#I have to be totally honest I just threw everyone down I could think of

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

Hey so did anyone know there was a tag limit

Idk how to tag stuff so sorry if I overdid it I just need fuel for my curiosity XD

[yukioos]

Hi!! <3

I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool × S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!

I hope that made sense!! I love your writing, thank you!! ❤️

logan & wade with strong!reader

warnings: cussing, not proofread

authors note: i’m so sorry i don’t have a lot of hcs!! i do love the idea of wade or logan being with a strong reader though :) so sorry this took so long to post! i’m glad you like my writing, thank you for requesting!

word count: 0.4k

logan howlett

- when he first met you, he anticipated you wouldn’t be as strong because of your stature, he tried attacking you and was shocked when you threw him across the room

- then he started viewing you as a threat because you were stronger than him

- he later realized you were the sweetest and cutest thing ever, and began flirting with you 24/7

- he’s always testing you and asking if you can carry one thing or another, like a large box or a couch

- he secretly thinks it's so badass that you’re so much stronger than you appear

- everyone who sees you immediately thinks you’re a sweetheart, a frail thing someone could take care of

- they’re half wrong, and logan makes that clear to others who flirt with you

- he loves working out with you so much, it gives you one more activity to do together

wade wilson

- let’s be honest, wade is down bad for you whether or not you’re strong

- sometimes if he’s being sassy, you’ll just throw him over your shoulder and place him in another room then walk away

- of course, he never stays in his place and follows you to wherever you’re going

- though, he’s always teasing you about how you’re so tiny but so strong

- if someone ever messes with you and he’s around, he either doesn’t tell them that you’re strong or full-on brags about it

- although you’re strong, he still babies you constantly and tells you how cute you are, fully aware that you could rip his head off without trying

- sometimes he’ll ask you to open things like jars for him just so he can admire your strength

- wade kinda loves that you can beat him up so easily, he knows you won’t hurt him but loves to have a strong woman by his side

- he loves using your head as an armrest, always placing his arm on your head when he’s tired

- sometimes you’ll slap his arm away and he’ll yelp, but place it back on your head anyway

logan & wade

- both of them know that you could kick their asses with no effort, but tease you nonetheless

- they both love you with their whole hearts

- wade loves yapping to logan about how strong you are, while logan silently agrees with everything he says

[silverwhittlingknife]

snippet

“Nobody is going to die here,” Dick says, trying to project a confidence he doesn’t feel.

If this were the Titans, he’d probably get some acknowledgement.  Titans together.  A clap on the shoulder.  Something.  But it’s not the Titans, so instead Cass Cain flicks a glance at him and then goes back to scowling at the wall, and Jason says, “Would you fucking quit it with the inspirational speeches, leader-boy?” and Tim says, “I think we should prioritize getting Dick out,” as if Dick isn’t even here.

“I’m fine,” Dick says.  Because he is. Mostly.  It’s not like it’s exactly fun to get whipped and then tied to an ominous black altar in a room with no obvious doors after successfully talking a cult into deciding you’re the optimum sacrifice of their four captives.  But it’s certainly better than the alternative scenario in which the Dark Leader Whatsisface had listened to Tim’s pitch.

“Weakness in the wall,” Cass says.  “…Here.”

“Yeah, weak walls would be great, if we had C4,” Jason says.  “Except for the part where we don’t have C4, because somebody took my stash and my helmet.  Some fucking insufferable team of fucking idiots who like to mind everybody else’s business—”

“Kick, maybe,” Cass says to Tim, who’s still trying to pick the lock on one of Dick’s manacles.

Tim frowns.  “I don’t think even you can kick a wall hard enough to—”

“Not… the wall.  Kick him,” Cass says, nodding at Jason.

“Oh fuck you very much,” Jason says, with more heat than Dick expects.  Jason’s edgy, beneath all the bluffing, and it’s hard to tell why, because although the situation admittedly isn’t great the countdown timer still has half an hour to go before the cult starts punching whatever buttons outside the room that will set Dick on fire—or get him eaten by a dragon, it hadn’t been very clear through the chanting.

Anyway.  They have time, even if Cass’s shoulders are tense and Tim’s face is strained and Dick’s back is killing him—they strapped him with his back down after the beating, and he’s trying not to think about the likelihood of blood stains on this altar thing—and the sweat from the heat is getting in his eyes.

A hand.  Tim’s wiped the sweat away, which is both a comfort and kind of humiliating.  Tim’s lips are pinched—he’s furious at Dick, it’s obvious, only not acting on it because they’re in front of Jason and Tim, at least, understands the importance of presenting a united front.  So it’ll be a fight, once they get out, but Dick’s not sorry.  If he’s totally honest, he’s a little angry himself.  Trust me, Tim had muttered, when they all first got grabbed, and then he’d raised his voice and asked to speak privately to the leader, and Dick only realized too late what he’d been after, when the cultists came back and explained how Red Robin was going to be their sacrifice to the dragon-god and everyone else could live and watch in order to marvel at their lord’s demonic glory or whatever.

“Cass, listen,” Tim says.  "I think if you help me with the manacles—”

“No,” Cass says.  Tim’s been trying to get her to come back to the altar to mess with Dick’s bindings; Cass has been ignoring him.  A splinter in an otherwise seamless partnership.

"If you put pressure on the other side while I pick the lock," Tim says.

"No," Cass snaps. Cass doesn’t believe in united fronts, Jason or no Jason—Dick should know, she once threw him into a wall—but Dick doesn’t think she’s actually mad at Tim, just impatient.  “Manacles broken, not broken… doesn’t matter. No good if we’re still here.  Need to get out.  Then Nightwing.”

“I vote we leave him here, actually,” Jason says.  

“Jason, shut up,” Tim says.

“What, is this suddenly not a democracy? Do I not have the right to an opinion? Are you against voting, Replacement?”

[thegreatestsandwich]

"Words cannot describe the pure rage that your presence instills in me," Wednesday said with a dangerous air of calm surrounding their voice, their gaze trained right onto you.

The reader gave her a confused look. "Is this a confession?"

I think this is something she would totally say to the reader

I’m cursing your name (Wednesday Addams x reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Word count: 568 words

Summary: You were just so clueless that the others began wondering how in the hell you managed to stay alive for so long

Warning: FLUFF and the reader being a completly sweetheart that must be protected and loved by all of us because they're just so clueless that if they left you unsupervised you might fall into a pit and die

A/N: I love writting for her

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

The first thing the other students think of you is that how in the hell you managed to stay alive and completely unharmed all your life. You were a magnet for disasters, it didn’t matter how big or small they were, you were a magnet.

You set fired to your literature project. Don’t ask how.

You accidently burned the tools miss Thornhill had lend you for your class. Don’t ask how.

You managed to lose all of your shoes in a Friday night. Don’t ask how.

Jesus, you managed to get lost on the Poe Cup Race…And you weren’t even competing! You just got lost.

You would think your special hability was fire…well, it was not, the curious part was that it was far beyond that. And the students began taking pity against your unlucky life. Some of them even going as far as to baby you into safety. You didn’t care to be honest, you were so oblivious to everything that most of the things that happened you just took it with a confuse smile.

Well, there was one student that was getting frustrated and annoyed with you. Wednesday Addams had the unlucky luck to be partnered with you for a project and she couldn’t stand the fact that you were a version of Enid…just with the unlucky level maximized to 200%

She walked into the cafeteria, completely annoyed and angry at how the progress she had made with you was now gone, puffed into existence and you only wanted to see it! She was going to kill you and no one could prevented.

She found you eating a plate of ramen, completely unaware of her deadly stare or the knife on her hand. “You.” She whispered and everybody stopped, watching her with fear but not you, you were still eating.

Wednesday pushed your food out of your way, you frowned in sadness. “Hey, I was eating that.” You pouted.

"You are the worst human being on this planet, I have no idea how you manage to survive, you ar pathetic, worthless and idiotic.” She paused, putting her knife harshly on the table, everyone winced but you, you stared at her with a smile. “Words cannot describe the pure rage that your presence instills in me," Wednesday said with a dangerous air of calm surrounding their voice, their gaze trained right onto you.

“Uh…Wednesday, you might want to tone it down.” Enid tried to calm her but Wednesday threw a murderous look at her. “Yeah…continue, ignore I said anything.”

The reader gave her a confused look at the knife and then on Wednesday. "Is this a confession?" You asked, your head tilting to the side.

Wednesday stared at you, were you that dumb?

“Because it kinda sounded like one.” You touched the knife, wincing when you cut your finger with the blade. “Wow, sharpy, but yeah, sure.” You stood up, putting your hands on her shoulders. Wednesday was confused, what was happening? She was threatening you, wasn’t she? “There’s this movie I want to see on Friday! We should totally go! Don’t worry I’ll get the passes! This is going to be so awesome!”

You grabbed your backpack and left the cafeteria with a huge smile.

Wednesday stayed there, glued on the spot, her face frowning in confusion.

“Wednesday, I think,” Enid began, watching the door where you disappeared. “I think you just got yourself a date?”

[obsessedwithitall]

It's Embarrassing (Eddie Munson x reader) (Part 2)

I woke up this morning with this in my head and have been trying to write it all day.

Everyone is in their 20s, Eddie and reader have been in a secret relationshipish for a few months. Angst.

Part 1 is here

***

“Hey, my car needs looking at please.”

It was you. Eddie was mad he hadn’t recognised your voice before he turned round. If he had, he wouldn't have turned around at all.

He wiped his hands on the towel on his shoulder and sighed to himself. “I'll get one of the guys to look at it.”

“Couldn't you look at it?”

“No.” he snapped quickly.

***

Eddie rapped his knuckles on the top of a car.

“What?” Paul, Eddie’s co-worker, spoke from underneath the car.

“There’s a girl who needs her car looking at.”

“Ok, well look at her car.”

He waited a second, sizing up his options. It was his job to fix cars but he really didn't want to speak to you. He cleared his throat, “Can you do it?”

“Munson, I'm a bit busy right now.” And Eddie knew he had no choice.

***

Eddie reappeared and moved towards your car.

“What's wrong with it?” He was going to look at it after all. Maybe there was a chance you could talk or maybe he just didn't have a choice.

“Erm, I don't know.”

“What? Is it making a weird noise? Does it smell bad?”

“I don't know.”

Eddie popped the hood and rummaged around. You just watched, all words catching in your throat.

“Did you drive here?” he huffed.

“Yeah.”

He stood tall and started walking away from you. Was that it?

“That's gonna be 100 dollars.”

“100 dollars?!” What did he mean 100 dollars?

“Yeah, its a really hard job.”

“What do you mean 100 dollars?” you followed him through the doors of the garage.

“Loads of hours work. Your car is totally fucked.”

You stopped and spluttered, “I think it might only be a spark plug.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks and turned to you, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, where’s the old one?”

He threw his dirty towel over his shoulder and took a few angry steps towards you. His voice dropped really quiet. “A car doesn’t drive with a spark plug missing, so what did you do with it?”

You take a step back and shook your head feigning ignorance but Eddie reaches forward into the front pocket of your jeans and pulled out what he was looking for. He held the spark plug up to your face.

“You shouldn't have done that.” He checked the spark plug for damage and replaced it, slamming the hood down again.

You ran after him as he walked away. “You’ve been ignoring me.” You blurted out.

“You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“I asked Wayne to tell you to call me but you didn’t.”

“I thought I embarrass you, don’t I?”

“I never said that.”

“And you had a ‘reputation’.”

“I’m sorry. Robin wouldn’t leave me alone about that hickey and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what we were. I thought...I don't know I just panicked.”

“Well you can panic with somebody else.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you. It wasn't you. I just-“

Eddie just looked at you. Eyes almost tearing up, mirroring yours. Maybe you should just be honest.

“Look, you’re hot and open with me and I don't know what to do or how to tell people and maybe I was a bit uncomfortable with other people thinking about me like that. And we hadn't really gone on any dates or anything and I was maybe a little bit worried that you only wanted to sleep with me. I’m sorry.”

He continued saying nothing.

“I shouldn’t have come. I'm sorry. I’ll pay you for the fixing my car.”

“Don’t.”

“Eddie, I wasted your time, I’ll give you somethi-“

“Go out with me.”

The words, once again, stuck in your throat and wouldn't escape. Did you even hear him right?

“Go on a date with me and we'll call it even.”

You heard him right. “Just one date?” You felt a bit disappointed.

“Well yeah, then hopefully some more after that. If you're not embarrassed by me?”

His arms wrapped around you as you flung yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs bending up behind you.

He put you down and kissed the end of your nose. “Now go away, I’m working. I’ll pick you up later.”

You laughed at his stupid smile and jumped back in your car, to get ready for tonight and to tell your friends. Ready to prove to him how not embarrassed of Eddie Munson you were.

***

Part 1 is here

Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading 💜💜💜

[I only watched the first 7 episodes of season one of Stranger Things so I'm sorry if it feels wrong. I will not be watching anymore]

[stealth-liberal]

So, I'm watching Itaewon Class and to be honest, I really don't care for either love interest.

Soo-Ah, while I understand why she took the money from Jang Co because she was in an orphanage and had ZERO chance of financing her education otherwise, has stayed loyal in adulthood to a group of people she knows for a FACT are evil. This could have been a good story of her breaking away or helping Saoyrori take them down, just she's helping him from the inside. But no, instead, she waffles and whines and ultimately makes all the wrong choices. So I don't really care for her character, and she drives me nuts.

Then there's Yiseo, who is a complete and total asshole. I get why some people love her character because it's a fantastic vicarious thrill when she takes her assbaggery out on other total assholes. However, she treats EVERYONE like total shit. She's selfish, and she uses every person around her. People are tools for her and disposable when she's done with them. Which, since Yiseo is a diagnosed sociopath is kind of part and parcel to the condition. The only person that, thus far, she is shown treating kindly is Saoyrori... which since she's the other love interest in this triangle of shit is required. It is beyond my abilities to believe that she is capable of not treating him as a disposable tool eventually when she gets whatever it is that she wants from him. It's tv, so she won't (spoiler alert: she's endgame) but I just cannot believe in a world where their relationship wouldn't crash and burn with toxicity. Frankly, I feel the same about Soo-Ah as well.

Also, Yiseo is both transphobic and racist and does the absolute bare minimum to evolve past that. Basically, we're supposed to believe that she has evolved because of 1 verbal sentence for the transphobia and 1 written sentence for the racism. She still remains a total asshole.

I absolutely HATE when writers give me two equally shitty love interests (though in different ways) and ask me to support one of them. Now, I think Soo-Ah could have been easily redeemed, she's not though. And Yiseo is just hot garbage from the start. I cannot stand both of them so much that I'm not sure if I can continue to watch this drama.

This is the 2nd Park Seo Joon drama I have watched where he plays a big hearted but sort of dim man who has 2 possible love interests that treat him and/or everyone else like complete shit. That other one is Fight For My Way. I would love for this to stop being a theme.

PS: Yiseo is so pathologically jealous that I literally threw my remote across my couch watching it. Pathological jealousy, my absolute LEAST favorite personality trait for love interests... both in fiction and in real life. I don't think I'm gonna be able to finish this, and it's a shame because I really love all the other characters.

I'm not romance repulsed, I love a good romance plot or subplot... but this one sucks monkey balls.

[klondiketales]

Prompt: how would Freckle react if Rocky called him a monster?

Credit to calebp500 for the idea. Happy New Year’s Eve, calebp500!

*

December 31st, 1927, 12:41 PM Secret Location, Missouri (?)

