“Hi,” you greet him, out of breath as you approach.

Suguru stands quickly, stealthily wiping his damp palms on his pants. And it’s a little awkward at first, but you hug him, slipping into his hold like you just…belong there. It’s driving him insane, the way you just seem to fit him so perfectly.

You take your seat on the other side of the booth, all smiles and god, if it doesn’t send Suguru spiraling. You’re just so cute. You almost seem as excited to be here with him as he is to be here with you.

“I meant to get your number at the wedding, but honestly, I was just too nervous to ask.” You confess, giggling, a bubbly and airy sound that makes Suguru want to hear it more, maybe set it as his ringtone then piss Satoru off so he’ll blow his phone up. Then Suguru can hear it over and over. 

He chuckles, smoothing his hands over his pants again, trying his damndest to stop the sweating. “Yeah?”

You nod, picking up the menu and gracing him with a sweet, shy smile before hiding behind the sheet of paper. “Yeah, so I’m really happy you called.”

Suguru’s heart races and he can’t help the goofy grin that’s now formed on his lips as he picks up his menu. “Me too.”

[cameronspecial]

Post-Sex Confessions

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings:  SMUT at the beginning

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Drew utters words to Y/N during sex that scares her just a little bit.

A/N: This was suggested by the amazing @mellillasstuff after Drew Starkey's character in Hellraiser.

Masterlist

Drew pounds into her from behind, hips meeting her bum in a sound that reverberates around the room. “Do you like that?” he seeks her approval as his pace continues and they both near their climax. Y/N continues to let herself be thrust forward, nodding her head, “I love it.” As Drew releases a thick rope of cum into the condom, his feelings overwhelm him and he just needs to tell the girl he has been dating for two months how he feels. “I love you,” he breathes out, continuing shallow thrusts to ride out their highs. Y/N freezes, “What?” He senses her discomfort and pulls out of her. His heart tears a little when she scrambles away from him with the blanket over her breast. 

His words honestly scare her a little bit. Y/N didn’t grow up in the best environment and every promise of love has been ripped away from her. She lost her parents at a young when she was three. The uncle that took her in and said he loved her, just wanted her inheritance. Every friend she had was never really there to stick around and every boyfriend was a liar or a cheater. She had gotten used to going through life by herself and not needing anyone else. The scary part is that she does feel the same way about Drew, but she’s just scared that admitting their love would mean it would go away. She stares at him for a second, trying to piece together what could go wrong. Would he be sent away for work and the distance would be too much for them? Would he realize she is just too much of a damaged person for him? She could just feel the heartbreak waiting to happen. 

The silence is driving him mad. He fears he said it too early for her and now, she is going to break up with him for being weird. He wonders if he pulled a Ted Mosby with how early he said it. He also couldn’t have said it in a more vulnerable time when they are both coming down from a high and naked. “Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s obviously too early and not the right thing to say during sex. I’m just going to go,” Drew awkwardly spews out. He gets up off of the bed and searches for his clothes, but Y/N’s hand stops him. She grips his wrist a little too tight out, not wanting to let love slip out of her life again. 

“I love you too,” she whispers out, barely audible to him. He shakes his head, “Y/N, you don’t have to say it just because I did. I understand if I said it too soon.” She stands up, letting the blanket fall off her and throws herself in his arms, kissing him all over the face. “I really mean it, Drew. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose someone else,” she implores. “Everyone that I’ve ever loved or has loved me always leaves me and I didn’t want that to happen with you. But if I didn’t say anything to you at all, then I was sure to lose you forever.” Drew gives her a soft look and cups her cheek, “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. If I have to go away for a shoot, then you can come with me or we can call each other every night. When I say that I love you, I mean it and I’m not going to let you go that easily.” She rests her forehead on his and pecks his lips. “I won’t let you go either. I love you too,” she mumbles to him. He grins down at her, picking her up while moving toward the bed. They lie down together, cuddling until they both fall asleep. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia

[yichuuonvenus]

The Girl Who Cried Wolf- V

Ethan Landry x Reader

Tainted Love- Chapters

~Warnings~

Rape/Non-con, Loss of Virginity, Cock Warming, Dacryphilia, Knifeplay, Forced Orgasms, Corruption, Murder, Blood, Nightmares, Stalking, Underage Drinking, Attempted assault, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forced Relationship, Isolation, Fingering

A/N: THE WAIT IS OVER IM BACKKK!!!

I hope y'all enjoy. I missed writing so muchhh omfg

You were walking to the dining hall, alone. You would've asked Tia to go with you but she was at the library studying for her exam. You particularly didn't want to bother her since it was just a few blocks away.

Plus you just wanted to be alone. To have a moment to yourself. You needed to think. It had been a month after Ethan was stabbed… since Rylan was murdered. It had been a few days since Tia told you about the break-in and ever since then you've been distant with Ethan. 

It made you feel like a terrible friend because in a way you were. Every time you thought about Ethan you thought about how he was stabbed, how he dragged his body, how he could barely breathe.

And yet… you were still distant with Ethan. It came from a place of fear. If you could push him away maybe he would be safe… but if he did do those things Tia said he might’ve done, then that's one less person you would have to worry about Ghostface. 

The thought of that being true had your mind feeling like it was going to shatter. On one hand, you couldn't see Ethan doing the things Tia told you. But on the other hand, did you really know Ethan? 

You felt as though you didn't know any of them. You knew quirks about Tia that she didn't even know because of the close proximity and Ethan stayed over every other night and being that close to someone is going to make you think you know them. 

Your mind was so scrambled about it and honestly, you felt like you were going crazy. It all confused you. It confused you to the point you needed to walk alone to try to clear your head. 

Maybe it was time to finally see a therapist. You had thought about when Sam started going. You knew then that you should've gone too but when Tara told you she wasn't doing it. You somehow believe you didn't need it either. You thought you just needed to move across the country to forget it all ever happened. To pretend it all never happened. 

You huffed and kicked a rock. You decided then to stop thinking or at least try to. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself by listening to the sounds around you.

Then it was disrupted by the sound of a person walking behind you. Their footsteps were so heavy, so harsh on the pavement. You couldn't help but furrow your eyebrows at how loud they were being. You kept walking until you heard their pace pick up. That made your stomach drop and your blood run cold. You couldn’t stop yourself when you decided to take a glance. You didn't even have a chance to think before your body instinctively started to run on its own. 

The ghost mask was the first thing you saw and you knew then that you were going to die. 

This was how it was going to end with you alone with no one. You thought about Amber and how she told you that it would end like that. You swore her laughs sang in the air, mocking you because you were going to die. 

The street lights did nothing to light up your path. The dim lighting did nothing to help you. All you had to do was make it to the dining hall. When you got there you could be safe. You could call Chad to come and walk back with you, that was if you could make it to the dining hall in one piece. 

Your chest felt like it was going to explode. Your heart was in your stomach. Your body couldn't stop shaking. You had to get to the dining hall. You needed to get to the dining hall. What felt like a short walk was now a long deserted road that led to nowhere. 

The only thing on your mind was surviving. Your ears were ringing from the heavy sounds of Ghostface’s steps. You begged a higher power to let you live. You didn't want to die, not yet. You had finally got out of Woodsboro. Your life was just beginning before Ghostface’s appearance. 

You collided with something causing the air from your lungs to rip out of you. Whatever it was had you wrapped around them. You screamed and tried your best to pull them off of you. 

“Y/n? Y/n! It's me! It's me,” the person said as they held your face. 

You opened your eyes to find Ethan. You couldn't have been more grateful as you cried into his chest. 

“What's wrong?? Why were you running?” He asked as he stared at the sidewalk. 

“They… the- Ghostface they it- I I thought I was going to die,” you cried in his arms. “I was going to die.”

“No no, I'm here. You're safe. There's no one here, Y/n. No one is here,” he said, trying his best to soothe you. 

You turned around and saw that no one was there. 

Had you imagined it..? No. You couldn't have. It felt too real. The sounds. Ghostface’s heavy footsteps. There was no way. 

You cried harder in his arms. Were you going crazy? Was your mind so messed up from last year that it configured Ghostface chasing you?

You didn't want to believe it. You couldn't because it was real. It was real. 

“It's okay… I'm here now, Princess,” his voice was above a whisper. His hands did all they could to soothe you as they petted over your hair. 

Ethan was always the one to save you. It made you feel awful because he had to deal with you. It was settled then that you were finally going to go see a therapist. You knew that the school had services for students so you could try to start there. 

