#Oh powder my poor girl

[luveline]

that spencer x bombshell one you just posted has me giggling and kicking my feet I think I’m in love with YOU 🫵

Now I’m thinking of spencer x bombshell where the team starts to not view reid as unwillingly tortured by her flirting. Like maybe Morgan makes a comment to reid about something he does and is like “don’t torture the poor girl” and he’s like oh shit I’M the one torturing too now?

im in love with YOU !! for you, ty for requesting ♡ fem

“Difficult,” you say, resting your head on the table. 

“I know.” Spencer wiggles his pen back and forth between two fingers, thinking hard. This case is proving to be indecipherable. None of the details want to add up, and no clear profile geographical or otherwise appears. 

“Useless.” 

“Who, me or you?” 

“Us.” You sigh morosely. “Mostly me.” 

You're not being serious. Spencer huffs a soft laugh and continues to turn the details over in his head. You open your notebook and scratch down a couple of sentences with a pen, a visual thinker. Your mind map turns to a second iteration and then a third. You can't connect the dots because they're too far apart from each other; Spencer can't do it either. Not alone. 

He scoots his chair as close to yours as possible, your knees touching, his elbow in your side. “Can I look?” he asks. 

“Of course you can. Sorry about my handwriting.” 

He shakes his head. Your handwriting is perhaps the only thing about you he wouldn't say was one hundred percent perfect. You can't control it like other things. It is perfect, in a way, because it's yours, but you've been writing quickly and he struggles to make out the occasional letter. 

He leans in toward the page. “What's this word?” he asks. 

You lean in to see it. “Coruscated.” 

“The swimming pool?” he asks, lifting his face to yours. You're closer now, and beautiful like this. He can see the powder under your eyes, the lines in your irises, the slight fading of your lipstick at the corners of your mouth. There's an eyelash on your cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it away. “What's so important about that?” 

“It reminded me of something…” You pause as he touches your face. “Something…” Your voice lilts up in question, half-shudder. 

“Eyelash,” he explains, blowing it off of his finger. 

“Right,” you say, eyes oddly wide and soft at once, your eyebrows lifted at the starts. 

“You okay?” 

“Is she okay? Reid, you're torturing the poor girl. Give her some air,” Morgan says with a chuckle. 

Spencer leans backwards in surprise, no idea what Morgan could possibly mean. Your eyes relax as you regain some personal space, your hands coming together loosely in your lap. You laugh weakly. 

Spencer looks you up and down. He's torturing you? That doesn't make sense. For as long as you've known one another, the team has joked that your flirty ways and feminine wiles are too much for Spencer to handle. You once gave him an apology he didn't want, worried you actually were hurting him by being your playful self, and he'd set that straight immediately. You don't torture him. It's a lot of feelings to be doted on so much by you, and painful isn't one of them. Overwhelming, sometimes, and exciting, sure. 

He never realised he had the power to overwhelm you. Not until that moment. You offer a funny smile far from your usual smirk and try to steamroll Morgan's claim. “Guess I should've made a wish.” 

“What would you wish for?” Spencer asks quietly. 

You still. Morgan shakes his head in disapproval, but he laughs again and stands up. “I think they'd call that a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart,” he says to you. 

You meet Spencer's eye. “I think they would,” you say bashfully. 

For three blissful seconds, Spencer enjoys the reality of having made you flustered. You, gorgeous, confident you, left flushed and a little daunted by his casual actions and simple (maybe slightly flirtatious) questioning. But then he remembers how much he likes you and pushes it away. 

“Sorry,” he says, plastering a smile over uncertain lips, “I didn't mean to do that.” 

“No, it's okay.” 

He turns to your notes, but gives you a look from the side. “I hope you wished for someone to solve the case. We're never getting anywhere like this.” 

“Are you saying you can't?” You rest your chin in your hand. “And here I thought you were more than a pretty face.” 

You have a quick recovery rate, evidently. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[writingsbychlo]

NONSENSE | theodore nott

summary; you got that holiday glee from your true love.

word count; 7946

notes; there is literally no plot here. the whole thing is supposed to just be fluffy cute nonsense. I hope you enjoy it, regardless. the first fic of the christmas 2023 series, based on this song.

The lights splashed off of every surface, the usual green of a Slytherin house party was spotted with a festive red, flashes of gold from the lights that had been slung around the room. The smell of fresh pine and berries was drowned out entirely by the spice of firewhiskey and the sting of glitter-powder from the Weasley twin’s mini-firework poppers hanging in the air. 

The classic setting of the annual Slytherin Christmas party. 

Brushing around your upper thighs was the fluff of your dress, a pleasant warmth racing through your veins as your drink settled into your blood. Your body moved, swaying amongst those on the dance floor as your hands settled on delicate hips, Pansy’s own hands on your waist, you both moving together, her head tossed back. The lyrics to the song were shouted from her mouth into the crowd, not a care in the world as she soaked up the atmosphere.

You giggled, her head snapping back up, and a mischievous smile played on her lips as she pulled you even closer. “What, you don’t like my singing?”

“I love your singing, Pans. It’s truly wonderful.” 

She only scoffed. You’d listened to enough shower concerts and drunken raves as her roommate over the years to know singing was one of the very few talents that Pansy Parkinson did not possess. The smell of her perfume flooded your nostrils, and she spun, dropping to the floor in a dramatic show that earned her a few cheers, including one of your own. 

Jingle bells rang out from somewhere in the crowd, muffled in the noise, Pansy made sure to twerk in time to them, her arse grinding against you as you swayed. When she rose again, her sights were locked on Luna’s across the room, the blushing Ravenclaw was doing her best not to stare, and making a poor job of it at that. 

“Oh, go put the poor girl out of her misery would you, Pansy? It’s obvious she’s into you, stop torturing her!” 

She faked a gasp, spinning to face you, and raising a perfectly manicured brow. “Now, is that any way to go about a game of cat and mouse? No wonder you lost yours so quickly.”

“I didn’t lose! I got my man, thank you very much!”

“Yes, you did.” Frozen hands clutched your waist, pushing Pansy’s hands away, their chill seeping through the material of your dress as the tip of a cold nose brushed along your exposed shoulder. “Hello, amore.”

With a dramatic sigh and a glare at Theo, she sauntered away, onto her next game despite muttering about him ‘ruining the fun’. 

The crowd swallowed her up again, leaving you alone. Leaning back into him, the cold of his clothes made you shudder, even when his arms wrapped around your waist and his lips left open-mouthed kissing along your exposed skin. 

“You’re cold, Teddy. Where have you been?”

“Out, getting some more booze. Can’t host the best party of all the houses if you’re not a good host, hm?” Finally, you spun in his arms, catching his cold lips in a kiss, and he hummed happily against your mouth as he returned the affections with vigour. His tongue licked across your lower lip, tracing the faint taste of his favourite alcohol there. “That’s the kind of kiss I get when I go out on a beer run?” 

“You’ve been out in the snow, I was just trying to warm you up.” You smirked, his eyes flashing cheekily at the insinuation, his hands slipping a little further around your body to your back, tugging you flush against him.

“Well, I’m still pretty cold. Maybe you should warm the rest of me up, huh?” His body began to shift, moving together with your own as you danced slowly, hips rocking together slowly. He positioned one thigh between your legs, a large hand splaying across your lower back to guide you in the movements. “You know, you look pretty cute in this little get-up you have going on here, Mrs Claus. But,”

You rose a brow, his eyes scanning over the red, strapless dress and trimmed white fur, the thigh-high socks you knew would drive him wild. All donned for the occasion, a cheesy dress for the Christmas pastry before you all went home for the winter break. Leaning in, his lips brush the shell of your ear, voice dropping;

“Penso che le tue calze starebbero meglio sul pavimento della mia camera da letto.”

“Are you teasing me, Teddy? I only understood about half of that.” You murmured, his teeth nibbling lightly on the shell until you gasped, before he pulled back, leaving another kiss on your jaw as he did. 

“I’ll make sure you understand me just fine by the end of the night, don’t you worry.”

Your cheeks flushed, and he noticed, the red only enhanced by the green lights in the room, your bodies moving together as the bass pumped across the stone and marble floors. His once chilled touch now seared into you like flames from a fire. Your foreheads pressed together, breaths shared as the moment was lost on you both, drunk on the feel of his hands on your skin and the smell of him in your nose. 

“Quite the little show you were putting on with Pansy back there.”

“Jealous?” You mused, and his eyes closed, a smile pulling at his lips as he shook his head a little. 

“Not at all, cara mia. Turned on, but not jealous.” He angled his head down a little more, mouth close enough to your own to taste the sugary mint on his every breath, making you want to suck the candy cane flavour from his tongue like a drug. Theo had a unique way of emptying your head of thoughts, of all rationale, of making you feel safe and loved at the same time as putting snowflakes in your stomach, all with a simple touch or look. 

“Good. You’re the only one I want under my mistletoe, Theo.” His hand dipped lower as you kissed the side of his mouth, squeezed your arse as you nipped at his jaw, traced the edge of those thigh-high socks when you rose to your tiptoes to suck on his neck softly. 

“Maybe we should go find some then, sì?” He sounded as breathless as he made you feel, nonsense flirting pouring from both of your mouths as the party roared on around you both like a din in your ears. He was your anchor, drowning everything else out as you retreated to look at him, smoothing a thumb over the mark on his neck that he’d no doubt wear proudly until it faded.

Taking his hand in your own, you lifted your clasped fingers to your lips, kissing across each of his scarred knuckles as you guided him away from the dance floor. His gaze stayed fixed on your motions, lips parting for a short puff of breath before those dark eyes flickered back up to your own. With a cheeky grin, you spun your back to him just as he moved to close the distance, a groan from him vibrating against your back as he all but plastered himself to you once again, his steps matching your own as the two of you shuffled through the room. 

“You drive me crazy, do you know that? Those eyes, that smile… this body in a dress like that.” Your only response was to add a little more of a sway to your hips as you made your way towards the drinks table, taking the long route around and letting him wait. “You’re bad, teasing me like this in front of all these people… naughty girl.”

“Oh, am I?” As you came to a stop, he murmured his response, a kiss to the back of your head and a covert smack to your arse as he leaned over you, swiping for two fresh plastic cups and searching the littered table top for a bottle with something left in. “Does that mean I’m getting coal for Christmas?”

“You’ll be getting something hard, alright.” He whispered, hips bucking into your backside, letting you feel the slight bulge beginning to grow there, and you melted back into him at his touch. His hand slides up from your waist, slides up to your throat, to cup your neck. “Perhaps a new necklace?” He murmurs, squeezing lightly. “Diamonds?”

“You two disgust me, actually.” Mattheo coughed, making you both jump a little as the bubble pops, and Mattheo shakes his head, gagging falsely. He leant across the drinks table, beginning to shake bottles, glass clinking as he drops them when they turn up useless. “Absolute animals, where has all my good whiskey gone?”

“Hello to you too, Matty.” Theo’s hand slid back down to a safer place, resting on your hip as he came to your side instead, letting you tuck under his arm and bury into his warmth and cologne. 

“Hello, lovebirds. Do we have anything to drink?”

“That’s what I have been trying to find out.” Theo mutters, and you shrug. 

“There’s always the mulled wine.”

“Wine is not supposed to be hot, dolcezza.” Your boyfriend’s face screws up, just like it does every time you say something that offends his national pride, and a bubble of laughter erupts from you, only making his expression deepen. He’d looked the same way when you’d mispronounced a dish on the menu of the restaurants he’d taken you to on your first real date, or when you’d brought up the trending ‘lasagne soup’ you’d seen online.

“At this point, I’ll drink anything as long as it gets me fucked up.” Your friend sighs, drawing chuckles from you both as you shuffle from Theo’s arms, and make your way towards the cauldron simmering in the less-crowded back of the room. They follow you slowly, the two boys chatting as you step away from the noise and bustle of the main party, and into the smokey, crowded adjoining den of the common room. Enzo is practically filling a couch of his own as he man-spreads across it, a blunt hanging from two of his fingers as he stares at the game of chess he and Tom have going, only making a move after three more drags from his cig. 

Blaise and Draco sit by the fire, each with a glass of mulled wine and in a heated debate about something you can’t keep up with. Draco’s new car or Blaise’s new favourite holiday destination, perhaps. Maybe, even a way to combine the two. Taking three glasses from the cabinet and crouching before the hearth, several greetings float your way as you pluck up the enchanted ladle that has kept the brew stirring, the smell of orange and cinnamon reaching your nose from within the pot. 

“Not sure why you got three glasses out, darling. I’m not drinking that.” Theo’s nose scrunches adorably as you pout up at him, pouring one steaming serving for Mattheo, first. 

“Oh, please, Teddy. Try it for me?”

“No.”

Your scoff is all you can muster, filling another glass as Mattheo takes his and leaving one empty, returning the spell-bound stirrer to its task. Standing to your height once again, you clutch your drink between your hands, lowing steam from it. “You really hate mulled wine that much?”

“It’s nonsense. Wine isn’t meant to be hot.”

“It’s delicious this way!”

“Most wine is supposed to be cooled, actually.” He continued his argument, one you’d had for all the years of your friendship before ever getting together, and you sip it with amusement as he raves on about taking you for the perfect glass of wine someday.

“Better not kiss me again, then.” You interrupt, and his head snaps to you, several chuckles from the boys who have gathered.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, if you hate mulled wine so much, I mean, because that’s all I’ll be drinking for the rest of the night.” You take another gulp, ignoring the heat of it, just to make your point, and licking stray droplets of the red from your lips, watching him track the movement.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dolcezza. You know that I think wine always tastes its best when I suck it from your tongue.” 

You don’t have a chance to speak again, not before his mouth is crashing down against your own and making you squeak in shock, the cup in your hands jostled enough to send some of the hot liquid spilling across your fingers. When you gasp at the sensation, his tongue plunges into your mouth, licking his way in like he’s memorising you all over again, and making your legs shake at the urgency. He has so many ways of kissing, Theo does. The lazy kisses, the high kisses, the good morning and good night and ‘I need you right now’ kisses. 

This was different. This was ‘I love you’ and ‘shut up’ and passion all rolled into one, his fingertips digging into your body as he clung to you, pulling you so close that the spilt wine was no doubt soaking into his jumper and staining the green cotton. Pressing into him, you tried to return it, free hand slipping up into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as his mouth enveloped your own. 

You almost dropped the glass in your hand, tingles shooting across every nerve you had just at the feeling of being near him. Falling for Theodore Nott had been one of the most intoxicating and reckless things you’d ever done. Everything had been just fine for years of friendship, years of laughter and jokes and hugs that never meant a thing, and then one day, the way you looked at him changed and your life had been flipped upside down. 

If you could go back and change things, you would. You’d make sure to go back and let it happen sooner.

“So?” Your breaths come out in shallow pants as he pulls away to leave delicate kisses across your cheeks, prolonging the moment. “What’s the verdict?”

“On what?” He whispered stupidly, voice devoid of any understanding at all, deep and raspy as he nuzzled his way into your hair. 

“I think we got mulled wine on your jumper.” Your own thoughts were just as hazy, just as blurred, and he backed away just enough to look down at the droplets, the liquid still staining your fingers.

Taking the glass from your hand, he placed it down on the mantlepiece beside the empty one, and brought your fingers to his lips. His eyes never left your own as he kissed and licked the wine away gently, sucking your skin clean and humming as he did, your lips parting but no words making their way out as Theo cleaned you up. 

“Oh…”

“I suppose it doesn’t taste that bad…” Your head shook at his joke, his fingers weaving through your own when he was done. With a snap of his fingers, the enchanted ladle was topping your glass up, and filling his own. “Come on, cara mia, let’s sit down.”

Theo led you to the couch, sinking into the plush leather cushions and pulling you down to join him. Conversation was flowing like rich honey around you both as you settled, leaning into Theo’s side, his hand tucked against your hip, rubbing softly. 

You sipped at your wine, letting the feeling take over, letting yourself drown in the blurry atmosphere of being with your closest friends and the love of your life. Enzo was telling a story between smokes, a story of the Weasley twins’ latest pranks that he’d managed to be witness to, and laughter filled the room just as much as words did, as he recounted the tale. 

Theo raised his glass to his lips again, your attention moving to him instead, his throat bobbing with every swig he took, and when he pulled the glass away, you wiped a stray droplet from his mouth, sucking it from your finger. He pinched your hip in response. 

“What happened to not liking mulled wine?” You teased as he clicked for the enchanted ladle, refilling both of your glasses, and his lips pressed together. 

“I still hate it, but I’ll do anything to make you happy.” Is what he settled on, despite taking an impatient sip while it was too hot and scrunching his face up as his tongue burned. It may be an insult to his ‘perfect wine tastes’, but you knew that deep down, he loved it. 

His hand moved to your thigh, rubbing up and down slowly. You hid your smirk in your drink, watching him grow more and more needy. It wasn’t long before he was lifting your legs up, twisting you to rest them across his lap. Taking pity on him and laying your arm over his shoulder, your hand moved to his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. 

It didn’t satisfy him for long, because only a few minutes into Blaise’s new debate with the boys, he was rubbing your thigh again. You offered a kiss, and another, but when his touches didn’t cease, you took his hand and moved it higher up. Tucking it against your upper thigh, you crossed your legs, trapping it steady between them and leaving a lingering kiss on the edge of his mouth. 

He squeezed your thigh, grateful for the increase in affection, and slumped a little more into the cushions, taking you with him. 

You drained your glass, adding your input to the story, and throwing in commentary as you went, between kisses shared with Theo, to keep him happy. 

That satisfaction didn’t last long, however, when his hand began sliding its way up your thigh further still, inch by inch, and his lips were tracing your neck as he once again lost track of the conversation. 

One drink down, two, halfway through a third glass each was when the lines became blurry enough that you didn’t mind your friends around so much anymore, but you did mind not having Theo’s tongue in your mouth. Clearly, he was just as affected, because as soon as your head twisted and your mouth closed over his, he was groaning happily, a grumble of ‘finally’, and leaning up to return the kiss with just as much vigour. 

Your fingers were tangled in his hair, a slow kiss that was just enough to drive you wild, your crossed legs clenching each time he sucked, each little sound he made, each gasping breath before he was back. His hand, sandwiched between your crossed thighs, was squeezing occasionally, fingers tracing tantalising touches onto your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

“Teddy…” You whispered, pulling back as your swollen lips stung from biting kisses, trailing your mouth over his jaw, peppering him with kisses as he bit back a moan at the feeling. You knew how much he loved it, how much he loved the way you’d lick at the hinge of his jaw, or the stretch as he tipped his head to the side to let you get at his neck. 

Theodore Nott was a man who loved PDA and touches, no doubt about it, and he made you feel loved up enough with a single smile to grant him more than his fair share of affection. 

“I missed you today.”

“You woke up in my arms this morning, dolcezza. We spent half the day together.” He whispered, and you pulled back with a frown, his head lazily tipping back to you and eyes refocusing as you deprived him of attention. “What?”

“Nothin’. I just…” Stroking a finger over his cheek, his head tipped into the touch, and he blinked up at you questioningly, waiting. “You didn’t miss me even a little bit?”

“No,” He murmured, your brows furrowing once again at the definitiveness of it. “Because you’re all I ever think about. I spent every minute getting ready to come back to you, and if that didn’t work, I started looking at your latest pictures. I can’t miss you when I know we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

The fracture in your chest healed up in a second, bursting with heat and love and adoration instead as you pressed your forehead to his own. “Really?”

“Of course, amore. Do you truly not know what you do to me? The effect you have on me?”

“About the same you do to me, I suspect.” Your words were whispered against his puckered lips, and you gave in, another series of tender kisses until he was smiling too wide to continue. 

“And what is it that I do to you? Tell me. I want to hear it all.”

“Oh, please don’t,” Draco whined, your head lifting to find him grimacing at you both as Blaise hid his laughter behind his hand. “I don’t think there’ll be any room left in here if Nott’s ego gets any bigger. If I have to listen to any more ‘I love you more’ ‘no, I love you more’ from you both, I’m going to be sick in the fireplace.”

“Don’t be bitter, Dray,” You teased, twisting to sit properly across Theo’s lap once again, your arm around his shoulders and your fingers in his hair, scratching at the base of his neck so that his eyes fluttered. “Just because you’re single at Christmas doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable, thank you very much. I’m free. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be shackled at the best time of the year.” Your laughter was hidden by Tom’s,  Mattheo’s and Blaise’s, and this only seemed to ignite the blond man more. “All Theodore does is whine and complain about whether he’s bought you enough Christmas presents, and if he picked a romantic enough card. Too stressful, I won’t do it.” 

“Y’know, ‘won’t’ is not the same as ‘can’t’.” Your tutting turned his cheeks red as the other boys all fell over the edge into hysterics. 

“She’s got you there, cousin.” Enzo teased, eyes red-rimmed and face a state of permanent relaxation from how much he’d smoked, but even he was sentient enough to tease Draco.