Rocky was lying on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Freckle was lying on top of him, an ear pressed to his belly, listening for the baby. “Pet me,” he ordered. Rocky didn’t want to, but he didn’t see what choice he had. He kept his gaze on the ceiling as his hand drifted down and, against his will, began to stroke Freckle’s silky orange ears just the way he liked. Freckle purred. “I’m glad we’re having a baby,” he said after a while. “Are you?” “Sure,” Rocky said tiredly. There was another long silence, and then Freckle lifted his head up and shifted closer, looking anxiously into his face. Their noses were an inch apart. ”Can I ask you something?” “Sure,” Rocky said in the same tired voice. “Do you think I’m nice?” “Sure.” “Do you really?” Rocky knew the right answer was yes. He knew any other answer, any honest answer, would get him in big trouble. Of course you’re nice, he was supposed to say. You bring me food, you bring me blankets, you give me baths, you hug me, you kiss me, you make me feel good in bed. Of course you’re nice. “No,” he said, surprising himself. “I don’t think you’re nice. I think you’re a monster.” Freckle’s anxious look faded into shock, then confusion, then hurt. “What?” “You’re a monster.” He could have said more. He could have gone on all day. You kidnapped me. You raped me. You murdered my best friend. You’re keeping me chained to a wall. You’re torturing me. You’re killing me. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. But he felt like he’d said enough, and anyway, he didn’t feel much like talking, so he simply left it at that. Freckle was silent, his expression going completely blank. Rocky held his breath and braced himself for a smack in the face. He didn’t know what made him say what he’d said. He was smarter than that. Why could he never manage to keep his big, stupid mouth shut? Freckle didn’t smack him. Instead, his lip trembled, and his big, yellow eyes welled up with tears. Then he threw himself facedown on the mattress, next to Rocky’s chained-up legs, and started to sob. He lay there and sobbed his eyes out. Back in the old days, Rocky would have consoled him. He would have rubbed his back and hugged him and comforted him and talked to him until he felt all better. But he didn’t really feel like doing that now, so instead, he stayed where right he was, not moving a muscle, listening with total indifference to his cousin’s fucking stupid self-pitying sobs. “I didn’t mean to,” Freckle wailed, his voice muffled by the blankets. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t. I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to…” Who cares if you didn’t mean to? You still did it, Rocky thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He was going to be in enough trouble later as it was. “I didn’t mean to,” Freckle repeated over and over, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Rocky turned and stared at the wall. There was a big patch of mold right by his face. He was breathing that in, filling his lungs with deadly spores, each and every moment of each and every day, without respite. It was probably a miracle he was still alive, at this point. Freckle eventually got up from the mattress and, still crying, ran out of the room. Rocky listened to his footsteps recede down the tunnel. He was going to back up to the surface, where there would be trees and fresh air and maybe even a glimpse of the sky, while Rocky stayed down here, trapped and miserable and alone, waiting for his abuser to finally lose his mind and murder him. He suddenly felt like crying himself. He wished Zib was still alive. He wished none of this had ever happened. He wished—he wished he’d never been born. Things would have been so much better that way, not only for him, but for everyone involved.

*

January 1st, 1927, 6:16 AM Secret Place, Missouri (?)

Freckle was smiling when he came back, which was surprising. Rocky had expected him to be angry. Had he forgotten about yesterday already? Or was he just pretending to have forgotten? “I brought you a New Year’s present,” he said happily, kneeling by the mattress with a paper bag in his hands. It was rose pink with lime green tissue paper, a proper holiday gift. “Can you guess what it is?” If it’s not a bottle of poison, I don’t want it, Rocky thought. “A book,” he guessed. “Open it and see.” It wasn’t a book; it was a pair of baby shoes. “They’re great,” Rocky said, forcing a smile, even though he felt dead inside. “Thank you.” Freckle threw his arms around him and kissed him. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much. You know that, right?” “Sure.”

[abbatoirablaze]

Bad Girl's Club, Chapter 26

Word Count:  1.8k

Warnings:  angst, manipulation, jealousy, violence, harm to a pregnant woman. 

“So…what’s everyone going to do now that we’re graduating next week?” Avery giggled, looking at each of her friends.

“This is your baby shower,” Jenna laughed, gently nudging her as they started cleaning up, “first of all, go sit down, secondly, shouldn’t we be talking about you and your news?”

“Two little boys!” Jess cooed as she looked at her friend, “god…that’s going to be a handful.”

“They’re Johnny’s babies which means you’ll be catching little fireballs as they try to ‘flame on’ and jump down the stairs before their second birthdays.”

“I’ve already told Johnny if they’ve got powers like he does, it’s his responsibility to teach them how to control it.”

The girls giggled, “Johnny barely controls it.”

“Speaking of controlling…did you guys hear what Lily did to Curtis?” Jess whispered, nodding her head over to where Sam and Lily were taking down the decorations outside of the door.

“Jess…we’re not doing drama today,” Avery sighed, fanning herself, “I just want a drama free day where me and Johnny can revel in the fact that we still have a few months before our little fireballs are here.”

“She made Curtis propose…so that he would be able to see the baby.”

“We’ve all seen the rock on her finger, Jess!” Jenna sighed, “Curtis proposed because he loves her…right?”

“Ransom told me that Linda paid for the ring…Curtis was going to empty out his account for something close to what Lily wanted but she threw a temper tantrum because the stones weren’t big enough,” Jess admitted, “She’s holding that baby over his head.”

“I’m sure he loves her!” Jenna offered with a frown, “right?”

“Yeah…because I’d totally love a woman that raped me and forced me to cum in her if I was a guy,” Jess scoffed, “she was bragging about it when she got drunk last month.”

Avery put her hand over her stomach, and worry buzzed around her, “sh-she’s drinking?  But the baby…”

“She doesn’t care,” Jess frowned, “Curtis is doing his best to try and keep her in line, but you know how she is…”

“I can hear you, you know!”

The girls froze at the sound of the voice.  Lily was standing in front of them, her hands on her hips.  Sam was behind her, a frown on her face. 

“Lily-“

“Maybe you should butt out of my business, Jess!” she hissed, shooting daggers at the woman who was pregnant with her father’s child, “you may be fucking my dad, but you’re not my mom.  So stop trying to cake on the fake concern!”

“Lil-“

“No…don’t Lil me.  She’s over here badmouthing me…saying that I’m using Curtis.  Saying that he’s using me and that our love isn’t real.  Curtis and I are engaged, Jess…” she hissed, turning towards her, “maybe you should get over it and focus on your picture-perfect family instead of trying to smudge my name.”

“I think I should get the guys…” Jenna said nervously as she looked between the women.  When no one disagreed, she left the room to find the men, but everyone could feel the tension rising between Lily and Jess.

 “Let’s get one thing straight right now,” Lily seethed, “I don’t care what any of you think.  How Curtis and I are going to raise our child is none of any of your concerns, lest of all, yours, Jess.”

“Lily, you’re drinking!”

“So what if I have a glass of wine every once and again,” she spat, glaring at Avery, “my OB said it’s perfectly fine.”

“You’re getting wasted, Lil.”

Her attention went back to that of her former best friend, “you need to stay out of my business, Jess.”

“You’re harming your child!” she hissed, standing up to her friend, “you’re purposefully going and doing whatever you want, throwing a temper tantrum when you don’t get your way, but guess what, Lil…you’re hurting your child.  For fuck’s sake, you tricked your fiancé into proposing after you raped him to conceive.”

“At least I’m not fucking my best friend’s dad!” she spat, “Say what you want about me, but you used me, Jess.   You used me to fuck my dad.  And be honest.  You probably don’t even care about him.  You’re just settling into the lifestyle because you are a greedy, gold-digging whore.  But don’t worry, my dad doesn’t love you either.  He’s just waiting for my mom to come to her senses.  And when she does, he’ll kick your ass out on the street.  And you and your bastar-“

But her words were cut off, and the room went silent as the sound of the slap echoed through it.  Sam and Avery gasped, Sam’s hand going up to her mouth.  Lily’s cheek turned red, and Jess ignored the stinging in her own. 

“I love your father,” Jess said in a deathly low tone, “don’t you ever say that I’m using him.  And he loves me.  I’m not just some placeholder until your own drunk of a mother comes back.”

The conversation, however, stopped when Lily pushed Jess.  She fell, her stomach hitting the counter on the way down.  Her pained scream echoed through the house as the men came rushing into the kitchen. 

Ransom stood nervously in the waiting room. 

There were complications.  And Jess had to be rushed into surgery.  And despite how he was the father of one of her children already, they wouldn’t let him back with her.  So, he’d been stuck waiting in the bland room that smelled like too much cleaner and reeked of desperation and death. 

His designer shoes scuffed up the floor as he dragged his feet, nervously biting his bottom lip with each precise punch forward. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Drysdale…your fianc-“

“She was bleeding in the ambulance,” Ransom told his friends.  He leaned against the wall for a moment, and Lily watched as he looked like he was coming undone, “you guys don’t understand.  She was bleeding…something’s wrong with the baby…it has to be.”

Instinctively, Sam and Johnny reached towards her own stomach, and the two of them sympathized.  They couldn’t imagine anything being wrong with their boys, especially this close to the end. 

But Lily’s jaw held tight.  She continued to glare at the door. 

Curtis went to take her hand, but she shook away from him. 

“Mr. Drysdale!”

Ransom had barely noticed the doctor coming into the waiting room in his scrubs.  He pulled the surgical mask down as Ransom all but ran to him, “how is my fiancé?  Is she okay?  What about our baby?”

“Mother and child are fine.  You’ve got some strong girls, Mr. Drysdale.  But they’re both doing well up in recovery…there was some internal bleeding from the fall, but it’s all patched up,” the doctor said with a firm look, “you were lucky to get here when you did…”

“Oh, thank god.” Ransom nearly collapsed to the floor, but Lance and Nick were holding him up, “Can-can I see them?”

The doctor nodded, “yes…you can see your fiancé and daughter, Mr. Drysdale.  They’re waking her up as we speak…and she’s being put in the recovery ward.”

As Ransom was led back, Lily stormed off out of the waiting room, Curtis hot on her trail.  He didn’t speak until they were outside in the lot, “you’re just going to leave?  You aren’t even going to apologize to your father?  Your siste-“

“She’s not my sister!” Lily spat, glaring at Curtis, “and I don’t need you siding with them.  You’re my fiancé, and you’re supposed to be on my side.  Not theirs.”

“Lily, you pushed your pregnant best friend into a counter, and she nearly lost her child,” Curtis tried to reason, “what if that was you?  What if that was our child?”

“You need to be in my corner, Curtis!”

“And you need to grow up!” he growled at the young woman, “what if something had happened to the baby?  Huh?  I love you, but you’re not handling this right.  You’re acting like an immature child throwing a temper tantrum…and you’ve been doing nothing but that since I proposed.”

“An immature child?” she seethed.  She glared at Curtis for a moment before ripping her engagement ring off, “you want to see an immature child?  How’s this for size.  We’re not getting married!”

“Lily!”

“No!”  she hissed, pushing back at him, “I don’t want to marry you.  I don’t think that me and our child can be around a man that isn’t in our corner.”

Curtis’ eyes widened as he realized what she was saying, “y-you can’t take our child away from me.  Lil-“

“Tell that to my family’s lawyers, Curtis!” she replied angrily, “if I walk away, I can tell my grandmother that I want you to have nothing to do with our child…and you know what she’ll do?  Our lawyers will dig into every aspect of your past, Curtis!  I’ll make sure you never see our child!  Is that what you want?”

“Y-you can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” she growled, glaring at him, “now pick up my ring…apologize…and put it back on my finger.”

“Lily-“

“I said, pick up my ring, apologize, and put it back on my finger, Curtis,” she repeated in a warning tone, “or I walk…and you’ll never so much as meet our child.”

Curtis sighed as he bent down to pick up the ring.  When he went to get up, she pushed back down on his shoulder, “you can apologize from there, Curtis…”

He bit back at his anger, and kept his eyes focused on her small, protruding baby bump, “I-I’m sorry, Lily.”

“What?” she asked casually, cupping her hand to her ear, “I couldn’t hear you…what did you say, Curtis?”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to side with Ransom or Jess…I-I shouldn’t have,” he said, keeping his eyes focused only on the real reason he was apologizing, “I-I won’t do it again…”

“How do I know that, though, Curtis?” she asked, “how do I even know that you love me when you won’t look at me?”

“I-I love you, Lily…”

“Prove it,” she said simply, “put the ring back on my finger and prove that you love me.”

“H-how?”

“We drove past the courthouse on the way here!” she said simply, “when we pass it again, I want you to stop…and I want us to get married by a justice of the peace…today.”

Curtis froze, “what?”

“This is what I want, Curtis!” she said quickly wiggling her finger, “now put the ring on my finger, and get off the ground and lets go…”

Curtis obeyed, and she held the ring up to her face to examine it.  Then she huffed, “after we get married…I need to call the jeweler…you making me throw the ring caused the diamond to get scuffed…I’ll have to see if they can buff it out or if they need to replace it…”

Curtis sighed, knowing that he had to keep it up if there was any shot of him staying in his unborn child’s life, “okay, Lil.”

 

Chapter 27

[crimsonblackrose]

.

So choking your successor is a right of passage for Cobra Kai? WTF

I like how everyone is sitting around while Miguel reads his college essay. Even Robby. Rosa: It's the greatest story since Don Juan DeMarco. (film)

Johnny knowing water doesn't do well with waterworks, realizes the water is coming from the ceiling and moves the computer out of the way. Also points out it's a sewage pipe.

Their landlord's name is Sully. (or their maintenance guy)

Family of 5 nearly 6 down to two bedrooms with lots of financial concerns. I love that Carmen is like yup big family. I love that Robby is a part of it. Though, theoretically he could go stay with Shannon for a bit.

I'm sorry, her grandfather is still alive?

Gary gives Miggy a brochure for a valley university

Johnny has shown up at LaRusso's to get a blow up mattress.

Chozen has been watching all the reality TV: Selling Sunset, property brothers. Chozen is also a fan of the uncrustables like the kids.

Amanda wants Chozen gone

LOL they just help themselves to what's in Daniel and Amanda's fridge. I guess Johnny likes those uncrustables too. And Chozen likes Diet Dr. Pepper.

Kreese knows that Johnny defeated five of Kim's students.

OMG we have not seen Brucks in ages. And I can't believe Kyler and Brucks are checking out the same school. I'd figure both were rich and would go somewhere more expensive.

Brucks goes to MIT (and got all new teeth) Kyler goes to the local community university. That actually makes sense, for Brucks, he occasionally knew like really high level SAT stuff.

Chozen just pretending to be a realtor and looking at houses with Johnny, not something I ever expected, but I love it.

Johnny you need 5 beds. Not four. You have three kids and a mother-in-law. Plus potentially Amanda might shove Chozen off to live with you.

Johnny too honest. Let Chozen do all the talking.

Master Kim fought off invaders with an eunjangdo

For a guy who had to fight over a pit of snakes while a POW and threw his captain into a pit of snakes, I'm surprised how much Kreese likes snakes.

Kyler is being bullied by a Mr. Zenker frat bro.

Hawk has been nicknamed Spikes.

Look at Johnny using not only the recommendation Miggy gave him back in like season 1 (Make a fist and don't punch) but also Miyagi-do just breathing.

Awww Johnny finally found an old fan who say his '83 fight, named Little Stevie and who also thought Dutch was cool.

Apparently Johnny was also prom king.

Kreese apparently feels a lot of pain from Johnny hating him and only feels fear when he fears for Johnny.

Well damn. Kreese killing the Johnny he cares for in his head so he doesn't have weakness any more.

Kyler pouring stuff on his bully's head...who knew I'd ever cheer on Kyler????? Proud of him. And the fact Miguel wouldn't stand to see him bullied and is standing back to back with him to fight.

NICE! Kyler defending Miggy from the guy trying to break glass on Miggy and Miggy knocking it loose so Kyler could hit the guy with it.

Chozen doesn't get paid. So you're just using free immigrant labor?

I mean, Johnny has a point there, but Chozen's also like on vacation.

LOL Bruicks is in Midwest Industrial Training. I mean he's said smart stuff before so they totally got me on that.

Look at Kyler telling Miguel to chase after his dream.

Aw Kyler got into a different house.

lol they dug out this outfit again.

Daniel did not offer a job. Oh no, Johnny.

We can give him a job refilling popcorn machines like Robby.

He thinks I offered him my job.

she thinks a baloney sandwich and junk mail.

I mean it was empty last time.

I love that Johnny sold a car while Daniel was trying to figure out what type of job to give Johnny and that Amanda immediately was delighted that he did such a good job.

I mean it's what...August? School just started back up? Why can you see their breath in Korea? Are they on a mountain peak? Even then??????

[veryflirtytransportalate]

< Previous > . . . < Next >

"What? No honor among thieves?" - Hancock, a mayor who dresses like a guard

More fun in Goodneighbor, which I've discovered has no space in the name. Today, after spending an evening having Piper take salacious photographs of me on a camera but it's rusty with a bunch of random garbage glued to it, you know, a post-apoclypti-camera, everything in this place is designed like that, but anyway, after we did that and snoozed and got a snack and went back to Sanctuary and then took another nap, I made a timely trip to Goodneighbor's underwhelming mayor's office. The mayor wanted to talk to me, which everyone in town made seem like it mattered. Last time I saw him, I was standing under a balcony, thinking about how great an opportunity this would be to loot the entire town, and he was actually the guy on the balcony at the time. He said I was a cool guy for breaking into but not robbing his big "supply cache", which I gotta be honest, I totally did rob his supply cache! Opened every crate and box in the joint! The man collects garbage so valueless that a person who's inventory has a tab for JUNK could make no use of it. Whatever was of value in that room was a mystery to me, but because I thought he had trash taste, his... assistant? Friend? Who even is this chick to him? Whatever, look, I went and talked to him on some fuckos behest (the huge gun she threw me was an excellent bribe, and risky, considering I'd already once turned Goodneighbor upside down and shaken out all the coins), and Mr. Handycock just keeps going on and on and on: "I used to be cool. Now I'm not cool. I'm still cool, right?" And I'm like, "Dude, you are one of the worst dressed people I've ever met - but you're hot with ripping sideburns, so stop complaining, do a drug, and go funk someone!" He didn't listen to me. It was like everything I said went in one ear and was translated to, "Yes." So, since he is a collectable, I said he could totally party with me, and he literally dropped everything, I mean guy hardly catches his breath before he goes out on his balcony (which I guess is as close as this place gets to a news room), and just starts telling everybody that he loves them a whole lot. How they're a cool town. It had the vibe of a manager being like, "Who's the best Dunkin' in Fremont? We are! Everyone cheer together now!" Some dude is like "oh I love you" so I guess they like being treated like that, I don't know, I wasn't paying much attention (I had accidentally slipped off the rail and cracked my ankles on the ground, so I'm pounding back Stimpacks this whole time like OH MY LEGS and shit). Then, when the crowd is dispersing and my legs work again, I wander back inside and he's just like, ready to go. Doesn't have to... talk to anybody. Get any stuff. Just, ready to rumble.