. . . 

Ethan walked you to the dining hall and back to your dorms. You knew it was common decency but you were still very grateful. You felt like people would see you as crazy if they saw how you acted when you thought you saw Ghostface. 

You hugged Ethan as you stopped at your door, “Thank you again for walking with me.” 

“You don't need to thank me,” he said with a smile. He leaned on the wall next to your door. “I'm always here for you… you know that right?” 

You nodded and smiled back. 

He frowned a bit and touched your cheek, “Try to get some sleep, okay?” 

“Of course,” you said, leaning into his touch. Only then did he smile a big toothy grin. 

When he turned his back to you it made you think. It was then you unlocked your door and Ethan was almost to his room that you called out to him. He turned around and tilted his head. 

“Can… Can I stay over tonight?” You asked. You didn't know why you asked but it came out of your mouth. 

He smiled and nodded as he waited for you to walk to his room with him. You were nervous. You've been into his room a dozen times before but now… you were nervous. 

Your hands were fidgeting and you couldn't calm down your heart rate. You felt like tonight was a bit different from other nights and your gut was always right. 

Ethan opened the door to let you in first as he followed behind you.

“Do you need any refreshments?” It sounded so goofy coming out of his mouth that you only laughed and nodded. 

“Water, please.” 

His eyes felt like they were looking at you differently too. It's like they saw you as more than a weak pitiful creature. You loved Sam, Tara, and everyone from the friend group but they saw you as a baby that needed to be coddled. That needed to be shielded. Ethan's gaze now felt like they wanted to see more than a baby deer who'd been hurt. 

“So… where Chad?” You quietly asked as he handed you a water bottle. 

“He is staying over at Tara’s,” he chuckled. 

You giggled at that which had you rolling your eyes at yourself for giggling. It was kinda embarrassing how you were feeling with this boy next to you. 

“I need to go to the bathroom but you can sit in my room and wait,” he said. 

“Oh okay…” 

He opened his door and you walked in smiling at him before sitting on his bed. You felt awkward so you sat on the main edge. You stared at his new poster. It was the movie poster for Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 2. He had a knack for watching any scary movie. It seemed like nothing could gross him out. For you, however, you could never stomach them especially after... 

He walked into the dimly lit room and sat on his bed next to you. You stared at the ground before looking at him. His eyes were already on yours. 

“Do you want to watch a-”

It was a shock to you at first. Before you could even pull out a sentence his lips were on yours. You didn't know how to react, so you just sat there and waited. When he pulled back his head tilted at you.

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how to react… Your first kiss was with Ethan. In his dorm room. After you might've had a psychosis episode. It felt weird because you didn't even think that he liked you let alone kiss you. 

“Was that okay?” He asked. 

You didn't know what to say so you just nodded. He smiled before leaning in again but this time you dodged his lips. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing… I just never kissed anyone before,” you quietly said. You didn't know why you weren't leaving or why you said what you said because truly you weren't comfortable with kissing him. Not now. Not after everything that has happened. 

“That's okay. We can teach each other,” he expressed with a smile. 

And to that, you only nodded. Then his lips were awkwardly on you again. You had guessed you were his first kiss too. You felt as though you couldn't feel anything but his lips on you. You tried to follow his lead but it felt too forced, too hard on your lips. 

Your mind became blank and when you came back you were on your back. Your pants were off and he was slowly pulling off your underwear. He was telling you how pretty you looked. How you wouldn't regret this because “he found things on the internet.”

You didn't want to go any further but you couldn't even bring yourself to move. When his tongue moved against your clit you clutched the sheets below you. You sighed as he kept licking and sucking on it. 

It was okay, right? Because you were enjoying it but you didn't even permit him, so was it okay? 

You didn't want an answer to that question. So you let it go to the back of your mind. 

You felt his hands keep your thighs open. He was strong which surprised you and it reminded you that he could truly do anything to you. 

When his fingers started to work their way into your entrance. You felt yourself tug at his hair and whine from the intrusion. 

“Ethan…” you cried softly. “Please.”

You knew then that he might've thought it was a plea for more rather than a cry to stop. His fingers were thicker and longer than yours and hit spots he probably didn't know were a part of a woman. It hurt you but at the same time, the pain felt good. 

When he started to go faster you couldn't control your pants, your pleas. You couldn't stop your hips from moving back and forth against his face. You let go of his hair to then grab onto a pillow to muffle your noises. You were terrified of the rooms around you hearing your cries. 

You press the pillow against your face moaning into it. It was soaked with tears and spit but you didn't care. You just needed your noises to be muted. Then he pushed you to your edge causing a loud cry to leave your lips. You had hoped that the pillow blocked out the noise enough. 

You couldn't open your eyes as you removed the pillow. They were hurting from how hard you squeezed them shut but when you finally found the strength to open them. You looked at Ethan who was gazing at you with a look you couldn't quite place. 

He was smiling. His lips were glistening and his cheeks were red enough that you could see them in the dim lighting. He moved up next to you to hold your face in his hands. 

“I hope you know how beautiful you look right now, princess,” he whispered into your lips. 

You cringed at the pet name now. You cringed when he pressed his lips on yours. The only time you didn't cringe was when he pulled back to lay his head down. You felt his arms wrap themselves around your waist pulling you close to him. 

It felt like hours before his breathing slowed and his grip slightly loosened off of you. You felt like you could breathe again. You pushed him off of you. You couldn't think clearly with him wrapped around you. 

You felt sick. Like you were going to throw up at any moment but nothing ever came out. Ethan took many of your firsts tonight without permission… but you never said no. It made you feel like you were the one in the wrong because you only nodded and went along with it. 

You didn't understand why he thought tonight would be the night. You didn't understand why you nodded your head. You didn't understand why you were still in his room in the first place. Overall you just wanted to forget tonight ever happened. You closed your eyes and felt yourself drift off. 

You could try and escape into your dreams but even then you would be in a nightmare. 

. . . 

He was gone when you woke up. You knew that because the door was open and the whole dorm was quiet. You still felt like a shell. you couldn't understand what had happened… and why it happened. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the movie poster again. It was then you couldn't control it and ran to throw up. You thankfully made it to the bathroom in time. Everything that was in you the night before was out of your stomach before you had a chance to think. 

And to be honest, you didn't want to think about it. You picked yourself up and made sure to clean up. You didn't want Tia to see you like this especially when she was the one that even warned you. 

Maybe you should tell her? Would it be a good idea to? You just needed to see her and maybe then you would tell her what happened. So you left for your room. You had remembered the night before you left it unlocked. Tia was going to rip you a new one for that one. You knew for sure. 

But as soon as you opened the door you were greeted with blood.

All over the floor… Tia’s door was opened and her body was on the ground. The scream that flew out of your mouth. The way you ran to her. Your body was all on autopilot. You held Tia to your body as your next-door neighbors alerted your RA. You rocked back and forth as you stared at Tia’s lifeless eyes staring back at you. 

“Wake up… please. Please wake up,” you cried. You were trying to feel a pulse and yet there was nothing. 

It was all a blur as they took her away from you and as they took you to the hospital. 

It was a nightmare. It was all a nightmare that you didn't wake up from yet. 

But when you opened your eyes and saw the same white sterile walls you could never seem to leave. 

You laughed at yourself that you were foolish enough to think leaving Woodsboro would mean you could escape that same nightmare. 

Previous Chapter?

Next Chapter?

[love-toxin]

i finally got around to watching a play through of RE4 separate ways and now i just wanna be a pitiful research assistant abandoned by my team that ada stumbles across,,,,

imagine just hitting all her soft spots. a naive, good hearted, timid thing who she can’t resist helping. she tries to act all aloof and uncaring but she Loves the feeling having someone cling to her more than anything.

she has this one line after she sees ashley being kidnapped that’s like “babysitting is tough huh?” and she’s all mocking towards leon, but she totally loves mother henning you, making sure you’re not too tired or lagging behind. she goes out her way to keep you out of danger whenever there are any plagas around. and if you even so much as scrape your knee she is dropping everything to make you feel better.

omg and when her infection flares up and you’re worrying all over her it takes everything in her not to pull you into a random room in the castle to absolutely wreck you for being so cute and concerned about her 🤭

unnnggghhh.....ada..... (<- hasn't played separate ways yet)

You're so gentle and meek. You're not really working under Saddler, are you? That's what she thinks when she first meets you, and she's partially right. You don't really have any idea what you've gotten yourself into....and yet you've still been abandoned by your team. The only one that even tried to help you was Luis, the charmer. But then you got separated, and you got lost and scared, and Ada came to rescue you because...well, she's not really sure why. Maybe because she just couldn't stand to listen to your cries anymore, or maybe because there's a little piece inside her that still wants to help the weak and the guileless.