“I hate you all. I hope all your Christmas presents suck.” He scoffed, sticking his tongue out at you as he walked away, and you pinched Theo’s chin, smacking a dramatic kiss on his cheek;

“I have all I want right here, Draco! But I’m the one that does the sucking, not that you’d know anything about that.”

He flipped you off, Theo’s hand tightening on your leg at the insinuation as Draco left to no doubt go and find one of his usual roster girls to nurse his ego back up to standards. “I’m holding you to that later, mi amore.”

“I should hope so, Teddy.” Uncrossing your legs from your seat across him and placing one wobbly foot on the floor, his hand slipped up from your thigh to you arse, stabilising you with a squeeze as he smirked to himself, watching you adjust the hem of your dress and turn to him. Taking his hand from your butt and weaving your fingers together, you tugged expectantly as he finished off his third glass of mulled wine, and then yours, too. “Dance with me?”

“If I ever say no to that question, I want you to avada me, okay?”

Staggering to his feet as you laughed, he let you tug him toward the centre of the room. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist, and the two of you began to sway out of sync to the music, noses brushing and smiles matching as you revelled in the festive atmosphere. 

“It’s strange,” His words were quiet, and you offered only a questioning hum to his vague statement, stroking the tips of your fingers over the back of his neck soothingly. “Feels like we’ve always been like this. It doesn’t feel as new as it should. It doesn’t feel like we’ve only been together a few months. It feels like we have always been in love, just like this. It’s just… sembra il destino con te.”

You considered his words for a moment, letting them roll around in the blur of your mind. “Fate?” You whispered eventually, and the glow of the smile that broke his face as the few Italian words you’d been picking up on rang clear. 

“Yes, mi amore. Fate. It feels like fate with you.”

“I love you, Theodore Nott.”

“I love you more, (y/n) Nott.” He teased, lips sealing over yours in a promise that one day that name would be true. Your heart skipped a beat, your swaying continuing as you pulled yourself up a little closer, leaning into him for support to continue the kiss. Theo was everything, everything you needed and never knew. “Good thing Draco wasn’t here to hear that.”

“He’ll find this one day.” You stole another kiss, and another as Theo leaned in to meet you halfway, his hand sliding up your arm to clasp with your own. Lifting one hand away from his shoulder, Theo took a real step now, swirling you in a proper dance as he held your joint hands out, and giggles burst free as he began to twirl you around the room. 

Weaving between furniture and friends, Regulus barely had a chance to snatch his legs out of the way from where they rested on the cluttered coffee table before Theo was waltzing you past him, stumbling around the room in a clumsy mess of loving and drunken movements. 

Suddenly, over the top of the music in the room, came the baritone voice of one highly inebriated Blaise Zabini, crooning the lyrics to ‘All I Want For Christmas’. You smiled, joining him with the lyrics, then Mattheo and Theo and Enzo too, as the boys hunted for the tucked-away karaoke microphones that had been hidden in one of the cupboards. 

With no batteries and no purpose, one was thrust into your hand. Just like that, you found yourself dancing the span of the room with all of them, belting the incorrect lyrics to any Christmas song you could think of between laughs and swigs of drinks. 

Mattheo dropped first, out of breath and lay across a whole couch with a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, and a blunt in the other. Theo stood beside him, lifting Mattheo’s limp hand up every so often to steal a drag. 

He occasionally added the words, mostly happy to stand with his arm around your waist as you danced against him, aiming all the particularly romantic lyrics his way with a smile. 

“Well, someone has a little too much holiday cheer, huh?” Pansy emerged again, with suspiciously swollen lips and a dazed-looking Luna on her arm. Though, Luna could also just have eaten a few too many of those brownies she brought too, you think…

“What can I say?” You said through panted breaths, the carol still playing in the background as Blaise and Enzo continued to butcher the Christmas classic without you. “My true love gave it to me. How goes your evening, Pans?”

Her eyes widened for a fraction, before narrowing into a glare at your insinuation, and Luna only giggled. “Our evening has been going quite well, has it not, Pansy?”

“‘Course it has, Loons.” She mumbled, tightening her arm around the smaller girl’s waist, and guiding her towards the couches. When Luna couldn't see, she stuck her tongue out at you, and you pouted to hide your laughter, shoulders shaking in a betrayal.

“Your true love, huh?” Theo questioned from behind, making you jump in shock, and you turned around to swat at his chest. 

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, Nott.”

“Uh-huh.” He shook his head at your antics, leaning in to steal a kiss from your lips before you could swerve away. “I’m getting bored of this party now. How about you come and show me a little more of that true love back at my dorm?”

“Lead the way.”

“So you can stare at my arse the whole time?” He chastised, but took your hand in his own, beginning to lead you both back through the crowds, your departure covert before anyone could make you stay. 

“The quidditch training does you well, what can I say?” Leaning forward to pinch him as he walked, he almost stumbled over a step, reaching behind himself to grab at your wrist, tugging you around to his side as he scowled. His cheeks were red, but there was a grin he was trying to hide, shining his eyes, and it broke free after another second. 

“You’re a menace.”

“You do this to me, what can I do? You drive me crazy, Teddy.”

“Don’t say things like that to me unless you want me to bend you over that drinks table right now.” He muttered, the words tumbling from his lips like he was reading off a shopping list, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest as a shock of heat raced down your spine. “I can’t get you back to my dorm any faster than this, but you’re testing my strength.”

He began to push through the crowds with even more force, no longer polite as he wove but simply pushing his way through any gaps or spaces, dragging you behind him until he was ushering you up the stairs. Through the cold halls, the music dulled and faded to nothing but a distant throb of the bass, and even that was sealed out to nothing as he closed his dorm door, locking it with a spell. 

Pressing him back into the wood, Theo was happy to go with your movements, pliant to your every wish as the bliss of the night continued to blanket you both. Your lips met his, a simple kiss he hardly had a chance to return before you were kissing at his cheek, his jaw, down in a trail along his neck, and over his covered chest. 

Sinking to your knees before him, a shot of cold raced across your skin from the cool stones of the floor. He looked down at you, fingers brushing tangling into your hair, and smirking as he held it out of your way. 

Your fingers began tugging at his belt in return, undoing it and slipping the leather out of the loops, he let out a happy sigh. Slumping further against the wood, you tugged at his jeans, mouthing every inch of exposed skin along his hip bones as they slid down, boxers too, his already hard cock bouncing up to smack across your cheek. 

Hot, wet skin throbbed against your face, and you turned, tongue out and dragging along the length of his dick, before swirling around the tip. He hissed through his teeth, eyes dark and half-lidded as he stared down at you, that serious expression that always made you weak in the knees melting away to something else. 

“Oh, you’re going to let Santa come down your chimney, dolcezza?”

Even in a moment like this, with your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, Theo managed to make a joke, your laughter muffled against him as you pulled back, and his own laugh was cut off by a moan at the feeling. His hips bucked, tip prodding at your lips as you grinned up at him, pinching his thigh for his poor excuse of a joke and terrible timing. Surely, you thought, you should be turned off or angry, something other than complete love filing you as he made jokes right now. Instead, it only made you feel more for him, his goofy nature behind closed doors that only you got to see, his sweet and funny and silly side that was hidden from most of the world. It was all part of what made him.

Somehow, his stupid jokes turned you on even more, a twisting in your stomach like snowflakes in a storm, your thighs clenching together. So, you matched his energy. If sexy Christmas puns were what he wanted, you’d certainly win. 

“Will I get a white Christmas this year?”

Licking the underside of him, from balls to tip, he let out a throaty groan, angling your head with the hand in your hair and sinking himself deep enough to make you gag, never taking his eyes away from your lips. “Oh, we’ll paint it white.”

His gaze stayed glued to your mouth, watching as he set a slow pace, controlling the bobbing of you up and down his cock. Only half in, and he was already beginning to fray at the edges, fixated on watching himself disappear in and out of your mouth. Taking him by surprise, you pushed a little further, all the way until you gagged and more, swallowing as much of him as you could until tears were pricking at your eyes. 

Again and again you let him take over, just to snatch it away when he least expected it, driving him over the edge, until he was muttering curses in Italian and throbbing in your mouth. Again, you took him down, deep until you couldn't breathe for the weight of him in your airways, and he fisted at your hair hard enough to burn.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing and wet as spit gathered at the edges of your mouth, stretched around his considerable girth. Only when your lungs burned for breath did you pull back, gasping and messy as you stared up at him. “Santo fanculo, tesoro. La tua piccola bocca calda sarà la mia morte.”

“Turns me on when you talk dirty to me in Italian, Theo.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, hand cupping your throat, one thumb under your chin to tip your head up, and with a wink, he spat onto your waiting tongue. “Ingoialo, perché qualsiasi altra cosa ti do sta andando in quello stretto poco fica.”

A whimper slipped free, and he tugged you up by the fistful of your hair, uncaring of where your mouth had just been as he smashed his against it, tongue forcing into your mouth and kissing you so hard you could barely stand. Stripping himself the rest of the way, he made quick work of your own clothes, between keeping up with your kisses, and leaving his own collection of marks on your neck, Theo had you both naked and gasping in record time. 

“I love unwrapping my presents,” He whispered into the flesh of your breasts, tugging you down into his lap as he sat, your hips rocking against his wet cock, mixing with your juices as he bumped against your clit with every movement. “Told you those stockings would look better on my floor.”

“God, just kiss me, Theo. Before you make me lose my mind.” Your hands were on his cheeks, tugging his face back up, and he was muttering a spell as your lips met. Using his nose to nudge your attention upwards instead. He took a nipple into his mouth as you leaned back, staring up at the small green plant he had conjured above you both, and giggling through a moan as he scraped his teeth across the bud. “Is that mistletoe?”

“But, of course, mi amore. It was the one thing missing.”

Flicking your gaze over the room, you took in the mess of Christmas decorations the pair of you had put up. You’d taken to decorating his dorm like it was decorating your first house together, celebrating your first Christmas as a couple. 

A small, wonky Christmas tree sat on the dresser, a garland over the window, a wreath on the outside of the door and lights woven onto the headboard of his bed, flashing a myriad of colours on his profile now that only made him more beautiful. 

Smoothing back the hair from his face to see him fully, you pecked his lips, and again, “I love it.”

“Anything to make you happy.” His words were cheesy, but so smoothly spoken in such a deep voice that you shuddered nonetheless, and his eyes sparkled. “What else do you desire, my love? You’re already in my lap, so why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Pausing your rocking, you shuffled back just enough, dragging a nail down his chest and between your bodies, cupping his balls and giving them a squeeze in your palm as his mouth dropped open, and eyes rolled back. “Why, you got a present for me in your sack, huh?”

He was groaning and laughing at the same time, his face buried in your neck as you continued your ministrations, his whole body tight and every muscle locked as you did, until he was shaking, unable to take it any longer. “That’s what you want? It’s all yours. How do you want to take it?”

“Let me go for a ride, be your vixen.”

He bit at the juncture of your neck, before lifting his head, eyes playing out a plan as he looked to you. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about some different uses for these lights… interested?”

“Always.” You breathed, letting him twist you around with ease, until you were on your back amongst the pillows, arms being stretched above your head, and thrill racing through your body like a new high as you felt the wires and lights coil around your wrists. With a test tug, they pinched at your wrists, leaving you strung up to his headboard like nothing more than a decoration yourself, and he whistled at his work as he pulled back to admire you. 

Spreading your legs apart for himself, he settled onto his stomach, and anticipation overtook you in waves. Squirming on the bed before him, Theo chuckled to himself, blowing a stream of cool air onto your clit, making you squeal. “You look better than a whole fuckin’ feast. Look at you…”

He licked a single, firm stripe across your core, lapping up everything that had gathered so far, tongue parting your folds, and prodding at your clit as he did. When your hips bucked up to follow his face, legs crooking and feet planted on the bed, he placed a hand flat across your hips, pinning you down. 

“Be a good girl and have some patience.”

Your whimper spurred him on, back in again and again, until the noises he was dragging from you were closer to cries and sobs. He teased at your entrance, dipping his tongue inside just enough to drive you wild before pulling back and focusing his attention on the needy bud between your legs. Sucking and nipping, he dragged you to the brink, all before pulling back and leaving you hanging, marking your thighs with his bites and bruises. 

Again and again he played, until you were a writhing mess under his hands, tugging at the wires holding you down, desperately rocking against his face as his arms wrapped under your legs. And only then, did he give in. Just like that, every light touch became demanding, every teasing drag became more like a punishment, as Theo took what he really wanted. 

Screams of his name from your lips bouncing off the worlds, your juices a mess on his face as you came, and he wouldn't let up. Pleasure so intense it blinded you, an orgasm tearing through you, your body spasming from the sensations, back arching, and his only response was to slide two fingers into you and abuse your clit as he scissored them.

Sobs became wails, your voice cutting out and catching as you panted for breath you could no longer drag into your lungs, all as he traced filthy words and claims onto your body with his mouth, while pressing to that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

“Oh, Theo— fuck, baby, I can’t—”

“You will.” He murmured, a third finger slipping in, and your body went taut, hips leaving the bed entirely as you seized, a second orgasm tearing through you and juices gushing as he kept his pace, riding you through the high and over the crest of it. He took everything you had to give him, cheeks shining and eyes locked on your movements, you could feel the burn of his stare into your skin, branding you as his as he almost killed you with his mouth. “Una ragazza cosí brava cazzo per me.”

As soon as he pulled away, your thighs snapped shut, your trembling body collapsing against the mattress as you gasped for breath. “H-Holy shit, Teddy.”

“Good?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just had you begging for mercy, is it?” He tutted, pushing your knees apart, the cool air in the room sweeping across your still soaked core as you continued to leak, no doubt dripping onto the expensive silk sheets he owned. “Perhaps you no longer deserve my mercy.”

“Let me at least catch my breath,” You muttered, one of his hands coming to land beside your head as he leaned over you, the other pulling your leg up onto his hips. Brushing his lips across your own lovingly, you smiled, puckering them for a kiss,

“No.”

With that, Theo slammed himself into you, your eyes rolling back as your still fluttering walls were forced to accommodate his length, your core twisting so tight you thought you might come again just like that, feeling him slide deeper and deeper, all the way, until your hips were sat snugly together. Your fingers became fists, jerking at the lights and rattling them on the headboard as your instinct to cling to him, to tear his back apart with your scratches took over. 

Instead you were restrained, all you could do was cling to him with your legs, return his eager kisses as best you could, head spinning, utterly overwhelmed with the feeling of being his. He gave you a chance to adjust, at least, his own face screwed tightly. Shallow pants on his lips as he steadied himself not to burst right away, and you made sure he struggled, clenching around him and rolling your hips into him until he had to hold you down. 

“Stop teasing me,”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your denial was useless, his glare said everything, that he knew you were lying, and he would make you pay for it, too.

“Oh, you’re a vixen, alright. Piccola troia.”

“That’s right,” You whisper onto his lips, “But I’m your little slut.” 

Just like every time you understood his first language, his eyes lit up, sparking with fire and adoration as you claimed him like he’d claimed you, lips searing as you kissed him. His hips began to move, in rhythm with your kisses and picking up speed. 

Every thrust of his hips has the breath knocked from your lungs, stretched out and full of him in the most perfect way. Before you’d been together, your sexual experiences had been limited and disappointing, and your first time with Theo made you realise just how good sex could be. It didn’t matter how or when, whether it was bent over a table in the back of the library with his fingers in your mouth to keep quiet, or in the astronomy tower, high and lazy, it was always so good. 

But this,

This was something else. This was mindblowing, your toes curling as he pounded into you, taking you to new heights of pleasure. His skin was slick, as was your own, sliding together perfectly as you shared breaths, foreheads pressed together, no longer even having the strength to kiss, nothing but the movements of your bodies. 

“You’re so fuckin’ good, tesoro. So perfect for me.” His praise covered you like a blanket, only adding to the way you felt, helping build you higher and higher toward the orgasm that would blow the others out of the water. 

“Oh, Teddy…”

“Yeah, you feel good?” One extra sharp thrust, your nails digging into your palms, and you began to roll your body up desperately into his own, searching for a release that would leave you in bliss for hours to come. “I love to make you feel good, you make me feel so good too.”

“So good, Theo. So big,” Your words were strained, eyes rolling back, and he licked his way across your mouth, a cheap and lousy kiss that barely counted, but it gave you enough of a taste of him to explode, Shaking as you came, your body was out of your control, more and more as your orgasm kept going. 

His pace faltered, the way you screamed his name enough to make anyone feel dizzy, a dazed smile on his face as it reached his ears. One, two, three more thrusts and he was collapsing down onto you, shuddering against your body as he smothered you, moaning your name with hot breaths on the shell of your ear as he came. 

His cock twitched between your walls, filling you up deep inside and making your jaw drop open just at the feel of it. He was still going as he pulled back, pulled out, the last of his load dripping down your folds and into the bed sheets, leaving you shuffling at the feeling, your whole body still reeling in the after-effects. 

He pushed sweaty hair out of his face, staring down at you and admiring the mess he had made you into. 

Your legs were still shaking as he leaned over to untie you, his own fingers a little unsteady and weak as he worked, freeing one wrist and kissing it softly on the red-marked skin. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do without orgasms like that for two whole weeks?” You sighed, and his laughter erupted from him in a burst so hard he almost collapsed down on top of you with the suddenness of it. You could only smile up at him as he stared down at you, hovering over your face and trying to calm his amusement. “What?”

“I was trying to be romantic just now,” He chastised, the blow never hitting, and he worked on freeing your other wrist, and kissing that one too. When you had the use of both arms back, you propped yourself up as best you could, watching as he wandered away to retrieve a cloth. “You could always send me sexy letters in the post about all the things you think about, and I’ll make them all come true when we get back.”

He reappeared in the room, and you raised your brows. “Oh, you want a wish-list of all my sexy, nonsense fantasies, huh?”

“I want literally nothing more than a sex bucket-list with you.” A quick cleaning charm, and a soothing swipe of the cool, damp fabric between your thighs, and then he was crawling back up the bed, collapsing down amongst the blankets to rest his head on your chest as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. His head bounced with your residual giggles, his arms circling your waist as best they could, snuggling into you as you lined the top of his head with kisses. “I love you, cara mia. You’re all that was on my wish-list this year.”

“I love you more, Teddy.” Another kiss, to his forehead as he looked up to you, a devoted smile on his face. “You’re everything I could ever wish for.”

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott/you #slytherin boys #harry potter #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo zurzolo x you #lorenzo zurzolo x reader #lorenzo zurzolo/you #lorenzo zurzolo/reader

[vintagexherry]

Heavy sleeper

Husband!Miguel x Reader

//Fluff, Gabriella is around 5 or 6, reader's gender is unspecified but will be called mama

Usually when Miguel sleeps, he can be disturbed by the slightest of movement.

Once you wanted to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but suddenly a hand stops your movement and you notice Miguel sleepingly grumble that you shouldn't go, after some affirming you will be back you finally get to relieve yourself.

Another time, Miguel was taking a nap on your lap while you read a book, you then heard your phone vibrate on a table nearby, deciding to check you moved to reach for it but before you could touch an inch of your phone, Miguel reach out to your arms and you froze, feeling bad to disturb on his nap you lay your hands ontop of his head to pet his hair, before you know it he goes back to sleep and with that you conclude that he's a light sleeper.

Tonight though was different, tonight he didn't stop your movements or reach out to you when you got out of bed early in the morning, and your happy to finally see Miguel getting his much needed sleep.

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While breakfast was sizzling, you hear tiny footsteps arrive to the kitchen, turning around you see Gabriella rubbing her eyes from sleep.

"hi mama"

You smile at the sight infront of you, her messy bedhair just like her father, you chuckle and said good morning to her telling her breakfast will be ready in a minute.

With that she sleepily nods and asks where her papa is.

"Papa is still sleeping dear" Gabriella nods and heads back to what you assume is her room.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

While you prepare the table while Miguel's coffee brews you notice theres quietness in the air, and for a household with a Gabriella in it, its odd.

Usually she would play around with her dolls narrating scenes and dialogues while she waits for breakfast but right now you don't hear any of it.

After turning off the brewer for awhile you head to her room to check up on her thinking maybe she fell asleep again, she isn't to be found in her room or the bathroom nearby it.

Before you could panic you hear giggling next room, yours and Miguels room to be exact.

Upon entering lo and behold the sight in front of you, you slightly gasp.

Your makeup bag opened and it's contents spilled all over the floor, your lipstick left opened,your blush and brushes mixed with different powders of who knows what.

But thats not what surprised you the most.

Aside from the mess on the floor you focus mostly on the mess on Miguels face.

His lips painted with shades of red that goes over his lips that makes him almost like a knock of version of The Joker. His eyelids dusted with glittery eyeshadow, His luscious eyelashes became extra luscious, his cheeks dusted with so much pink it became one big circle.