I told him to go to the Red Rocket where I keep Strong Mad and McGravy. Look, I don't even think this guy is really the mayor, he just seems like a weirdo with friends who don't know how to break the news to him. Apparently his brother is a mayor. Hm. I see. Doesn't that explain the whole thing.

Great bar though. Third Rail is probably like, top bar in the whole of Boston. I guess it's his bar? Does this town have ownership laws? I mean I went to steal his shit and the response was, "Please don't." Can I just take the Fatman by the robot who wants to funk me or will that robot really funk me? You know, to death. The robot can totally funk me not to death, but I do wanna stretch first.

(Outfit credits, my thoughts, and a few more shots below the cut.)

I could take pictures of this outfit all day - the earrings are from iamtenspeed's Earrings of the Commonwealth (opens in new tab), and the choker is from BlunderFury's People Collars (opens in new tab).

Digital photography in Fallout 4 can be a real slog sometimes because of the body shapes. I'm vaguely aware that they have shapes and presets and... look. Fallout 4, by default, has two bodies: male and female. As a non-binary, you can imagine my frustration. The bodies aren't as sexist as they could be, but you get the impression that if this game had traditional stats all women would get a -1 to STR. If it was a spectrum it's halfway between "everyone is a genderless mannequin" like character creation in Demon's Souls and "are these even the same species" like the line up in League of Legends. I'm... kind of stuck like that to be honest. Two bodies to work with. Very few sliders. Makes The Sims 4's impressive suite of customization features look like a far off dream.

So, you go online to get mods, but ah! You will stumble into the same rabbit hole I have! The outfits are almost all based on CBBE! And if you thought vanilla could be bad, you haven't seen some of the things people will put on the Internet. However! It comes with Body Slide, a tool that allows us to customize the included retextured body to be a bunch of different shapes! Tons of sliders! So you can just customize the bodies, right? Issue solved? Well... sort of? It's really dense: there are what feel like thousands of options to tweak and touch and pinch and at some point you feel weird staring intently at a naked body on the screen, especially when you try a preset and it turns out to be... I'm going to have to go with a really deep frown and a quietly hissed, "exaggerated." Plus after you save it, you have to basically write the body slider positions to every new item, and a problem you run into is that outfits are designed with certain body shapes in mind: usually you notice this because the boobs on the outfit will be honkytonk nonsense, or the waist is nonexistant, or both. I do the best I can to offset this, but when you're interested in this rowdy and rough pin-up & glam rock inspired aesthetic it becomes tough to find things that don't make you feel kind of gross about the entire affair.

So! That is the reason I'm so into the Handmaiden set I've featured in so many pictures - just look at Sizz'el! She's got actual muscles! A body! Arms! Do you know how hard it is to give a woman in these games some funking arms?! It's far from perfect, but I'm finally getting somewhere with this! I should really rebuild the outfit and make it her default. Not... BodySlide rebuild like I explained before, I mean, like, she should put her shirt back on if she's gonna go get shot.

[ggstargetedlife]

So far it's been a typical day with the typical tactics of my "new" reality. Zapped out by the neighbors while being verbally abused. I look and feel sick as usual. Before I left my aunt's house, surprisingly she took the opportunity to play into my enemy's tactics, the entire goal they are still hellbent on achieving in totality it would seem. She remarked on how sick I looked, implying the lie my enemies are shooting for. It threw me off guard for a moment because she knows damn well what's really going on against me. She knows. Before I could catch myself I said exactly what popped into my head: "You're being just like those dang people."

She never responded because she knows exactly what people I'm referring to. She stays in the loop with everything going on about me and against me.

It gets to the point after a while, you just stop caring. Having little to no control over your own body and what's being forced on you is absolutely depressing. No one would want to go through something like this. But everyday I'm forced to endure it. The BackYard Neighbors are maintaining their emphasis on getting me into the trouble they are being allowed to create against me, and then they will stop. I figure what they really mean is, they want me to break down completely from their lies with everyone close to me pointing fingers of accusation against me. A few minutes ago as my father and I were on our way home, as I was pondering over how Brinley and the Elites's plan of destruction for my life is going completely according to plan, Michael's gf sneered through V2K: "Exactly! You're getting what you deserve!" On the inside, I had to laugh. For over four years now I've been used and abused by Players, the little bit of my social life torn to shreds because of the damage my enemies did to my repatuation, inducting everyone they could into their "game." I went through so much hell at Sunshine Thrift Store, honestly, I was left traumatized and all this time since the moment I was given the foot out the door, I've been trying to heal. All to no avail. Instead, I've had more abuses upon abuses heaped upon me. And this is what the Elites think I "deserve," for a trolling fest that shattered egos, not lives. Even then, it was MY shit that got wrecked the most by the trolls. They won even back then. And still it isn't enough for them. None of them or anyone else involved. I'm barely eating now, barely resting, my entire life has become one torment after another because of these people and their games, and no one is satisfied. No one. As the B.Y. neighbors snickered in my ear yesterday, it's "easy" money. Ha. Hilarious indeed to make your money as criminals utilizing harassment beyond invasive while I remain committed to an honest, hardworking lifestyle, bothering no one. Smh.

I'll admit, Michael's gf got me a bit with her cruel hearted comment, because I know it's coming less from her and more from those at the Top. She's merely the echo of their hateful sentiments.

Anyhow, I've purposely remained mostly nonchalant to them all day in my mind. Every time they tell me how sick I look I either go with the, "Well, that's what the big man wants, isn't it?" Or "Cool!" Or "DUUUUH!" Or absolutely nothing at all. As they've said, they aren't going to quit until they get me into some big-time trouble, so unless God intervenes on my behalf to get them to stop, all I can do is just roll with the waves, let whatever's gonna happen happen, all for the great entertainment of the Elites and their insatiable lust for completely wrecking my life. I'm tired of stressing out over this day and night. If they wanted to set my ass up to end up in prison, they'd do that too and there'd be nothing I could do about it so it's whatever. I'm just here until I die.

[zeenmrala]

THE SHADOW BENEATH a darth maul x f/afab!reader fanfiction

Summary: You work as a technician on the lower levels of Coruscant. In the middle of the night, an angry Zabrak crime lord arrives, in need of transport parts and repairs. You both find a little bit more than you bargained for. Pairing: Female/AFAB!Reader x Darth Maul Rating: 18+, explicit. Pure smut ahead! Minors do not interact! Word Count: 12.4k (a big one) Warnings/Kinks/Tags: There are a lot of these. Female/AFAB!Reader with she/her pronouns, references to canon-typical poverty and violence, threat, force choking. Smut: thigh riding, inappropriate use of the force, inappropriate use of a lightsaber (Maker forgive me), cybernetic lower half!Maul, dominant!Maul, BDSM, vaginal fingering, controlled/delayed orgasm, female!receiving oral sex, male!recieving oral sex, PiV sex, rough sex, spitting, smacking, biting, praise kink. i am so sorry and also you’re welcome A/N: This is a bit different to my usual style - but I really had fun with this! Inspired by a few of these smut prompts sent in by anons. ♡ do you think this is a joke? / good girl / I’ve been holding back the things I wanna do to you right now / use your words ♡

The Shadow Beneath [Read on AO3]

Hooking up with one of those fancy Force lords from the surface was not how you expected to begin your week. Yet here you are, in the very early hours of Primeday morning, kissing on and feeling up the weirdest, meanest (and only) wizard you have ever come across.

Tonight was nothing out of the ordinary – well, it was pretty normal before he showed up. In the early evening you took a walk to collect a few old bits of junk that you thought you had swindled from a Rodian thief. You made friends with her at BG-RT’s cantina the other night, and after a couple of drinks you agreed to buy the crate of parts from her (though ‘friends’ now may be too strong a word – as it seems that you may have been the one that was duped). You negotiated what you believed at the time to be a steal of a price for the parts that she was offering – they were highly discounted of course, due to how they were illegally obtained. Though looking down into the crate of stolen goods once you had collected them, you thought that maybe you had been a bit too optimistic about it. Though it wasn’t a loss yet, you just had to work your mechanical magic and make your credits back. With this bunch of rubbish. Somehow.  

So you started sifting through it. It was a total mish-mash of stuff, parts from old droids, engines, speeders – a bunch of junk that’s been borrowed (stolen) from a couple hundred levels up, much nicer stuff than what you can usually get down here anyway. Could have been worse. With your glowrod in hand and your eyes sharp, you began the search for any working (or working looking) parts you could shiny up, use or sell on. You were able to salvage a small repulsor-lift engine, fully functional and sorta new. Though probably not worth much to the big wigs up on the surface, it was something you could peddle down here if you put on a pretty smile and tried. Folks were always breaking their antigrav tech – what with the shoot outs and such – or at least, their tech was always getting caught in the crossfire of said shoot outs. Everyone always had something needing fixing down here. And that’s where you would come in. It’s not much, but you get by – and it’s kind of an honest living (which is actually pretty impressive, considering the level you live on).

Your eyes started to hurt after hours spent squinting inside a protocol droid torso, so you eventually threw down your tools. After a depressing dinner of a stale Maize roll with an hour of Holotelevision, you decided to call it a night. But you just could not seem to doze off, no matter how much you tossed and turned on your sleep mat. There seemed to be no reason in particular for your insomnia, it was just one those nights where the unrelenting, blaring noises of Level 1313 alongside a strange feeling in your gut kept you from drifting off. It is not unusual around these parts to be a bit anxious, or to be kept awake by some trigger-happy chap or a hollering idiot. There was always some kind of shooting or foolery going on down here, the crime-ridden underbelly of your home-world.

You soon grew fed up of wasting your time, just staring at the ceiling of your home/bedroom/workshop, listening to the screeching shouts of drunks and thugs. So you thought kriff it and forced yourself up from your sleeping mat. There was no point in just lying there when you could make the most of a couple extra hours to clean up some scrap. You thought about maybe picking through a few wires from that protocol droid – though he was an ancient model, you could probably scrub up some of his veins, make them look nice. With a bit of sweet talk you were sure you could move them.

So you punched the top of your karkin’ useless caf machine to get it going. As a technician you could likely fix it up nice and easy, make it so it works without you needing to give it a solid thump – but your time was precious. An hour spent fiddling in the back of your caf machine wouldn’t make you any extra credits now would it? But shining up an old catalytic processor from one of them funny decon droids? Well, you could squeeze a couple meals out of that if you could flog it to the right sucker. Once you got the caf brewing, you threw on your coveralls and looked around with itching fingers, grabbing at bits and pieces of scrap from around the room. You then studied them under the warm light of your central lamp to see what you could best shiny up.

So there you were, singing to yourself between sips of caf, stripping the wires from the old proto-droid when everything went awry.

Because that was when a looming figure emerged from the darkness, and you did a startled double-take, in utter disbelief at first – then you jumped out of your skin when you realised it was a person and not a shadow, and that this mystery figure had somehow broken in to your home without you knowing. You reached for the blaster pistol you kept beneath your worktable for moments exactly like this. Though no one had broken in for a long while, your reflexes were and always will be as sharp as the claws of a tooka. They’ve got to be, living in these parts.

When the figure stepped properly into the light, you tried to see if it was someone you recognised. It wasn’t, which made it all the more confounding. It was a stranger, and a real scary looking one at that. A Zabrak man cloaked in all black, with striking black-on-crimson skin and glowing yellow eyes. His entire being oozed darkness, and as unnerving as this situation was, you couldn’t help the intense level of intrigue that mingled with your fear. He was…Maker, he was kind of fine. There was something about those intense eyes, the shrouding black of his tattoos, something about how that low cut tunic suited his hard body so kriffin’ elegantly. You suppressed a snicker, cursing yourself for finding your own home-invader attractive – what a damned fool you were acting. Yes, he may have been good looking, some may even say hot, but he also looked right scary and had broken in.

…But then again you are used to intimidating looking persons making their way through the underworld of your home. And you know that far-away folk can sometimes have different customs to you, maybe customs like silently encroaching on a technician’s business in the middle of the night? Who were you to judge? So what with his good looks and all, this stranger didn’t strike too much fear into your heart.

At least not at first.

You sat on your worktable with your legs crossed, your blaster in hand and pointed at his horned head. “Hey Mister, it’s mighty rude to sneak up on a girl in her own home,” you said, “especially when she’s all by her lonesome in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes ran over his strange markings, and after wracking your memory of all the faces you’ve seen in your time, you realised that you hadn’t ever seen someone who looked quite like him before. When he said nothing, you kept talking.

“What skughole did you crawl out of anyway? I ain’t never seen you round here.”

He still didn’t say anything in reply, and his lack of conversing was starting to feel more threatening than not. You both just stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then you demanded what you should probably have lead with.

“And what the kriff do you want?”

“My transport needs repairs,” he said quietly. He seemed annoyed. At you, specifically, for existing in your own home. Even though he was the one that had disturbed you at a stupid hour, even though he had snuck up on you alone in the middle of the night, he was the one that was cross. There was a passive violence to each word he spoke, as though his patience was already running thin.

“There is a part that I need. I was told here,” he flickers his eyes around your tiny workshop, thoroughly unimpressed, “was where I should go.”

“Grife,” you groaned, relieved.

He was just a customer. Albeit a grumpy one who had broken in way past closing time, but a customer nonetheless.

“Why didn’t you start with that? What’s with all the staring? Here’s me thinking you were some crinkin’ psycho-murderer, or some sleemo that was gonna rob me.”

You froze at your own words, then back-peddled with an awkward smile, “Not that I’ve got nothing worth robbing.” Your arm with the blaster had slightly relaxed, so you straightened it again, putting on your best I-don’t-take-no-kark face. “So don’t get cute with me.”

He just glared at you, and made no movement or sound. He had absolutely no reaction to having a blaster pointed at that handsome, tattooed face of his. This fellow was definitely one to keep an eye on.

“Okay,” you said, slowly lowering your hand. This guy hadn’t made any stupid moves yet, but you could already tell that he was at least a little bit barvy, so though you did lower it, you kept your blaster in hand as you jumped off of the worktable. You rested your free hand on your hip.

“You were told right. I may be able to help.”

He just kept silently glowering. So you carried on.

“It depends on what kinda transport you got. I don’t really do starships, though considering how deep down the levels you are, I don’t think that’s what you’ll be needing.”

You moved over to the corner of the workshop and pointed towards a pile of crates with your blaster. It’s where you keep the most commonly needed vehicle parts, on hand and ready to sell for the passer-by’s just like him. “I’m more of a droids gal. But I got a bunch of speeder parts and I am a great technician so I can give it a go. Whattaya need?”

You had swiftly switched into customer-service mode. You straightened your back and flashed a sweet grin, trying to get a read on how rich this good-looking goon was, how many credits you may be able to squeeze out of him.

But he just huffed and barged straight past you, and began to quickly search through all of the boxes of parts on his own. You stuttered on your next words, a bit miffed at his abrupt rudeness. You were used to sleemos of all breeds, but at least the other ones you had done business with spoke more than a couple of words to you. Not even the pirates acted like this. This horned chap was not only scary-yet-sexy and strange, but also terribly impolite.

It didn’t take long before he was mumbling to himself in annoyance, rifling through all of your crates chaotically, no real sense to what he was doing. He clearly needed your guidance but you supposed he should probably figure that out for himself, so you chuckled in disbelief and leaned back on your worktable, watching the stranger willingly waste his own time. You took the opportunity to admire how he looked from the back, and to be a little bit brazen and maybe sneak a quick peak of his rear...

Wait, were those – were those cybernetic legs? They were, impressive ones at that, and your jaw dropped slightly.

“Well I’ll be Kesseled…” you whispered.

Where the kark did he get those kind of synthetics from? No-where around here you were sure. He was definitely not from these parts. Not at all. But either way, he looked good. You were smiling, enjoying the view of this attractive, angry man - that was until he started chucking your vehicle parts on the floor, and you stood up with a frown to scold him.