And it's for the better for her, it turns out, because you actually can be pretty useful to her. You might be delicate and fragile, but you can point her in the directions she needs to go, decipher the landscape with familiarity she doesn't possess, and you do it with such a cute, eager insistence because Ada saved your life and it's the least you can do to help her back. Doing the heavy lifting isn't so hard when she's got someone on her side, even if it means she feels responsible for saving you from the plagas, the island, Saddler, and Wesker.

With Leon in the mix, however, it complicates things further. He's like you: a goody two shoes. He could very easily convince you to join him, to follow his lead, and he could put you in so much danger on this little suicide mission to save the president's daughter. And though Ada can try her best to keep you away from each other, there are times when you just end up....falling into Leon's arms. Like what happened about an hour ago, when she lost sight of you during Leon's assault on Salazar's castle--and she still hasn't managed to get you back. Well, not until you got separated from Leon in one of those trapped hallways and went running into another room to hide, only to find that you've ducked into the bookbinding tower.

It's a miracle she even gets to you in time, slinging herself around on that hookshot to fly through the already-opened window, just in time to launch herself feet-first into one of those possessed knights and send it squealing and flailing into the fireplace. But when you look at her with those soft eyes and that teary face, she just melts, and it reminds her of why she picked you up off your knees and saved you in the first place.

"Adaaaa!" You sob and scramble to your feet, running for her in your stained lab coat and hugging her tight enough to bruise. Usually you're the one fussing over her and her parasite, but now you're like a child wailing for their mummy--and it's so cute, god it's so cute.

"There, there." She gets to croon, stroking your hair with a gentle hand and smiling softly as you bury your face in her shoulder. "I'm here, now." You don't have to be scared. God, she's getting soft. Getting all melty and gentle with some whimpering little cupcake. But at the same time, her grip on you tightens because she knows she's never leaving you by yourself again. She can't take such a precious little thing like you getting hurt....no, it's not that bad to keep her eye on you. Can't leave you alone, can't leave you behind, certainly can't hand you over to Wesker--it looks like you might just become her new mission partner after all. Or maybe you can be a pretty new piece in her apartment to welcome her home after these long, long days. Who knows what the future holds for you and her...together?

[formosusiniquis]

I'm in chainmail, baby I'm impressed

Squeaking in under the wire for @stevieweek day 4: Special Outfit with bonus prompts: lingerie and DnD/Fantasy. Plus I'm counting this as my @steddie-week Day Seven Free Space

Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 3217 | M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Transfem!Steve Harrington; Transmasc!Eddie Munson; Fade to Black

AO3

It starts with a blouse.

No, that’s not right. It actually started when Stevie asked how earring a suit of armor didn’t chafe, and if a pair of keys could stab through a beer can how were arrows not sending stabby metal pieces into people.

Which actually probably means it really started with layers. Like the extra layer of leather, done up to Eddie’s chin when he called her back. “Make ‘em pay” wasn’t the send off she’d expected after the big boy and other flirting. Flirting that had made her stomach twist and her heart flutter and her brain flinch with the close but not quite of it. But maybe that’s why she’d sent her own return volley. Why she’d grabbed hold of that half done zipper and left Eddie with a pat to the chest and a promise to do just that.

She totally saved his life with that move. Her, the leather jacket, and some extra breast tissue Eddie wasn’t really using, all working together to keep razor sharp fangs from tearing flesh and puncturing any important organs.

That breast tissue maybe saved her too, when she learned just what having it made Eddie and what it meant about options she hadn’t known were there. They had a lot of time to talk in their shared bat bite isolation chamber.

Talk about layers that go under chain and metal to protect knights of the realm and their devoted squires that help them.

That started in the Upside Down, finished in the hospital. And this started in the thrift store.

The blouse was white. Pure white, basically neon, white as the virgin snow. Totally not Stevie’s color, the fresh wedding white brings out the undertones in her skin in a way that leaves her looking sallow and liver failure-y. But something about the sleeve catches her eye. The way  it balloons before gathering at the wrist. 

It’s a 70’s throwback for sure. Reminds her of the cover from the album Eddie brought over a few weeks ago, Little Queen. Robin has her face screwed up before Stevie even has it all the way off the rack. Hating it but trying to be supportive the way she has been throughout all of Stevie’s transition from Steve to who she is now.

“That is… wow!”

“It’s super ugly, and not even in a cool way.”

Robin slumps against the rack, sending a hanger cascading to the floor. She scrambles down to pick it up but Stevie doesn't miss her, “Oh thank god.”

“The best thing to happen to you was my sense of style not changing.”

“I know. You’d look good in anything, but my wardrobe offerings would have shrunk.” Seeming to remember the source of the freak out. She snaggs the shirt. “So what’s with this thing? I think even you’d struggle to make this look good.”

She takes it back from Robin’s disapproving grip. Holds it up to herself just to see the way Robin’s face contorts. The neckline is going to do nothing for her, not low cut enough to show off the way her boobs are coming in. The poof in the arms will accent her shoulders . And it’s so, so white.

“It made me think of Eddie,” she says, fingering the loose tie that’s hanging down the front of the blouse.

“It is very vampire lord,” Robin admits. “Might even make him look tan.”

Layers, knights would wear padded shirts under their armor and under those drapey shirts in cotton and linen. He’d been excited when he’d talked about it. Passionate. The way he got when he talked about Lord of the Rings or DnD. She holds the shirt even tighter against her, turns this way and that even though she can only kind of make out her reflection in the mirror at the end of the row. It’s an ugly shirt. But it makes her think of knights and Éowyn and paladins and Eddie.

Eddie flushed pink and beautiful, squirming in his seat in a different way than he usually does, talking about devotion and pledges. Duty and honor.

“I’m gonna buy it.”

“For Eddie?” Robin asks on a sigh. She already knows the answer.

“He’ll certainly get to enjoy it.”

The problem with being the one to come up with a plan is she has to be the one to follow through with it. 

Part of her knows the blouse would be enough. She could dress it up just right, flirt a little, and have Eddie eating out of the palm of her hand.

But the part of her that had a flair for the dramatic that rivaled her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to let her skimp unless she took every possible step to fully achieve her vision.

So she goes to the only person she knows who might be able to put the final and most crucial piece of the scene together.

Flopped across the Henderson couch, she’s making herself comfortable for her and Caludia’s date with Dallas. She’s too cozy to get up, decides it's easier to flop her head over the arm of the sofa to shout at Dustin while he rummages through the kitchen.

“So if I was trying to get my hands on some of that chain link armor stuff, would you know a drama club nerd who might have some?”

“Yeah, I have some.”

“You have some?” she can feel her eyebrows raised up into the middle of her forehead. She went to him for a reason, but surely she would have known if he was capable of affording something like that. Was that why she was footing the bill at the arcade every week, so he could have suit of armor money?

“Well it's not like it grew in the backyard, I made some.”

“Made some?” she flips around on the couch, this has become the kind of conversation she has to look at her brother and have him be rightside up.

He’s got his hand on his hip which isn't as commanding when he’s also holding a glass of milk in the other. It’s cute though, like he’s trying to channel her.

“What are you an echo? It's not like it was hard. You need some wire and pliers and patience.”

“And you?”

“Har har. Yes. Do you want to borrow it or not.” The threat is there even if she doesn’t think it’s that sincere. It’s fucking armor she doubts he could hide it that well if she wanted to just come in and take it.

But she makes nice anyway cause she’s a good sister. “Yes! Sorry.”

“Ma's got all that jewelry making stuff and you know I like to work with my hands when I'm talking with Suzie.”

“Disgusting.”

It was a joke. But it’s a joke that sends his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass as he startles. A good friend, even if she doubts he’ll ever acknowledge it, she stifles her laugh in the palm of her hand as he turns a shade of red that is medically concerning. 

“Ew, don't be crass, Stevie,” he stutters out.

“Is this even going to fit me,” she takes pity on him, dragging the topic back to her, “you made it for yourself half-pint.” The insult barely works, a summer growth spurt has left sophomore Dustin towering over her shoulder. Well, not towering, but he can see over her shoulder now.