And his hand, oh, his poor dangling hand over the bed that became a victim to what Gabriella would call artwork is now painted multiple colors of whatever was available.

Gabriella turned around seemingly hearing your gasp and she tried to stiffle her giggles even more, your surprised Miguel slept thoughtout this whole fiasco.

With what your presented in front of you, you cant help but giggle too. You walk towards Gabriella and victimized Miguel sleeping form.

"Mama mama!" Gabriella excitedly whispered "Papa looks so pretty" Gabriella whispered to you and you can't help giggle at your little girl.

"He is, isn't he my little Picasso" you whispered back as Miguel continues to snore.

You took this chance to take a memor with since it's too good to miss it, So you took out your phone and Gabriella positioned herself in front of her snoring dad and smiled and with that you took multiple pics.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Gsbriella was now downstairs with you helping you finish setting up the table until...

"GABRIELLA AND Y/N O'HARA"

You and Gabriella looked at each other and laughed till your stomach aches and laughed even harder when you hear heavy footsteps arrive in the kitchen

If you were laughing hard you were definitely laughing harder now with what seems to be a dejected Miguel whose angry expression you can't take seriously neither can Gabriella.

"Yo- you-" You can't seem to talk with how much air you laughed out your lungs.

"Papa you look amazing!" Gabriella happily exclaimed and Miguel looked at you for help but you were busy trying to breath air and with that Miguel accepted his fate.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

It was afternoon and Gabriella having his nap, Miguel is at work and you were relaxing on your couch.

"Hey Lyla, don't tell Miguel but can you send this pics to Peter and Jess?"

"And miss this chance to blackmail him with somethin? nah....Anddddd sent!"

"Thank you Lyla" you giggled

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #fluff #spiderman fluff #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel fluff #domestic

[iwanty0uu]

★ THE HICKEY PRANK ★

You scrolled through Tik Tok mindlessly on FaceTime with your best friend Saylem in silence, until she broke it.

 “Nahh what this bitch said she got eczema” she laughed, trying her best to catch her breathe. “Send” you replied smiling, feeling the vibration of your phone in your hand while pressing the message in your inbox. “Get out, how am I making you cry you literally have a hickey on your neck!” The boy with blue sweat pants said, “What do you mean like it’s literally my eczema..” you paused the Tik Tok now screaming and laughing. “NOOO BRO BECAUSE SHE THINK SHE SLICK OH EM GEE THATS A GOOD ONE.” tears now leaking out of your eyes, “wait bitch” you sighed “Imma *gasp* do that to mine and see how he react” The idea made your eyes brighten, “Bitch you smiling like the Grinch right now stop” Saylem said laughing.

 “ Girl I can’t wait, but anyways toodles I have a prank to set up.” “Mwah later boo” she replied hanging up, it was currently 4:56 and your boyfriend came home from work in less than an hour, so you ran to get your vlog camera that sat cutely in it’s red case and began recording. The curls of your lace front bounced while you ran to the kitchen, your orange victoria secret fluffy sweater and shorts set hugged your body, protecting you from the air conditioner. It was hotter than the devil’s ass crack outside, so you knew your boyfriend Eren would be hot and irritated until he took his shower. You pressed record and backed up, “alrighty.. 3..2..1.. HI LAB RATS, welcome back or to my laboratory you already know Y/n the Scientist in this bitch okay so” you interrupted yourself while giggling, covering your hand over your mouth and cackling a bit harder.

 “Ahhhh my bad y’all okay so boom today ima do a prank on my lil boo thang and it’s gonna be this hickey prank, so me and my homegirl Saylem was on the phone and I was telling her.. and then she was tellin me.. hold on lemme remember the conversation.” You paused running to get your phone. “Alright imma show you the tik tok,” laughter escaped at the idea of your boyfriend’s attitude, but you needed to move fast since time did everything but slow down. “Okay im going to be using the Fenty Beauty eyeshadow for a darker effect and then im going to throw on some of this Morphy blush and then put some powder and setting spray because i need this shit to last for real.” You ran to your desk, rummaging through your makeup bag. 

Finally you finished and checked yourself out in your hand mirror, then..the front door unlocked. Eyes widening, you cursed yourself for not setting up the camera, but you had an idea “okay guys” you whispered quickly, Eren called your name, and you heard the confusion in his voice since you weren’t there like usual to greet him. “fuck fuck, imma put yall in my dresser drawer and imma flick the collar of my sweater up, and hide it until he get out the shower, while he in there im gonna set yall up in the kitchen mkay bye.” Basically throwing the camera in the drawer, you did as you said you would and greeted your man at the front door. “Hey baby love!” you chirped as he kissed your cheeks, then forehead, then lips, “whats goin on gorgeous” he smiled, you missed him, and prank aside you did feel a little bad for the headache you were about to bring on his pretty little head. 

His bun was messy, chains hanging low on his white tee, he had on some simple black shorts, and his  white nike socks rested above his black cats. “Boy you smell like outside..awww my poor baby sweating go wash up” you said kissing his lips, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He placed his pouch on the kitchen counter and nodded, making his way to the bathroom and grabbing a towel on the way there, you listened for the bathroom door and when it closed, you grabbed the camera, ran to the kitchen and set it up in between your red blender, red candle, and red toaster. “Camouflage” you whispered. Maybe the matching appliances wasn’t such a bad idea. After about 20 minutes, Eren came out with a towel over his shoulder, in some grey sweatpants. 

“Boy where are your drawls..” you asked looking up from your phone, you nearly forgot you were on camera. His white teeth showed as he smirked, walking closer to you, lifting your chin up to kiss him. “FUCK THE PRANK IS IN EFFECT” your thoughts were so loud, you felt as if he could hear them, and his sudden halt made your heart drop to your ankles. “Y/n L/n I know that this isn’t a hickey. You are on your period, and your head isn’t big enough to suck on your own neck when your fingering yourself.” “NIGGA?” you sucked your teeth at his remark “man move around, and I dont even touch my private areas..” you said getting fake mad. “Girl you think I can’t hear you in the shower.. and fuck you mad for stop playin wit me I know this shit is make u-“ he said trying to wipe the makeup off with his hand. 

His eyebrows furrowed and looked at you, “babe stop it’s hurting I rubbed my neck too hard in the shower with that exfoliating rag i be using with my African black soap, but my skin smooth and you love that shit” you said in an attempt to butter him up. “Girl bye there’s no way that’s from a fuckin rag” he said now getting serious, “the fuck u been doing all day?” he asked, damn your act could have won you a grammy, but pause.. The fuck is his issue for real? “Wait nigga u think im cheating on you?” you asked getting up, moving his hand away from your neck “Yo I never not one time said that you was, but nah for real what you was doing all day that made you get so defensive?” This joke was no longer a lil jokey joke.. he really thought you would cheat on him for real? I mean in his defense that’s the point of the prank but unless he was pranking you on your own prank, there shouldn’t even be a “if” or “but” leaving his mouth.

 “I was waiting on your ass to get home thats what I was doing” you said rolling your eyes, walking closer to the camera to catch his reaction. “ Eren is a smart boy, so he had you fucked up when he was trailing your ass, actually thinking you did sum. “Nah bro don’t play dumb wit me now the fuck was you doin? The mark is fresh , do I play with you like that Y/n?”  you turned to face him and you decided to play along, just for the camera… “So what if I was doing something, whatcha gonna do about it huh?” you asked crossing your arms over your chest. You gave him some of his least favorite sass, the same bratty attitude he always tried to control but to be honest, no amount of sex would let your mouth stop running, so he was always careful when it came to handling you. “Watch where you throwing that damn attitude. I am not a wide receiver so trust and believe I will throw it right back to your ass. 

When you’re speaking to me, lower your tone.” his hands slid into his pockets. His ass is so sassy like this not-so-nigga wanna be a girl so fucking bad. However, the bulge in his sweats caught your attention..”He don’t got a roll of quarters in his pocket, so I don’t know what the fuck is lookin at me through his pants,” you said to yourself. This was when the realization that the video was boutta turn into a movie..ya know..the ones you get viruses from! “Okay Eren Yeager my deepest apologies,” you said smiling, rubbing your hands together like a teacher during a parent conference. Pointing your hand towards the red camera, his head followed,” My baby boo boo bear sweet cheeks vanilla muffin thick dick baby boy it is indeed a prank” you grabbed the camera quickly and ran for your life. 

Eren didn’t lie about being a wide receiver but damn his ass ran fast, your final words to your audience was “HELP!” as you locked yourself into the bathroom, turning the camera off. “Baby I just wanna talk! Open the fuck up.” Eren knocked on the door, then slid his fingers under the bottom trying to get you, “Nah Gang baby not in here” you put on your manly voice trying not to laugh. The door knob stopped jiggling, but you heard a key enter the door knob and you had no choice but to hide in the cupboards under the sink. “Y/nnnnn where are you…” he asked, “Are you..here?” he said opening the shower curtain to reveal nothing, “I know your little gremlin ass can’t fit in the toilet, your forehead make the toilet seat stand up. His ass so fucking annoying.

 “Alright n/n you win..”, but then the doors to the cupboard flew open, and your ass so happened to be dragged out. The camera remained in the bathroom but you two were actually boutta make a film of your own, “you finna handle my ass aren’t you bae” you sighed in defeat, “Mhm” he replied before you could even finish, “You tryna make fake ones Imma give you some that you won’t be able to hide”……

If you didn’t already, click on the fuckin red words neow.

OKAY GUYSSSSSS I hope you guys liked this one!!! This was a request from @katsaresokool and like I fell in love with the concept!! Also I won’t be uploading as much cuz classes start next week, but I’m lurkin and watching. Always. ~ 𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ！

#attack on titan #black reader #black coded reader #fem reader #iwanty0uu #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #aot x y/n #aot eren #eren aot #attack on titan eren #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren headcanons #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot #eren x black fem!reader #eren x you #eren x y/n

[backtothefanfiction]

It’s A Right Of Passage | tasm!peter/dad!peter imagine

Warnings: none, fluffy embarrassing parent stuff

Word Count: under 1k (it’s another quick I’m not counting)

A/N: been itching for a while to contribute to dad Peter content and feel like there is a lot of dealing with young kids stories but not enough about dealing with teenagers. So here is their eldest son Ben bringing a girl home for the first time. (Also the gif really just sparked an idea to raise this even more)

“Peter, what the heck are you wearing?” You hiss at your husband as he enters the kitchen in a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s all a part of the plan.” He says, moving round the back of the kitchen island to place a kiss on your cheek.

The doorbell goes and there’s a thundering of feet racing down the stairs, your son calling out, “she’s here!” and you start to put two and two together.

“No.” You turn to your husband. “No.” But he’s got a devious smirk on his face, his eyebrows raising at you mischievously.

“Oh yeah.” He counters with an exaggerated head nod.

“No, Peter. This is the first time Ben is bringing a girl home. He finally trusts us enough and you’re gonna embarrass the poor boy.”

“Poor boy? I’ll have you know that poor boy was the one who started a prank war with me when he was 9. Do you know how many pairs of underwear I had to throw away because the itching powder just wouldn’t wash out.”

“Uh huh.” You listened as you continued to chop the cucumber and tomatoes for the salad.

“And let’s not forget the time he put eggs in my shoes. Or the time him and his friends tee peed my car. My car babe.”

“Yes I remember.” You reply unenthusiastically to your husbands reasoning. “But Pete,” you say, putting down the knife in your hands and turning to him, “he’s 15 and this is the first girl he’s brought home. You do this and he’ll never forgive you.”

“Of course he will.” He says, already laughing about the thought of the future conversations he’ll have with his son about this. “Come on Babe, it’s a right of passage. I’ve been waiting for this day.” You turn away from him and give him the silent treatment. “You seriously telling me your parents didn’t embarrass you or your brother when you first brought a date home?” You begin to soften as you think back to a memory from your childhood. “Besides, this is still way better than what Uncle Ben did the first time I brought a girl home.”

“Dad? Where’s the TV remote?” Ben’s voice calls from the living room.

You watch as his face lights up. “This is my moment.” He says before swaggering towards the door.

“Just take it easy- and I want to hear the whole story about what your Uncle did to you later!” You call to him. He gives you a knowing nod of agreement before he leaves the room.

“Sooo, who’s ready for lu’au night.” You hear him say as he enters the living room and you can’t help but roll your eyes, already mentally preparing yourself for the damage control you’ll need to do after the poor girls gone home, later.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew!peter parker #peter parker imagine #dad!peter x reader #dad!peter #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #dad Peter imagine #short #one shot #imagine

[cyrusthedragon]

Gentleman

Teen And Up Audience

Let's talk about Simon Riley being a gentleman for you but not the way we usually think about gentlemen.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley / f!Reader

Tags: domestic fluff, no "Ghost", established relationship, married couple, playful bullying, newborn children, Simon Riley being BIG and SOFT (and bullied), husband material

Please, comment if you liked it, it means a lot to me!

Notes:

Reader is from a rich family, but still joined the military

Reader and Simon serve(d) together

Simon Riley without his mask

AO3

Stand up so you can sit down; take off your outer clothes; pull up a chair for you; kiss the back of your hand; do not raise voice at you; if you walk on the sidewalk, then stand by the road; make sure you feel comfortable when you go out; if you bend over to pick up something under the table, then cover the corner of the table with his hand; lay his head on your shoulder just because; make two cups of tea anyway; try to say when he feels uncomfortable (not just swallow it cuz he don't wanna bother you! mister it's-not-that-deep); talk with you when something is wrong; when you look good — say out loud that you look good; ask if you need some help and actually help you, massage your tired feet.

Yeah, he doesn't really know about the etiquette and other stuff, but he knows exactly how to cherish you, trying so hard to give you that normal life he knows you deserve, even though he's so dumb that he didn't really understand you do not need 'normal life', you're as battle-scarred as he is, you just need life with him. Civilian or not, you don't give a damn about it, maybe he didn't know how to use that god-awful melon spoon, but it's okay as long as he is happy, cuz the melon spoon never was so necessary. You just love watching him, so clumsy with small and delicate things, that you can't help but just stay silent and admire how he's trying to deal with that nappy for your tiny little newborn baby daughter, who literally can completely fit in two his palms.

He was big compared to normal guy, was huge compared to you, and now he's damn giant compared to your daughter.

"Fatherhood suits you," you said, looking at him from the threshold, and laughed when he literally shuddered. The man on purpose lowered his guard down, 'cause he felt himself safe with you. Both of you, now.

"The hell are you tolkin' about... Help me instead, I can't understand how this shit works.." grumpy, messy, baby powder on his cheek, brows furrowed. If Johnny saw him right now, he'd definitely shit his pants from how scary Simon looked at that poor nappy, like it, idk, killed his beloved puppy. But as how scary it was for everyone esle, as much it was funny for you; you couldn't resist your laugh coming out, trying to hide your face with your palm, when he looked at you as severely as physically possible.

And blushed.

"Shut up."

You smiled at him widely, coming closer: "I said nothing, baby." but that wasn't true. Technically, that wasn't a lie, too. You said a lot of things, but not with words. "You can't handle one diaper?"

"I didn't say I can't handle it, dammit," he groaned, focussing on swaddling the baby who couldn't stop giggling and twitching from side to side; you rested your elbow on his shoulder, and he theatrically sighed, looking at his daughter: "Rocket fuel in your veins..." and, stooping to kiss her on her belly, added: "Just like your mother."

"I don't get it, are you bullying her?" before he realized it, you pucked girl up. She giggled, sucking on her own petit fingers, moving her legs. "You're bullying my daughter, Simon?"

"Oh goodness, love..." he clicked, you cackled, holding baby closer and moving two steps away from him, "you wanna start a fight now?"

"I don't", but considering how you smiled and looked at your daughter's very pleased reaction, you obviously wanted this: "Do you?"

"I don't," he answered, "but if you're going to continue whatever you're doing, I'm-"

"You what?" and you moved the child in your arms accompanied by her contented laughter, so Simon could see it:

You sly thing.

He can't do with you anything when you're holding the baby.

"What, you swallowed your tongue, darling?" your footsteps were coming closer to the living room, and he followed at your heels, looking almost the same as on the military, about to scold one of his soldiers. "Love..." almost growled, making the baby laugh harder, clapping; the fluff on her head swayed when you moved left and right, skirting the furniture: "Love?" you repeated after him, looking directly into his eyes without a single blink, "Now I'm love?"

"You always were my love..."

"No, five seconds ago you were threatening me!" you smiled, moving your gaze to your daughter. "He was threatening your mama, sunshine, look at him!"

"No-o!" Simon exclaimed, holding out his hands to the little one, "Princess, don't listen to her! She's lying! She was bullying me!"

"Bullying you? How can I bully you? I'm a victim here!"

"You're not!"

"Of course I am, princess saw how you were telling me you're going to do something!-" laughter, quick steps, radio talking in the kitchen, child's giggle, Simon's sighs, and two grown-ass adults argument in which each of you tried to convince a three-month-old child which of you is really a victim.

Was that the life you were expecting from joining the military?

No.

That was the life that Simon Riley gave you without your request. He just was there, silently, very bad at any good feelings, not knowing what exactly to say or how to act in some situations, learning from you by just watching how you talked with everyone, and simply remembering small things. From small things about how to interact with people, who are not broken as fu-. Ahem. To small things about you, and one day he understood — you became his healing pill. Somehow, by doing literally nothing, only existing in the same universe as him, winking to him, talking to him — actually talking, not just having some nonsense chat about the weather or your job, but discussing with him, asking about his opinion, you became a person who was so damn comfortable to him, that he couldn't deny how he's attached to you anymore.

This man appeared in your life like a silent company, then your partner on missions, then your partner for life, then your husband, and then the father of your child.

And now you were testing his limits, 'cause you wanted so.

This girl in your hands — she was the third most precious woman in his life, after his mother and you, and you knew exactly what you were doing by teasing him, not letting him go closer to you, or take her from your hands.

"What? What? Wanna say you're not bullying me? Princess, look-"

"No, princess, don't. Look at your daddy, daddy loves you, daddy would never bully your mommy."

"Liar!"

And then once again: he sighs, you giggle, baby girl made her baby sound, and the three of you were whirled around the house, from room to room, until finally, he cornered you. Literally. You pressed yourself into the corner of the bedroom with your whole body, never stop smiling, but knowing for sure that this man would not leave it so easily. You blinked, he towered over you like a mountain, put his hand on the wall and you automatically bit your lower lip, chuckling: "Are we like... In some kind of third-rate young adult drama?"

"Give her to me. Now."

A hoarse, hot, deep voice sounded right in front of you. His blue eyes into yours, and you had to tilt your head to keep eye contact, but it was completely worth it.

"Or what?" you whispered; the little one's eye's shifted from you to her father, from him to you again, Simon leaned over to you, and before this whole situation started to get too spicy, you quickly gave him the child and came out from under his quite skillful confident kabe-don. Ah, but you remember times when he was too shy to kiss you... "You can have her," you said, looking innocent, watching him trying to handle girl as delicate as possible, hissing at your actions as if scolding because you simply cannot treat such tiny, fragile creatures like that.

You can break her!

He.

Scolding you.

For not being gentle.

He.

Holding her so, so gently, carefully, holding her head straight, because she didn't know how to do it yet, frowning at you, you, an irresponsible woman!

This behemoth of a man with such a little girl in his hands.

"She's already daddy's girl, isn't she?" You murmured. Simon put her on the changing pad, you followed him. "Try again," you said, when he took the open diaper.

He sucked air deep into his lungs and began to swaddle this little giggly monster.

Action after action, extreme care, total concentration, as if he was defusing a bomb, unblinking stare until the last details, and only when girl was laying there, completely swaddled, with a pacifier in her mouth, he exhaled, closing his eyes.

"Holy f-..."

"Good job! It was that hard, baby?" You chuckled, stroking his back, when he turned to you, hugging your waist softly. "No," he whispered, breathing in your scent, mixed with perfume and the smell of a hair conditioner, "I was trying not to hurt her. She's so tiny..."

Oh, that man drove you crazy.

The level of happiness in your blood exceeded all permissible norms, you pressed into him, cheek on his cheek for a second, and kissed his cheekbone, smiling like a fool.

Or it was just him?

Big protective fool, so scared to hurt his little daughter...

You love him like this: in your arms, mumbling about how afraid he is that one day he'll do something to her, due to miscalculated strength. You weren't afraid. You knew he simply won't let it happen.

"You wouldn't." You answered, gently running your fingers through his short blonde hair, "Wanna know why?"

Simon looked into your eyes, moving away a little, so you could see him properly: "Why?"

You smiled: "Because she's our daughter," and before he let himself relax, you added, grinning nastily: "If you'll ever try to hurt her, she'll kick your ass, like it's a fucking football, darling."

Well.

Maybe... Just maybe... Maybe he wasn't a liar...