“Hey, don’t be so rough with those!”

He only grunted in response. “I told you, I can help!” You reminded him. You rolled your eyes as he ignored you again. You picked up your caf, taking a sip, continuing to watch him suffer in his own stubbornness.

But then…then he started throwing things around without touching them.

And that was just too damn much.

The first time he did it you thought it was a trick of the light. But then he did it again, and again, lifting parts out of the crates with a flick of his hand, then sending them flying across the room.

You gasped and your stomach dropped as you realised that he must be one of those wizard folk you hear so much about. Kriff! What’s one of them doing down here at this time of night? What’s one of them doing in your little workshop? And…Oh kark! All of those parts he’s rifling through…they’re stolen!

Is he here to arrest you? Is he looking for some specific part that was thieved from a rich old scummer up top? You knew that you needed to get him to stop rooting around in those crates, hell, you really needed to get him out of here. And more than that, he was throwing all of your belongings around the workshop hard, breaking them, making a ruckus and a mess, ruining your livelihood!

You snapped yourself out of your shock and said, “Excuse me!” to try and get his attention. He ignored you and continued using his odd magic to throw around the contents of the crates.

“Hey!” You objected louder, “What’s your problem? There is an order to this stuff, just tell me what you want and I can see if I got it!”

He ignored you, continuing his hunt for whatever it was he was looking for.

“Look mister, I don’t want no trouble…” you groaned desperately, “And if I ain’t got what it is that you are looking for – there is another repair shop I can point you to that -”

He interrupted you by pushing over one of your boxes, and it collapsed to the ground with a loud crash as engine and motor parts spilled across the floor. By this point, you had had quite enough of this strange man’s antics. You really had reached the end of your blasted tether with him. So you did what any sensible person would have done in this situation.

You shot a warning blast from your pistol.

However – it came real close to hitting him, and looked more like an attempt on his life than a warning blast. It was a total accident, you had never been a good shot. But of course, he didn’t know that, and so responded accordingly to your threat.

He immediately whirled around, fury and disbelief in his eyes as he brought his hand forward and clenched it into a fist. You felt your throat constrict as you were lifted into the air. You dropped the blaster and reached for your neck, gasping frantically as he choked you without touching you.

What the kriff? He’s not just a little bit barvy, he’s entirely barvy!

Confused, scared and completely overwhelmed, you forced yourself to try and say something, anything to get him to stop. “It…was…just…on…stun,” was all you could croak, trying your best to deescalate this situation.

He growled. “I don’t have time for this!” he shouted. He then dropped you to the ground.

You collapsed into the floor, and gasped in air desperately. “Oh,” you said once you got your breath back, “sir, you’re mighty scary.”

He paused and cocked his head, looking down on you curiously – and it was as if he was seeing you for the first time. The anger abated from his features for a moment, replaced with a puzzled look.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Me?!” you squeaked, “What’s wrong with me? Mister, with all due respect to someone of your…um…,” you stuttered, not knowing how to phrase it. He certainly didn’t seem like one of those Jedi wizards. So what was he? “Ugh, you broke into my place in the middle of the night and then started destroying my things without even touching them!”

“So you shot at me?”

“Yes! What else is a girl meant to do in such a situation?” You pulled yourself to your feet, running your hand over your throat. “What the kriff was that all about? What did you go and do that for?”

Karkin’ wizard. That really, really sucked.

“Don’t do that again,” you said. He blinked slowly, as if simultaneously amused and confused by your saying such a thing. He then smirked when he saw your hand caressing the skin of your own throat.

“Why not?” He asked.

You stuttered again. “W-Why not? Why not!?” You raised your voice in frustration. “You bastard, because I’ll shoot you for real next time!” You bent down to pick your blaster back up. But before you could grab it, he sent it to the other side of the room with the flick of a finger.

You scowled at him, and he smirked back at you. A bit better than glaring, you supposed – but then oh no, that didn’t last for long. Because he was soon glaring again. But not in the scary way he did before the wizard-choking.

He started checking you out.

With no shame and no subtlety. He just took the time to properly look you over. He ran his eyes over your body ever so slowly – his line of sight dipped beneath your face, down over your breasts, your stomach, hips and waist, down your legs. And then back up again. He used a languid yet purposeful gaze as he looked over you, assessing and admiring you – thoroughly drinking in the shape of your body. Yes, you thought, he had definitely only just really seen you. His rampage for the transport parts clearly clouded his vision because – well, it was as if he could not get enough of the sight of you now that he was looking.

And it was making you feel…hot.

Maker, yes, he was definitely checking you out. Which was a bit weird considering what had just happened. But what was weirder, was that even after his breaking in, his rudeness, his destruction of your property and his almost choking you to damn death – you liked that he was looking at you in this way. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on your curves caused heat to prick at your cheeks and to pool beneath your belly button. That was when something shifted, and the tension between the two of you morphed into a kind that you were not expecting – but you couldn’t deny that you weren’t mad about where this was heading.

Get it together, you thought to yourself. He may be a looker but he’s also kind of a nutjob. A dangerous one. You can’t go being seduced by someone like him…can you?  

“Ain’t never seen a girl in coveralls before?” you asked, as indifferent as you could manage.

He brought his eyes back up to yours. You took a moment to take him in too, his facial tattoos, his glowing eyes, his crown of horns – and oh Maker, those little diamond shaped markings on his nose? How did you not notice them before? Those are truly adorable. Kriff, you wanted to kiss them, you wanted to run your lips over all of his tattoos – to taste his bold, two-toned skin.

When your line of sight dipped down to his lips, and traced over those sharp patterns of black markings just above them, you had to bite your own bottom lip. Because you thought that despite how striking and somewhat frightening he appeared, his lips looked really soft.

And oh by the Galaxy, did you want to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him all over.

Your breath hitched when you pulled up your eyes to meet his again. You tried your best not to smile or smirk. You did not want him to know that he was having this effect on you – a man busts in to a girl’s home, destroys her wares and then uses sorcery to choke her, then she gets all hot and heavy with him? No way, that wouldn’t be a good precedent to set. Not at all. Even so…you did feel a sweet warmth begin to flutter between your thighs, and even though you did want him to sweep you into his weird, wizard arms – you were also still pissed off at him. And you tried to hold on to that. You didn’t really want him knowing the true extent of how badly you wanted him to bend you over your worktable and have his way with you.

Not yet, at least.

You crossed your arms against your chest and sighed, abruptly ending the odd sexually charged moment between the two of you.

He straightened, standing slightly taller. “Help me find this part,” he demanded.

“Pffft, no chance,” you scoffed. “After that little display? Absolutely not.”

He frowned. Then he sighed, and glared (in the scary way) again. “What?” You chuckled, “hasn’t anyone ever told you no before, stranger?”

You held his gaze and refused to budge. Staring him down as if you weren’t frightened and weirdly turned on by his threatening expression.

“I’m not helping you with a crinkin’ thing after that!” you touched your throat again.

“You are being dramatic,” he scoffed, “you shot me!”

He can’t be serious.

“I did not shoot you!” You huffed, in slight disbelief at the audacity of this crook. “I shot at you. And dramatic? Me? I’m not the one who literally emerges from the shadows and throws things around with invisible magic!”

He smirked, and appeared much less menacing with such a smile on his lips. He seemed amused by your reaction. By the Maker, was he teasing you?

“If you do not do what I say,” he shrugged, “then I will take my business elsewhere.”

Oh that karkin’ bastard. He said it as if that would be the most terrible thing in the galaxy for you. You ain’t that desperate! Credits ain’t everything! What, just because you’re poor means you have to put up with laser-brains like him? Absolutely not.

So you smiled as wide as you could. “Oh good! Finally,” you replied, “please leave.”

He didn’t move. He lingered, staring at you, wearing that slightly perplexed expression again.

“Go on then,” you shooed him with your hands. “Run along now, mister.”

Much less amused, he groans. “I don’t have time –”

“For this, yeah, you kriffing said that already.” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help the smirk that painted your lips as you interrupted him. He flashed a brief smile then, clearly entertained. The sight was so sweet, yet also implied such depravity that it shot a searing flare of heat to your sex.

He stepped forward, bringing his face closer to yours. Oh kark, he really is so handsome. Dangerously so. And Maker, he smelled good. A woody, deeply masculine scent that made your heart and mind race.

“For such a pretty little thing,” he said, “you have a filthy mouth.”

A shock of white-hot desire drenched you between your legs. Oh. Now that is just damn unfair. His voice was rich, and it cut straight through to your loins. How could it not? The way he spoke was absolutely loaded with nefarious intentions. It was so bad, but it felt so good, and you grinned. You couldn’t help it. It’s been a while since someone ruffled your feathers like this.

“Honey,” you whispered, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

He released an approving sigh, the corner of his lips tugging into a hesitant smile.

“Yet?” He crooned, “are you promising something?”

You suddenly felt terribly brave. Kriff it, so what if you want to have your way with this deliciously dark stranger? He may be a no good criminal sorcerer who is particularly rude, but how can you expect any better of someone who has business so deep in the levels down here? And a girl wants what she wants. No helping that.

So you leaned into him, looking into his eyes as you softly spoke.

“Hmmm,” you hummed nonchalantly. “You choke every pretty thing you meet?”

“Just the ones I need to tame,” he replied huskily.

You laughed playfully. “Oh Mister, good luck with that,” and you stepped back, then turned around and away from him. You heard him utter one word, deep and explicit.

“Enough.”

That was when he reached forward with a gloved hand and grabbed the back of your neck harshly. You gasped as he pulled you back around in one swift and quick movement, returning you close to him. He positioned you so that his lips were mere centimetres from your own. You could feel the warmth of his breath of your face, and combined with the robust hold on the back of your neck and his rich, commanding voice – Maker, it made your cunt ache with desire, and you wanted to beg him for his touch there and then.

This was happening.

“My name is Maul,” he stated clearly. “Lord Maul. That is how you will address me.”  

He was gorgeously domineering. So much so that you immediately wanted to please him, you already craved his praise more than your own climax. But you weren’t just going to grovel, not yet. This was much too fun.

“Is that so,” you snickered back, looking into his eyes. “What’s a fancy Lord like you, doing in parts like these, hm?” As you asked, your gaze flickered down, so mesmerised by those lips of his.

He didn’t answer your question. He was clearly as magnetised to your lips as you were to his, because he just kissed you instead. A hard and wet kiss, his tongue snaking into your mouth as soon as you pushed up into him and kissed him back. He groaned, one of his hands on your waist, another in your hair.

And so here you are now – kissing him, his hands pulling at your hair and your coveralls. Your own fingers having already thrown his robe to floor, and now tugging at the neckline of his tunic, your palms running over the hot red-black of his chest. Kriff. This feels both crazy and irresponsible, but also entirely perfect and necessary. You twirl the both of you around and push him back onto your worktable so that can straddle one of his legs. You are suddenly desperate for friction, the wild, yearnful ache between your thighs utterly unbearable –  and so you grind down onto the hardness of his metal synthetic limb. He groans his approval into your mouth, and his touch becomes harder, his grasp tighter.

“I thought you didn’t have time for this my Lord,” you whisper into the kiss. He bites your lip in response, and you snicker a soft tut.

“Mmm,” he hums, his hands running down your shoulders, around to your back and then he reaches down and squeezes hard at your ass. You hiss and arch into the touch, and he raises his leg, rubbing the firmness of it into the growing wetness of your sex. “You really are a wicked little thing.”

You purr at his observation, deepening your kiss and sucking on his tongue. You pull his tunic off and claw at the newly revealed flesh. His skin is so hot, and all you can think about is licking him, biting him, grinding your slickness all over him. You pull your lips from his to trail them across his jaw and up to his ear.

“Yes,” you agree with him, “Though I’m not usually like this – I swear.” He groans, one of his hands now grasping tightly on your hip, pulling your body down roughly onto his leg. You rub into him automatically, frantic for his touch. “You put a spell on me or something?” you whisper.

He moves your face to bring your lips back to his, and his kiss becomes lethargic and gentle, as if you are suddenly the most breakable little lady in the galaxy. “What should I call you?” he asks.

“Oh cut the kark,” you chide him harshly. “I know you’re from one of those no good crime gangs. Don’t act like you’re some kind of gentleman kissing me all soft like that, asking for my name like you care who I am.”

He grunts, and grasps your face, and then brings his lips to your ear. “So you like gangsters, is that it? You like criminals? Bad men?”

Oh Maker. Now this feels a bit dangerous. But it also feels so good. Your core is burning up real nice now, and you think that you might not be able to hang on much too longer before you really do melt into a puddle at his feet.

“Depends,” you reply in a hoarse voice. “Are you a gangster? A criminal?”

He bucks his leg up into you then, and a sharp moan falls from your lips as he rubs against that sweet bundle of nerves through the material of your coveralls.

“Are you a bad man, Lord Maul?” you coo as you grind down on to him.

He groans, kissing at your throat, running his teeth over the sensitive skin. You gasp at the sharp scraping pain it causes, but lean into it, allowing him to mark you.

Your hands explore his body and roam lower, down his torso and to his hips. Then your fingers graze over something cold, a long cylinder of metal. A weapon? Two of them. You find on the opposing side of him that there is another, a shorter one, and less smooth, more –

He snatches your wrist at once, and pulls on your arm hard. “Do not even think about it,” he commands.

You tut and giggle at his seriousness. “Whatever.”

He whirls on you then, switching your positions so that you are now against the worktable, pulling back from you yet holding tightly on to your wrist with a strong hand.

“What’s so funny, girl?” he questions you.

And then there is suddenly a cold pressure beneath your face. Your eyes meet his, and a shock of numbness washes over you as you understand the threat of what he is doing. He is using the hilt of the weapon you just touched to tilt your head up, to make you look at him. The weapon, that you now understand, is a lightsaber. Of course. The chosen weapon of sorcerers everywhere. You haven’t ever seen one this close up before, you haven’t had the misfortune of crossing the kind that uses them. But of course, you have caught a glimpse of the glowing blades in your lifetime, as they never fail to cause a scene. They always make quite the ruckus – especially when wielded by the types of people down here, thugs who end up with them from the black market...or more rarely, from slaying a wizard themselves.

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“N-not anymore, I suppose…” you squeak in reply, your voice wobbling at having such a weapon against your skin.

He slowly drags the hilt of his blade down your throat, a cruel ghost of a smile on his lips. He is clearly enjoying rattling you in this way. He is gentle though, the touch has basically no pressure now. It is a delicate caress of cold danger as it grazes your flushed, kiss bruised skin. His eyes dip and follow the hilt as it trails lower, down to the collar of your coveralls.

“You like what you see?” You whimper, any bite that you intended with the comment does not translate. Surprisingly, you are far too turned on at this point for any of your sass to cut through.

He nods apathetically, as if he does not really care one way or another. Karkin’ bastard, you think. His eyes have now dipped beneath your clothing, pulling your neckline down with his saber hilt to admire your breasts. What a day to not wear your chest wrap.

“Hmm,” he groans, pulling the hilt away from you, releasing your wrist from his grasp. You whimper at the loss, and he looks at you in surprise.

“Why…” you start, “why’d you stop?”

“You want me to carry on?”

You nod.

“Tell me,” he says.

You bring your hands to your neckline, then swiftly undo the front of your coveralls, pulling the upper half free from your shoulders so that your naked chest is now exposed to him. Then you push the garment lower, exposing your stomach. You push it down until it hangs off of your hips, not yet revealing anything below your lower abdomen.

“Keep going,” you say softly. You lean back on the worktop on your hands, shaking your hair out of your face and behind yourself, then arch your back so you push your chest forward for him.

“Please,” you add, for good measure.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his yellow eyes hungrily taking in the sight of your newly exposed skin, glazing greedily across your breasts and nipples. And then he moves, he moves so fast, returning the hilt of his blade to your throat.

And then – then he also has the hilt of his second blade in his hand, the longer one. He rests it gently against your sternum, just under and between your breasts. You release a sharp hiss, the threat of two of these weapons on your body now almost too much for you. Almost.

He keeps the first hilt hard at your throat, keeping your head up and your eyes on his. The touch of the other is much lighter. The metal of the long, cylindrical hilt is cold, and he drags it down, ever so slowly. Until it meets and passes your belly button. Then lower and lower, until it hitches on your clothing. He tuts, dragging the hilt down harder, pulling it over the material and continuing the leisurely journey down your body.

Then he slides it between your legs.

You gasp gently as you feel the cold metal press against the blazing heat of your sex through the material that separates it from you. The hardness of it feels good but - dare you grind down on to it? You do not know how these things work, how they are powered.

He smirks, as if he can sense what you want, and your hesitation in doing so. “How badly do you need my touch?” He asks. “And be honest with me,” he insists.