“I made it for Mike, actually, so he could be his paladin at that convention in September. But he wouldn't let me measure him cause I ‘know what he looks like’ and it came out too big.”

“Oh so it'll be perfect for me.” She tries to make it a joke, but hearing that it was made for human stringbean Michael Wheeler has her nervous in the place where all of her ugliest body issues live. At least if Dustin had made it for himself it would have just looked like a crop top.

“Well, it still might not fit because of your,” he gestures vaguely at her front.

“Boobs, Henderson, they're boobs. You can call them-”

“Alright!” He shrieks, “I was trying to be respectful.”

“When have you ever been respectful? And don't say it's because I'm a girl, I'll push you into Lover’s Lake.”

“I wouldn't talk about El’s or Max’s is all I'm saying.” He says into the glass in his hand.

“But I can borrow it?”

“If it fits over your boobs,” he says the word like it's in a foreign language he's neither spoken nor heard, “you can keep it. I know it's for some weird sex thing with Eddie and I don't want it in my closet knowing what it's seen.”

Honestly it's for the best, because if this goes the way she thinks it's going to she really doesn't want to have to figure out how to get stains out of aluminum. But it's hard to resist the siren song of torturing Dustin. “I can't believe you're calling my sex life weird, are you saying there's something wrong with us? That we aren't a normal couple like everyone else? I thought you were a friend.”

“Nothing about Eddie is normal and he'd be offended you tried to suggest he was so I'd feel bad.”

“Yeah, good point loser.” She snuggles back down into the couch, she never really gives the episodes of Beauty and the Beast that much attention but this one should be wrapping up soon. “If it doesn't fit over my tits and it sees zero action do you want it back then?”

“After this conversation, I'm not sure I ever want to see you again. So just keep it. I'm sure Eddie will find some kind of use for it.”

There’s another quip at the tip of her tongue that she knows will send Dustin into fits, whether they would have been of rage or denial she’ll never know. The front door is slamming open bringing with it Claudia at the end of her swing shift.

“Stevie, dear,” she always bustles into the house like she’s carrying an armload of groceries even when it’s just her coming home in her uniform, “never go into nursing. Doctors are some of the dumbest fuckers on the face of the planet.”

It occurs to her, the attitude might be a family trait. Maybe that’s why they adopted her so easily. If only she could pull off the tiny hat the way Claudia can.

All of the pieces of her plan stay hidden for weeks. Folded up carefully in an oversized hatbox in the back of her Mom’s extended closet. The hat, a monstrosity purchased for a Derby she doesn’t think they’d even gone to left to gather dust or whatever it is hatboxes are meant to prevent.

The chainmail had fit. The weight of it as surprising as the cool feeling of it against her fingers.

She has the clothes, the accessories, even bought something silky and golden yellow to go underneath. Like the armor wasn’t going to be sexy enough for Eddie. Lingerie under lingerie like a hat on a hat, but she has to feel sexy or else she’s going to feel like a complete idiot.

She kind of already feels like an idiot. Something in the knowing that the top and the chain and the yellow bra with the flowers embroidered on it are all upstairs makes her anxious in a way she hasn’t ever been with Eddie before.

Hands haven’t been wandering during their movie nights. She keeps her feet kicked back behind her, crossed at the ankle, when they’re sharing a booth at dinner. There’s always a fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old chaperone in the car with them, sometimes even in the front seat as she pretends she’s just making sure they’re getting pre-prepared for their upcoming drivers tests.

And sitting next to him on the sofa, a whole cushion between them for the first time since ever, she watches the careful way he makes each line as he sketches and cross hatches what she can just make out to be a flowing haired knight. Her resolve breaks.

Stevie craves him the way she used to want ice cream on a hot day. The taste and feel of it an almost physical feeling, she would want it so bad. That’s what horny feels like now, she’s slowly realizing.

Before she can overthink it too much more, “I wanna try something.”

Normally she thinks of Eddie as having a kind of feline grace, he slinks and when he does fall off of something he isn’t supposed to be on he grins like it was always the plan to reacquaint himself violently with the floor. But the hint of suggestion in her voice has him perked up on the couch like a dog that just heard his leash come off the hook.

It's embarrassing how badly she wants him.

“What were you thinking, baby?”

He’s better at this than she is, at the lead up. The introduction. It’s a different skill to slowly introduce the concept of the strange, a change. Different than foreplay. She feels like she’s propositioning her proposition. The thing about slow, missionary in a room with the lights dimmed, no bandaids need to be ripped off before.

“You’ve roleplayed.”

“Not the kind I think you’re suggesting.” He’s impossibly more perked. Notebook and pencil still and poised like he’s about to start taking notes. “But I’ll try anything you want to do, however you want to do it.”

Maybe it isn't healthy, but she likes that about Eddie. That he’s all in on her, obsessed maybe. Willing to push himself out of his comfort zone for the sake of letting her have what she wants or try what she thinks she wants.

She likes how a few right words will turn him into putty she can squish and meld between her fingers.

“I’m gonna go get changed.”

Now that Eddie is waiting downstairs for something spectacular, it isn't so hard to pull that box down from its hideaway and slide each layer on. She already knew it wasn’t that hard to get the chain on and off by herself, she had tried it on. Maybe squires were for the heavy metal suits like on Scooby-doo. Or maybe it was about the intimacy and the ritual even back then, sliding on pieces and parts meant to keep the other person safe from harm knowing later if there was a chance to undress again you could see just how you helped save them.

Next time, she thinks, they should do this the other way around. She can get Eddie off a couple times, clean him up, and slowly dress him in each new layer. Until he’s lying in her bed armored in metal and cocooned by her cotton sheets. Safe from anything the world might want to do to him. Under her panties, and the sports leggings she’d decided where the sexier choice of pants, she can start to see the evidence of her arousal in the full length mirror.

It’s a good thing Dustin doesn’t want his stuff back.

Her finishing touches go on next. The gold ring with the small green stone that Robin had given her slides on to her index finger. Then around her neck her holy symbol, the guitar pick from Eddie’s first post-almost dying show. Tossed at her from the stage in an act of Bon Jovi badassery. She had gently poked a hole through it and now she slides it on its dainty, gold chain around her neck.

She tugs at her hair in the mirror, the one part that isn’t quite right. In her vision it’s finally grown out, beautiful waves that would fall out of the ugly helmet she doesn’t have when she pulled it off. Waves like Brooke Shields or the girl from One Day at a Time who married the guy from the band Eddie liked have instead of the bob she’s growing out now.

But it would grow and in the meantime she looked hot.

Stevie looked really hot. Swallowing around the saliva pooling in her mouth, she remembers she has a boyfriend to show that to.

Her first reward is the sight of Eddie's jaw dropped against the floor.

“You remember the other day, you were talking about how paladins could get leveled up so high they basically became gods too?”

Stevie knew that wasn't right, but she liked watching the nerd part of him war with the boyfriend part of him. One itching to correct the mistake and the other looking for a way for her to be correct in a roundabout way. Usually, it leaves him flushed and wide eyed, like his brain is overtaxed and with just a little more stress steam will start to burst from his ears to keep his brain from melting. Last week she had him arguing with the Party that humanoid didn't mean hobbits couldn't also be little rabbits.

She decides to take pity on him now, his wheels skidding blankly on wet road.

“I want you to worship me.”

He's agreeing, she thinks, before he's even sure what he's agreeing to. Dropping to his knees in front of her just like the worshiper she imagined: awe struck and devoted. Her divine intervention on his unfinished prayer kept him alive. Eddie Munson would let her kill him if she wanted to, if it suited her whims.

Good thing she wants to keep him for forever.

His hands slide up the back of her legs. She can feel the hot trail of them from the calf up to the thigh.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Presses a kiss to her knee, her thigh, the chain that covers her hip. “My hero, my knight.”

In the end, she didn’t need the blouse or the bra and panty set. She still has her chainmail on when she eases them both down onto the couch. Running her fingers through Eddie’s hair from his sweat damp temples to the tangling ends she’s careful to keep it from getting wrapped in the links while he rests on top of her.

“I don’t know where you came up with that, my lady, but I think that was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

She tugs at the end of his hair just to watch the way the lingering arousal dances across his face. “I got that from the way you creamed your jeans while you were playing with my clit.”

“I am but a man, my golden sun. When a paladin of Apollo is before me what can I do but show my utter devotion.”