Maybe you truly enjoyed bullying him, so he can "get angry" and finally shut you up with the most delicious kiss in the world.

Simon's lips pressed to yours, your hands over his hot red cheeks, because someone's still too easy to tease, his hands around your waist, just to be sure you're not going anywhere, your eyes closed so you can remember every moment, every note of his taste. And the softness, but the conference of his movements.

Simon Riley was the best example of the word "self-control".

You never saw an another man with such power over himself that he can hold the most fragile teacup tightly and not break it.

And he was afraid?

He?

Oh, you were planning to live a life beside him and for once and for all make him see how amazing he really was.

Yes, he doesn't have some fancy private university diploma, maybe he's not a philosophy Ph.D., but, god forgive me, was he less incredible because of it? Not even a little.

He doesn't know about a melon spoon, he doesn't really like all these luxurious restaurants, he can tell nothing about Gucci house, then fuck it, fuck it all, fuck the etiquette, fuck high table manners, fuck meticulous elegance, prim ideality — the way Simon kissed you, keep you close, the way he looked at you with his eyes go wild, the way he was sucking your scent, burying his face in your neck, after holding your common child, as if both of you were priceless treasures from the depths of the sea.

Squeezing you, carefully touching her chubby pink cheek with a pad of his finger, and slowly, lightly kissing the back of your hand, pressing her close while rocking.

Yeah, he wasn't a gentleman.

He didn't have a fantastic talent for anything, couldn't distinguish Manet from Monet, and mathematics wasn't one of his strengths.

But he had his stubbornness, willpower, desire, and love for work.

Simon Riley was a hard-worker.

And that's exactly what you love in him.

"We should..." you swallowed, licking your lower lip after that disastrous kiss he gave you, "We should go on a date..."

"Why so?" just his hoarse voice made you snuggle into him, hugging his neck so tightly, as if you wanted to kill him with your own hands — that's how much you loved him. But you did nothing.

Just breathing heavily, feeling him lift you by your hips, seating you on the windowsill in your bedroom. "Because," you murmured, smacking him on the lips, "I want you to eat molecular crap in your only black suit, and grumble that this berry foam is not a real food."

And when you laughed, already hearing his old man's grumbling, his huge hands grabbed your waist again, squeezing tightly, as if purposely ignoring your mouth-watering sides.

You told Simon last morning that even though it's been three months since you gave birth, your pelvis still hurts sometimes —

Oh.

What a gentle man he was...

Haha.

#ghost #ghost cod #ghost mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley is a babygirl #ghost x f!reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x f!reader

[muffinsin]

lycan anon here, back at it again, equally as sleep deprived as last time. got my dani concept on the brain. so sorry for the length 😭

succubus daniela dimitrescu. fits her perfectly. succubus daniela dimitrescu, except with a twist. she’s completely inexperienced. brand new, squeaky clean, virgin succubus (where the hell (lol) do they come from? who knows!) that hasn’t been on a single outing- never seduced and drained a single person of their soul, but despite this is CONVINCED she’s the fucking bee’s knees. woefully overconfident and cocky. it’d fool anyone, she’s that good at acting (deluded herself so far into her belief that it comes off as real as a result) and talking big… up until they actually got in bed with her. she probably doesn’t even know how to kiss properly. poor baby needs to be shown how to do everything, but she is extremely eager to learn. continues with her perfect temptress delusion even as she’s actively not doing something well enough and has to be guided to do it better.

daniela is summoned by a (G!P) human mage. they hadn’t actually meant to summon a succubus- they’d intended to summon something else, something powerful that they planned to bind to them and have do their bidding. fucked something up in the spell, and ended up with her instead. but, hey, they won’t let the use of their difficult to obtain materials used during the ritual go to waste. their new plan is to have some fun. no harm in it, they’d pulled out all the stops to ensure their safety during this as a part of their initial plans involving summoning something much more powerful. they quickly discover daniela’s inexperience, and it’s just the cutest fucking thing ever. experienced themself, they take advantage of the opportunity presented to them to play with her and teach her as much as they can. doting on her and feeding her ego. playing along. and dani is sooo convinced she’s in control, entirely unaware of the human’s safety precautions protecting them from her. convinced she’s going to come out of this encounter with a soul under her belt. tricked into thinking this mage is an amateur. up until it’s revealed they’ve decided to stick to their original plan of binding their summoned creature to them after realising the gold they’ve struck. poor, stupid succubaby is made into a pet, complete with a pretty binding collar. and oh, she’s PISSED. outraged. until she’s dominated and fucked dumb by our mage- who is now fully mask off and taking their rightful place as her master- and happily submits. because we know this girl no matter the universe is a sucker for love and attention, and they’re just sooo handsome and sooo sweet to her… so maybe being a pet isn’t so bad after all.

This is some very delicious soup right there!!😳 Sheesh, this got longer than I expected! Not complaining ;)) let’s get into this! ;)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Daniela gasps in surprise as colours whirl around her and she is lifted off her feet, merely to be appearing someplace completely different. She blinks, attempting to focus her vision again.

She’s standing in the middle of a cycle of burned powder and strange runes, around her she discovers what must be a laboratory. Bottles of alchemy stand on corners and edges, shelves full of books are stacked along the walls. Tables are set up here and there, holding quills and paper full of writing and runes like the ones at her feet.

The temperature in this odd room is warm, pleasantly so. She hears a heartbeat, loud and clear. Excited, or perhaps afraid? She is no stranger to either reactions upon seeing her.

When the auburn haired woman looks up, she finds a human standing against the wall, just behind a desk that holds papers and books full of incantations, as far as she could tell.

Ah, a mage, she realises.

She smirks at the human, then pulls a playful and seductive smile she’s all too familiar with.

You stare right back at her in surprise. You’re no fool and recognize the woman as a succubus immediately. That…wasn’t quite what you were going for.

You mentally face palm yourself. While the woman looks good enough, as it is to be expected of a creature such as the succubus, she is of little use to your plan.

After all, a succubus doesn’t exactly scream “all powerful servant” to you. You almost pity yourself for the countless rare resources wasted on bringing this creature, this woman, here, and setting up this elaborate net of spells and runes as a way to guarantee your safety. All this for a succubus!

You watch her nudge the burnt powder with the tip of her heel. She’s curious, you note. Her golden eyes catch yours when she looks up at you.

Upon confirming it’s safe to leave the summoning cycle, Daniela steps out, a grin flashing and showing off the sharp teeth settled in her mouth. She smiles at you, playful and sweet.

She feels thrilled! Her first hunt, her first victim! A human mage! Sure, she can think of more valuable souls, but she is proud nonetheless. Mother will praise her for this; she is sure! She will be rewarded greatly for taking this defenceless human’s soul! Daniela giggles again, unable to keep her eagerness at bay.

You watch the woman stalk towards you slowly. She’s playful, yet elegant. She’s seductive, you know this. Yet you feel at ease knowing this creature has not true grip or effect on you. You’re safe, so, perhaps, it wouldn’t be wrong to have some fun.

After all, you spent such a long time looking for the materials, ingredients and resources for this summoning ritual. It would be a crime to let it all go to waste.

And, she is really not at all bad looking. You feel your cock twitch under your robes. She’s just your type.

Her auburn hair glows like fire when the reflection of lights and the fireplace flickers on her, her skin pale yet soft looking. Golden eyes capture your gaze. You have never seen any quite like it.

Her face, soft and roundish, is quite sweet. The woman’s dress clings to her tightly, a large V-Cut revealing her cleavage.

Her gloves are slightly bloodied. You can only imagine what poor soul crossed her path before you, their soul taken and body devoured.

You’re curious about this creature. With your soul and mind safe, surely it won’t hurt to play a little. You have been so lost in your work, your cock could do with some stimulation again.

Daniela smirks widely when she reaches you. The little mage hasn’t even moved! She thinks you’re adorable, utterly helpless for her. Now she too understands the thrill of the hunt and the fun of seduction her sisters would always tell her about. She is excited to finally get a taste herself. She knows, she will top any of their performances. She is, after all, twice as seductive and sweet, is she not?

A gloved hand cups your cheek. “Sweet morsel”, she coos. She bites the inside of her cheek, eyes wide.

Your lips fall open.

Now or never, Daniela thinks eagerly.

You hum when lips come crashing against you- clumsily. You don’t think you’ve ever heard of a clumsy succubus.

But that is all she seems like, her lips barely pushing against yours properly. She struggles pushing her tongue inside, and once you feel it in your mouth, it seems she has difficulty knowing how to proceed.

Your eyes open up. Hers are closed, so that she cannot see your confused frown. She pulls away, smirking and cupping your cheek. “Don’t you worry, my love, you will get more”, she promises breathlessly.

Another time she presses her lips against yours. Again, she is unsure about her tongue, it seems.

She isn’t an experienced kisser, you notice very fast. In fact, she isn’t an experienced anything, judged by how she moans eagerly and keeps her hands hovering between you two awkwardly.

This might get be fun to you, you decide. She’s adorable, struggling with the smallest of tasks, a mere kiss.

The little succubus can’t even brush her tongue against yours properly. You fight the urge to chuckle and coo at her. Despite her futile attempts, she is very sure of herself, moaning and smiling against your lips.

You decide to give into her fantasy. This is interesting…

Daniela moans upon feeling you hum against her. Her little pet appears to enjoy her!

You rest your tongue under her clumsy one, allowing her to at last find it and dominate it with hers. Thankfully, the inexperienced redhead seems to be a fast and eager learner.

Next you push against her properly, smudging your lips against hers, opening a little wider against her rather tense ones. She copies you.

You moan when your little succubus finally does it right, cock twitching. She’s simply adorable!

The woman pulls away again, the smallest of blushes on her cheeks.

You resist the urge to take her already. You can tell she’s on guard now. She might be inexperienced and by far too proud of herself for her achievement of making you moan, but is certainly not foolish. You decide to allow the dear creature to cling onto her sweet fantasy and false sense of dominance a little longer.

“Did you like that, little love?”, she coos. She drags her teeth against your skin, as she has done to many before, easily finding the pulse at your neck.

“Yes, give me more, beautiful, please”, you reply, attempting your best at sounding submissive. Daniela smirks against your skin.

You gasp when you feel her at your neck, licking, biting, licking yet again. “Let’s mark you up, my love. You’re all mine now, aren’t you?”

You’re quick to answer, feigning submission as well as the control of your mind. You’re happy to keep your soul, thank you very much, but don’t mind playing along her little delusions. “Yes, all yours forever, my seductress”

Is the little one trying to create a hickey on you? You smile, knowing she can’t see your face with hers hidden at your neck.

This little succubus is becoming more and more fun.

You wonder how much you can teach her. How inexperienced the poor thing truly is. Will she have ever had a cock in her pussy? You doubt it. Your dick twitches as you merely think of fucking a tight virgin pussy.

More thoughts overtake you, of fucking the redhead and cumming inside her over and over, introducing her to your favourite spells and toys and fill all her virgin holes at ones, make her take it all.

You moan loudly at them, and Daniela grins, believing this to be the result of her sloppy work at your neck. She has created bite marks after bite mark on you.

“You fe-eel so gooood”, you moan softly. She blushes, eyes shutting as she feels satisfied. She knew she’d be better than her sisters! Just how fast have you submitted to her will? She’s the best seductress, she knows this!

“Good Girl, my darling”, she coos. You’re caught off guard by this and buck your hips. The succubus giggles.

You wonder whether she even knows the concept of dirty talk, and if so, how so? Possessiveness strikes you for a moment at the thought of somebody else having taught her this. You want this little succubus all to yourself for today.

“Doesn’t that feel nice, my sweet?”, she whispers. You feel her breasts press against you as she leans closer. Her nipples are hard under the dress she wears.

You pay close attention to her words, and smirk as you gasp at her next bite, finding a pattern at last.

My love,

My darling,

My human,

My sweet,

Sweet morsel

It seems, your inexperienced, poor succubus is quite the fool for love and romance. You almost coo at the woman. She’s making it painfully easy for you, yet this foreplay is making your cock ache. You need her to relief you of it soon.

Daniela gasps when she feels your hands on hers, and giggles as you guide them to your breasts, covering them with yours and squeezing. She resists the urge to coo at you, her pet. You’re so desperate for her! It’s adorable!, she thinks

You moan as your breasts are squeezed, her piercing, golden eyes back on you. “Please, my love”, you whimper. Her eyes widen. “You make me feel so good, my darling”

Daniela blushes a little. She can’t believe it! She’s made you fall in love! Of course, this isn’t too much of a surprise to her. You will only be the first of many, in her eyes.

Although she considers asking her mother to grant her you as a pet. After all, you’re her first! She wants to keep you a little longer, even if you are drained of a soul. She’ll make you feel so good!

She licks alongside your neck, humming seductively. She can tell you’re getting closer. Something about your scent is off, though perhaps it’s only the freshness, she thinks. After all, all her previous meat was captured by her sisters and mother, long drained of a soul already.

She moans when she squeezes your breasts and you let out a gasp. “You make me feel so good, Mistress”

Daniela bites her lip, a fang catching onto it. She’s heard her sisters’s pets calling them this before during feeding times. She feels thrilled to finally have a pet of her own!

You grow restless almost. You don’t want to cum in your garments. Certainly not fully dressed!

“Please, take me. Make me yours, my love. Your soft fingers bring me so much pleasure and aching, oh succubus”, you fake-coo. Despite your words being a little false here and there, you do feel pleasure and aching from her. The pleasure she gives you feels good. You occasionally squeeze her fingers and pull them until she treats you right.

The pet names make the poor succubus feel all hot and needy. Daniela gasps at them, eager and thrilled to have someone in such a state. It’s her right, too!

She can’t wait to push you down and make you eat her core!

You almost huff. It seems your little virgin needs a little more of a hint.

“You’re so beautiful”

“Breathtaking”

“My love”

Each soft spoken phrase is accompanied by moans and whimpers, gasps or groans, and does an excellent job of keeping the woman on her high horse of delusion as you move her hands.

Daniela, on her part, doesn’t even notice it was you that guided her hands. All she realises is your torn open blouse and her hand at the collar. Yes, undressing, of course!

You moan when the redhead at last catches on, dragging your top and bra first, blushing adorably at your bare chest despite her futile attempt of covering it up with a smirk.

“Please, I need you so bad. Please”, you gasp. You feel so close. It’s ridiculous how badly this little succubus turns you on even as she is completely powerless and oblivious.

You’ve long decided you’re keeping this one. While not a companion in the normal sense, not nearly powerful enough to defeat your enemies for you, you know she will make a perfect pet for you. Your own, personal cumdump and toy. You can’t wait to explore the virgin’s sensitive spots and weaknesses, to stretch her with your cock.

Your eyes widen and for a moment you’re scared your protection charm has worn off, just as she drops her garments to the floor.

She is, to her credit, not bad at stripping at all. With slow and sensual movements that seem completely natural to her, she has your eyes hooked on her yet again as she drops the gloves first. Next up her dress follows, pooling on the ground.

Your mouth waters. Your aching cock twitches again when large, soft breasts are revealed to you.

She’s adorable and sexy.

The only thing still covering her are thin, black lace panties.

You groan, blushing when she drops to her knees in front of you.

Daniela eagerly pulls down the rest of your garments, and yet her beautiful, golden eyes widen when she discovers the hard cock between your legs. You nearly laugh, yet cover it up with a cough and moan.

The little virgin is completely caught off guard and it’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

Still, true to her false delusions, Daniela merely smirks and pulls down your underwear, moving her head back when the large cock nearly slaps against her cheek.

This isn’t a problem, she can bring you pleasure! She’s read plenty of books, and even so, you’re utterly hers. She can do whatever she desires…

You groan, hands gripping the table edge and eyes closing shut when you feel her tongue drag against the side of your cock. “Y-Yes! It feels good, please, more!”

She giggles playfully and smirks at your neediness. She can’t wait to tell her family of her successful hunt! How fast her prey gave in and how you begged for her!

More licks. You’re desperate for her mouth on you, yet wonder whether your little succubus even knows of this, let alone how to do it. You reassure yourself you will guide her.

“Please, I ne-eed it….inside, so…bad! I c-aAa! I can’t!”

You’re panting already, close to your orgasm. You force yourself to hold out a little longer. You want to cum down her throat.

Daniela, to her credit, understands the subtle hint. She’s completely into her own world of delusions, giggling and playing with your cock, licking and sucking at spots. It makes you feel dizzy.

You know, you must claim her. You can’t stand to deprive yourself of your ridiculously adorable and seductive pet for much longer.

Daniela hums as her lips wrap around you with difficulty. She gags nearly instantly, and yet it’s enough for you.

She shrieks, noises muffled by your cock, when you thrust forwards suddenly. Golden eyes water and lips part as she gags when thick semen is shot down her throat. The feeling is foreign, and she isn’t entirely sure she can ever get used to it. It feels soft, a little sticky, and warm.

When you pull back slightly, on your way to pull out, and her eyes close contentedly, you decide to strike.

Using a quick and simple rune of retrieving, your fingers clutch around the thick metal collar. Multiple runes and symbols are carved in it.

Daniela shrieks, however, when she feels it snap shut around her neck, your cock slipping out her mouth. She looks up with wide eyes, unsure what happened. Hands come up to cup the collar hugging her throat tightly. She seems to understand.

“How DARE you!”

You can’t hold back your grin. She’s helpless, utterly so, and it’s adorable.

“I am your superior!”

“Uncuff me now!”

“Cease this!”

Daniela’s face is red as she screams insult after insult. You tsk at her. It seems you need to break your new pet in.

“Let me go! What did you do?!”, Daniela screams. She can’t access her swarm, nor any of the powers she possesses. She feels small and helpless.

Clawed fingers tear at the collar, but it doesn’t come lose in any way.

“You will treat me with respect!”

You chuckle at this, grabbing her by her wrists and pulling her along. She struggles, naturally, attempting to cut and bite.

“You’re going to regret this!”

Her futile threats fall on deaf ears.

Daniela gasps when she is pushed over and has her black panties tugged down as you walk past. Thick, soaked pussy lips peek out between large thighs.

Daniela is quickly back on her feet, raging on. “Let me go! Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?!”

“Uncuff me, pet!”, she yells. She attempts to sound as serious and dominant as her sisters do with their pets during feeding times.

Yet you merely chuckle.

Her eyes widen when she sees the leash and rope in your hands, along with items she doesn’t recognise.

You sigh when the redhead attempts to attack. A single snap of your fingers has the collar push her down harshly, into a kneeling position. You relish in hearing the woman’s gasps. She’s such an unruly little thing now…

Daniela shrieks when her hands are grabbed, attempting to tug them free as more and more phrases fall from her lips. Eventually the red rope wraps around her, tying nimble wrists behind her back. She’s fuming.

“You will regre-MGHM! EUGHH!”

You laugh at her, the ring gag stretching her mouth open wide. “That’s better, sweet thing”, you coo.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you, my pet”

She jumps upon hearing herself being referred to as such. The gag doesn’t allow for much talking.

Daniela eyes you angrily, her head turning as she notices you attempt to put the leash on her.

A moan ripples from the back of her throat when you grip her hair and keep her in place. She’s blushing by the time you let go, leash in place at her thick binding collar. This isn’t at all how this was supposed to go!

“OOH! MHMMM!”

You ignore her shushed and slurred complains, instead easily move the woman and bend her back over the desk. Daniela squirms helplessly, her tiptoes barely touching the ground, her arms bound.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll teach you, pet.”, you coo. She’s fuming, speaking slurred little phrases, demanding you submit to her.

All this does is bring a chuckle from you.

“First lesson, we’re going to teach you to stop being such a little brat”

She tenses, legs kicking.

Golden eyes meet yours as you walk to the other side of the small desk, right to her face. She yelps when your tip is rubbed against her lip.

“Ah, my poor little succubus. We’re now going to teach you how to handle cock down your throat properly”

Daniela’s golden eyes press shut when she feels you thrust inside her wide open mouth, squirming and gripping onto the rope tightly. You’re not gentle with her, instead thrust fast and rough, using her inexperienced mouth however you want. You’ll fuck the brattiness right out her like no one has before.

You groaned at the feeling, the woman’s throat warm and tight. She keeps gagging and drooling, the poor thing entirely unused to such treatment. It makes you feel hot to know you’re the first to push your cock deep down her throat.

“Good girl. See how nice that works now, my sweet, pretty darling?”

She blushes helplessly as her mouth is used. Your balls slap against her chin every time you push inside, your tip at the back of her throat making her gag.

“GMNNN! MGNMMM! HMN!”

You tsk at your little brat, thrusting harder with more of a point to make her gag than bring yourself pleasure.

She gags loudly, whimpering and whining as more thick, salty tears run down her cheeks from feeling your cock so deep in her throat. She seems to obey again, allowing you to continue your normal, albeit fast and rough thrusts.