You take a long, deep breath. You do not dare lie to him.

“Mister, I’ve wanted you to bend me over this here table since I first saw that handsome face of yours.”

He pushes the hilt up into your cunt hard – both your fear and desire surge, and a flustered moan is torn from your throat. He warns you, “I told you how to address me.”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, “Yes, Lord Maul.”

“Good girl,” he praises you quietly, leaning forward and planting a peck on your lips.

Then he pulls his weapons away from your body, and returns them to their place on his hips. You release a tortured breath, whining pathetically at the loss. Then you reach forward, wanting to touch him, wanting him to touch you. You run your fingers down his arms, and then you take one of his hands in your own. You peel his glove off and throw it to the ground. You do the same to his other hand, then you bring them both to your lips to kiss them. His hands are rough and marked by those black tattoos – they extend up his fingers, bleeding into his long black nails. The markings are not as bold on his hands and fingers as the rest of his body, his palms especially, faded from years of friction with his choice of weapon, you assume. You squeeze at his wrists, and then bring his hands to your chest, encouraging him to feel you.

“Please,” you say, “please touch me.”

You close your eyes and throw your head back as a clawed finger scratches down your left breast, then he takes the bud of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You shudder, and your breath hitches as his touch sends shivers of hot desire through your core.

He cups your right breast in his other hand. “I have been holding back…” he whispers, and then squeezes you, hard. “Holding back, all of the things that I want to do to you...”

“Why?” you ask, slightly surprised. You open your eyes, keeping them trained on his face. He is looking down at the bare skin of your breasts, watching his own long nails scratch and pinch the soft flesh of them.

“I did not know if you were truly willing,” he says.

You noted his use of the past tense. “Did not? Do you know now?”

His eyes dance across your erect nipples, how you are keening into his fingers. Then they flicker down to witness the way that you wantonly try to grind your clothed sex into his cybernetic leg.

“Hmm. I have an idea,” he replies. “Though I would prefer you to use your words.”

“Yes,” you say, “Yes, I am willing.”

He tilts his head very gently.

“I want you, Lord Maul,” you whine, and addressing him in this way causes a sly smile to tug at his lips. One of his hands is suddenly around your throat, and your face is intimately close to his again.

“If you change your mind, you will tell me immediately,” he insists.

“Yes,” you whimper, “of course.”

“Good,” he says. Then, much huskier in tone, “you will do as I say?”

“Yes,” you confirm, that carnal ache between your thighs becoming almost too much to bear. “Yes, anything.”

“Then strip naked,” he demands, pulling you off of the table and stepping back.

You obey him without hesitation, hooking your fingers into the material at your hips and pulling the remainder of your clothing down. You then step out of the coveralls, now wearing only your panties.

You simper at him, leaning back against the table.

“I said naked,” he reaffirms, scowling at your accidental insolence.

Before you get the opportunity to fix your mistake, he is on you. He picks you up easily, and effortlessly places you on to the workstation. He then throws everything that is on the table to the ground with an indifferent wave of his hand. The loud clatter of metal smashing on the floor makes you groan in annoyance – but you do not feel anything more than mild irritation at his apathy towards your work and your tools, towards your personal belongings. It should probably make you much more furious. It should probably make you want to slap the bastard to the other side of the galaxy. You should care, you should be mad, you should tell him to kriff himself and to get the kark out of here – but you can’t.

Because you don’t want to. You are now consumed only by lust. In fact – Maker, you want the table cleared and ready for you, you want him to disregard absolutely everything that isn’t your body. And by the Planets – there is something about his destructive nature that is utterly bewitching. How his touch, no matter how violent, makes your body only yearn more for him. How his words, no matter how threatening, makes you want to naturally submit to whatever he says. How you crave only to obey him as if it is what you were created to do.

He throws you down on to your back and pulls your legs apart, then positions himself between them. He is now standing up straight, each of your legs on either of his shoulders. He runs his hard, callused hands down them, feeling the softness of your bare skin. He starts at your ankles, and moves insufferably slow down the length of them towards your cunt. When he reaches your lower thighs, he dips his hands inwards and spreads his fingers, squeezing at the flesh of the inside of them before roughly spreading you open. You let out a loud, shocked moan, but then it bleeds into a needy whimper as he begins to lightly touch the edge of your panties. You start to needily arch your back, impatiently trying to push your cunt forward into his touch. Before you are able to fully do so, a hand pushes down on your lower torso, returning you flat against the surface of the table.

“Stay still,” he demands.

You whimper into submission, your fists clenched in anticipation as he ever so slowly runs his fingers across the thin material above your sex, teasing you with his featherlight touch. You are lust-stricken as you look up at him looming above you. His toned chest moves calmly with steady breaths, the shadow of his crown of horns appears so regal in the low-light, and his glowing eyes are fixated solely on how his tattooed fingers taunt your dripping cunt. He hums a moan as he reaches your entrance, lingering on the damp material of your underwear. “So wet already,” he says with a tut. “And I haven’t even begun.”   

And then he is cupping your cunt with his palm, and the heat of his hand feels so good that it is too much to bear, so you go to sit up, to shove yourself forward and rub into him – but you are swiftly thrown back by an unseeable Force, struck down into the hard metal of your worktable, as if he had heaved a great weight on top of you. But there is nothing there; one of his hands squeezes your inner thigh, the fingers of the other making light circles over your underwear. But you now lie there unmoving, as if strapped to the table with invisible bindings, and no matter how hard you try to thrash around, you cannot budge an inch.

“I am in control,” he says. “If you will not stay down, then I will make you stay down.”

You can only groan in retaliation, a mix of frustration and pure heat coursing through your veins. “Do you understand?” he asks. You feel a slight slackening on your ghostly chains, just enough for you to nod at him. “Good. Now tell me, you filthy, wicked little whore,” he smirks, “do you enjoy being subjected to my power in this way?”

“Yes,” you reply instantly, “yes.” He must also enjoy holding you down like this, because you immediately return to being unable to move at all. You cry out a broken “please,” practically begging him to strip you down, to please keep going – and he hums a cruel chuckle as you continue to whine for his touch.

He must take pity on you then, because he permits you the small mercy of finally being bare for him. The fingers of both of his hands skirt up to the top of your underwear, his nails slip beneath them and he pulls them down. He tugs them past your rear, then uses one of his hands to raise up your legs, the other he uses to pull your panties off of you. He throws them aside, then ever so slowly, painfully slowly, spreads your thighs again.

He sharply inhales as he finally takes pleasure in the sight of your soaked cunt. “Oh,” he groans huskily, “you are simply desperate for this, are you not?” He brings his eyes back to yours, and you groan in agreement. Yes, yes, Maker damn him, you are entirely in despair, so utterly teeming with desire that you cannot think. When you see his fingers dip out of view between your legs, you flutter your eyes shut and take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the sweet relief of his touch, for a reprieve from his torment.  

As his fingers circle your clitoris and he finally exerts some pressure onto you, you cry out in relief. Now that he is finally touching you, the noises he coaxes from you cannot be silenced. They never could be, even if he gagged you or forced your mouth shut with his wizardry, you would find a way to moan his name, to purr your high-pitched, gratified whines. It feels much too good. His fingers glide down the slickness of your slit, and you want nothing more than to move closer to him, for him to rub into you harder – but you are still held down to the table with his power. It is an addictive, dizzying frustration, being authorised only micro-doses of his touch. Not yet satisfied, so desperate for more – yet overwhelmingly grateful for more when it inevitably arrives.

“Good,” he praises you, “let me hear you.” You do not need to be told twice. Unable to physically react or squirm beneath him, all you are able to do is sob your approval in hearty, raw moans as he begins to work your aching cunt with his hands. He moves harder, then faster, listening to your whimpers to determine the specific spots that will most exploit your pleasure. Then he teases at your entrance, and pushes into you slowly. Kriff. His fingers dance the sweetest rhythm between your thighs, and the welcome intrusion is dazzling. He slips in a second finger, crooning them both deep inside of you – and then Maker, a third. As he stretches you out, you already feel the hot coil of climax stir in your lower abdomen. It will not be long now – but you wish you could move, that you could sit up and watch him plunge his fingers in and out of you as you come all over them.

At that exact moment, you are released from your invisible bondage, movement returned to your body. “Writhe for me, pretty girl,” he commands. And you do, as he works his fingers in and out of you with one hand, the fingers of his other dancing circles on your clit – you contort in pleasure beneath his touch, your back arching, your hands gripping the sides of the table with tense knuckles. This stranger, this terrifying and intoxicating man – kark, with such simple movements he is making you feel a way that no one else has ever been able to before. You rock down into his hands, and he groans at your shamelessness, at your unabashed desperation. “Please,” you whine, “please, I’m going to – ”

“No,” he says sternly. “Not yet.”

His commanding voice does not help his cause, as it cuts deep into your blossoming orgasm, flaming it further onwards. You ignore his instruction and groan as you begin to clamp down on to his fingers, throwing your head back and awaiting that glorious tide of satisfaction to wash over you. But it never comes, you never come. Because he growls and pulls himself out of you. Depriving you of your climax, leaving you empty and whimpering pathetically beneath him. 

“I said not yet,” he reiterates harshly. Then you sit up and raise your eyes to his face. He releases an irritated tsk, then says, “such insolence will not go unpunished.”

You are sitting up now, looking at him with bewilderment and disbelief painted across your features. You watch as the bastard spits at your cunt, which sends a surprising hot jolt of pleasure up your body. What the Galaxy? Why was that so kriffing hot? You find yourself wanting him to do it again. He then gives your sex a sharp smack, and you cry out a startled whine. He grins, pulling your legs forward so you are now perching at the end of the table, so very close to him again.

Then he is taking the hilt of the longer lightsaber from his hip and bringing it to your face.

You curse under your breath as he places the tip of it against your cheek. The thrill of having such a dangerous weapon on your body again surges through you, and you go to grind on to him, his leg, his fingers, anything – you just want to rub down onto something. He smirks callously, his eye line flickering down as you clench on nothing, empty and destitute of satisfaction.

“Patience,” he says, pushing the saber hilt against your lips, his eyes darken as he senses both the lust and fear it stirs inside of you. You take a deep breath through your nose, and then boldly, you look into his eyes and purse your lips, kissing the hilt of his weapon.

“Brave girl,” he observes, then catches your chin in his free hand. He pulls down on your lower jaw, and you let him open your mouth. He glares at you, and you know what he wants. So you push out your tongue and he places the hilt on to it, holding your face still as he pushes it deeper into your mouth.

You have a sharp, jarring moment of fear-based clarity – where you think, what the kriff are you doing? This is a lightsaber. Not any old metal blade or a karking blaster with the safety on, a saber, which could ignite at any moment and tear your face in half. Again, you consider – that logically, you should be terrified, if you were sensible you would be pulling away and telling this man where he can shove his blasted laser sword. But you don’t. Because in this moment, you aren’t logical or sensible. You don’t want to be. You want to take his weapon in your mouth, you want to let him discipline you for you indiscretions, to spit and smack and hurt you. Maker, why does this feel so good? It does not seem to make any sense, how absolutely depraved you are feeling, how much you yearn for his dominance. But it doesn’t have to make sense. Because the newness of such a craving is exciting, this brazen dalliance is so dreamlike. You know more than anything that you want this, that you want it to be this way. And you know that you will do anything for him, to please and pleasure him, to gain his permission for your orgasm.

“There she is,” he purrs, watching your face relax around the blade’s hilt as you fully give in to his control, submitting fully to his will. “There’s my obedient little slut.” He chuckles, a powerful and cold sound – “Oh, I knew you had it in you.”

He pulls the saber out of your mouth quickly, and it makes you jump. He hushes you and cups your cheek in his palm, then plants a gentle kiss on your lips. “Good girl,” he praises you. You whimper into his mouth, your cunt now blazing for the return of his touch, of any touch – and so you automatically go to move your hands so that you can play with yourself. He catches your wrist with a tut. “Oh, I am not done yet,” he warns.

He steps back and places the both of his weapons to the side. Then he pulls away the material that covers his upper legs. You blink rapidly as you take in the sight of his cybernetics, not only at how impressive they are – but in awe at the fact that he has a cybernetic cock. Your mouth waters in pleasant surprise. You did not expect this, you did not know such a thing existed. “Kriff,” you mutter, running your eyes over the hard length of him – solid and thick, the colour as dark as the black ink of his tattoos, and though you recognise that it is synth-skin that coats the outer layer of it, you do not know synthetics of this kind well enough to say with certainty how he will feel inside of you.

Making you all the more exhilarated to find out.

“So vulgar,” he scolds you, and swiftly his hands are on you, pulling you down to the ground by the back of your neck, and pushing you on to your knees before him. “Now,” he says, grabbing the back of your hair with a strong fist, “shall we put that filthy mouth of yours to good use?” You are already salivating, so ready to take him in your mouth, to taste him. He tugs on your hair to make your eyes meet his, and his expression is expectant.

“When I ask you a question,” he growls, “you answer me.”

“Yes,” you reply. “Yes, Lord Maul.”

“Better,” he says. “So?”

You nod, “yes, please, let me – ”

He cuts you off. “Open.”

You obey him. Then he slides his pointer and middle finger into your mouth, still so slick with your own wetness. You suck him in further, and with a groan he pushes deeper, teasing your throat, your tongue brazenly lapping at the taste of yourself on his fingers. You close your eyes and moan as he reaches further in, and his knuckles knock into your teeth. He hums a moan, then he is pulling out quickly with a wet popping noise. He curses in language you cannot quite place, but the sound is rich and laced with a sensual hunger.

“I cannot resist you anymore,” he confesses. You suck in a greedy breath, your eyes fluttering open, looking forward to the length of his cock. “Look up, look at me,” he commands, “let me see those eyes.”

You do as he says, and though you cannot see him do it, you know that he takes his cock in his hand. “Put your hands on my legs,” he says. You rest them just above his metal knees, on the synth-skin of his thighs. “They stay there,” he says. “If you want me to stop, you tap me. Twice. Do it now.” You do. “I can feel that. If you do that I will stop. Do you understand?”

You nod, and a moaning hum slips from your lips in anticipation of what is to come.

“Good girl. Now open your mouth for me.”

You obey. “Do not dare be careless,” he warns, “I can feel everything.” Then he brings the tip of his cock to your lips, and pushes inside. You lick at his shaft, working on getting him wet, tasting the hardness of him. He tastes and feels like real skin, though his cock is really firm, harder than an organic one – but he is not as tough as durasteel or metal. As you work on taking him further into your mouth, you moan around his cock, imagining the feel of him deep inside of your cunt, dreaming about how hot and full you would feel. Will feel – with any luck, soon. Both of his hands are in your hair now, and he tugs you forward, encouraging himself deeper.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “you are already doing so well.”

Your nipples keen into hard buds at his praise, your aching cunt clenching on to nothing. You want to touch yourself – you even think about it. But you do not dare move your hands, you no longer want to disobey him. You want to please him, this cold, dangerous stranger, you want to prove yourself to him. And more selfishly, you cannot possibly risk depriving yourself of the bliss that you will earn once you have followed his instructions. You focus on breathing through your nose, and you squeeze on his legs as he begins a steady thrust in and out of your mouth. He moves faster, and you begin to choke, making raspy, wet and ragged noises. He pulls out with a loud groan, and you gasp, a thread of spittle still connecting you to his shaft.

“Good,” he groans, letting you get your breath back. “Now deeper.”

And then he shoves himself back inside. You work on swallowing him down, switching between holding your breath and breathing through your nose, trying to determine what works best. Once you get the hang of it, he holds on to your head tightly, then buries his cock deep in your throat. Then he pulls back, and you gasp, steadying your breathing. He does this several times, a chaotic, hard set of thrusts – then holds himself in as deep as you can take him, then he releases you, and you gasp for air, your eyes streaming and lips dribbling with your own spit.

“You messy little whore,” he mutters, running a finger down your cheek, now stained with tears. You heave in deep breaths, looking up at him. You feel a deep resentment for him, still holding a grudge for his rudeness and his entitlement – but at the same time, those same qualities make you feel so hot, so attracted to him. They make you want to please him, and as you look up at him with wide, wet eyes, you are find you are hoping for some kind of praise. He obliges. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you, “you look prettier than ever.” You smile and squeeze his legs.

“Again,” he says. You take him back in your mouth. On instinct and without really noticing, you slide one of your hands down his leg, your cunt desperate for your own fingers. He notices though, of course – and loosens a hand from your hair to catch your wrist and put your hand back.

“No,” he insists. “You want to touch yourself so badly? Then you need to earn it,” he says. “Prove you deserve it.”