“You liked it? It was good for you?”

Maybe it’s a testament to how good it was that Eddie isn’t immediately off the couch. He only shifts enough to rest his chin on her stomach. Looking her in the eyes or maybe at the bottom swell of her breasts.

“Steph, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re a vision in everything you put on,” he assures, “but where did you even get this?”

“That’s the bad news, if you’re hoping for a better fitting part two I think I’m gonna have to give Dustin my measurements.”

[mintmatcha]

cw: implied mental illness/substance abuse references

Denki jams his tongue into his cheek as he types, folding his gum in half before popping it between his teeth. The action is repeated: squish, snap, squish, snap-- unmuted by his open mouth. The waves and all their static do nothing to cover the sound of it; the sand was abandoned long before sunset, but the ocean is never quiet.

Suddenly, Denki sits up, looking to you as if he just remembered you exist.

"Shit, you hate that sound, don't you?" He swallows hard and you know the piece of gum is gone, "My bad."

"It's okay."

"I'm just really trying to quit smoking."

"I know."

He stares at you for a long while, then sighs. He drags his finger through the sand, peeling away layers of dry to reveal the darker, wet below. Weight has filled out his cheeks and middle in ways that you know he hates, but it looks so much healthier than he's even been.

"Everyone hated when I smelled like cigarettes apparently," Denki says, trying to laugh, "It sucks that no one told me that I stunk all the time."

Everyone is code for the girl he keeps texting, one one that lights his screen up with pretty pink hearts and messages that make his eyes glimmer. She texts again, a soft yet unrelenting force.

"I liked it." The horizon is dotted with lights, blinking against the surf. They follow their own pattern, blinking arrhythmically with each other against the surf, "It just smelled like you to me."

"Do you..." Denki rubs the back of his neck, "I dunno, do you really miss all that?"

All that includes too much. The peaks, the lows. Before his medications were balanced and before he quit partying, when neither of you had any control over your lives.

"No," you say, and you mean it, "But I miss knowing things about you."

"You know me." Denki's phone buzzes again, "I'm still me."

"I know."

"I'm still your Kaminari."

"I know."

He isn't. He no longer stops for a pack of cigarettes and a row of Hi-Chew every night. He no longer responds to your texts or reaches out first. It's been months since he last passed out on your bathroom floor, months since he asked you if you were alright.

His hair is shorter than he's ever liked it.

A horn goes off in the distance: a ship rolling into port.

"I don't know what to do with you," Denki sighs, "Did you not want me to get better? Because it feels like you didn't want me to."

He waits only a second for you before sighing again.

"Why did you ask me to come here?"

Because you missed him. Because you need a friend. Because you've always come when he's called.

All you even wanted was for him to be okay.

"I just didn't think getting better would mean I'd lose you."

"You didn't-" His phone goes off again, humming and buzzing harder. He scrambles to pick it up, pushing on to his feet. "Fuck, I really gotta take this."

"It's fine."

"I'll be right back."

"It's fine."

He answers and calls her baby with all the warmth and welcome he used to have for you. She's the one he goes to when the waters are calm and life is easy. You are the port in a storm, the one holding an umbrella until the rain passes.

You leave your sneakers there and walk the shore, the lace foam clinging to your socks and salt licking at your jeans. After fifteen minutes, he calls you once. You wait for a text or second try, but it doesn't come.

When you cry, it's from the bottom of the gut, ripping up like bile. The sound is swallowed by the sea.

[danikamariewrites]

can i request elriel x reader, where az is pampered by Elain and reader? Like he sees reader sitting on top of elain and plucking her eyebrows/giving her a face mask or smth, and they invite him. So now reader is putting pink little hairlips in it while elain puts on a sheetmask, then they give him a manicure and massage him bc he has a lot of tension. He’s all relaxed, dressed in a pink robe with a headband on and they think he’s the cutest ever and they coo and literally fall head over heels😭

Pampered

Elriel x reader

A/n: This is my first Elriel fic and I was so happy to write this. In the opinion of ships, I don’t have a one. Personally I want the best for Elain and Gwyn and I just want them to heal. Both my girls have been through so much they deserve peace.

Warnings: none

As Azriel drew closer to the bedroom he heard the sweet sound of you and Elain giggling. It was late for you two to be up, he thought to himself. He loves the two of you dearly, but if the two of you were going to be up all night Azriel would just go sleep in one of the many guest rooms the House of Wind has to offer.

It had been a long, exhausting day. Rhys brought him along on a quick trip to Illyria, then he had a meeting that lasted forever with a few of his spies, and to end the day he spent hours trudging through the underbelly of Hewn city searching for a lead on a potential serial killer who was after poorer residents.

Pushing open the door Az is greeted by the sight of you straddling Elain with tweezers in your hand, both in fluffy pink bathrobes. Small bowls of different snacks sat on a blanket at the end of the bed while the rest of the duvet had different beauty items spread out. Azriel held back his sigh. He just wanted to sleep.

When the two of you finally notice him smiles break out on your face. Scrambling off the bed you and Elain rush over to your mate, throwing your arms around him. “Azriel you’re home!” “We missed you love!” Your eyes meet Elain’s soft brown ones when you both feel how tense he is in your grip. Your smiles turn into concerned frowns as you pull away from him.

Taking in his face you notice how tired he looks. There are bags under his eyes, his shoulders droop, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest to keep his mighty wings from touching the floor. Elain brings a hand to rest on his cheek. “Az, you look tired. Did you have a long day?” He didn’t feel like talking. All he could muster was a lazy dip of his chin.

“I’m sorry Az. Have you eaten?” He shakes his head. You and Elain look at each other. The same plan forming in your heads. “There are some left overs, I’ll go make you a plate.” You say, quickly leaving the room before Azriel can object. Elain takes one of his rough hands in hers, “And I’ll draw you a bath. We love you Az, but you can’t get in bed smelling like the sewer.” Elain jokes, trying to make him smile.

Pulling him towards the bathroom Elain lets go of his hand. Azriel sinks onto the vanity stool, no longer possessing the strength to stand. He watches with half closed eyes as Elain bustles around the bathroom making sure the water is the perfect temperature and that Az has a soft towel and his robe for when he’s done.

Azriel didn’t even realize Elain was undoing the clasps and ties of his leathers. He undid the clasps under his wings, helping Elain pull his shirt off. Forcing himself to stand Az does the rest and steps into the tub, moaning at the warmth of the water loosening his muscles.

By the time you return Elain is washing between his wings. You shoo her away so she can clean up the bedroom and you can take over. Azriel perks up at the loss of her touch. Relaxing again when he spots you taking her spot. “Relaxed yet?” A tired smile forms on his lips as he shrugs. He finishes washing and finally pays attention to the plate you had been trying to shove at him.

He reaches a dripping hand out to pick at the dish. You pull it away from him and click your tongue. Picking up the piece Az went for you hold it up to his lips. He reluctantly eats it. As you keep feeding him, he relaxes again letting you take care of him.

You notice goosebumps along Azriel’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you out.” After drying him off you help him into his bathrobe, leading him into the bedroom. The snacks and beauty products have been cleared away. Leaving only Elain sitting in the middle.

You have Azriel lay his head in your lap while Elain sits next to him. “You don’t have to do this. Truthfully I just want to go to sleep.” He says softly. “We can’t let you go to sleep tense Az.” “Yeah, just relax and let us take care of you.”

You two work in tandem to pamper Azriel. Elain lotions and massages his hands. Digging her thumbs into his palms, pulling on each of his fingers to work out the stiffness. You oil in his hair, massaging it into his scalp moving down to his temples to get rid of those pesky headaches.

Elain puts a head band on him while you prepare a face mask to soothe his skin. You apply it with a brush and while it drys you rub his shoulders. Wiping it off Elain switches with you to wash and moisturizing his face.

Once you’re finished Azriel is half asleep, his limbs heavy as you try to push him to the middle of the bed. You go to turn off the lights while Elain pulls down the covers. She waits until you’re back in bed to tuck you all in. You each place a soft kiss on one of his cheeks. He lets out a soft hum, mumbling goodnight.

The two of you lay on his chest and he lazily wraps his arms around you. As you drift off to sleep your hand finds Elain’s. She brings your knuckles to her lips placing a lazy kiss on them.