You feel the warmth of her cheeks when you cup one lovingly. “Look at my little toy learning! That’s it, pet, breathe through your nose”, you coo. She squirms softly for you, eyes pressed shut tightly. You can only imagine how odd it must be for her to believe she’s in charge in one second, dicked down in the next.

Daniela can’t help but blush and moan under your watchful eye. Never in her life has she received this much care and attention. Undivided attention.

Her hair is gripped and the leash is used to keep her in place when you begin to thrust harder. You’re considering playing with spells here and there, altering the state between your legs a little here and there, or perhaps your endurance. You settle for the latter. You know there is plenty left to do with your little redhead.

She doesn’t know what words you chant, nor their meaning, though her eyes widen at the sparks lighting the tip of your fingers.

Upon her surprised look, you squeeze her soft cheek. “Don’t think you had the upper hand for a second, my little succubus”, you whisper. She shivers, the slick between her legs nearly unbearable. She feels the urge to have something inside- you, your cock, fingers, anything given to her.

Daniela now too understands, she greatly underestimated you.

She squeezes her eyes shut when you cum down her throat once again, attempting to turn her head slightly as you pull out and paint her chin and jaw. “You look adorable this way, sweetheart”

She whimpers. All this attention of yours is making her so needy. She feels herself falling for you already; poor little Daniela always too quick to fall and catch feelings, too delusional to tell whether she is loved or it is nothing but a fabric of her imagination.

You cup your hard cock as you pull out of her entirely, tapping her nose to have her reopen her eyes.

“Now, are we going to behave, pet?”

She whimpers and nods miserably, hissing when you at last take the uncomfortable gag off.

You don’t give the inexperienced little thing time to talk.

“What’s your name, beauty?”

Her face flushes pink.

“Daniela Dimitrescu”, she answers obediently. She whimpers, legs pushing together. She’s never been this needy, despite being a succubus, and all she wants is to be taken so bad.

“Patience, my little pet. At first we will see whether you’ve learned and improved. Don’t think you can fool me, little virgin”

She gasps audibly at this.

“Open up, my adorable Daniela”

She blushes even brighter as her name is used. Ever eager to learn, as well as to receive pleasure, praise and attention, she opens her mouth wide. You smile at her.

“Good Girl, that’s it. Now, don’t you bite down, or we’re going to have some serious trouble, Daniela. I’m not above punishment”

The thought excites her.

You push yourself in again, moaning at her gags around you. Each has her throat tighten around you.

She breathes through her nose immediately this time. You praise her for this. It seems your eager little succubus is indeed a fast learner.

“Now, just wrap your lips and tongue around me, little succubus”

You hiss when she bites down a little, yet your gaze hardens when you see the little smirk she still sports with you in her mouth. So she is a little brat.

You decide to save that for later.

“Now wrap your tongue a-aAh, Y-Yes!”

She hums, her delusional mindset at last somewhat correct. She is good with her tongue, despite her movements being sloppy and inexperienced.

You grip her hair, thrusting slowly as she licks along your cock inside of her, sucking slowly. Surprisingly, the friction of her sharp nails rubbing against you lightly is arousing.

She sucks you eagerly, the little succubus’s skill at last raising. You groan. She’s hot, and adorable, and all yours. You feel her collar at the other side of her neck when you thrust deep.

You allow your little pet to keep going for a while, watching with a blush and arousal clear as day in your eyes as she grows confident once again- and rightfully so.

She swirls her tongue around you, eager to experiment. You let her, moaning softly and holding her cheek. Daniela eagerly sucks up all the attention and affection she gets, even as she is bound and bent over, bound to you by a ritual and spell by far too advanced for the succubus to even attempt to understand.

“A-AH!”

Daniela giggles slurred at your sounds as she bobs her head back and forth.

You groan, your grip on her hair tightening as you make her throat you a little deeper. “That’s right, what a good little girl you can be”

She hums, hips rolling against the desk. You know she must be soaked, her tight cunt drooling. You’re eager to find out, but calm yourself: there is plenty time.

Still, it might not be wrong to prepare the redhead a little for your cock. After all, you can imagine the poor thing won’t have an easy time accepting even your tip into her.

Daniela whimpers when you slip out her mouth. She was in the middle of pleasuring you!

She shivers when you walk up behind her, sliding your hands across her behind. Thick thighs and a beautifully round ass greet you. She’s sensitive.

“YAH!”

The redhead shrieks in embarrassment upon feeling your index and middle finger pull her pussy lips apart. Her blush is hot on her entire face. You hum, licking your lips at the wetness that coats her and drools out of her. She’s so tight, you barely see her little hole. How could you fit inside? You’re eager to find out!

“Now just relax, little succubus”, you coo.

Daniela gasps when she feels a fingertip press against her, her eyebrow rising as she feels it inside. The more you push it in, the better it feels.

Daniela’s eyes cross when you curl your finger inside, her knees weak as she presses her thighs together. It’s unlike anything she’s ever felt!

“Good, I see you’re handling my finger well, my darling pet”

Daniela pants as another is squeezed inside, whimpering at the small stretch she endures. You hum again. Her wetness makes this easier for you.

She whimpers when you pull back out of her, just when it started to feel so good!

Instead her eyes follow yours as you reach forwards, hand wrapping around the handle of a small dagger at your desk. She tenses, whimpering. Bound to you and yours to own, hands tied and legs weak after the throat fucking and small tease she has received, she is utterly helpless for you.

You coo at her, brushing your hand gently over thick, auburn hair. She relaxes again.

“Don’t you worry, sweet Daniela. You’re mine now”, you whisper, leaning forwards as to whisper in her ear. You groan as if causes your erect cock to press up between her warm ass cheeks. “I’ll make sure nothing and nobody hurts my little pet”, you promise in a hushed voice. She mewls below you.

“Now, let’s make sure you’re a little stretched for me until I decide to make use of your tight pussy”, you decide, drawing back yet again.

The woman gasps below you when the tip of the knife’s handle is rubbed through her slit. “Mhmmm, yes!”, she moans, hips grinding eagerly. She’s so adorable for you, believing she can get off without penetration from you.

Her mouth drops open and a shriek is heard in the laboratory as the knife’s handle is pushed inside, stretching her a little and keeping her that way for you. She attempts to push her legs together, and squeaks at the pain caused by the blade. Quickly, her thighs spread again.

Daniela hisses and moans when you playfully slap her round ass, watching hungrily as it jiggles for you. She’s the perfect fucktoy for you. You realize despite not earning what you had originally hoped for, the summoning ritual left you with such a sweet prize nonetheless.

She gasps when you pull her off the table and push her up against the wall, her legs trembling already. She’s utterly soaked, and you haven’t even begun playing with her properly yet.

You untie the wrists of the succubus with ease, instead grab her hands and pull her close to you. She gasps as she is pulled down a little, golden eyes staring up at you obediently.

“I think it’s at last up to me to teach you how to use your mouth and hands, sweetheart.”, you say.

Daniela shrieks when her hair is grabbed and her head is brought forwards, lips smudged against your right nipple, her chest pushed up against your stomach.

Her virgin pussy grips the knife’s handle tight, despite the wetness that seeps from her.

You tsk at your adorable, inexperienced pet. “Wrap your lips around it, little succubus”

She eagerly does so, ever so happy to learn. You gasp when she sucks immediately, lips smearing black lipstick on you, teeth grazing against your skin messily.

“Good…Girl! Yes!”

She hums at the praise, feeling her ego stroked yet again. She thrives off the feeling.

You gently grab her soft hands, guiding them to your hardened and dripping cock. She gasps at the sensation.

“Wrap them around, and stroke up and down, my beautiful slut”

Her cheeks burn. You’re vulgar, and caring, and sweet to her. You’re shamelessly exploiting all her weaknesses. She clenches around the handle, whimpering, yet obeying.

Your head is thrown back at her touches. Her soft hands explore eagerly, touching your tip and shaft, reaching down to cup and squeeze your heavy balls. She is eager and needy for you, just as she should be.

Daniela hums around your nipple, sucking a little harder. You hold the back of her hand lovingly, yet forcefully, not allowing her to pull away for even a moment.

Her nipples are hard against yours.

“Now raise one hand to my other breast, little lamb”

She blushes, but does as she is told, the brat teased out of her at the moment. She feels humiliated by the blade’s handle deep in her pussy, and yet can’t help but moan around your nipple.

Daniela gasps when she feels one of your hands come up to her breasts. “Copy me, pet”

She nods as she gets back to sucking you, her left hand stroking up and down your cock, squeezing and holding you tight, the right resting on your breast.

You feel closer again, her hand heavenly around you, her mouth and fingers equally so.

Beautiful whimpers fill the room when you tug her tiny nipple. She copies the action, and you moan loudly.

You rub hers between your fingers, she does the same.

You’re so proud of how this little vixen is turning out.

“Stroke over my tip, pet”

She moans and hums, hips rolling as she obeys. You laugh at the poor, needy thing, oh so desperately trying to get more pleasure for herself.

You squeeze her nipple and she jumps. You groan when she copies the action. “I see you’re learning now, my dear”, you whisper. Golden eyes stare up at you, and you smile breathlessly as she is whimpering around your breast.

“Come here, kiss me”, you demand when you feel painfully close.

“Let your new master show you how to control a mouth properly”

Daniela’s lips once again push against yours. Immediately she moans when your tongue dominated hers effortlessly, sucking and pulling her closer by her leash. She gasps when you bite her lip, her tongue connected to yours with shared spit when you pull away from her.

You tug her close again, dominating her mouth with ease.

You’re so close.

The succubus moans into your mouth as she tightens around the handle, her nipple squeezed and toyed, her tongue dominated easily.

She groans as her tongue is bit and sucked lightly, and her breast squeezed.

You moan loudly, thick ropes of cum shooting against her stomach. The red haired woman gasps at this, smirking a little as she raises her hand to taste you. The sight is erotic as anything.

“Get back on the table”, you command breathlessly. You can’t wait any longer. You won’t, either.

The moment she’s on the table you pull out the handle, examining its soaked state. “Relax, my little succubus. It will only hurt a moment”

She whimpers, eyes pressed shut when you push forwards. She gasps, sharp nails digging into the wooden table. You’re by far larger than the small handle, and when you merely bump against her tight hole, you wonder whether you will fit at all.

Thankfully, after pushing harshly, your thick tip slips inside. You’re sensitive, and feel as if you could cum from feeling her wrapped around you alone. She’s warm, soft and wet.

“P-Please! It won’t fit!”, she shrieks when you keep pushing. You stroke her cheek gently, your other hand set on her fleshy hip. “Ssshh, let me handle this, pet”, you answer simply. You’re careful with her, unwilling to completely break your newest toy just yet.

At last, you’re about a third inside. She’s writhing beneath you, moaning and blushing hotly, arching her back and gasping at every little inch you put inside of her.

You pull out a little, and feel her tighten around you.

When you push back in, a little more of her tight pussy is stretched.

This keeps on going for several minutes, filled with moans and gasps, until at last you’re fully nestled inside the woman’s sweet cunt.

“M-More please”, she begs. She’s on the verge of an orgasm, her cunt full and her breasts cupped in her own hands.

“There we go, it seems you’ve remembered your manners, darling”, you praise. She gasps when you thrust again, and you moan and groan loudly. She’s heavenly wrapped you. Nothing you’ve had could compare to this.

“Y-Yes! Please! I-A-AA!”

Daniela screams as she cums, her cunt tight and warm, her hands covering her sweet face as she creams around you. You’re unbothered- this is your treat now.

The sweet succubus sings moan after moan, scream after scream for you as you begin hard, fast thrusts into her. She’s your toy, your claimed pet, bound to you until eternity- you know you won’t set your precious prize free.

It’s about time the needy ginger is treated as the slut she is for you. Your hips thrust harshly, an unforgiving and rough pace demonstrating your lust for her.

Daniela is pushed up and down the table by the force you use on her, breasts bouncing and lips spreading to let out moans and such.

You know the inexperienced woman won’t be able to handle all that many orgasms of her own, yet are determined to bring her to a second, intense one at the very least.

Daniela feels this too, her cunt aching and feeling so good at the same time. She feels stuffed and torn in two, satisfied and greedy at the same time.

The little succubus must wait no longer, her golden eyes fighting to stay open as she eyes you.

With a thrust deep and forceful you cum, shooting thick, white ropes of cum inside the woman, and in return receive warm and wet cream around your hard cock.

She screams, her head thrown back against the table as she pants and whimpers, filled pussy on fire, air utterly knocked out of her.

You pull her close to you, her near limp body easily falling against yours. You feel her ragged, warm breath against your neck as you place a small mark on her neck.

Smirking at the bite and hickey adorning her pale neck, an idea for your next lesson comes to your mind.

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #lycan 🐺 anon #resident evil village

[deadboyfriendd]

𝙑𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡. E.M.

Summary: Eddie isn't in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. He usually isn't into these kinds of girls, cokeheads home for the long weekend, but what happens when he meets you?

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, obvs a lil canon-divergent, fratboy adjacent!Steve, wingman!Robin, drug use, angst to fluff, smut included

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Author's Note: This is secretly based off of a Fall Out Boy song. Spear me please.

Also this is 100% for @dr-aculaaa , Drac helped me out with a TON of the dialogue and plot in this and she deserves 100% of the hype for this. PLEASE go read her work.

Eddie isn’t in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. 

He’s overstimulated. Both by the heat of the girl grasping and gripping his arm that was turning it unpleasantly raw and by the lack of anything substantial that he could focus his senses on. He can’t remember her name, and it wasn’t because of the seventeen other things distracting his senses, either. She was inherently unremarkable. Another cokehead from The Hideout. College girls home for the long weekend. Love does not occur in dive bar bathrooms, Eddie knew that much. 

He could tell her apart immediately, a Pamela Anderson wannabe with all of the intuition to sniff out anyone remotely Tommy Lee adjacent. The glorification of hard drugs and dysfunction. This would not go anywhere but possibly the bathroom, where she would emerge with a misty ring of powder white around her left nostril and blown pupils. He would taste the drip on her later that night when she would kiss him in a grotesque masquerade of her own cold comedown, denial dripping from her lips with a sticky sweetness disguised with L’Oreal Colour Riche Rich Brown. There were a thousand more like her, some here at home, others in Indianapolis, even more in Chicago. 

She was pretty for a cokehead, but not nearly as pretty as you. 

He spotted you through past the popcorn ceilings, under the fluorescent kitchen lights that were not particularly attractive for any given reason. You were the only girl here who didn’t know how he was. He had been stuck in the pipeline of town deviant to Indiana’s metal microcelebrity. His eyes locked on the kiss of your lashes as the aforementioned date dragged him through the density of other sweaty, coked-out bodies. You swung your legs back and forth as the scuffed rubber from the heels of your sneakers thudded against the hollow cabinet beneath you, rattling the pots behind it. 

She shrieks your name like a birdsong, and you whip around with wide eyes. She drags him along, pulling uncomfortably at his fingers. She bounces up and down in a way that she thinks is attractive, but to everyone else, the jingle of bangles and sequins and squealing is inherently annoying. 

You are not her friend. 

You had become acquainted with the girl before you in an entry-level introductory course for environmental design. It was offered as an elective across all majors but was also stupidly a requirement for all design-specific majors. And, even more unfortunately, the majority of the class was group work. This is how you met her. And she attached to you like a fungus— roots buried in branches that grasped your bones and made her impossible to remove without the inevitability of spawning again. She was a roach of a friend, not even nuclear warfare could rid you of her. But you were too nice to her, in fact, you were the only person that had given half a shit to include her. 

“Oh my God!” There’s a resonant tenor screech that reverberates off of the tile floors and pitches in your own ears so high that it could shatter any champagne flute within a ten mile radius. The guy— poor bastard– being dragged ruthlessly behind her like a content stray cat that had been claimed by a small child twitched an eye nearly shut at the pitchy shriek that plagues him as much as you. 

She explains how you met in an effortful, but drawn-out and utterly painful, story. It was a class. You were assigned a group project. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. 

But his hand was warm when it encased yours in an entirely professional handshake. You shook the thought from your head before it was even allowed to form. You desperately needed to kick the habit of falling in love with strangers in passing. You would not find the one at a party— at least not this one. 

It wasn’t long until she had gotten distracted, an old friend, as she had put it. There was no friend. Only powder on a mirror in the next room over. You questioned why she lied, because she wasn’t even discreet about it. 

“How can you be a nurse and do so much blow?” He asked, face twisted up in a sickening scowl. She had long forgotten about him and he tried his best to forget about her. 

“Girls like that usually are.” You deadpanned back, your face mirroring his own disgust. 

“Nursing majors?” He questioned, her major the only thing he could remember about her at this point. 

“Yeah. It’s the safest option. It keeps their parents happy while they put their financial aid up their noses.” You watched her try to discreetly gum some remnants off of the mirror sitting on the coffee table, pinkie finger dragging alongside the glass and disappearing behind her bottom lip. 

“I’ll bet she won’t finish off the semester.” You stated bluntly after a few seconds of spectating. 

“What about you?” He asked, in reference to your major. 

“Basket weaving. It’s really not much.” You didn’t want to come off as judgmental, or a prude. Especially not after admitting you were a design major. You cringed at how pretentious it sounded.  

“I like baskets.” He said, plopping himself down on the barstool across the island from you, toe thudding against the exterior to stop him from spinning too much. 

“Design.” You said, more of a mumble than a statement. You felt stupid. People usually thought you were stupid when you told them you dropped out of nursing school to be a design major. He didn’t need to know that part of you. After all, he was just some guy at a party and not the love of your life. 

“Of what nature?” He questioned, laying his head tiredly against his folded arm and looking up you you through thick lashes. 

“Of the graphic nature.” You were thoroughly surprised when he stuck around, head tilting to the side in curiosity — a stray curl bouncing from one side to the other. 

“What, like Chip Kidd?” Your head shot up. Sure, he was one of the hottest names in design this year, but who cared about design outside of designers? Next to no one. You forced yourself to play it cool. 

“More like a Stefan Sagmeister.” You grinned, bringing you knees to you chest and folding your arms over them. 

“You’re a Stones fan?” He questioned, brow cocked. 

“Who isn’t?“

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Well, surprise me, then.”

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but he knows a girl that frequents college parties.

This time it’s at some kickback in the woods, and this time it was to sell drugs— but seeing you was like a reward as you folded and contorted your own softness into comfort in the back compartment of his van, legs leaned against his side in search of warmth against the brisk nip of the reminiscence of winter. He draped his arm over your knees as he stood casually in wait, wondering how women could fold their bodies into strange statutes of comfort in only the ways they know how. 

You were good for business. Everyone and their mother seemed to know who you were. Probably because you were sweet. Especially to him. 

You’ve been casually sleeping with each other for a few weeks now, only when you can catch each other through hushed communal dorm phone-calls or whenever you come home for the weekend. No-strings attached, no commitment. But this outing sure felt like commitment, in the same way it felt like commitment when he held your hand earlier, and the same way it felt like commitment when he pressed his forehead against yours during your last entanglement. 

He leans over to you, alabaster skin of his neck stretching over bone and artery so he could whisper to you, 

“This is kind of lame. Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t one to refuse him, especially not when he looked at you like that. 

“I’m not losing out on high school drama. I’m down.” You whisper back to him, pulling the end of an unruly curl just to watch it spring back up into place. 

While he’s watching the road, you’re memorizing the features of his face. If he could sparkle right now, he would be, even as the only light catching his face was from the too spaced-out street lamps. He drives in near-silence, whatever cassette buzzing hushedly over the radio but quiet enough that you could hear the vapid spinning of the tires and his occasional slow breath. 

You see the headstones before he has a chance to speak. 

“You’re gonna murder me.” You breathed out, joking mostly. 

“Yeah, right here, in the cemetery. Then I’m gonna bury you in a fresh grave.” He said to you, between eye rolls, getting out of the van to go pull the back doors open and straighten the woolen saddle blankets so you could sit. 

He pulls an acoustic guitar down from a makeshift bungee-cord rack fixed to the sidewall of the interior of the van, This Machine Slays Dragons crudely scrawled across the face to mimic Guthrie’s own. 

“I didn’t know that fascists breathed fire.” You said to him through a halfway-crooked sort of smile, pushing yourself up to lean against the sidewall of the van, facing him. You let one  leg swing back and forth, the rubber toe of your shoe tapping mindlessly against the seemingly useless tow hitch. 

“I knew you were more than just pretty.” He said, mouth turning up at the sides of his mouth. He was pretty, peering at you from beneath lashes before turning his attention back to the tuning knob. He strummed a calloused thumb across the tight string, listening to it upturn until he thought it sounded right.

It was a foreign ritual to you, his own prettiness being the catalyst for your own destruction before his vapid excuse at being a boyfriend ever could. . You watched silken curls slip over his shoulder and brush over the neck of his guitar. You watched as pretty deft fingers strummed a progression you would never understand. You desperately wished it was you, instead. 