So you do. You begin to bob your head, working the length of him in and out of your mouth. “Try harder. Lean on me,” he says. You do so, putting your weight forward against him via your hands as you desperately work your mouth over his length, focusing only on pushing him deep into your throat and out again, over and over, breathing sporadically through your nose, choking on him and your own saliva, making a complete and utter mess of yourself. You have no idea how long you are on your knees for him, but you enjoy every second. You love being told what to do, you find great satisfaction in making him moan, and the longer you take his cock in this way, the better you get at it. His growls and groans of pleasure are each more guttural than the last. You are so lost in the moment that you do not realise he has had his fill of your mouth until you are being lifted from the ground.

“Up,” he says, taking your elbow in his hand and heaving you to your feet. You settle on unsteady legs, weak from being down on the floor for so long, and from the intensity of your carnal appetite – Maker, your cunt is absolutely dripping. You cannot remember a time ever being so wet.

He snakes a hand through your hair, clearing your face and taking the opportunity to look at you. He growls softly, “pretty, filthy girl. I am going to ravish you,” he promises. Before you get a chance to respond, he lifts you back on to the table, and with a grin pushes you down into it with his sorcery – though he does not hold you down once you are there.

He drops to his knees before you - and positions himself so that the only part of you he can see is your sodden cunt. You lean up to watch him, and his hands grasp on tightly to your hips. He pulls you forward, your legs over his shoulders, and your weight onto him – then buries his face between your thighs.

It is instantly the most incredible, dizzying pleasure you have ever experienced. He laps at your clitoris with excessive devotion, and the determined swirl of his tongue is pure bliss – it sends sweet surges of hot satisfaction through your body, and oh Maker, he is relentless – he doesn’t stop, he hardly breathes, he just focuses entirely on your pleasure, on the wet, sultry deliciousness of your sex. It is so euphoric that you begin to believe you have fallen into an entirely different state of being.

His strong voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you want to come?” he asks into your slickness, his hot breath as gorgeous a feeling as the caress of his tongue. “Would you like that?”

You reply with a string of pathetic whines, crying out “yes, yes, yes” over and over again. He chuckles, a deep booming laugh of pity that vibrates into your lower half. “Then come, you beautiful girl,” he says, “I want you to come.”

Then his tongue is back on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you fast and hard, both hitting those wonderful parts of you exactly where you need them to – and it is so incredibly perfect. You squeeze your thighs around his head, and the horns at his temples dig into your soft flesh. You throw yourself back to the worktable with abandon, your hands grasp at your own breasts, your lips release frenzied moans. And then you are coming – a scorching orgasm, profound and consuming, it washes across the entirety of your body. Your cunt clenches on to his thrusting fingers, and he doesn’t stop his movements, not one bit. He keeps pumping and licking, working you with the utmost dedication, dragging out your peak as long as he can. Your legs begin to shake, and when your climax finally abates and your muscles relax – your mind is scattered and clouded in an orgasm-stricken haze.

You moan in contentment, unable to speak. He hums into your cunt, teasing and smug. “Are you quite ready for me?” He asks, “are you ready to take my cock now? Do you think that you deserve it?” He plants a final, gentle kiss on your slit as he pulls back and stands up.

You cannot seem to form what you want to say, still so speechless from your peak. You can only bring yourself to spread your thighs in response, opening yourself up to him and hoping he understands. “Mmm,” he moans. “I do like to see you in this way. But use your words,” he demands. “Tell me what I know you want.”

“P-please,” you whine, and he looms over you, settling himself between your legs which are opened up so wide for him. He stares down at your cunt, so perfectly soaked and stretched, just begging to be used by him. His hands run up your body, and then he is leaning over you and his lips are at your neck, his tongue hot and wet lapping at your skin, as if he can encourage the words out of you with his kisses. It works. “Yes,” you whimper, as he drags his teeth down, sharp and wild as he bites at the soft flesh of your breasts. “Yes, please.”

He catches your wrist as he moves back, pulling you to your feet. Then he whirls you around and bends you over the table, crossing your arms behind your back, gripping on to them tightly.

“Take me,” you moan, “take me, please, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, aligning his cock at your entrance. You try and move back into him, but his grasp on you is rock solid. “We have already practiced this, sweet, filthy girl,” he says. “Stay still.”

You stop moving, doing as he says. With a sigh of approval, he uses the cold metal of his lower synthetic leg to spread your thighs open further, and then he pushes his cock into you. He groans as he easily slips inside, your cunt so wet from all of his previous attention. You cry out enthused, whimpering moans as he then begins to move in and out of you, slow at first as you adjust to the length of him. But then he rocks into you hard, and he is soon in to the hilt – and Maker, the feeling of fullness is even better than you first imagined. He thrusts hard, over and over again, smacking the full weight of himself into you with each pound of his cock. One of his hands still holds your wrists tightly behind your back, the other he uses to grab the back of your neck, pushing you down firmly into the table.

He moves so rapidly, his cock drumming into you at a deliciously quick pace, his weight so heavy and severe against your backside. You groan through gritted teeth, and his hand slips to your throat, pulling your head up so that when he leans forwards, his lips are at your ear.

“You can take it,” he says, then slides two fingers into your mouth, and you moan around them as he pounds into you, again and again and again. He eventually lets go of you, throwing you down without concern – and you can tell from that gesture alone that he has been holding back, and that such weakness ends here. He is about to give you his all.

And by the Galaxy, are you ready for it.

He moves his hands to your ass and grips at you hard, his long nails claw at your soft flesh, using you as leverage to truly tame you, using the drumming rhythm of his cock to ride you into total submission. He does not relent, he just keeps going and going. He is merciless as he has his way with you, growling deep, harsh noises as he uses you and your body for his own gratification. It is so intoxicating, and you lie there unmoving, limp and pliant for the taking. He keeps going and going, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, each moan he growls stoking that carnal fire within – until there it is, and another roaring orgasm tears through you, and it is such a thundering ecstasy that you scream his name again and again and again. He praises you with brash and filthy words, telling you how good and tight you are as your walls clamp around him.

You pant, breathing through the frenzy with deep, desperate gasps. He pulls out of you and grabs your body, throwing you to the floor. You laugh as he catches you just before you hit the ground. “My hero,” you say sarcastically. He lowers you down gently on to your back and falls between your legs. “I thought that I actually shut you up,” he says with a smirk. You lean up to catch that smug smile of his in a passionate kiss. He sucks on your tongue, then he sheathes himself back inside of you. You moan into his mouth, and he kisses you over and over again as he restarts that beautiful, hard rhythm.

“Tell me your name,” he groans between kisses, “tell me.” You gasp as he thrusts his cock inside of you deeply, holding your frame tightly in his arms as he does so. You reveal to him your name, pecking the corner of his mouth after you say it. Then he repeats it back to you, and the way he says it – kriff, it is such a gorgeous, addictive sound coming from his lips, such music when it is said in his rich and commanding voice.

“Look at me,” he demands into your lips. You pull away from the kiss to do as he says. “Keep your eyes on my face now. I want you to watch me as I ravish you.”

You lie back and hook your legs around his hips, gazing up at him as he takes you harshly into the ground. His handsome, tattooed face is no longer hard and unmoving like when you first saw him. He is thoroughly enjoying you, his expression softened with pure delight and satisfaction, his bright eyes burning into yours – until he stutters in his movements, until his moans become a decadent mix of curses, until his grasp on you tightens and he shuts his eyes as your heat and your obedience coax him into his own climax.

He groans through it, slowing his movements and breathing heavily, until his hold on you becomes lax and he slowly slumps forward on top of you. You pant beneath him, your heart racing. Maker. That was incredible, of course but – but it was also absolutely the most barvy and unexpected thing you have experienced in a long time. And by the Planets - you are shattered. You are certain now that you will finally be able to get some sleep tonight. You wrap your arms around Maul’s neck, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He hums a “mmm”, softly removing himself from within you and then lying beside you, so that you are both on your backs, looking up at the ceiling. You are both silent for a few moments. You tilt your head towards him to look at him, taking in the sight of his side profile. He is so striking, even when he is at ease like this, when he is calm and truly relaxed. His eyes are closed now, and he is clearly still basking in the euphoria of his own orgasm. You don’t actually know how it works, how his cybernetics allow him to experience such a thing – but it must feel damn good, considering how serene this once terrifying, severe man appears now. His fingers find their way to your hand and he traces small, gentle circles into your palm.  

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“I’ve been better,” you reply.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head towards you with a glare, and you grin.

“Nah, I’m just playing with you,” you say, rolling onto your side. “I feel great.”

He smirks, doing the same, moving to lie on his side. He bends his arm and leans his head on to his hand. “This was unexpected,” he says.

You roll your eyes and shoot him a look. He smirks again, taking a deep breath. “A pleasant surprise, nonetheless.”

You nod in agreement, curling your body into yourself. He runs his free hand up your arm, watching as you smile at his touch. There is a moment of raw fondness between you, and it is strange – but also nice.

“Well…” he says, then his eyes glaze past your face and he stares behind you, and then he squints, that puzzled expression returning. “What?” you say curiously. He smirks, raising his hand from your arm, up into the air. A piece of metal shoots past your head and into his hand. “That’s just what I was looking for.”

You stutter, “you bastard, that almost hit me!”

He rolls his eyes and then sits up, groaning as he eventually stands. You stay on the floor, trying to summon the energy to crawl over to your sleep mat.

“You’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say.

He slowly turns his head, raking his eyes over you and flashes an amused smile.

Then you understand how that sounded. “No not for that, no the – ” you groan. “For the part, laser-brains.” You sit up and reference the multitude of broken scrap around you. “And for all of this mess too, actually.”

He dresses himself, grabbing his weapons with a self-satisfied expression as he hooks them to his hips.

“I’m good for it,” he says.

“Yeah, sure, I’ve heard that before.”

“I’ll wire it over,” he mutters, “where is your – ”

“Fine,” you point to the other side of the room, where your datapad is. “You better.”

“What?” He says, picking it up and tapping at the thing – presumably, hopefully actually sorting the payment. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You are so lucky you’re a looker,” you say, rolling over, heaving yourself on to your sleep mat, and pulling your blanket over you to cover your nakedness. He throws the datapad down, then picks up his robe from the floor.

“Hey – I didn’t tell you how much you owe me!”

“It’s covered,” he says.  

“Good,” you laugh, “Now get out of here. You rudely broke in here, and now I’m rudely kicking you out. I need to sleep, even more so now that I have to deal with the ruckus you’ve caused in here tomorrow. And I know that you don't have time for this. You are clearly a very busy man, you've got some crimes to commit I’m sure.”

“Something like that,” he says.

“Who told you to come here anyway?” You ask, “you said someone told you this was the place to come get your parts?”

“Some Rodian in the tavern down there,” he replies indifferently, pointing in the direction he means, then pulling on his robe.

Ah. So maybe she was your friend after all. Or maybe she just felt bad for swindling you for the box of trash. Or maybe she really hated you and sent a murderous wizard your way, hoping for your demise. Either way, you were mighty grateful she did send him on his way to you. You just had the best sex of your life, and now you were about to finally get some decent shut eye. Maybe you’d even buy her a drink.

Maybe. Depends on what you can sell those damn parts for.

“By the way,” you say before he leaves, “I’m sorry for shooting at you.” Then you blow him a kiss in an exaggerated gesture. “I’m sure glad I missed.”

He scowls, then takes one last look at you, orgasm-dazed and relaxed on your sleep mat – and he smirks.

“Mmmm,” he says. “Also, I did not break in, as you put it so many times. I walked in. You left the door unlocked.”

“Awh, hell,” you say. “Get that for me on the way out, will you?”

“As long as you leave it open next Primeday,” he shoots you that sultry glare that you have grown to like so much.

You huff a laugh. “If I don’t, be sure to break in anyway.”

Then he disappears into the shadows, and when you hear the click of the door’s lock, you close your eyes. Karkin’ wizard, you think, finally exhausted enough to fall asleep.

The usual racket of Level 1313 does not wake you for the rest of the night and into the late morning, not even once.  

--

my ao3 / my masterlist

tagging: @corona-one​ @seriowan​ @kimageddon​ @gggoldfinch​ @elledjarin​ @lifeless-being​ @the-good-shittt​

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Sticky Notes - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

It all started on the set of Ragnarok. They hadn’t even started filming yet. Table reads, choreography, costume fittings, set development…The cast, crew, and even Taika started finding little notes.

Some were specifically to certain people…

“Your laugh is contagious. Thank you for making this set so down to earth and inviting.” You slipped that into Taika’s (the director’s) fanny pack when he left it on his director’s chair.

“I know how hard you’ve been working on your fight choreography, and I just wanted to let you know you absolutely killed it today!” You left that stuck to Tessa’s (Valkyrie’s) water bottle.  

Some you posted for everyone, like “I know that you all put such amazing effort and time into bringing this movie to life and I just want you all to know that it doesn’t go unnoticed.” That note was posted above a table full of ‘easy to grab’ snacks you laid out such as protein bars, fruit snacks, pretzels, and dried fruit.

This continued well into filming. Everyone had tried to figure out who was leaving these little daily encouragements. It got to the point that Taika started calling you Casper, as in “Casper the Friendly Ghost.” Every day at the start of filming he would say. “Come on guys. Let’s make Casper proud.”

Everyone had a theory. Most thought that it was actually Taika just trying to keep morale up. Taika accused Tom but took it back after some comment about the notes not sounding very British.

Your job on set was to cast extras. While you were present daily, you honestly only had to meet with Taika once or twice a day to make sure the next day’s cast extras were ready. You two fell into an easy rhythm working together and he started asking for your opinion on some other aspects of the set. One late afternoon, after an incredibly chaotic day of filming, Taika decided that he was going to scrap the entire scene and start it over.

He pulled out his phone and sent a text to you, Tom, and Chris. “Today can suck it. I’ve just watched the dailies, and something just isn’t right about that scene. Meet at mine in 30 so we can get ahead of it.” A few seconds later he added, “And for the love of God, someone bring some tequila.”

You laughed at his text, jogging to the trailer you shared with the other casting director. You changed into a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt and grabbed your keys and wallet. You jumped in your car so you could make a quick trip to the Starbucks down the street since it appeared it was going to be a long night.

“One Venti iced coffee with milk and 1 sugar, one Grande Americano hot with cream and 2 sugars, one Venti hot latte with vanilla, and one Venti hot water with two earl gray tea bags and four sugars on the side. Can I also get one of the small kid’s milk boxes?” You heard the barista repeat your order back and pulled forward and paid.

When you got to Taika’s trailer, Tom and Chris were already there.

“Oh, bless you” Taika thanked you, taking the Latte from you.

“You’re the best” Chris said, taking the lid off of the Americano so it would cool off a bit.  

“Tom, I grabbed you tea.” You handed him the hot water and two tea bags, setting the sugars and milk next to him so he could make it to his liking.

“You’re too kind” Tom graciously took the hot water from you, noting that you grabbed his favorite kind of tea.

In Taika’s trailer there was a table with a bench on each side. Chris and Tom were sat on one side, leaving a space for you to sit next to Taika.

“Anyone grab the tequila?” you laughed, dropping your keys and wallet on Taika’s counter and sitting at the table with your iced coffee.

Taika grabbed the bottle and sat it down in front of you. “You’re already two swigs behind, love.”

“Bullshit” you laughed. “Prove it. Where are the shot glasses?”

“I said swigs, not shots” Taika smirked. “We don’t have shot glasses.”

“Look at how much is missing from that bottle. I just bought it.” Hemsworth backed Taika up.

You looked at Tom, knowing he would be honest with you.

“Hey, you trust Tom more than me?” Taika pretended to be offended.

“Tom always looks out for everybody. I don’t think he’d let me get two shots drunker than you fools.” You teased Taika, poking his side and sticking your tongue out at him.

“Watch” Taika said, putting his arm around your shoulders and looking towards Tom. “How many swigs did we all take?”

Tom laughed, “I’m sorry darling, but he’s telling you the truth.”  

“Fine, fine.” You opened the bottle and took three swigs, handing it to Taika. “Catch up, then.”

Tom started thinking about the compliment you had given him as he took his third swig of Tequila. He felt flattered that you felt that way, but it also reminded him of one of the notes he had found stuck to his trailer door.

“Okay, we need to re-block this whole scene. It just did not translate from script to screen…” The four of you worked on a few line changes and mapped out a better way to execute the scene for over two hours.

There was a bit of dialogue that Taika felt was getting lost that he really just didn’t want to let go of. “We may just have to mess with this tomorrow while we’re filming.”

“Or you could have Loki say it instead of Thor.” You suggested.

“Could do.” You could tell that Taika was thinking it over.

“Here you have Thor immediately going into another hard-hitting line” you explained. “If that line comes from Loki, it makes it less likely to get lost.”

“I think that will fix this problem too” Chris started underlining other parts of the dialogue.

“What do you think?” Taika looked at Tom.

“I mean, I personally think Loki has already evolved enough at that point in the script that it suits him quite nicely.” Tom explained in a way only Tom can explain.