[ethanmorales]

Misconceptions

Part 1

Part Two - Frost

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 1.2k words Tags: @arij3lly @hitoshislut @bjrmaybank @ghostfaceorgirlfriend Warning: swearing

Ethan's POV

Miss u

He hesitated, phone in hand, over the send icon. Then shook his head.

still avoiding me?

He held the back button until it was gone.

hey stranger

Nope. He sighed audibly.

After deliberating for a few seconds, he gave up.

"Fuck this," he threw his phone on the bed and walked away from it.

He couldn't figure out why it was so damn hard to send this girl a stupid text. He didn't know why he wanted to text her in the first place.

They hadn't spoken in over a week and whenever he saw her, she would quickly walk in a different direction, steering clear of him. He kept telling himself the only reason it upset him is because he's not used to girls dodging him. It was always the opposite. He would be the one that ghosted them as soon as they got all clingy and emotional. But Y/N hadn't said anything to him, she just stopped talking to him and stayed away.

It was driving him crazy. He hadn't kissed her since that night outside his window. That was the last time they spoke as well. He knew she had been upset that night, but she never told him why. If he hadn't been upset as well, he would have pushed her harder for an answer. Though in all fairness, he was afraid of what the reason was. Y/N had a way with words. She was blunt. Always honest. Most times when she dared throw some of those truths in his direction, it would rile him up.

She noticed things nobody else did, so he tried damn hard to not show her much.

Thoughts of Y/N halted as he heard the familiar shouting outside his bedroom door. His parents were at it again. He rolled his eyes and walked over to his desk, grabbing his earbuds. Then he went back to his phone and opened Spotify; played all his music on shuffle. He fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.

He was on the third song when he heard a crashing noise cut through his music. He took his earbuds out and rolled off his bed, ran to his door and stepped out.

Another crashing noise; broken glass.

"Gooddammit," he muttered under his breath. He ran down the hallway and took a right to get to the kitchen.

Glass pieces scattered the kitchen floor. The flowers that had resided in the now broken vase lay on the bare tiles as well. He saw his parents in the corner. A broken plate on the counter next to them. His mom held a saucepan in her hands, her grip so tight her knuckles turned pale. His father stood less than 3 feet away, hands clenched. He had no doubt that he was the one that threw the vase.

"Are you guys done?" Ethan's voice was eerily calm.

Both his parents turned to him; their faces etched with surprise as they didn't notice him there before he spoke.

His mother scrambled around the frozen statue that was his father and walked carefully around the glass, reaching for him.

"Oh honey, I thought you were out. You're never here on Saturdays." She placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the scene.

"I wonder why..." he mumbled, low enough to not be heard.

"What was that hun?"

"Nothing, ma. I'm leaving now. Can you guys not kill each other while I'm gone?" He looked her in the eye, saw the sadness, but mostly, how tired she looked. She smiled through it.

"We're fine, baby. Just a little disagreement." Her voice was light, but her words were tight.

Ethan sighed. "Call me if you need me."

She had guided him back to his room, so he was able to pick up his phone from its place on the bed.

"I'll be fine. You know he's not going to cross that line." She was trying to reassure him... or herself. Ethan wasn't sure.

He nodded and placed a kiss on her cheek. As he was walking out the door, he spoke loudly, making sure his father would hear.

"If he ever hurts you again, I'll kill him."

-

Once outside his home, he looks back to the front door for a moment, then sighs.

There was a time he would never have left while they were like that. Hell, there was a time he was afraid of even going to school because he thought he would come back to some tragic crime scene.

He would skip classes often to come home to check on them. His grades dipped. But his reputation had suffered more. Teachers took a strong dislike to him for being late often, being "irresponsible" and always missing important tests and assignments. They didn't know that his life revolved around making sure his parents didn't kill each other. Nobody knew. So before long, he decided to own what people thought of him. It made him feel like at least he was in control of something.

He was good at it too; being an asshole. He had no problem screwing around with anyone or with screwing anyone over. Most times, he could convince himself that he enjoyed it. Being this way. But when he was this person with y/n, well, it made him feel like a piece of shit.

That's why he wanted to see her, talk to her, kiss her. Just be around her in any way that he could.

Because it's been a long time since he was around someone that made him feel anything remotely positive. Or anything at all.

He unlocked his phone and typed in the text box.

Meet at our place?

Read. He waited a few seconds, but she didn't respond.

He typed again.

pls?

K.

He smiled.

-

Y/N POV

I've been avoiding him for at least a week. The idea of having any kind of conversation with him was nerve-wracking. The sun was setting on the horizon; the sky turning into what appeared to be a watercolor painting, still all I could do was fret.

I stood under the robust oak tree that resided at old Woodridge Park. No one really comes here anymore, not since they built the new park two streets down. Aside from this tree, there wasn't anything remarkable about this place. It had long been since it was considered a park at all.

After five minutes, I spotted him in the distance. One hand shading his eyes from the sun as he looks around for me. I open my mouth to call for him at the same time as his eyes find me. He waves with his free hand. I slowly lifted my hand to wave at him, confused.

He seemed happy to see me, if the huge smile across his face was any indication. He even jogged over to reach me quicker. I frown at this.

“Hi.” he says as he reaches me, stepping under the shade of the big tree with me. Before I have a chance to reply, he pushes me forward, caging me with his body against the tree trunk. I gasped in surprise.

“What are you d-” He cuts me off with a quick kiss.

I gawk at him, even more confused than before.

“We haven’t spoken since last week,” I say.

“I know," is his response and then smiles, "I missed you.”

I roll my eyes. “You always say that".

“I always mean it.”

To be continued...

___________________

A/N: You are all awesome for reading and supporting part 1 of this and showing me that you liked it. It means more than you will ever know. Like I said before, I have not written in so long, so I was very insecure about writing again. So thank you for giving me the confidence to keep writing more of this. See you on the next one! xx

[satoruoo]

VIA VIA VIA HEAR ME OUT. secret santa b they get u and accidentally spill it / the big reveal…

(NOT SO) SECRET SANTA - aki hayawaka

summary: despite aki's best efforts to keep your gift a secret, his (stupid) roommates somehow manage to spoil the surprise.

genre: fluff, non-devil au, everyone is happy, crack

warnings: swearing, denji, f!reader, suggestive

notes: hope u like it babe !! this is my apology for the recent aki slander 😈🔥

now playing: rockin' around the christmas tree - brenda lee

"for the millionth time, do not tell [name] i got her, understood?"

denji and power sit crossed-legged on the floor, looking only half interested in what aki is saying. they're dressed in christmas gear from head to toe, heads swaying slightly to the christmas music coming from the record player.

power looks awfully happy with the pair of antlers that denji unwillingly brought her from the store after she threatened to throw a fit in the middle of the aisle. they're decorated with little bells, and every time she nods her head, aki can visibly tell how delighted she is from the jingles that they make. she now refuses to take them off.

denji's gone for a more traditional approach, sporting a santa hat with a light up pom pom at the end.

(the hat also says "ho! ho! ho!" if the button on the left is pressed, but denji had overused it so much that aki cut it open and took out the speaker. he then burnt the speaker. denji was told told it must have broken.)

"duh, i ain’t a snitch!" denji claims, saluting his roommate with a shit-eating grin. he would snitch, aki is fully aware of that. bribe him with a lollipop or a tit squeeze? done deal.

"why are we not allowed to tell her?" power asks, fiddling with rudolph's nose on her christmas jumper.

aki audibly groans, fingers working at his temples in exasperation. "because, it’s a secret santa. we aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we got."

power's face twists in mild disgust, "what is the point of that?! just give me my present now!"

aki rolls his eyes, raking his fingers through his dark hair, "because it builds the suspense, power. do you want to have all your gifts now and have none on christmas day?"

she seems to quieten at that, closing her eyes as she mulls over his words. after three agonizing seconds of her silence and aki wondering whether it'd be easier to just throw himself out of the nearest window, power pouts and nods.

denji dramatically sighs before aki can say anything further, slapping her twice on the back in an attempt to comfort her, "i feel ya, powey."

the girl mirrors the sigh, slumping against denji as she flips aki off with a scowl.

"you should thank me, human! i will not go and tell [name] that you have her!" she declares smugly, resting her body weight on the male next to her.

aki vaguely hears "ow, fuck! power, y’re crushin’ me! how the fuck are ya so heavy?!" and a loud slap that probably came from power as he walks away.