It was like you were experiencing him through a macro lens, and it only made him more beautiful. His eyes came up to meet yours, dark and rich in the twilight that fell over you. You couldn’t have stared at him for more than a few seconds, but it was enough for your own giggles to bubble over. 

“Oh god.” You say through cupped hands, burying your face in your palms. You knew he was looking at you like you were crazy– all in good humor. 

“What?” He asked, unable to contain his own chuckle at this point. 

“You are literally the guy at the party that brings the guitar.” You managed through your bouts of giggles. 

“I don’t see much of a party here, sweetheart.” That smile curled again at his lips, this time with more teeth. You didn’t want to stare more, despite his fingers strumming the beginning cord of a song with all of the tenderness he could muster.

“Then who are you playing for? The ghosts?” You giggled again, looking around at the eeriness of the headstones. Had it been cooler, it would have been more off putting, but the swelling heat of summer that had settled over Indiana almost gave it some comfort. 

“You. Five regulars at The Hideout. Any ghost that wants to listen.” He laughed back, stopping his strumming to look back up at you. 

“Are you actually good?” You folded your knees upwards, turning yourself fully towards him. You rested your folded arms on top of them, pressing your chin against them to stare at him. 

“Would you just shut up and listen? I wrote a song about you.” It wasn’t hurtful, never was it hurtful. He said this towards you through pretty lips and even prettier winks. 

It wasn’t anything great. Three cords and two lines, but you wished you could record it and play it on a loop over and over again until your walkman caught fire. His voice wasn’t smooth, but it wrapped around you like a blanket, and, suddenly, it was your favorite sound. There was one thing you knew for certain, you wanted Eddie to sing to you every day for the rest of your life. 

“So you actually are good.” 

He rolled his eyes at you, casting the guitar aside as quickly as he had gotten it down. His lips met yours in a rapid staccato of haste kisses, first long, then followed by the plethora of short. You felt calloused fingers dig into the plush of your waist. 

It usually ended up like this. You’d laugh, you’d fall in love with him over and over and over again. You would have sex, and then it would be weeks. Weeks of trying to get your life back together and weeks of trying to remember yourself before him. But, God, when he kissed you over and over like that you would gladly break your heart for him. You wanted him to break it– if it meant that you could have him for this moment. 

“This technically is a party, you know?” You whispered a breathy giggle against his lips, peeling an eye open to peer at him. 

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly. His lips were still glossy with the taste of you, but his eyes peered down at you in a way that made your stomach flip. You debated letting him take you in a cemetery. 

“Earlier, you said that you didn’t see much of a party. But we are here… at one, I mean?” Eddie looked around, eyebrow raised in utter confusion before clueing into what you had meant. 

“What with… them?” He asked you from behind the back of his hand, as if the bodies beneath you would be offended if they had heard. 

“Yeah. With all of the people buried here.” You stated, matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t think they’re much partying anymore.” Eddie explained to you, looking around the cemetery with raised eyebrows.

“Look… you know how the saying goes: one's company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party? Well, this is a lot more than three. They don’t specify if they’re of the living disposition or not.” You argued back, trying your hardest to contain your own smile. 

“I’m saying no one here is having a good time.” He argued back in mock frustration, palms jutting out towards the headstones around you in confusion. 

“Besides us?” You asked him, with wide eyes. 

“Yes, besides us.” He said to you, reaching out to grip the opposite side of your waist and pull you into his side. 

“I can see it now. Here lies Edward— what’s your middle name?” 

“Not a chance.”

“Edward ‘Not a Chance’ Munson. He partied so hard he died.” You said, holding your hands out in a picturesque fashion. You couldn’t contain your own giggles. 

“Are you always a wise-ass?” He said, from behind a forward chuckle. 

“I don’t know, am I?” 

“Yes.” He looked down at you from beneath his shoulder, his eyes meeting your own endearingly. 

Eddie had a really bad habit of completely derailing your life with a single look. Once your eyes met the ambergris bourbon of his, you swore you could see the next ten years of your life. You swore you would ever be domesticated– at least not by any frat guy you met at a party. You hoped you were never domesticated. You hoped you never learned the subtlety of wifelyhood of motherhood. You never wanted to be reduced to that. But Eddie wasn’t in college, and Eddie could reduce you to that with one soft glance. 

“ –What about him?” You asked, averting your eyes from his. You would not let him derail your life again. Not tonight, at least. 

“Who?” He asked, genuine confusion registering across his once-soft features. 

“The guy buried there.” You specified. The headstone read a barely decipherable name, followed by 1902. 

“Was he a wise-ass?”

“No, stupid, how did he die? What kind of life did he live?” You said, bringing up your hand to deliver a soft slap to his chest. He wished you would do it again. 

“Tuberculosis.” You stated, bluntly, looking back down towards you with a smile. 

“Not everyone in 1902 died of tuberculosis.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, but a lot of them did.”

You figured he was right, your microbiology prerequisite failing to regurgitate within your brain. A silence settled over the back of the van, but it was comfortable. You allowed yourself the comfort of leaning your head against his chest, and rested his against your own. You tried to hear his heart from here, wondered if he had one at all. Surely he didn’t, if he could break your heart and put it back together all over again. Part of you hoped he did, and an even bigger part of you hoped that you had a place in it somewhere. You wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on that fact for long. 

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked, barely above a whisper. Yet, breaking the silence felt like breaking glass. Had you been talking too much?

“Yeah?” He asked, in an equally quiet tone. You wonder if he felt it, too. 

“Why here?” You asked, without needing to elaborate further. 

He thinks about it, silent for a second, and then breaks the glass again. 

“I feel more like a ghost than anything– makes me feel less alone.” He says, finally. He refuses to let his eyes meet yours. It made sense. 

Some of the girls you went to school with still talked about it. Still talked about their friend, Chrissy. You understood that he had been a key suspect in a high-profile murder case. 

Well, as high-profile as Hawkins, Indiana, population: 2000, could get. 

They had found their suspect— apparent suicide. It happened all of the time. Kids try drugs, and drugs end badly. You had seen it before, and you’d see it again. It wasn’t Eddie, nor was it his Uncle– the man with the kind eyes and the gruff exterior that sometimes waved at you from outside Eddie’s van. You tried not to wonder if he thought you were a skank. You should introduce yourself, sometime.

A lot of people forgot about it after the Earthquake, their own lives crumbling enough to where they didn’t have to speculate the downfall of someone else. 

It made sense why he would think that. The same as the ghost that inhabited the loft above The Hideout where he played. 

It must have been exhausting having someone vilify and formulate your existence all the time.  

You decided not to pry. Instead, you read the headstones in front of you, children, the elderly. You focused on one elongated headstone fixated into the ground in front of you. William and Helen Lester. Born in 1910 and 1912, respectively. Died the same year as each other, 

“What about them?” You asked him.

“They were madly in love, they reserved their plots together before they died so when one joined the other they could take comfort in knowing that they would stay together.” He answered, without hesitation. You wondered if he knew them personally. 

“Do you believe that they did?” You asked, instead. 

“Stay together?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess that depends on what they believed.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder a little bit. 

“Well, what do you believe?” 

He lets out a long sigh, more joking then not.

“Well, way back when my uncle first got custody of me, he thought it would be a good idea to start taking me to church. Save me before it was too late… or whatever.” He raked his hands through his hair, sitting up a little to look at you before continuing, 

“ -Wayne wasn’t much of a church guy, either, but the nice lady that lived next door to us was, so we started going to church with her. They told us that if we did everything we were supposed to do… tried to live by the book, and that we found our person, that it would be an eternal binding after marriage, or something like that.”

“Do you really believe that?” You questioned. 

“If there’s anything from my churchgoing days that I hoped would be real, I hope it’s that.” He sighed, pulling his arm off of you to lean back . 

“Why?”

“I don’t think I could ever stand to be alone like that again.” He shrugged, and you knew you had struck a nerve. 

“Well, what about us?” You questioned. 

“What about it?” 

“Do you think we’ll stay together?”

“We’re not really even together.” 

It was then that you realized that maybe he did have a heart, but you didn’t have a home within it. There was one thing for certain, however, and that was that he had made himself a home in yours like a fungus. It was then that the introductory biology courses you could never remember remained heavy on your brain. 

Mycelium

Mycelium are incredibly tiny threads of the greater fungal organism that wrap around or bore into tree roots. Taken together, mycelium composes what's called a “mycorrhizal network,” which connects individual plants together to transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals—

Eddie was a fungus in dormancy. He had a mycelial network, and its threads had wrapped and wound their ways through the finest intimacies of your life. Their hairline structure filled their place between any gaps you weren’t careful enough to seal. Even when he wasn’t in your life, he was there. 

You can’t be heartbroken over him if you never had him. 

You know he is talking. You know he continued with a backstory in some form or another. Your guess would be something about spending every waking moment alone after the incident. How no one’s mothers who were kind enough to give him the benefit of the doubt in the first place would no longer let their children— his friends, around him. Something about how he wouldn’t blame them. 

“Hey, are you okay? You went all silent on me there.” He finally asked, tugging on a strand of your hair, playfully. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t. Not until he was gone. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess.”

Tired of getting attached, tired of derailing your entire life for him. 

“Oh. I guess I should probably get you home, then.” He said, beginning to slide out of the van. 

You were thankful he didn’t pry, but a part of you wished that he would. You had him for weeks, it was commitment-adjacent at the very least. It felt like you had him tonight, and it felt like you had him in all of your spare time. It also felt like you had him in class, doodling his funny little devil horns all over your notes. It was the subtlety of this heartbreak that was the worst– or maybe the fact that it wasn’t really heartbreak in the first place. 

You still let him sleep in your bed. 

+

Robin is a textbook lesbian, which also makes her the best wingman on the face of planet earth. She assessed the situation over a pre-roll, as someone who was both a woman and someone who pleasured women. 

Steve isn’t a frat boy, but his relentless good looks and halfway dumb demeanor are wasted on that fact. He assessed the situation as such. 

Eddie swore they both only hung out with him for the pot. 

It had been weeks since your last call, in which you had mentioned something about a final or something before the line went dead. Maybe you were actually dead. Killed in some freak accident that the news didn’t even know how to cover so they just… didn’t. Eddie’s dignity thought it would be preferable if you were. 

“ — Boys are stupid. Hence why I date women.” Robin stated bluntly from Steve’s bedroom floor, between clumsy, fumbling lighter flicks. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, did he have to do everything? He plucked the lighter from her hands, lighting the pre-roll in one swift motion before looking back at her. 

“Some of us aren’t as lucky.” Eddie said, throwing his body back against the side of Steve’s bed, causing Robin to bounce alongside him. 

“To be of the homosexual disposition?” Robin questioned, turning to face him. 

“To understand women.”

“Again, you don’t need to understand them, You’re just stupid.” She waved her hand, dismissively. 

“God, I know I’m stupid, please just help me.” He said to her, dragging his hands down his face with a vigor. 

“Okay, run the cemetery scenario by me again. Word. For. Word.” She said back, joint tucked between her pointer finger and thumb, elbow rested atop the comforter. 

“Okay—”

Eddie can remember everything about that night. He remembered what you were wearing. He remembered seeing the smattering of new freckles across your shoulder as it peeked out from under your summer sweater– a reminder that the heat of summer was quickly settling over you. He remembered the rhythm that the rubber toe of your sneaker tapped out as he strummed against his guitar. He remembered how you knew Gutherie and batted your eyes at him in that pretty— so fucking pretty– way and how you batted your lashes at him when you asked too many questions that he was suddenly inclined to answer. 

Eddie remembered what he said. 

“And then I said, ‘well, we aren’t really even together-”

“There!” Robin shouted finally, hands splayed out, smoke continuing to roll from between her fingers, 

“What?!” Eddie jumped, running his hands from the crown of his head and down his t-shirt, in search of whatever bug Robin had screamed at him about. 

“That’s where you fucked up!” She clarified. 

“ — really fucked up.” Steve chimed in from his desk chair, sunglasses slipping low on his nose despite the approaching twilight, using the toe of his sneaker as traction in order to spin himself in half-circles from his corner. 

“How?” Eddie asked, raking his fingers through his hair and giving his roots a soft tug. 

“You totally took everything you had with her and threw it right in the dumpster.” Robin continued, fully ignoring him. 

“ — and lit it on fire!” Steve chimed over his shoulder, chair spun backwards towards the wall. 

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Just saying…”

“Anyways, you implied that you didn’t want a relationship with her.” Robin said, finally softening a bit. 

“No, I wanted her to say something like, ‘Well, then can we be?’”  He explained back to her, almost on the verge of tears. 

“That’s the problem, dingus.” She rolled her eyes, delivering a soft smack to the side of his head. 

“Ugh,” Eddie muffled out loudly from behind his palms. 

To him, you were pretty, and smart, and entirely too good for him. You were right for ghosting him, he would never blame you for that. You had all the reason in the world to hate him and you still didn’t— until he gave you one. 

 To you, he was just a boy– one who harbored too much heartbreak that makes him meaner than he anticipates. Eddie wasn’t mean by nature, but right now, he sure felt like it.

He pulls his temples back with the heels of his hands, “She’s just so smart and she has to think I’m the dumbest human being on planet Earth.”

“You are the dumbest human being on planet Earth.” She snuffed out the roach into the ashtray, twirling around for slightly too long. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“But not for that reason.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, turning to face Eddie, “You’re stupid because you expected her to read your mind. You had the upper hand. She was prompting the love confession from you and you probably shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“Can I even fix this?”

“I’m a wingman, not a miracle worker, dude.”

“Steve? Anything to chime in?”

“You fucked up.” 

“No shit.” 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, instead he plays guitar. 

In the midst of his own suffering, he still has to perform. He isn’t one to pass up the money or the attention— especially since they’re crowds now exceeded into the double digits. They had graduated from the Tuesday-night noisemakers, to the Friday-night headliner, a few people even making their way over to bar-crawl from the next town over. 

Eddie leaned his weight on the speaker, tuning and strumming in a half-assed, absent-minded routine. There was a decent group tonight, people grouped standing in the back once the tables and bartop had been promptly filled. 

Jeff approached him, bass slung heavy over him, “Don’t look now, but I think you might know someone here.” He peered at you over his shoulder. 

Eddie looks anyway, met with your eyes. 

You looked pretty tonight. You looked pretty always. 

You had your toes propped against the bottom rung of the barstool, knees pulled tight together, and a drink in hand. He didn’t recognize the people you were with, but he didn’t know very many people anyway. Not like you did. You were likable, and he liked you a lot. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting you to look like after a month, but he was stupid thinking you’d look dramatically different. You were still soft— still glowed even in this not-particularly-flattering light. You looked happy and he hated it. He hated that you could smile at a time like this. It was selfish, he knew it. He wanted you to be a wreck over him. He wanted the comfort in knowing that you were the same mess that he was in over you. 

Jeff gives him a nudge to say something into the mic once they got the go-ahead to play. He tells Jeff he can do it tonight. The tether that binds you together is made of water— the softest vibration would break the surface tension and it would splash on to the concrete. He wanted to watch you be pretty for just a few more seconds, even if it meant giving up his ego for tonight. He wanted to remain unseen on stage, but the pinch harmonic of his opening riff sent your head snapping towards him. 

Your look made him want to crawl beneath the floorboards. 

Your acquaintance, a girl that was a friend-of-a-roommate who had invited you out, placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and too-friendly,  “This band is really good!”

“I know!” You shouted over the music, too warm already. Maybe it was the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. It was most likely the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. 

“Oh, you’ve seen them before?” She asked, pulling her chair up closer to yours. 

“Something like that!” You had explained, pulling the strap of your purse from your neck where it dug in too harshly. 

You felt underdressed for the occasion. Despite definitely having people to impress, you didn’t feel the need. But now, with Eddie’s eyes that you tried desperately to avert yourself from, you’d felt your skin in a way that you never had before. Maybe you were drunk. 

You were most definitely drunk, enough so that it was teetering off the edge of pleasant and dipping into the waters of uncomfortable. The music was too loud and there were too many people and your purse strap kept digging into the crevice of your neck in a way that was both painful and overstimulating. 

You couldn’t remember how many songs Eddie’s band had played– fuck— you couldn’t remember what they were called. Had been playing for a while, enough for the lines between songs started to blur and it felt like forty-five minutes of continuous time signature. You couldn’t decipher a lot between the hum of the nearly-blown speaker anyways. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours, shiny beneath the bar stage lights. He looked angry. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the genre of his song or because of you. He isn’t insatiable or anything, and he had hoped to God that you were still paying attention. By the look on your face and the way you craned your neck to look at the girl next to you, you hadn’t been for a while now. Your nonchalance had poured the gasoline, your smile lit him ablaze. 

The next line of the song was about you, an ode to the women he’d loved before– which weren’t many– conveniently placed as the last song of the setlist. He wrote it with the fantasy that you would stroll through the doors and hear it, but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the heart to be mean to you. He didn’t want to be mean to you. It was vaguely written enough so that the other girls that looked up towards him would think it was about them, a heartbreak anthem, a sorry anthem. An ode to the cemetery and the ghost that he had become without you. 

You understood it, though you chose not to act like you had. You didn’t think you had been in his life for long enough to warrant a song– at least one with more than three cords and fifteen seconds of play-time. Why would he? You were never even together. Your ears rang with the remnants of sound, yet you watched your party— the greek bar-crawlers, get ready to head to the next location down the block. You couldn’t even remember what bar it was. 

The girl next to you– fuck— you couldn’t remember her name either, was leveling with your tipsiness. Maybe she hadn’t teetered over the edge of drunk like you had. You let her take your hand anyways, pushing through the double doors in your party of eight. 

The familiarity of the van backed in front of the entrance haunted you, like it had brought a ghost back with it from the cemetery. Maybe Eddie was the ghost. Maybe he was haunting you. Maybe you were haunting yourself. 

The party discussed some form of game plan. You thought it was stupid, hockey practice was over. Yet they were drunk, and they were rowdy, and they were a spectacle. Suddenly and all at once, unfamiliar lips were on yours, violent and sloppy. You tasted cherry, sticky against your own peppermint chapstick. Soft feminine hands gripped your jaw, pretty tuberose and jasmine on the girl from earlier filled your nostrils in a way that was not quite suffocating, but all encapsulating. It was an Estee Lauder Eau de Parfum. You recognized it from the yellow bottle you had gotten for your fifteenth birthday. 

Kissing a woman was a different ballpark, kissing a woman drunk was an entirely different sport. She was softer, less volatile. She had a languid softness to her waist where men were typically more solid. Her hands were more graceful. You relinquished it, both in the spectacle of the others in the group and the fact that she was what Eddie wasn’t.

From behind the van, Eddie watched you. The floral passion in which you sloppily tangled your manicured hand into the blonde mass of the girl in front of you. Isn’t it unfair? He desperately wished it was him. Wanted to be the reason for the surrounding wolf calls. Eddie wasn’t particularly introspective, but he was dying to be her. A notch in your bedpost, a one night stand, a lover. 

Eddie wanted to be her. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, and it's mostly because he’s stupid. 

Robin let him know it, too. 

There is an afterparty, or, at least, the loose adjacent to one. The band, some friends of the band, and communal alcohol strung loosely across the island at Gareth and Jeff’s condo. Donated pot courtesy of a combined effort of Rick and Eddie. He didn’t feel like partying, but he did feel like getting really, really drunk. Lecture be damned. 

MD 20/20 Red Grape Fortified Wine tasted a little like alcohol and a lot like feeling sorry for himself. 

The grave was already dug, all he had to do was sit in it and wait for someone to backfill. 

Robin stood, arms braced against the island across from Eddie. The fluorescents in Gareth’s unrenovated kitchen burned his eyes, “I can’t help you if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it,” He specified, pulling a long drink from the glass bottle, “ –but I have a feeling I’m gonna get it anyways.” 

“I thought you wanted her back, dude.” The fluorescent lights casted a downwards glow across her forehead. Eddie thought it gave her a Kubrick stare. 

“I don’t know what I want, I thought I did but then I got up there and I sang about her and she didn’t even care.”

In one swift motion, she hopped onto the counter, crossing her legs beneath her, “Well, obviously you care.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“If you don’t care about her then why do you lose your shit every time you see her?”

“Because, Robin, who the fuck else is gonna love me after all of the shit we’ve been though?” He slammed the bottle down on the table. It was enough to rattle the cabinets beneath it, “She was the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long fucking time and I couldn’t even let myself be just content with that.” 

He’s angry, suddenly. With himself, with the universe. The alcohol didn’t help. The feigning headache was more annoying than it was painful. Robin wanted to roll her eyes, to call him stupid and dramatic– but she figured he knew it already. It’s not like he wasn’t warranted in his anger, he was, but she wondered why he had been so pent-up lately. Maybe it’s because there was no Eddie way for Eddie to deal with this. After a bleating silence, she spoke:

“Have you even talked to her yet?” She asked.