“I agree” you said. “You guys make Loki grow quite a bit in this film and as usual, Tom is hitting it out of the park. I’m 100% confident he will have conveyed that message to the audience by this point.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Again, Tom was flattered. However, he was growing more and more suspicious that you were Casper.

“Always” you replied, smiling at Tom as you finished your coffee.

“Let me type this up and we can table read it.” Taika grabbed the papers and went to the other side of the trailer where his computer was set up.

“While you do that, I’m going to steal your restroom for a moment.” Chris stood, throwing his empty coffee cup away and closing the bathroom door. Chris joined Taika a moment later.

“Y/n?” Tom said, kind of quietly.

“What’s up?” Your elbows were resting on the table with your chin sat on your hands.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone. He didn’t want the notes to stop, but he had to know.

Tom looked a bit serious, but you didn’t know why. “Of course.”

“Are you…” He stopped, reaching his hand into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Is this you?”

Your eyes went wide as Tom pulled a small stack of pink sticky notes out of his wallet, laying them down next to each other. There must have been 10 of them in total. You were touched that he actually kept them. Sometimes you felt silly leaving them for people not knowing if they appreciated them. You tried to play it off, laughing. “I thought those were from Taika?”

He pointed at one of them, reading it quietly. “I tried the tea you always drink. I don’t think it could ever replace my love of coffee, but I wanted you to know it pairs well with a good book.” He pointed to another note. “I know you paid for everyone to Uber home after our last night out. I just wanted to tell you I appreciate you. Thank you for always looking out for us.” You could feel his eyes on you as he moved his hand to a third note. “I envy your ability to capture a room. You’ve got an amazing knack for making those watching you feel whatever emotion you’re trying to convey.” When Tom’s hand moved to the fourth note, you heard Taika’s printer turn on.

“Put them away” you said, trying to stack them quickly. Chris started walking towards you and you grabbed the small stack you had gathered and put them in your pocket.

Tom put the rest back in his wallet. “What do you think?” he asked Taika about the changes he had made.

“I think tomorrow is going to be a lot fuckin’ better.” He passed the printed copies around after joining the two of you back at the table.

Tom’s line went over great, and the dialogue flowed much more smoothly. All of the other changes made the scene feel more natural. When Taika called it a night, Chris laid down on the couch refusing to go back to his own trailer.

“Can I walk you to yours?” Tom asked as you stepped out of Taika’s trailer.

The two of you walked back to your trailer in comfortable silence, tired and a little drunk. When you got to the door, you turned around and pulled the pink notes out of your pocket.

“Please don’t tell anyone?” You placed the notes in Tom’s hand.

“I didn’t plan on it” he replied, tucking them neatly back into his wallet.

“I feel silly now that someone knows it was me. Why did you keep them?” You had to ask. You assumed, at most, that people read them, smiled, and threw them away.

“Hmm…” Tom laughed humorlessly, his eyes focused on his wallet. “I think you’re doing a lot more than you realize when you leave your ‘silly’ little notes.”

His response caught you off guard. He almost sounded…sad? Serious?

“Y/n, I’ve had to work with actors and crew that have made filming a project miserable. Whether they were rude or critical or just an absolute diva, there is always someone to bring the room down.” He put his wallet away and looked you in the eyes. “I wish you knew how many of us have kept these notes. Taika has them in the glovebox of his car. The catwalk above the set is covered in notes you’ve left the crew. They’re stuck all over the mirrors in the make-up trailer so that the cast sees them first thing in the morning.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

Tom put his hands on each of your arms as if to ensure you were paying attention. “An encouraging word or a genuine compliment can change someone’s entire day, y/n. You have no way of knowing what life has dealt any of these people. They could be depressed or stressed out or wishing they hadn’t woken up that morning…and all of a sudden they receive a tiny bit of kindness from someone and it makes it that much easier to get through another day. Maybe even with a smile on their face.”

Tom wore a soft smile and even though you felt a bit overwhelmed, you couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for telling me that.” You moved towards him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Please don’t forget it.” Tom pulled back a bit and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I hope you get a good night’s sleep.”

“You, too.” You watched Tom walk away before slipping into your shared trailer.

Over the next few weeks, Tom had left you multiple green sticky notes with compliments written on them.

“You looked stunning yesterday”

“Thank you for still being a good listener when I go on rants about things you couldn’t care less about”

“Taika was bragging about you to someone on the phone. I just wanted you to know. I know sometimes you hesitate to suggest your ideas, but you shouldn’t.”

“I appreciate how much time you spend making this a better set to work on.”

“You are an incredible friend.”

You’d find at least one note a day and for every note he left you, you’d leave one for him. The two of you got quite a bit closer after he found out about your secret. You’d spend breaks on set together and often times wound up back in Taika’s trailer with him and Chris. You cuddled and flirted and shared more than a few loving glances, but you never went any further. It felt like it was turning into something more, but Tom was such a gentleman you couldn’t tell.

The note you found this morning, however, completely caught you off guard. The filming was almost done and everyone’s time on set was almost over. You had just sat down next to the director’s chair and opened your laptop. There, stuck to the screen, was a green sticky note. “Darling, would you please be mine?”

You looked up at Tom on stage only to find him already looking at you. He lifted his brow and tilted his head, waiting for your response. You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded ‘yes’.

Taika looked between you, noticing the interaction and intentionally teasing you. “Oi, what’s this then?”

Tom turned, trying to hide his grin by talking to Chris. You closed your laptop to hide the sticky note.

“Nah, I saw you two. Don’t pretend like I’m crazy.” Taika was still looking back and forth between you and Tom.

“Maybe you’re still drunk from last night” you teased, putting your laptop in its bag so you could retrieve the note later.

“Oh, sure.” He dropped it, knowing he’d bring it up tonight when you all gathered in his trailer.

The rest of the filming flew by crazy fast. You and Tom had decided that you would go stay with him in New York until the press junkets and interviews started. When the premier rolled around, you two were already publicly dating so you got to escort him down the red carpet. It had been just over a year since the two of you had started dating.

As the credits for the film started rolling, you felt like you were walking down memory lane. So many people go into making movies of this scale and watching all of the names roll by, one by one, really puts that into perspective. You’d met almost all of these people and worked closely with quite a few of them. As the credits came to an end, you saw that Taika had added an extra credit.

The last few “SPECIAL THANKS” credits were in order as listed…

“The filmmakers acknowledge the assistance of the New Zealand Government’s Screen Production Grant”

“The filmmakers would like to acknowledge the Yugambeh and Bundjalung Peoples of Australia”

“The director would like to thank ‘Casper’, Ragnarok’s own personal friendly ghost”

It had been a year since you’d written one of those notes and it caught you off guard. Tom put his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you.”

You and Tom mingled amongst your friends at the after party. Taika was flying. He was so happy with how it turned out and grateful for such a positive response. Everyone in the cast was telling stories from filming and catching up with their friends. By the time you two got back to your hotel room, you were blissfully tipsy and exhausted. You slipped out of your dress and threw on a baggy t-shirt before washing your face and getting ready for bed. When you left the bathroom, you saw Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas with a soft, warm smile gracing his beautiful face. He was wearing his glasses and his hair was a mess and he could not have been more attractive if he tried.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling you to stand between his legs.

“Pretty good. How about yourself?” you put your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his.

“I think there’s only one thing that could make me happier in this moment.” He answered.

You thought he was being a bit cheeky, so you replied with, “oh, yeah? I wonder what that could be.”

Tom reached behind him on the bed and pulled out a small box with a worn, green sticky note on top of it. He didn’t say anything, letting you read it. It was the same note he had left stuck to your laptop screen. “Darling, would you please be mine?” Only now the word “forever” was written at the bottom.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

[my-tin-can-mans]

She Knows Part 2, (Wolffe x Reader)

OH BOY. First I'm sorry this took me so long I've been busy with college. But! this is the longest fic or anything really I've written so wow. Hopefully you enjoy.

Warnings: angst, mentions of Alcohol, mentions of cheating slight smut (minors do not interact or read).

Note: italics are flashbacks

“So, what do you usually do during leave?” the question threw you a little of guard. You’d been stationed with the 501st for four months now, four months since you’d broke it off with Wolffe after… everything. You had been the head medic in the 104th battalion, but quickly put in a request for a transfer after the humiliation Wolffe had put you through. The only position available was with the 501st, working under their head medic, Kix. It was a demotion sure, but honestly it took a lot of stress of your shoulders and well, anything to get away from the situation you were in.

Working with Kix almost 24/7 forced you two to grow close and form a close relationship. It was more of a brotherly/sisterly love than anything else, though others saw how well you two had worked together and insisted you would make a good couple, you both were comfortable where you were, which you were grateful for, it was nice to have a friend as kind and understanding as Kix.

Tomorrow the whole battalion would be stationed on Coruscant, the general had some jedi duties to attends to and the war was at a standstill for the moment, giving the men time to relax instead of being thrown under another general for a while.

You had been checking bacta supplies when Kix happened to spring this question on you. Freezing your hand in motion as you had begun to type up an order to restock while planet side. You’d never actually had a leave without Wolffe. Most of the time on leave was spent in that dark corner of 79’s, the other half in a hotel bed.

“Mesh’la, come on, up. I promised the men we’d meet them tonight for a round.”

“But I don’t wanna go Wolffe can’t we just stay here? The sheets are so soft and I don’t feel like wearing clothes.” You’d whined.

“I already told them we would be there, now come up before I drag you out of bed.”

“you wouldn’t,” you peeked your head out from under the covers, narrowing you eyes at him, he stood at the foot of the bed, wearing his blacks sans shirt. He himself had just untangled from you and the sheets. How he had the willpower to do so you had no clue. He dawned his famous predatory smirk on his face

“Are you questioning my word Mesh’la, because you know I always keep my word.” He took a step forward, his thighs now touching the mattress.

“of course not Wolffe,” you gave him a sweet smile, “but I bet I could change your mind.”

“oh?” he raised an eyebrow. “do tell.” He placed his hand on either side of your feet, leaning over the bed

“why don’t you come up here and find out.”

With one swift move Wolffe was on top of you now and you brought your hands to his face pulling him in and kissing him, it was rough and passionate, you really didn’t want to leave and you wanted him to know that, hoping he would see how desperate you were and decide to stay. But after a few moments he pulled back, looking down at you with that damn smirk again, “that was quite convincing.”

Before you could retort anything Wolffe had left from his position on top of you, yanking you up to your feet in the process, “but unfortunately like a said before, I am a man of my word and I already gave it to my brothers, sorry mesh’la but you’ll have to show me your negotiating skills another time, I promise ill make up for it.”

“To be honest Kix I’ve never really done much with my leave time, ya know? I just kinda destress and go out every once in a while.”

“Oh? Well do you have any plans for our first night off then? Me and a couple of the boys are gonna be at 79’s if you’d like to join.”

The mention of 79’s made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t been back there since you’d found out about Wolffe. “I don’t know Kix,” you sighed, 79’s was a clone bar, and also a favorite hangout spot for the man you had been trying to forget about.

“oh come on, you think Jesse’s a horrible flirt now, just wait till you see him drunk, you’ll be laughing so hard your stomach will be sore in the morning.”

You snorted a laugh in response, Jesse and you were also pretty close, but he was notorious for always trying out stupid pick-up lines on you, he took every opportunity he could to flirt with you, even when he had gotten injured and you were stitching him up, “you look so pretty when your concentrated.” He had said.

But the issue at hand still itched in the back of your mind, what if Wolffe was there? Going back to your holopad, typing up the order you were previously working on to make yourself seem less concerned about your next question you asked him, “the 104th isn’t on leave right now are they?”

“no I don’t think so, why?” Kix had since turned around focusing on organizing medical supplies to help you order.

“Nothing, just, ya know making sure.” You’d told Kix about what happened between you and Wolffe. Just about every clone knew you two were dating, Wolffe always had to make it known you were his. So Obviously everyone was curious as to what had happened.

He turned and looked at you, realizing what you meant, “Oh Kriff, this is your first leave without him isn’t it?”

You nodded, too afraid, after months of finally getting yourself together you didn’t want to revert back to breaking down again.

“Hey listen, if you don’t want to be there I understand. But maybe it would help ya know? We’ll all be wasted you’ll totally forget about him I promise we’ll have a good time.”

It was very convincing, you’d seen the 501stparty and 79’s before, they went hard, unlike Wolffe who was usually more private and reserved. That didn’t mean you two still didn’t have fun in your own way on leave.

Much to your dismay you’d put on a dress and Wolffe had dragged you to 79’s anyways. The second you’d stepped into the place the music and dark lighting consumed you. It was loud tonight. The 501st was celebrating a successful occupy over a separatist world and you could tell. The blue armor was spread throughout the crowd, some at the bar hitting on the women already occupying it, and some on the dance floor.

You wished Wolffe danced more with you, you loved to dance but he only ever accompanied you once, and that was after a drinking competition with Thorne who was hard to beat. He didn’t even remember it in the morning.

Without a second glance to all the men, Wolffe grabbed your wrist and led you back to the booth he always sat at. Instead of the usual commanders, Sinker and Boost sat there awaiting their commanders arrival after being promised a drink with him. You slid into the booth and Wolffe sat right up against you.

He was broad so he took up most of the space, he always presented himself in such a way that he was always there, chest puffed out, shoulders broadened and head held high. When he got situated he spread his legs, taking up more space and knocked his with yours. The two of you practically sat in each other’s lap with how close you were to each other. he placed his hand on your thigh, resting just below the sundress you and reluctantly put on earlier.

It was a last resort to get him to stay in with you. It was his favorite. The first time he saw you in it he’d practically kneeled before you, although you were sure he was just trying to get a peak underneath.

Four shots were already at the table when you two had arrived and Sinker, who was sitting in front of you, had passed one your way while Wolffe grabbed his own downing it without even flinching.

As the night drove on, the men began to become tipsy and Wolffe’s hand grew higher and higher. It was when Boost was at the climax of telling you a story from before you had signed on with them that Wolffe finally breeched your center, rubbing his index finger over the already wet spot in your panties.

You jumped, not expecting him to be so bold as to touch you in front of his men. You turned to look at him but he was looking straight on at Boost, absolutely engrossed in the story he was telling. Without making eye contact he leaned over, giving you a small peck on your temple, while at the same time, he pushed you underwear over to the side and slipped a finger into you.

His face was flushed, from the alcohol or the devious act he was performing you couldn’t tell. It was probably a mix of both. Wolffe rarely showed PDA in public especially in front of him men. So you were practically in shock with what was happening right now.

You went to grab a sip of your drink while he slowly pumped his finger a few times before deciding to add another. You let out a chocking noise.

“Hey you okay?” Sinker seemed concerned at your reaction.

“Yeah, yeah just fine, drink must’ve gone down the wrong piper there” you tried to play it off.

He bought it just fine, resuming the conversation that had started up after Boost’s story. When you turned to look at Wolffe again he was wearing that shit eating grin he often dawned and maker you wanted to wipe it clean off.

When Sinker and Boost were distracted enough, Wolffe leaned into you, “come on now mesh’la, I did say I'd make it up to you, and as I recall we’ve already proved I’m a man of my words.”

“Well I guess a few drinks wouldn’t hurt.” You thought back to all the times you’d seen blue armor on the dance floor and envied the fact you hadn’t been there as well, “but I better get a couple of dances out of you guys”

Kix chuckled, “I can promise you, if you stop by for long enough those men will be fighting over who gets to dance with you next.”

You bellowed out a laugh at that. The thought of Jesse, tup and the rest fighting over you was quite the scenario. “Just comm me what time you boys are gonna be there at.”

He nodded his head in agreement, both of you chatting lightly about other topics as you finished the order.

****************************************************

The ship had landed a few hours ago, longing for a good night’s sleep you had left the barracks for the stay, packing up your necessities and checking into a hotel a few blocks out of the main traffic for some peace and quiet.

As you were getting ready for your night at 79’s Kix had sent you a comm message, letting you know they were on their way and would be arriving in 10 minutes. All you had left to do was dress yourself. You rummaged through the bag of clothes you had. It wasn’t much, mostly GAR issued scrubs and a few dresses. You heart stopped when you saw the dress though. The one that was always Wolffe’s favorite. You picked it out, holding it up so you could see the whole thing.

Kriff. This dress brought back so many memories. It almost hurt to look at it. if you were being completely honest with yourself though, you did look damn good in it. screw it you thought. Time to make better memories in it.

After you slipped the dress on you hailed an air taxi to 79’s once inside you scanned the bar, looking for the men who were going to take up your evening. You spotted them at the bar ordering drinks and from the looks of it Jesse was already on his shit and flirting with the bartender.

You walked up to them and their heads turned. Jesse let out a whistle, “Damn, look at you! If I didn’t know any better I'd say you were trying to entice me.”