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki really does try his hardest to keep the secret.

he finds himself slapping a hand over denji's mouth when he almost lets it spill, and shoving a piece of food into power's when the topic of the secret santa comes up.

it's only halfway through december. he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. he can tell you're starting to pick up on something fishy and it's beginning to stress him out.

"and so aki has-"

"what are you doing?"

power freezes up at the sound of aki's voice, head lifting from your lap as she scrambles to defend herself.

"nothing!" she says a pitch higher than usual.

your eyes narrow at aki who sends a subtle glare in power's direction before taking a seat beside you on the couch. you're immediately taking his hand in yours, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his knuckles to soothe his anger.

the man melts so quickly that it should be embarrassing, shoulders relaxing with a simple touch.

"she was telling me about secret santa," you fill in gently, "something about who everyone has."

power wishes she was dead.

the glare that aki gives her makes certain that she'll be banned from chocolates for at least a week. that's practically the same as death.

"was she now?" aki asks, an angry rumble in his throat.

the girl is looking at anything but his face; when had the wall become so interesting? look at that, is that a new vase? what are denji's pornos doing on the floor-

"why don't you tell both of us, power?"

before anything else can be said, she shoots up from her spot on the couch sweating bullets.

"meowy needs to shit!" is all she says before leaving the room at hurricane speeds. (if only she were that quick to close her mouth.)

you smile, turning to look at your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"so?" you question, idly threading your fingers through his.

"so, what?" aki responds.

he can tell from the way a small laugh escapes those pretty lips that playing dumb isn't going to work.

"nothing, just a bad day." he tries, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"you're snapping at power because of a 'bad day'?" you state, scepticism evident in your tone. "righhhht."

aki chuckles into your flesh, placing a chaste kiss there before pulling away. "yeah, that's all."

you press a kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over his. "sure, okay. i'll let you have this one, handsome."

the edges of his mouth tip up at the nickname and silent relief fills his veins at the clarification that you won't push the matter.

"thanks, love."

• . ✿ ° × . *.

aki swears on his life that he tries his hardest to keep the secret.

it's just that denji and power are not good secret keepers. they're a pair of loudmouths who are easily bribed. if not for your presence to keep him sane, aki's sure he would have strangled denji and confiscated power's antlers. actually, he's sure that if the gift he'd gotten you wasn't so important, he'd have let his roommates tell you already.

"makima, c'monnnn! i licked the floor so ya owe me a tit squeeze!" denji whines in a kneeling position on the floor.

going out for christmas lunch with you, his two roommates and makima may be one of the best and worst decisions aki's ever made in his life.

power still has her antlers on with a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, you had to persuade her to wear it, as she makes fun of her friend. there are still remnants of the snowball fight he was forced to engage in on her coat, and her nose is pink from the one denji threw in her face.

denji is as desperate as ever - shame didn't seem to find a place in his vocabulary. his purposefully broken santa hat is still finding a home atop his dirty blonde hair, though the pom pom looks like it's about to give up and fall off.

you on the other hand look ethereal in his eyes, a smile etched into your gorgeous features. with every small giggle that escapes your lips, aki feels his chest constrict almost painfully, heart thumping loudly within his ribcage.

you're still holding his hand; you have been for the past three hours.

"only if you tell me who aki has for secret santa, denji." makima answers, voice silky smooth.

it's meant as a joke 100%. everyone else in the room, even power, understood the joke. curse aki for forgetting denji's inability to read social cues.

"he has [name]!!"

on december 23rd, the day before christmas eve, denji tells makima who he has for secret santa in exchange for a tit squeeze. typical.

there's silence for a while. no one really knows what to say. all eyes are on the dark-haired male who genuinely seems to be in the middle of a breakdown.

denji's all frozen up and fully ready to make a run for it if needs be.

"i already know he has me, though." you say, confused.

comically, multiple heads whip towards you.

"...you do?" aki breathes, annoyance towards denji disappearing as fast as it came.

"well if you didn't already know, you suck at keeping secrets, honey. i've known for ages."

part of him feels relieved. if you already knew, then technically he didn't fuck up. technically, it didn't even count-

"it doesn't take a genius to figure it out, you know."

"for real, bro. i knew ya sucked ass like in general but not at lying as well-"

denji will be dead by morning.

BONUS:

"your secret santa gift was an engagement ring?" power asks, mortified.

"what a shitty gift!" denji pipes up, "it's not even edible- ow!"

you chuckle, fiddling with the ring that fits perfectly around your finger as aki smacks denji's arm.

"really? i think it's a wonderful gift." you muse, "it'll last way longer than food."

"so what?! food stays in your tummy forever!" power argues with her hand pointing at her stomach.

"no the fuck it doesn't! ya shit it out, duh!"

their bickering falls upon deaf ears as aki steals a sneaky kiss from you.

"merry christmas, [name]. i hope we'll spend many more together." his cheeks are definitely not dusted pink as he says that. not at all.

[mae-gi-writes]

Finders Keepers | Gally [TMR] - Part 7

In which Gally gets soft for one of the boys in the Glade, only…is it a boy? alternatively; In which Mai disguises herself into a boy to fit in the Glade, only to be suspected by the keen eyes of the Builder's Keeper.

taglist: @edynmeyer1 @ss28 @kurowvie@vaugarkel@marikittt @angelfrombeneth @undeniableadrenaline @persiar9 @ss28 @sage-burrow @ripleyswife @kikiay

Also available on Wattpad.

--

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As it turns out, peace never lasts in a place just like the Glade.

It's a few days after Chuck's arrival and the Runners have been out since dawn to map out more areas of the Maze, but when Minho and Ben had made it back during the midday break, the other two Runners — Wesley and Kai — had still been missing. This only led Mai to pick at her fingers as she gazed anxiously at the maze entrance. She hadn't spoken much to the two, considering that Gally's presence by her side always deterred Gladers from striking up conversation, but she'd always served them breakfast first. She knows their faces, can hear their voices at the dining table if she squeezed her eyes hard enough. And the thought of not seeing these familiar faces causes a knot to form in her stomach.

"What if they don't make it back in time?" She asks Frypan as they are preparing dinner. Tonight is stewed beans and rice with a side of omelet and tomatoes from the gardens. The flavorful aromas are already simmering in the pot, whistling softly in the background and not helping Mai's nervous fingers tapping onto her chopping board.

"They will," Frypan's voice is filled with certainty. He clearly doesn't seem all too stressed about them not making it.

But the hour comes up and still there's no sign of them. Mai's heart starts thudding like a crazy horse and unconsciously her teeth starts gnawing on her bottom lip so hard that she draws blood. So worried she is that she decides to abandon Frypan for a moment so that she can find Minho.

He's by the Keeper's huts, poring over what seems to be scribbles onto pieces of scrap paper with Alby by his side. They both look up and the asian young man quickly crumples up the sheets in his grip.

"Hey Greenie," Minho says with forced joviality, "what's up?"

"Your Runners are missing," Mai states plainly, "why aren't you looking for them?"

There's a distinctive glance that occurs between the two Gladers standing before her and something niggles at the back of Mai's mind. They're not telling her the whole truth, she feels it like an ache in her bones. Something about the shifty way Minho's eyes avoids hers and how Alby lets out a sigh of what seems to be exasperation.

Or exhaustion. Either way, it's clear that there's more than what they're offering to tell her.

"They'll be back." Minho finally says with a jerk of his chin, "they'll make it."

"What if they don't? Why can't we send out a search for them?" Mai gestures towards the Maze with impatience, "You know this Maze by heart, you--"

"It's not that simple Mai," Alby cuts her off before she can continue. His mouth presses down into a thin line, "they'll be back. Just trust them a little, yeah?"

In the end, it hadn't mattered. Two minutes before the doors are due to close, Mai's ears pick up on the sound of shouts. Or more specifically, a desperate yell that echoes across the whole Glade and causes all Gladers to drop whatever they're doing in favor of sprinting towards the Maze doors, where the sound is coming from.

Mai rushes forward, trying her best to see through the throng of tall bodies that surround her as she hears Kai shout out, "Call the Med-jacks! We've got a Runner down!"

"What's wrong with him?" one of the gladers ask as some come to the rescue, lifting his limbs to carry him towards the hut. Mai tries to follow, scrambling and stumbling over rocks as she does.

"He's been stung," Kai's voice shakes with emotion and Mai's heart crumbles. She stops dead in her tracks, gazing at the backs of the group as they carry the injured boy towards the Med-Jacks. She can still see the traces of blood in the grassy path that had been stomped over by boots in the process. It's salty and metallic, the smell making her want to vomit the contents of her lunch.