“No, and I’m not planning on it.” 

“Why not?”

“Because, dude,” Eddie played himself out across the tile island, trying to ignore the way his t-shirt just mopped up the sticky sweet liquid on the counter, “ – you know why.”

Robin did know why. 

“And?” She asked. 

“They were all over each other, like, like…” He was getting frustrated now, unable to string words together in a cohesive sentence. 

Robin finished for him, “Like you were?”

“Yeah. Like she didn’t even care.” He leaned his head down on his folded arms, 

“Maybe she wanted you to think that.” Robin asked him. She thought she sounded more like his mother than a lesbian wingman. This is what he needed. “Maybe she wanted you to chase her.”

“I don’t understand why.” He groaned, “She’s unpredictable. And pretty. And smart. And fun. And everyone likes her. Do you know how many friends she has? How many people like her?”

“Because maybe you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

And he isn’t. Eddie isn’t inherently bad– albeit a little bit dumb. Maybe that just came with age, or the nature of him. Actually, behind the external composite disposition and his defensive nature, Eddie was the opposite of bad.

That first ‘surprise me’ reverberated in his mind like a crescendo. He was feeling brave that night. It was all ego, and most likely a touch of golden whiskey courage. He could still taste it on the back of his tongue when his mouth met yours in a clumsy, quick, spur-of-the-moment kiss. He didn’t have time to be insecure about it, the afterthoughts of gum or mints being pulled from his mind by your fingers as they combed through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. As he moved down to press pillowy-soft kisses in the soft of your throat, he took in your scent– like the citrus groves just outside of town in the spring, when the little white flowers covered the expanse of the rich green rows. 

It was fast and sweet, his hands pushing your summer cotton t-shirt up your waist with warm, rough hands– encasing the ribs where they curl to meet with your spine in a vice. You were eager, not that you were easy– you almost didn’t care if he thought of you that way– in the way you slid his vest off of him. He threw his arms back quickly, shaking it loose from his wrists as he came back up to meet you. The chain of his bracelet was cold against the plush of your stomach as he dragged it down towards the button of your denim shorts. 

“We don’t have to do this now,” He separated from you in hesitation, “I can take us back to my place, use my be—”

“No, ‘need you now.” You insisted, your kiss more pressing than before. You clung to him fervently. 

You aren’t confined to your softness. You are vocal, grip on his shoulders and his heart like a vice. You were soft in the right places though, in your waist and beneath his hands coming undone, soft in the way you spoke to him behind closed van doors. Pillows over sharp corners, a guard to balance your too-loud laugh or the frequency in which you found yourself too drunk. 

You were stone-cold sober that night, and he thanked whoever was up there looking out for him that you were. You wouldn’t have been here, otherwise. 

You were a painting, and not one of those stupid ones that he had to talk about in history class. Like a real, in-your-face, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Not quite like a centerfold, better than anything he’d counted pennies for at the drugstore, ethereal beyond words. Soft for him and only him, bumps and curves and dips and folds in places you didn’t see in those. Real, right in front of him. His for the taking. 

The night had turned already to that imperceptible pivot where midnight turned to early morning hours. This moment has come and gone, yet you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which is all gratuitous damage and the play of unraveled nerve endings. 

He plunged his middle and marriage fingers within you with a vapid expanse for pleasure, reaching in deep and curling upwards, gathering slick between fingers and back out again. You could feel every ridge within yourself, your softness pulling him back in once he had pulled out again. 

You allow him, no, encourage him to line himself up within you, and you are warm. Warmer than anything he has ever felt in his life. Tight like a hug. The flavor is vaguely tribal– pendulous guitar-pick necklaces and ritualistic moans of endearance. A gathering drum of heartbeats and a bonfire lit within your core. 

His chest is hard above you, expanding with deep breath and soft cries– the softest cries you had ever heard from a man in your existence. There is a small patch of hair in the center, that follows down his navel in a thin line. You tried to hold it together, but you loved it so much. You could love him, not like the novelty it was right now. Like, really love him. 

If he could tell you he loved you without scaring you away, he would have. Now, he wished he just did. 

Clumsily, almost enough for you to tell he was still new to this, whether the van or women in general, he thrust into you, chasing his own rhythm while still finding your own high. His wrists radiate heat where they brace him on either side of your head, caging you between them. 

“Fuck– I– I,” he begins, looking for his thoughts.

You look up at him through low, sultry eyes. Your own release nearing in moments. “Together.” was what you could manage. 

He cringed looking back, he probably looked like such a virgin. He had been so previously wound with the Pam Anderson wanna-be and the post-show adrenaline that his release was feigning. He took comfort in knowing that you would later find out that he is not that inexperienced. 

It was the after that he remembered. How your little manicured finger traced over the raised ink of the tattoo, now disfigured by the purple fibers of scarring. 

“They’re from the accident.” He explained to you, knowing you were wondering. Everyone wondered. You had been too afraid to ask. 

“The earthquake?” You specified, looking up at him. 

You watched the way his stomach flexed as he pushed himself up, taking your body with him, “Yeah, sorry they’re not pretty.” He sighed, holding out his arms to look at the ones there. 

“You are pretty.” You reiterated, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re prettier.” 

“You wanna see mine?” 

“Your what?”

“Scars.” 

You were going to show him anyway. 

That patch where the hair grew wonky across your eyebrow from where you had fallen as a child. You cracked your eye socket and they had to reconstruct the tendons in your eyelid. 27 stitches including the internal ones. He laughed at how you claimed it like a trophy. 

The small white line on the side of your knee you got trying to pet a feral cat. You wanted to be it’s friend so bad and it didn’t return the sentiment. 

The blown out tattoo on your ankle, done by your friend who worked at the cafe with you. It was the second one she had ever done on another living person. Your mom had flipped when you came home from college that first weekend with it. If you weren’t too old to ground, she would have done it. 

Your stretch marks, in which you didn’t dwell too much on. They started happening the summer you turned thirteen and you remembered the palsy of lotions and topical ointments your mom made you smear over the expanse of your body in order to reverse them when you we’re too young to recognize that there were nothing wrong with them. The scars they left on your psyche. 

The ones on your hands and knuckles, burns from your barista days. He remembered your giggle as he pressed soft kisses to every burn scar. 

Eddie was not bad. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but, for you, he’d at least brave the college housing. 

This was also not Robin’s plan, instead devised by Steve while he was crossed— and at his most authentic self. Despite her best efforts, they persisted. You roomed in a smaller house with several other girls in Indianapolis— a three hour drive as the crow flies. All in their girlish forms, all soft skin and little shorts and effortless beauty. Sometimes you wondered if you looked the same way- or if they even knew what they looked like. 

All of whom were gathered out the window, ogling at a relic unknown to you. 

A familiar face, the hometown heartbreaker, Steve Harrington himself stood in your freshly mowed grass, boombox held over his head like an idiot. Slovenly waving at the girls through the window. You sighed, palming your face tiredly. You knew who he would have in tow. He is a shadow of either Eddie’s best self of his worst self, you couldn’t tell which quite yet. You are awed by his strict refusal to acknowledge any goal higher than the pursuit of his own pleasure, haphazardly balancing the expensive boombox blasting Head Over Heels on a loud, obnoxious loop. You wouldn’t have been more annoyed if Roland Orzabal was here playing the song himself. Robin stood at the entrance of the small white picket fence, face in hands. 

When you meet with the man that has not quite et. cetere’d you, you are slumming the door open, visiting your own 7:00 A.M Lower East Side with your soul on a lark. He is stepping nimbly around gardenia pots and little happy concrete garden gnomes as if they will bite his ankles if he gets too close– if only you’d trained them sooner. More un-nimbly, he trips up the stairs, and you’ve caught him red handed. He stands there wide-eyed and apologetic, a dog kicked. You lean against the frame, nonchalant, unimpressed, arms crossed. 

“Ew. You like Tears for Fears?” You speak before he can. He seems taken aback. 

“I should have played The Cure.” He speaks truthfully, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck where an itch did not occur. 

“That was my second choice!” Steve called from the one-man show happening on your lawn. You feared if it went on for longer, it would turn to a strip-club.

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie barked towards him. 

The tension feels like being at the bottom of a swimming pool. Eddie’s drowning in the deep end but the bowl’s empty. He drained it himself. He doesn’t know quite what to say to you. He didn’t think it would get this far. 

“Come on, please just hear me out–” He starts, yet it’s overused. You decided then to drown him in the pool yourself. The door closes in his face. 

Almost immediately, the knocking persists. Your roommates watch from beside the door, half still fixated on Steve, the others watching you ascend the stairs towards your bedroom. You choked down your embarrassment, suffocated in it. You needed to be alone. 

“Ladies.” Steve nods from the front lawn, watching his friend scale the old lattice attached to the stucco on the front of your house. 

“Ladies.” Robin parrots, coming to watch with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. 

There is a commotion down the stairs, a door opening and footsteps quick. You don’t get the chance to look because there is a body, an apparition of scarecrow limbs and embarrassment parallel with your second-story window. You might be mad, but you definitely aren’t heartless. 

This isn’t what he expected your room to look like. In his wet dreams, he pictured more pink. More coquette lace abundance and stuffed animals. Save for the raggedy menstrual bean-bag bear, it’s relatively neutral. In hindsight, every girl’s room is pink coquette in a wet dream. This felt more like you, the twinkle lights, stacks of old books holding plants, moroccan-patterned pillows lining the daybed. Plush, white bedding. It’s natural, like you. 

Your glare is like a mother’s reproach. He doesn’t know how to react. He didn’t have a mother. Only Wayne and only teachers, the latter of which he had a certain amount of push before they let him do whatever he wanted. You, he could not push further. 

“Please don’t kick me out,” He begs, hands together like a prayer. It’s cheesy, you avoid laughing. 

“I’m waiting.” You say. It’s rude. You sound like a bitch. He thinks you’re warranted. You try not to think of the ears against your bedroom door. 

“I love you.” He said it like a plea instead of a declaration. It was the first and only thing that came to his mind. 

Of course he did.

You rolled your eyes at him, folding your arms and jutting your hip, “You don’t love me.” You corrected, “You just think you do now that you’re lonely.” 

He takes a few more pacing steps towards you, frantic and panicking “Jesus Christ– Yes, I do. I could’ve slipped and broke my neck trying to climb up here for you.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you to climb up here,” You placed your hand over your chest, then turned your finger towards him, “You don’t love me, you love this version of me that thought Tears for Fears would work.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, pleading and sad. 

“ —For once in your life think, idiot. What song would I have really liked?” 

“I– I don’t know.” He said. It came out like a whimper. He was more broken now, softer, yet still desperate. 

“Exactly. You don’t love me.”

“You know what? You’re right.” He stood, closing the gap between your bodies in a few strides. He wanted to touch you, but was too afraid to ask, “I don’t love you.“ 

“I hate all of your stupid questions.” He started, and you didn’t speak, “I hate how all of my clientele comes from you now. I hate that I only get you when you’re home for the weekend. I hate that stupid little scar on your eyebrow. I hate the way your hair gets in your mouth when you laugh. I hate that dumb little scar on your forehead. I hate that you’re so goddamn perfect for me and I hate myself for letting you walk away like that.” He finished, breath heaving. 

You felt the tears pull at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t warrant them to spill. 

“I hate that you’re a grown man with fucking bangs.” You said, unable to finish. You felt stupid, two stupid little tears slipping from your eyes and streaking down your face.

He opened his arms to you, prompting, and you took it. Part of it so he couldn’t see you crying, the second part of you desperately needing to feel him. 

“I’m so mean.” You wailed into his chest. You felt the rumble of the laugh he couldn’t suppress. 

“I know, so mean.” He said, not as an insult or an agreement, but in endearment. He pressed a sympathy kiss to your crown. His hand was warm as it pulled up the expanse of your back. 

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away, wiping your face furiously with the heels of your palms. 

“No- no. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my hot and cold like that.”

Your feverance prevails, “I should have asked what happened.”

“I should have asked you out.” He counteracts, pulling back to smooth down the wiry hairs at your crown, his hand heavy against your skull. 

“Can you do it now?” You plead, and he laughs. 

“Will you stop crying?”

“Yeah.” 

He pulls away from you for a second, you want to whine at the loss of contact. He crouches down on one knee, keeping your hands squeezed tightly in his calloused palms. 

“Then will you do me the tremendous honor of being my girl?” He runs his hand up the back of yours, trying to feel for an electric pulse of an answer. The seconds that you take nearly kill him. 

You stare down at him, eyes still red and puffy, but wide, “And not just like at parties?” 

“No, like the full weekday thing.” His smile is warm. You take great comfort in it. 

“Yeah.”

You think you look stupid, crying in your bedroom while he holds you like this. But he burns this memory in his mind. Even when you’re crying, you’re still the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things vol 2

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Continuing my new series of "dumb thoughts I have about Baldur's Gate 3," I have a strong conviction that every companion/main character may be represented by an (hilarious) 80s anthem (if you pretend that 1976-1983 is the 80s).

So, without further ado, here is my personally curated playlist for the BG3 Companions!

Astarion

"Somebody to Love" by Queen I mean, where do I start? Take a look in the mirror and cry? I spent all my years in believing you? Or my personal favorite, I just gotta get out of this prison cell/Some day I'm gonna be free! Lord... And the thing to get about this is not so much that Astarion is looking for romance necessarily, but he wishes to be in a place safe enough to love. I think that's really one of his most cherished dreams, being able to form a stable, long-term relationship with someone who will keep him safe, where he will be safe and not alone anymore. But also, can you imagine this drama queen complaining, with a full choir back up, about how hard he works every day? Dear god. So I humbly pitch "Somebody to Love" for his anthem.

The Emperor

"More than a Feeling" by Boston Listen, I was overcome by the fact that a tadpole in your brain certainly is more than a feeling. It was too good not to share! He just wants to love you!

Gale

"Tainted Love" by Soft Cell Is there a more appropriate sentiment for Gale and Mystra than I gave you all a boy could give you/Take my tears and that's not nearly all! ? This is my break up song for the poor boy. You can do this Gale, I believe in you!

Halsin

"Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper You see a big bear sprawling in the sunny flowers in the middle of a forest clearing and what do you think? Girls just wanna have fun, absolutely! Also, Cyndi Lauper is an OG in sexual liberation, which is very Halsin.

Karlach

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler Oh, the jokes really don't stop with this one ^^; It's about living in a powder keg and giving off sparks? Being lonely for so long? Bright eyes? I mean... Karlach absolutely lives up to the melodrama here.

Lae'zel

"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor This one I'm probably least satisfied with as it feels very hurr durr Lae'zel fight good. But "Livin' on a Prayer" didn't come out until 86, "Welcome to the Jungle" was 88, "Immigrant Song" is right out in 1970... and none of these are quite right either. Haven't found one yet that properly captures some of the nuance of our complex, fighty lady. Perhaps subject to change later.

Shadowheart

"Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey Alright, I'll admit this one isn't perfect either, but... come on! The title is just too good! And such a rosy, hopeful song about beating the odds in the face of Shadowheart's pessimistic doom and gloom, it was just so good!

Withers

"Hotel California" by The Eagles If bone man isn't the personification of You can check out any time you like/But you can never leave I don't know what is.

Wyll

"Carry On My Wayward Son" by Kansas If this song is ruined for you by certain other cultural touchstones... suck it up. Or if you must, replace with "Take On Me" by a-ha, because that was a close second. But I think when you really think about it, Wyll is very much a wayward son, trying to create a little peace in this world.

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Baldur's Gate 3 companions #Astarion #The Emperor bg3 #Gale bg3 #Halsin #Karlach #Lae'zel #Shadowheart #Withers bg3 #Wyll #I think everyone deserves a little 80s power anthem myself #Shhhh 1976 counts as the 80s you hush

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!! Since it’s back to school season you should write a blurb where Steve and Reader get emotional sending Avery to school for the first time in your KBD universe!!

thank you for your request ♡ kisses before dinner —you and steve have a tumultuous morning on avery's first day of school. mom!reader, 3k

"Oh, fuck," Steve mumbles into his pillow, cheek wet with drool. "Shit." He drags his face up to look at the alarm clock for the third time that morning, having slept on and off for hours. He can't believe he's awake again. 

"I think you have to admit defeat," you say softly from the vanity. Steve turns, finds you sitting slouched with a brush in your hands, applying powder to your cheek carefully. "I couldn't sleep either." 

Steve groans at his ever present back ache and sits up. The comforter falls down into his lap, his naked chest exposed. He scratches at his collarbone mindlessly. "You think it'll be really hard?" he asks, knowing you'll know what he's saying. You always do. 

You put down the brush, turning a very sympathetic smile his way. "I think it will be awful. But you'll be okay, Steve. She needs to go. And she's excited!" You nod toward Avery's room. "Can't you hear her?" 

Steve gets up without checking for himself. He slinks out of your bedroom and onto the landing, where Avery's door is ajar. 

"Hey," he says, opening the door with his foot. "You okay?" 

Ash blonde hair like a riot around her face and pyjamas in disarray, Avery sees Steve in the doorway and beams, doing a wiggly half dance by her dresser. "Daddy! It's my first day at school!" 

"I know," he croons, or attempts to, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "I'm just gonna shower, and then we'll start getting ready. You hungry?" 

"Are you still gonna do my hair like mommy's?" she asks. 

"Yeah, just like mom's." 

Steve's reassured by her smile even if he's feeling about as anxious as the day he found out you were pregnant the first time (ecstatic, terrified, in love and bricking it). He showers in three minutes, an expert in the art of wicked fast washing and in anticipation of Dove's imminent waking. Sure enough, he's crossing the landing back to the master bedroom with a towel around his waist when a cry sounds from behind him.

You appear in the doorway dressed for work and somehow prettier than you were yesterday. It doesn't fade no matter what people say, Steve still has a huge crush on you, and it feels like a gift to have you stroke a line down his tacky arm as you pass. 

"I have it, handsome." You take a step back and he pauses on instinct. Your hand cups his face. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking. I promise." You stroke his cheek. "Yeah?" 

"I'm fine," he lies. 

Dove cries louder. You take your hand back. "Okay. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast." 

Steve does as he's told. Bethie tries to barge into the bedroom while he's changing, and he laughs at her dejected sigh. "It's not opening," she says, nearly three and a half and sounding it, her voice still cutely disjointed. 

"I'm just getting dressed, Beth. Mommy's making breakfast, you want waffles or something?" 

"I can't get down the stairs," she mumbles. Steve almost misses it. 

He throws a shirt on and yanks a comb through his hair. Bethie's standing expectantly by the door when he opens it, your image completely. Steve's seen the rare baby photo of you and he's surprised every time; you could switch it out with a photo of Bethie and he's sure he wouldn't notice, though her nose might look a little different. 

"Hey, pretty girl. Trapped?" 

"They'd left me up here with you," she says. 

Talkative this morning, he thinks. "I can see that. Excuse me then, babe, and we'll get this gate open." 

Steve hates the baby gates. He doesn't think they're necessary, but he knows he'd think that until the day one of his poor girls took a dive. You hate them too for being so finicky. Maybe in a couple of months when Dove's walking you'll take them down. 

He opens the gate and takes a few steps, holding a hand out for Bethie. Fingers wrapped around hers, they descend the stairs and approached the second dreaded baby gate where Avery's waiting. She pinches the lock and pulls up the handle for them surprisingly easily. 

"Thank you," he says to her, stepping over the lip of it and assisting Beth down those last few steps. She wobbles. 

"Dad, when can we get ready?" Avery asks. 

Steve checks his watch. "Uh, soon as you finish breakfast." 

"I finished already."

"No you didn't!" you call. "Come on! Come and eat this egg before it goes cold." 

"I wanted a waffle," Avery says. 

"Don't tell me, tell your mom. I'm sure she'll make you something else."

Avery spirits away. Steve watches her go and decides maybe he can't do this after all, sweeping Bethie into his arms to hug close to his chest. "Don't grow up, Beth. Promise?" 

She looks at him lovingly. "Promise." She offers her tiny pinky. 

You're not so stressed in the kitchen. Or, Steve may not think so. Inside you're a ball of agony. You're acting as normal as you can, knowing Steve will take the change harder; he's spent almost every hour of every day with Avery for nearly six years, to suddenly have her gone will feel wrong, and strange, and achy. 

He'll understand how you feel going to work every day. Missing your family becomes a second feeling that trails behind you, not always sad, but there nonetheless. You'll be sitting at your desk wishing a little back was pressed to your chest, or that there were a hand in your hair. Or, when things are especially boring, you long for a whiny shout, "Mommy!" said over and over. 

It isn't his fault, of course, and it's not even the thing that's hurting. Just. Avery's getting older no matter how much you wish she'd stay the same, for a day, an hour. If you could just stop time and hold her for a bit, you'd feel better. 