Kix shook his head at that. Putting his face into his palm. Tup who happened to be standing beside Jesse elbowed him to which Jesse frowned at. “Could you not flirt with my favorite medic?” he turned to you, “you look nice by the way, but not in a creepy I want to get with you way like he meant.”

You let out a giggle. You were already having a great time and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes. You took a seat at the bar between Kix and Jesse, Tup to the other side of him.

As the night ticked by you happened to get pretty tipsy, never getting truly drunk for fear you couldn’t make it back to your hotel safely. The men held their alcohol well though and although they were drinking twice as much, they were probably the same level intoxicated as you were. You all stayed at the bar, cracking jokes and telling insane stories, often Jesse would flirt with you or the bartender but it wasn’t too much and you both welcomed the light heartedness attention he gave.

An hour in you heard a voice behind you, “Hope I didn’t miss too much.” You swiveled in the bar seat, turning around to be face to face with the captain of the 501st.

“Captain!” Kix exclaimed, “what took you so long?”

“Sorry boys had a few reports I needed to fill out before the night ended.”

“Well, were glad you here now.” You said.

You got up to give the captain a hug. Something you defiantly wouldn’t do sober, but the alcohol had given you a little confidence. Rex looked surprised by the affection but embraced you anyways. He leaned down and you put your chin over his shoulder patting him on the back staying like that for a second.

It was then that you wished you hadn’t hugged Rex, hadn’t drank as much to give you a confidence boost, and hadn’t stepped a foot in this maker forsaken bar again.

He sat there, in the seat he always sat in when he came here. Only this time he wasn’t with any of his troopers or the other commanders. This time he was with another girl. She was a purple Twi'lek and she was drop dead gorgeous. And the dress she was wearing, or lack thereof because of how tiny it was , made you look like you had just picked yours straight out of the garbage. And you couldn’t help but wonder.

Was that her?

“Kriff Wolffe, what the actual Kriff!” you screamed, you didn’t care about the other guests in the hotel, you were so mad you were practically seeing stars.

“I'm sorry mesh’la I'm sorry I'm so so sorry.”

“No. No! don’t you dare call me that right now. I can’t – I don’t even have words for you right now.”

“please, please let me explain,”

You whipped you head around to him, seeing a whole new layer of red. “Explain? What is there to explain Wolffe. You cheated on me then proceeded to not tell me while apparently everyone else knew and I found out through one of your brothers! Isn’t that enough of an explanation.”

You sat down on the bed, head in hands. He kneeled down in front of your feet. Placing his hands atop of your knees. “I'm sorry.” He whispered. You slapped his hands off you, the thought of him touching you after another woman practically revolted you.

“you already said that.”

“I know, and I mean it I am, it was a mistake, I- if I could take it back I would, Maker I- I hate myself for letting it happen.”

“you should hate yourself.”

“I do, I do. Please, tell me what I can do to make this better.”

For a man who was supposed to be well tactical he kept making all the wrong moves.

“Wolffe there is no making this better. What’s done is done and now it's time to move on.” you finally made your decision, after debating back and forth in the air cab on how to react.

“Yes of course let’s move on, it was in the past but I love you Mesh’la I want you that’s all.”

Kriff that’s not what you meant. “No Wolffe, I mean I’m moving on. from you. I- I can’t continue to be with someone who has done what you’ve done. It's- it's not fair to me.”

By this point tears were strolling down your face. You turned your head to wipe them, not wanting him to see how much he had broke you. “no, no please I- I love you please we can fix this we can work this out please just stay I- I need you.”

“I love you too Wolffe, but there is no fixing this. I loved you so much that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I gave you everything thing, I gave you all of me and you took that and you stomped on it, you might as well of placed my heart in a dumpster and set it on fire.”

He put his head in your lap. A single tear rolling down his face. “please, please don’t go, I'm so sorry.”

“I know Wolffe. But I can’t accept your apology.”

Your head was pounding. He wasn’t supposed to be on Coruscant right now. Kix had said so himself. You pulled back from Rex. He placed his hands on your shoulders his face blocking the view of him. He smiled warmly but his expression quickly changed when he saw yours.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost” he joked.

But you facial expression didn’t lighten, in fact it only got worse. With every waking second, every harsh beat of whatever hit song was playing over the speakers you drew yourself inwards more and more.

“hey hey what wrong?” Kix had left his seat at the bar quickly coming to your side. Him and Rex both dawned a look of concern.

“You said he wouldn’t be here.” You turned to Kix, channeling you emotions onto him.

He looked confused at first, but the realization hit him and he turned his head to look over Rex’s shoulder. Rex followed his line of vision and they both saw him. Sitting there in the booth, while the woman clung to him, practically in his lap.

She was kissing his neck, which honestly surprised you, Wolffe was never one for public displays of affection. Or maybe that was just with you. Because he seemed to be enjoying this.

Rex turned around to face you again, a look of panic and empathy on his face, “Kriff I'm so sorry I- he was on a solo mission with General Koon and they’re stationed here for the night so I told him I’d be here. I'm so sorry, it was an honest mistake.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that from a man in this room.

You felt like the whole room was spinning, be that the alcohol or the nervousness and upset that came with seeing him again you weren’t sure. All the men you had come here with were suddenly surrounding you with sympathetic looks and it felt like someone had placed a spotlight on you and you just wanted it to go away.

This night was meant to help you forget him, be happy and have fun with your new assigned battalion. Kriff was the so much to ask for!

“hey hey come on now,” Jesse finally broke the silence, “forget about him! If I remember correctly I promised you a dance earlier?”

This made you finally break out of your trance. You needed a distraction, and had been waiting for someone to dance with all night.

“actually I would love to Jesse.”

“right this way then”

He held out his hand for you and took you to the dance floor. The song that was playing was loud and upbeat, you and Jesse moved together to the beat, it was fun and you really enjoyed it, when the beat of the song dropped everyone on the dance floor was jumping to it, you and Jesse did the same

When the song stopped, you were practically out of breath, you let out a laugh of relief, actually feeling a little better. You looked up are Jesse and he was smiling at you.

“Feeling better, huh?” he asked.

“A little, thank you.”

A few second later another song had come on. This time it was more slow, the partners on the dance floor started to grab each other.

Jesse grabbed your waist. “Come on huh? let’s give that son of a blaster something to look at, plus this might be the only time I get to be this close to you, despite my attempts” he smirked at you.

You nodded your head, letting out a giggle at his lame excuse to flirt with you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you in closer, your chest practically touching his. And finally you both started to sway to the beat.

A few seconds in Jesse started rubbing his thumbs on your hips, trying to calm your nerves, and it worked. Caught up in the music you started to lightly grind your hips into his, although it was soft guarded by his armor, he still took notice to it. smirking at you and grinding in time with you. His hands started to rise, growing closer and closer to under your breasts, but never reaching, knowing he would be crossing a line, and although Jesse was a flirt, his last intention was to make anyone uncomfortable.

He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breathe on your skin, and his nose rubbing up and down. He placed a soft his on your shoulder and the next thing you knew you were being turned around. His hand were back on your waits, but his cheat was now pressed up against your back. He gave you a harsh grind into your ass and you gasped. His arms now wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly tight into him. His head resumed its spot into your neck.

“is this okay,” he whispered into your ear.

“yeah.” You breathed. He kissed you neck this time. but it was just one short one, it was slow, and hot, you closed your eyes. he placed them all the way up your neck, all the way up to your jaw. All the way close to your mouth, and he whispered again, is this okay.

You nodded your head, eyes still closed and you turned you head towards him a little encouraging him. And his lips met yours.

You hadn’t kissed very many people. Wolffe giving you the majority of your experience. and although they were clones, they felt completely different. When Wolffe used to kiss you he practically stole your breath, he put everything he had into kissing you, and it was almost always hot and it made your insides flip, no matter how many times he kissed you, you always felt dizzy and perfectly happy, like his kissed could cure any problemed you had. To say Jesse was a bad kisser would be a lie, it was a good kiss, but it almost made you feel the opposite, all you could think about was Wolffe.

And when the song ended and you opened your eyes you were facing him again. Him. And he was sitting there with his lounge practically down the woman’s throat. And it hurt, hurt to know that he didn’t even acknowledge you. Hadn’t even cared that the person he once begged to stay with was with someone else now. Even though you weren’t actually. It hurt that he used to kiss you like that and now he was kissing someone else like that.

you weren’t sure if it was the beginning of the next song, or if your head was going fuzzy, but all you could hear was ringing in your ears. Jesse had unwrapped his hands from around you and the moment he did you sprang towards the doors of 79’s.

you heard the faint sounds of Jesse, rex and Kix calling out for you but you couldn’t be bothered to hear what any of them had to say. You left the building and walked a few blocks. Finally coming across an empty alley. You pressed you back against the cool metal of the building you were beside and let out a breathe. The air was cool and crisp against your skin, but it felt good.

After all the time you spent forgetting about him you were practically back at square one. And it pissed you off. How dare he have this effect on you.

You let out a sigh, gathering your emotions. And when you finally felt calm enough you went to comm Kix, letting him know you’d be going back to your hotel for the rest of the night, but you were interrupted.

“Mesh’la.”

ending notes: soooo, im not sure if im gonna do another part on this or not, i have some ideas for other fics but im kinda cramped on time at the moment so we shall see.

Tags

@fandom-garbage @dionysuskid21

[apricotgojo]

hello love! I got bored and thought of this. So it’s the readers bday and they like Adrien. Adrien like the reader and marinette hates that he does. So like reader is planning on throwing a party bc it’s their birthday so marinette decided to throw a party on the same day at the same time. And since reader is kinda new, everyone decided to go to Mari’s party. So that happens, but when Adrien gets to readers party, they’ve done gone batshit crazy, like screaming, crying, smashing things, idk just losing their shit. Not like in anger, they’re just really hurt by it. No hawk moth tho😩 hawkdaddy go on vacay or sum🤺🤺 Mk sorry this is long and it’s late and I’m kiiinndaaa drunk and in da feels anyway bye bye

HELLO ANON! SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT HERE IT IS! I never thought that i would have to write about mean marinette but here i am LMAO. i hope you like it bb <33

Pairing: Adrien Agreste X Reader

Warnings: Swearing. 

Tags: angst, Marinette is a bitch in this oops, alexa play pity party by melaine martinez. 

“Love, Adrien.”

“Wow, that’s really cringey Adrien.”

“Shut up plagg, I need to confess to her some way or another.”

Adrien Agreste is sprawled out on his bed and he just finished writing a birthday card for you. Yes, it was quite cheesy but he decided that today was going to be the day he confesses his feelings towards you. He’s had his eye on you ever since your first day of school and you’ve both gotten closer to each other, flirting constantly but never making a move. Needless to say, he was head over heels for you and was too much of a pussy to ever admit it. But tonight was the night.

You invited him over to your house for your birthday party along with your other classmates and he didn’t even think twice to agree – especially since his dad is at a fashion expo in Spain. All he wanted was for you to have the best birthday party you could possibly have. You really meant a lot to him.

  his thoughts disappear when all of a sudden his phone beeps.

 ‘Y/N’S PARTY WILL BE HELD AT MY PLACE SO WE CAN SURPRISE HER, DON’T MENTION ANYTHING TO HER. 7PM ! DON’T BE LATE! ~Marinette’

  ‘Sorry, can’t come tonight.’ You frowned as you stared at your phone, seeing a text from Marinette. You and her weren’t really that close to be honest but you still wished for her to come and have a good time. You sighed and plopped down on your bed. It’s your sweet 16th and you wanted it to be perfect. You hoped that enough people would show up. It was your first birthday here in Paris and although you haven’t been here for a while, you thought that you already made close connections with your classmates, especially a certain blond.

All you wanted was for him to show up mostly, maybe tonight you could make a move. Maybe tonight you could possibly hold his hand, maybe dance with him, maybe give him a kiss on his soft cheek or a small peck on the lips-

Your face heated up at that thought and a grin appeared on your face. You hugged your pillow and quietly squealed. Tonight was the night and nothing could possibly ruin it.

Or so you hoped.

 Everywhere was decorated with fairy lights, balloons and glitter. Music was already playing and there were drinks and snacks for everyone to enjoy. You were wearing the outfit you’ve been planning for ages and you were sitting down, leg bouncing as you wait for people to arrive.

Did you get the time incorrect? you did mention to everyone that you’re meeting up at 7pm. It was 7:15.

Maybe they were running late? But how could it be that all of them were running late?

You furrow your eyebrows and grab your phone. You go on Instagram to see if anyone posted anything about their whereabouts.

Kim was live.

You click on it and see him walking through a crowd of people.

“Marinette, this party is amazing!” you hear him shout.

“Thanks Kim.” You hear her say.

Your jaw drops Anger starts bubbling inside of you.

Kim turns the phone up and shows Nino on the dj stand. He waves to the camera.

“Adrien! say hi to my live.” Adrien appears next to Kim. He was caught off guard. He smiles sheepishly and waves at the camera awkwardly.

Your phone drops out of your grasp and tears start rolling down your cheeks furiously.

 Adrien was looking everywhere for you. it was already 8pm and he was wondering when you’d show up. He held your gift and note close to his chest, he wanted to personally give them to you.

“H-hey Adrien..” The voice of Marinette makes him turn around to face her.

“Marinette! Where’s the birthday girl?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Marinette stares at him for a moment and nervously chuckles. “oh- well- she uh- she can’t make it!” He shrugs and laughs again. “did you get something to drink? We have pomegranate juice, peach lemonade, spr-“

“what do you mean she can’t make it? Why the hell is the party still going?” Adrien questions, looking around in disbelief.

“Adrien i-“

“Marinette, your plan is totally working, can’t believe everyone fell for- “ Alya stops speaking when she notices that Adrien is in front of her and purses her lips.

Adrien stares at Marinette for a moment, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “On her own birthday? Marinette, this is so not like you.” He was disgusted by her actions.

“Adrien wait!” She calls out. “I can explain.”

“I don’t know why you did this, or what the hell is wrong with you but this was really low. I’m out of here.” He glares at her before walking away from her.

 You were out of control. You cried, you screamed, you threw everything you saw in front of your eyes until you fell on your knees, sobbing.

You couldn’t believe Marinette would do this, you couldn’t believe everyone would do this to you, especially Adrien.

You thought you’ve grown close to the people in your class but you were wrong. They didn’t show up to your birthday party, they lied to you. Your heart was broken.

You held your knees close to your chest as the music lowly played behind you. It was mostly drawn out by your sobs and sniffles.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you look up, with red puffy eyes and see a familiar blond through your blurry vision.

It was Adrien. You look away and sob even harder at the thought of him seeing you like this, with everything destroyed around you. Why did he come here? Did he want to taunt you further?

He kneels down next to you and rubs your shoulder, moving you to his chest and causing you to nuzzle your face there.

“I hate this. I hate today, I hate Marinette.” You mumble. Maybe hate was a strong word, but you didn’t care at that moment.

You look up at him. “Why did you come here Adrien? Do you want to make me feel even more embarrassed than I already am?” You croak out.

He shakes his head. “Please, I swear to you Marinette told me that your birthday party was moved to her place, she told everyone that.” He sighs and shows you his phone so you could see the message Marinette sent him.

“Fucking bitch!” You exclaim and hide your face in your hands again.

“Hey, hey. I got here as soon as I found out she was lying. All I wanted was to celebrate your birthday and make you happy” He says quietly.  “I’m so fucking sorry that this happened.” He says and rests his head against yours in a comforting manner.

You look up at him and wipe your eyes, sniffling. “Well, there’s nothing I can do now. It’s ruined.” You mumble and sigh. “I thought Marinette was my friend you know?” You mutter.

“I know.” Adrien nods and looks down. He stares at the card in his hand and bites his lip, his heart racing at the thought of giving this to you.  “Maybe this will make you feel better.” He says, a small smile twitching on his lips as he hands you the envelope.

You widen your eyes and look up at him as if hesitant to open it. You open it though and you begin to read it.

Ever since the first time I saw you, you absolutely took my breath away. Ever since the day I first saw you, I thought to myself that I have to get to know you better. I did. And that may have been one of the best decisions of my life. You have a beautiful mind, a beautiful soul and a beautiful heart. To be honest, I think I keep falling for you every day. Happy birthday Ma belle, i hope you have the best one yet.

Love, Adrien.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks again, but this time it was because of his sweet words. Your heart finally felt whole.

You look up at him with glistening eyes and give him a wobbly smile.

He smiles sheepishly at you. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asks.

You didn’t even answer, you just leaned in and placed your lips on his.

It was small, but you felt fireworks burst inside of you.

You pull away and watch him flutter his eyes at you, his cheeks glowing red.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask.

He chuckles and kisses you again.

Maybe your birthday wasn’t so bad after all.