Later on that evening finds her sitting alone at a nearby table after everyone's had their fill of dinner, scooping up the contents of her stew before dropping it back into her bowl. She has no appetite, she finds. Not after having witnessed such a scene earlier on. Her stomach twists and bile rises to the back of her throat just by thinking about it.

Her thoughts keep running a mile an hour; Is Wesley okay? What does that mean if he's stung? Can he be cured? If not, will he--

"Hey Greenie?"

Mai's head shoots up just in time to blink at Gally's curious gaze. He looks down at her, eyebrows raised as he takes in her countenance, before sliding into the seat opposite her.

"What's wrong?" he tilts his head with a frown as his hands come up to his lips. He's just showered, blonde locks licking across his forehead and cheeks flushed from warmth.

When she doesn't respond, Gally presses his lips together and looks away, "it's Wesley, isn't it?"

Mai nods, not trusting herself to speak. She scoops another spoonful of stew before swallowing thickly, only to murmur out, "what happened to Wesley?"

She hasn't wanted her voice to come out so tiny, like a murmured whisper barely above a breath, but the tremor in her voice gives her away and Gally's expression softens slightly.

He takes a breath, "he's been stung," he states it as bluntly as he can, knowing that it won't do any good to hide anything from her, "that's what happens when a Griever gets to you."

"Are they--Is it--" Mai can't find it in herself to ask that question aloud and thankfully, Gally understands and quickly finishes it for her, "deadly?"

The girl nods, eyes dimming when the Builder merely nods in return. When he speaks next, his voice has softened to a murmur, "I don't think I've heard of anyone who survived the Sting."

"What will happen to him?"

Gally's hand goes up to rub at his chin, "he's going to get banished." he finally says without meeting her eyes.

"What?" Mai shoots up in her seat, "why would they do that?! He's one of our own. He belongs to the Glade--"

"Not anymore Mai," Gally interrupts firmly, "Gladers that are stung are dangerous. They go crazy, they can kill you. And we can't take that risk."

"But that's--that's illegal, that's not human--"

"It's what makes it safe here."

Disgust coils in her stomach. Mai shoves her seat back, suddenly not hungry and with the need to scream, to shout, to rip out her own hair in frustration, "you guys make me sick," she spits out in a hiss, "I can't do this."

"Mai, wait--"

But it's too late. The girl storms away after having dumped her entire food tray into the kitchen sink and disappearing into the darkness before Gally can do anything else. The Builder sinks down into his seat with another sigh, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck in tiredness.

He can understand where she's coming from. It's a shock at the very beginning, to learn about such drastic measures. But it's necessary and Gally believes in them.

"I suspect the princess she-bean isn't too happy to learn about the way we do stuff around here?" comes an accented voice and Gally can't help but let out a small smile when Newt slides into the seat once occupied by the said girl in question. Newt shoves a spoonful of stew into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he gazes at his friend, "she'll get round to it eventually. Like everyone else does I suppose."

"It's the rules, she'll get over it," Gally replies, "she just doesn't like violence."

"Neither do I Gal," Newt responds quietly, "but we don't have a choice there, do we?"

"No," Gally says, "I suppose not."

------

Knock knock knock.

Gally's eyes fly open. His head turns towards the door, frowning as he realizes it's still dark outside. Probably early morning. Whatever shank deciding to wake him had better be worth it.

He's more than surprised when he opens the door to be greeted by none other than the she-bean herself.

"Greenie?" A small yawn escapes him, "what're you doing here?"

"I—I can't sleep," she shuffles her feet looking like a lost puppy and when her eyes flit up to his he swears he feels his heart squeeze in his chest. God she's cute when she wants to be, "can I come in?"

Gally steps back silently for her to duck through the door before closing it behind her. The girl looks around uncertainly, not quite knowing where to place herself in Gally's space.

Adorable. He clears his throat and shakes his head, "sit."

He motions towards the bed and after a few seconds of hesitation, Mai does as told. He follows soon after, making sure to leave some space in-between.

The way Mai is picking at her fingers with a sudden bout of nervousness has him thinking that maybe there's something about the Banishment and the stung glader that's running around in her head like clockwork. It's etched across her features, the worry and the apprehension of having to come to terms with the reality of the situation. Gally knows it all too well, he's spent months grappling over what is right and what is wrong, and what he needs to let go to a certain extent. Mai is just starting to discover the ugly truth behind the Glade. 

"What's wrong?" he prompts when the girl says nothing still. Her eyes are fixed on the door before her, gaze blank and in a daze. 

She blinks back to reality upon hearing his voice, turning her head to face him. In his bed she looks even tinier in comparison and part of him wishes to engulf her in a hug at the uncertainty, the hopelessness flickering across her face. 

"I--I can't sleep," her teeth find purchase onto her lower lip that she chews on, "I keep thinking about Wesley and how he didn't have to get stung. How he could've been alive if he hadn't gone into the Maze." 

"That's why the Maze is off limits to Gladers," Gally replies, "only the Runners get to go in there." 

"But what if these creatures--" she frowns in thought and he prompts, "grievers?" 

"Yeah. Grievers. What if these grievers walk through the Maze doors? Have they ever done that?" 

"The grievers stay in the Maze. No one's seen 'em apart from the Runners. We hear 'em though." 

The girl shivers, "I don't like this," she admits softly, "I don't like that we have to banish people." 

"That's how we're kept safe," Gally lets out a sigh, "it shuckin' sucks but it keeps us alive." 

"Would you banish me?" she looks him straight in the eye then, "If I got Stung?" 

It takes Gally a moment to reply. Surprise comes first, follows by a rush of grief and desperation to keep her safe. Just the thought of her in the Maze makes him edgy. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it once more to say: 

"You won't get Stung Greenie," his words are soft and tender, the tenderest she's ever heard him be, "I won't let you." 

"But that's not your choice to make Gally." her gaze is determined and firm, unblinking on his figure, "so would you?" 

He leans forward with a frown, "would you?" he asks instead, "what if I'm the one that got Stung? What then?" 

"I wouldn't." 

Her answer is straightforward. Simple. Yet, it causes something to stir in his chest. Gally swallows, exhales a soft breath as he looks away, unable to keep on gazing at Mai without wanting to do something to appease her or just make the situation better. 

"So you'd rather I kill you then?" he shakes his head, a grim look taking over his features, "you don't know what you're talkin' about Greenie. It's not that simple." 

"I'd never Banish you Gally," Mai says with sudden ferocity as she leans closer to his face, hands pressing down onto his bedspread, "you're my friend. I could never do that." 

Gally can't help but blink at her like he's seeing her for the first time. Her words ring out between them like a promise, a beacon of light that rams into him so unexpectedly that his chest aches with the sudden rush of emotion that courses through him. A wave of warmth trickles into his stomach, making heat rise through his cheeks at Mai's sudden confession.

Shuck. He could kiss her. 

The thought rams into him with such force it makes it hard to breathe. No!, he yells at himself, he's just being emotional. That's all! Nothing else to it! 

Which is probably why he says: 

"It's late," he quickly turns away from her and tries his best not to stutter, "we have to sleep."

He plops down onto his side, not caring about whether Mai is going to share is space or not, and turning away from her in order to wrap his arms over his chest, hoping and praying that she can't hear how his heart is pounding through it like a set of drums. 

"Gally," He can sense Mai peering over his shoulder with that confused, doe-eyed look she always gives him whenever she's clueless about something. It makes his fingers ache to pinch her cheek, "did I--did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if I offended you, it's just--"

"No," he cuts her of abruptly, "nothing's wrong. Just go to sleep, Greenie. We have a long day tomorrow."

Another sigh is heard. A second later, he feels Mai's warmth brushing against his back and squeezes his eyes shut. It's fine, he tells himself, it's fine. You've done this before. She's a friend, just like anyone else in the Glade. 

But he knows himself better than this. Who is he kidding? The feeling is there, pulsing underneath his skin and filling his veins up with want. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, had tried denying it for the longest time. The thing is, it had been easier when he thought of Mai as a guy. He could easily dismissive it for brotherly affection, or just a passing urge. But everything changed once Mai confessed about her true identity. 

Now, Gally can't even keep her out of his thoughts even if he wanted to. She's just there, forever waiting, forever plaguing his brain like an echo of a poem that Gally knows off by heart even if he doesn't want to.

In other words, he's shucked.