Time doesn't stop. You make her a waffle and eat her cold egg, Dove spits up on your blazer and you have to get changed. Steve struggles to get Avery ready in her bedroom while Bethie crowds his legs, and you can't help. Your second blazer has a peach juice stain and the third has been personalised with a blue marker. You can't find anything to wear. 

You scrub the spit up off of the shoulder in the bathroom and trudge to Avery's room to ask Steve if he can tell. 

Avery's standing in front of her mirror, and she looks perfect. 

And she looks so old.

Surprise spreads like a bruise, like you've been winded, a flat palm pressing with force against the gentle structure of your diaphragm. You grip the blazer in your hands until the fabric squeaks, eyes on Avery's hair, her shoulders, her new dress and shoes. She spins on her heels when she sees you in the mirror and poses proudly. 

"Doesn't it look nice, mommy?" she asks. 

You frown at her. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes turning warm, your whole face. "You look really nice, sweetheart," you say, blinking to dispel the moisture in your eyes before it can turn to tears."Daddy did a good job." 

"Are you okay?" Avery asks. 

You try to turn your frown to a smile, the expression one Avery isn't used to seeing. Panicked, she looks to Steve, who's already looking at you tenderly. 

"I'm sorry," you say. It aches in your cheeks. Being a parent means hiding how you feel when it's bad, but you're grasping at the air for a reassurance that isn't there. She's never going to stop getting older. And this is a beautiful thing in reality. 

Right now, it's terrifying. 

"You look lovely," you say, swiping at tears as they tip. "I'm really sorry, Avery, I'm okay. You look so beautiful, honey." 

Steve crouches down by Avery's side, hands on her waist. "This is going to sound silly, because you're so excited about going to school, but me and your mommy are just a little sad." 

"You're sad because I'm going to school?" Avery asks. 

You nod, shame-faced, "A bit." 

"Well, I won't go," she says in confusion.

You close the distance between you and hold her chin in your hand. "You have to go! I want you to go, I promise. I want you to meet new friends, and learn new things. I can't wait for you to see the whole world." 

"Then why are you crying?" she asks. 

You push your thumb into the corner of her mouth and make her smile. "You'll understand when you're older," you say. 

She groans. "Mom, I want to know now." 

"I can't explain it." You kiss her soft forehead. "Sorry." You kiss her forehead again. "Sorry. You really look beautiful, and I know you're going to have a good day. They won't know what to do with you." 

You arranged to start work late so you can see her off for her first day and help if drop off becomes too much for Steve to do alone. Now that Avery's old enough for school, she'll need to be dropped off and picked up everyday, and your working hours don't allow for you to do it. This means Steve will have to get all three girls ready every day. They can't wait in the car by themselves. It's a lot more than he's used to doing, which isn't to say he doesn't keep his girls clean and clothed in fresh jammies. He takes them grocery shopping and to the movies and Aunt Robin's house by himself all the time, it's not a difficult task (most of the time) but it takes work. It's going to be a lot for him. 

He can do it, obviously. You just wish you could be more helpful. You tried to talk your boss into an earlier start time so you could finish in time to grab Avery and save him the trip, but it meant you'd start work at 6AM. Nobody would be there to let you in, and it was deemed 'unfeasible'. 

You worry about it on the ride there. Three girls in car seats, you in the front, they're hard to handle. Avery's far away in the very back, the third row, while Dove whines in the second, Bethie behind you asking if she can come and sit in your lap. 

"Sorry, lovely. Two minutes, okay? Two minutes and we'll be there." 

Steve shouts over your placating, "How are you feeling, Avey-Bear?" 

"I feel good, dad!" 

"It's the left entrance, right?" Steve asks you. 

"Yeah, with the big crayon mural. Dove, I know! I can see it! Is it too tight? Let mommy have a look." 

You lean through the seats. Steve takes a hand from the wheel to hold your side up and stop you from collapsing forward as you fiddle with Dove's seat straps. This chaos cannot be a good sign, you think.

You pull into the lot. Kids are everywhere, hundreds of them flooding toward the elementary school like ants carving paths through grass and sidewalk. The air smells like pine trees as you step out of the car. 

While grizzly, you're pleased to find that your girls look good. Smart, well-loved. You grab Bethie, her seat behind yours, and Steve takes Dove. Avery unclasps her own car seat and climbs over the second row to slide out by your legs. 

"Nice job, babe," you say, holding up your hand. Avery high fives you. 

Soon as Steve's ready, you take Avery's hand with Bethie perched as a heavy weight on your hip. She's too big to need carrying and you'll have to put her down sooner rather than later, but for now you hold her, mind racing as she asks, "Mommy, do I go with Avery?" 

"No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Avery's going by herself." 

And what the fuck? you think, looking down at Avery where she squeezes your hand, the skirt of her dress swishing side to side as she skips. How can she be doing this by herself? She doesn't seem old enough. How can anybody expect her to do this? 

Bethie rests her cheek on your shoulder. "That's OK. I want to be with you." 

She's not going to be pleased in another half an hour, then, but that's a future problem. 

Steve trudges behind you like a man walking to his death. You're not exaggerating when you think to yourself about how pale he's gone, his cheeks devoid of any colour. 

You follow the path past the school gates and into its playground. Most kids stay waiting with their parents while younger ones crowd the jungle gym, though there are some you recognise from playgroups and the local playground. You've accidentally cut it a bit close, not expecting the girls to be as hard to get into the car as they'd been, and the bell rings to call everyone inside only thirty seconds later. 

Children call goodbye to their parents. Avery had an orientation day a little while ago and knows where she has to go, but for the first time that morning, she hesitates. 

"You okay?" Steve asks her. 

She looks between you both and her sisters with a funny kind of smile. Altogether too grown up. "Will it be okay?" she asks. 

"What, school?" he asks. "School is going to be awesome. You are going to have so much fun." 

She licks her lips, thinking. You step forward ro fuss with her hair, every bit of it perfect. She looks up into your face and you plaster a smile over your worries. The longer you look at her, the more authentic it becomes. 

"You make things amazing everywhere you go. School won't be any different," you promise. 

"Quick, kiss before you go to the classroom," Steve says. 

You get yours first. Avery goes on tiptoes to kiss you, then Bethie, who laughs. Steve crouches down to get his, stealing a too-long hug with her as Dove wriggles under his arm. 

"Love you." Steve pats her shoulder. "See you in a couple of hours. We'll go get a treat for you being this brave." 

Avery holds her lunchbox to her stomach and nods excitedly. "Okie dokie. I love you." She waves at Dove. "Bye-bye, Dove." 

Dove looks at Avery like she's an alien. Her confusion lasts, lips puckering into a pout as Avery races toward the school door and disappears from view. 

"Ready to go?" you ask Steve gently. 

"I think I'll just… we'll just wait for a bit, in case she forgot something."

You fight another wave of heat as it gathers behind your eyes. Steve looks so sad that it's making you sad too. "Sure, honey. Let's wait a bit." 

You aren't expecting Avery to have actually forgotten something, but she rockets from the door looking terrified. Steve seems surprised that she really needed something too, though he doesn't waver. 

"We're still here," he calls as she runs up to you. 

"Dad," she says, breathless, putting her hand on his knee, "what do I say?" 

"To who?" 

"To the other girls!" 

Steve rubs her cheek with a forefinger fondly. "Hello is a good start. You could say… Hi, I'm Avery Harrington. I have two little sisters, a pet fish, and my favourite colour is lilac." 

She nods like she thinks this is a great idea. "I'm Avery, and I have two sisters and my fish and my favourite colour is lilac," she repeats verbatim. "What about you and mom?" 

Steve blinks, pleased. "Uh." 

You grin, saying, "What about, my mom and dad are best friends?" 

Avery nods again, little chin dipping severely. "My mom and dad are best friends. Okay. Okay, thank you, I'm going back now." 

Steve steals another kiss before she can run off. "Have a good day, honey."

"I will!" she shouts, spinning on her heel. You listen to her leave, her lunchbox making a metallic clicking sound, her shoes squeaking on paving stones. 

She's gone a full minute before either of you attempt to leave, a strange silence between you. Eventually Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you make your way back to the car. 

"You okay?" you ask him. 

He's pink around the eyes, but he says, "I'm okay. She looked really excited, right?" 

You kiss his cheek. "It'll be alright." 

"I know. Just feel really fucking weird." 

Bethie claps a hand over her mouth with a little pop. Steve imitates her, eyes glowing with bemusement. "Who said that?" he asks. 

She giggles in that syrupy way kids do when they know they're doing something naughty. "That's a bad word." 

"I'm allowed one bad word today, Bethie. They said so." 

"Who?" Bethie asks. 

Steve shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. You expect me to know everything, little miss, how'm I supposed to know everything?" 

Bethie wraps an arm behind your neck. 

"What's he doing to you?" you ask, arms on fire from carrying her this long and with no intent to put her down. "Daddy's not being very nice, is he? Asking my little girl all these big questions." 

Your soft crooning has her like jelly in your arms. Steve relaxes in turn looking at her, his hands petting at Dove's back. "They're ganging up on me," he says to her, in a similar sweet tone, searching Dove's face for some affection. "You're not going to pick their side, are you?" 

Dove pouts for a kiss. 

Steve is ecstatic, Dove never so generous. He kisses her gently, and rubs his forehead against hers to tickle her with his hair. 

"Mommy's gotta go to work," you remind him. 

"Do you?" he asks, not looking up from Dove's affection. 

"Unfortunately." 

"They're taking my girls from me one by one. I thought missing you every day was bad enough, now I don't get my Avery… I hate everything." 

"I know. It doesn't feel this awful all the time, I promise." 

He makes a grateful sound. "I'll take your word for it. Thanks, honey." 

You squeeze his bicep. "You're welcome." 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[shut-up-rabert]

You fucking piece of propagandist shit…..

So I has this muslim propaganda channel in my recommendation (I literally watch videos from Sham Sharma Show youtube the fuck is wrong with you?) called Smile 2 Jannah and he had a video about molestation relating to holi 🤡 So original, amirite?

(I’d suggest watching the stupid video before going into the rant for being able to understand what in the bullshit is written below here)

First of all brother in Christ no one is asking you to play, are they? It is good to raise issues, yes, but if you are a propaganda channel earning from polarising a group of induviduals via one sided narrative, it does put your intentions under skepticism. Hmmmmmm.

Intro (dhakan)

Now, for his first point:

India’s ruling party blah blah blah, RSS blah blah blah, Hindutva blah blah blah main gadhe ka bacha hun blah blah blah

How. Does. Molestation. On. Holi. Relate. To. Fucking. Central. Government.?.

IT HAS BEEN A THING UNDER VARIOUS PM’S TENURES OHMYGOD-

Do you honestly think that once voting was completed on that fateful afternoon of May 2014 these perverts rose from the earth or something😭 bhaiya thode restarted ho kya?

Sounds ridiculous, right? My thoughts exactly while hearing you utter those goddamn words.

Next, he shows a clip of said molestation. Those of you who know me already understand my stance on this, but lets get into this when he does. Now, onto this idiot’s next segment:

Story of holi (haan bhai tu bata hume tujhe zyaada pata hai)

Hiranyakashyap yada yada yada holika yada yada yada Holika Dahan blu bleh flu fleh

First of all, my dear friend. We don’t celebrate holi faag due to those reasons— that would be holi dahan, it precedes Holi faag aka the day you are covering in this video by one whole day. Great research 👍🏼

Holi Fāg is celebrated because Lord Krishna and his friends used to pluck flowers of early spring, extract colour from them via pestling and smear it on each other as a childish game. Completely harmless, no? Unless you have issues about teenage boys and girls playing around or something XD

And lets not end it here, my man has some

✨interesting✨

opinions about Holika Dahan aswell

Holika was manipulated into burning her own nephew alive, poor woman🥺

Same level of intellect as “Ravan was just a good brother who wanted to exploit a married woman totally against her wishes for his sis’s perverseness UwU”

Holika has nowhere been mentioned to be manipulated. If anything, the texts say that she was willing for it to happen. Imagine trying to defend a literal demon who was trying to burn her own nephew alive, for fuck’s sake my man…

now, onto the story of powder (sorta disclaimer: I’m writing the points while watching the video myself, so if there’s inconsistencies and incidents of me jumping the gun, I’m surry ;-;) This is a believed story aswell, true, but the reason he chose this one over the flowers one is veryyy clear; its easy to propagate :D

Krishna liked Radha, skin colour diffrences, maiyya Yashoda, Oh my Him he’s doing rAcIsM—

First of all, his original form isn’t even black; he’s actually blue. Blue of the Sky, he is described as. He incarnates in various shades from dusky to midnight dark to sky blue to green to milky white. Why? Because all the shades are same to him. We literally have gods who are called Bhadra Kāli (beautiful black woman), Krishnā (her with a dusky tone), Shyam Sundar (Black skinned in handsome) , Sundar Sanvaro ( Handsome and Dusky) but of COURSE our gods are doing racism. No propaganda here guys, none whatsoever

(there was no need for this pic here but y’all LOOK AT VASUKI T-T)

One thing he IS surprisingly right about is how colonisation had an effect on our perception of beauty, because ancient Indian texts are all praises about Krishna’s own beauty, going to the lengths of showing that he was so beautiful that he stole the maternal affection from his playmates mothers aswell. So no, he wasn’t sending any wrong messages by acting as an oblivious child because colourism wasn’t an issue back then.

Second of all, The story is incorrect. He did not “long” for Radha. They were literal little children in this one, unlike the other one where they are teens. This is just childish curiousity at play, about tall and short, about fair and dark, about this and that. We literally have a renowned lullaby about this, where Krishna is curiously asking his Mother why him and Radha are two different shades and she lovingly gives creative answers about the same.

What he was doing was, he wanted to play with Radha, but was afraid she would not play with him because they look “different” (NOT because he thought his skin was inferior to hers, he literally chose that skin) so Maiyya Yashoda told him to play with coulours so they are all the same shade (neither dark nor fair, just plain colourful). This man is so shameless he’s glossing over everything just to degrade us. Imagine being so fucking insecure that you need to actively bring other religions down to feel devotes. You don’t need youtube my man, you need Jesus.

…..He literally degraded christianity RIGHT after I said Jesus. How is he so fucking vindictive? Jesus wasn’t black OR white, he was *drumroll please* Brown! My man Yeshua was from Nazareth, he wasn’t technically black. Do you want him to have Vitiligo to prove that he doesn’t chose one colour over the other?

Christian Jesus isn’t white: Western Jesus is. African Christians have portrait of him as a black man, Chinese scriptures show him of Asian features. And while you may like to think its problematic, I think its beautiful and Jesus wouldn’t even mind people of that time interpreting him such to be close to him. Humans are spiteful PoS, Gods are not! Imagine personifying your own Prophet because you are just that hateful.

Like I already pointed out, that’s not it my man. Refer to the points above the Jesus rant. Trying to twist things won’t work here, maybe you think you can put words in God’s mouth but all we see is an audacious piece of crap trying his best to change a narrative we are well versed in and attached to for his own interests.

The reason he knew she “liked” (as much as you can “like” someone in a childish way) him back was because their minds were connected. They knew each other’s thoughts and feelings. Why? Because she is his soulmate. She is Krishna’s other half, she is Goddess Laxmi in a human form, The wife and eternal Love of Lord Vishnu, who is the one incarnated as Krishna.

And was this a grown man touching a grown woman? No, it wasn’t. It was a kid playing with another kid, think a little boy throwing water balloons on a little girl. He never touched her inappropriately even in their teens, when they were actually in love with each other. Them not having had a sexual relationship is one of there core factors that strengthens their bond as lovers.

See how he doesn’t even mention the second story aka the one I mentioned in the Fāg segment? Yeah, me too.

And while we are at it, can we please talk about how (not so) subtely he is trying to degrade our Gods here? Accusing someone people worship as Supreme of racism by hiding facts, questioning what kind of message he is sending to a population that does not even practice the said religion, saying stuff like ‘quote unquote God’, accusing someone’s God of sexual harrasment (this is a new low guys) . Yeah, we see your motives here asshole.

Your genuine curiosity on stuff you think is not cut out for you or is questionable is welcome, your passive agressive comments on someone people worship are not. You do not follow the said God, Your subscribers don’t follow him, we who do are not running a cult here either. What is your position to discuss someone else’s God in a humanising way where you put him in a position akin to humans? Having a one sided dictate based on half assed reasearch , furthered with nitpicking of negatives and adding your own “thoughts” on it to make it sound bad, and putting your personally motivated views to a biased audience is very much crossing the line of civil. Fuck off already.

Now, back to what my man has to say:

Where Holi went wrong

according to Smarty Pants McAllknowing here, the Japanese girl incident is reflective of what Shree Krishna was upto. Is it? We know its not, but is the audience that he is trying to not so softly influence aware? Nope.

Molestation and Roadside Romeos causing chaos on holi are common occurences. People get gropped, harrassed, and has even resulted in crimes like rape and death. There’s a fine line between being playful in a way that is enjoyable and being a nuisance, and people with malicious intents are likely to cross it on purpose. Most of us were playing with our family and friends and having fun instead of going out of our way to bother strangers, that’s basic decency on any given day and Holi doesn’t change that for most of us ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So majority of us celebrate it like any other festival, given with a lot more excitement and carefreeness, but that too is constricted to our peers.

Also, lets make one thing clear shall we: people with bad intentions don’t just ‘pop-up’ on occassions, they are actively looking for a loop to be perverts without consequences.

It is not that Holi was created to give perverts ammo, it is that holi is being used as a shield by people who are generally deviants aswell. It is an issue amongst the Hindu community and trying to make us the perpetrators as a whole in our own personal matter which we are trying to solve is not only intrusive, its disrespectful aswell.

You think people are fine and good all 364 days and decide to become hornie motherfuckers just when holi is around the corner?? Its the fucking perverts, not Holi and other Hindus playing. No, and trying to defame holi which again 95% of us play normally without all that gropping is nothing short of an attempt to defame the festival.

There are women who have reported being raped while on Pilgrimages (including Hajj, highlighting for my self righteous friend here), does that make the pilgrimage spot evil? Huh?

Now, going on to what happened to those women. Its bad, and those people deserve to be punished by the law because of outraging a woman’s modesty. But tell me with a straight face that the rest if is who were just having fun with our family are responsible, or all of us collectively playing holi are responsible?

Reminds me of this honestly:

Same with the muslim woman being attacked, its shameful that these perverts would go to such lengths, and again deserve to be locked up, but your accusations at the government controlling news is so ridiculous its laughable.

The government would have done a better job hiding its cracks at Farmer’s protests and Hijab issues now, would they have not? They would have censored The Hindu, whose head is a member of communist party, TOI and IE. And what is the point in leaving NDTV up there who would give you more fuel for your accusations if you only look? The government has many active critics, and a lot of anti hindu media exists, but sure, we are controlling XD

Lynchings are harmful and are should be condemned, so I feel reluctant questioning you here, even though your intentions of bringing lynching in a video not even related to it is peculiar, to say the least. Why did you suddenly go off the tangent to tackle crimes against muslims in a video regarding Hindu festivals? Everything we do and have is connected to Islam on such mind bending rationales it doesn’t even surprise me anymore.

……..The beef being talked about is BUFFALO BEEF?! LMFAOOOO this guy isn’t even trying to hide his agenda anymore😭😭😭 jaa bhai, galti meri hi hai

Connecting it with Islam AGAIN? Man, this guy’s victim complexion is strong, yikes.

They are not allowed to grope or touch us non consensually. Infact, Shree Krishna whom you so conviniently insulted killed a man because he said illicit words about his best friend who was a woman. The said Woman also resulted in a kingdom’s fall because she was manhandled by the princes. Furthermore, in his previous incarnation Krishna killed a demon who had tried to molest his wife. If you think that anyone can grope us and not get slapped into the stars, then you have no clue what our scriptures teach us to be like.

Look, I respect your religions ways of treating women as sacred or pure or what it is that you guys believe in (and totally disrespect your ways of trying to glorify your religion in a video that is already degrading another one), but that’s where we vary. If an educated Hindu man saw me extending my hand for a greeting, he would take it. Why? Because I am an equal. I’m just another human if I’m not a woman he is platonically or romantically related to. In the ancient days we all folded our hands and greeted from afar, now we shake hands when meeting professionally. I like it this way, you like it yours, how about not try to patronise us?

Me trying to find where this sudden hype of Islam is coming from in a video not even related to it:

Okay, that accusation about hindu men fondling people left right and centre? Aren’t you inflating things a bit a lot? Is it too much to ask you to stop speaking over us??

Everything was (still kinda) well and good up until you decided to drag hinduism again. Why did God allow Holi? To celebrate with your family like Diwali and Navratri? We don’t go out bothering strangers on other two and Holi was specifically being played between Krishna and his friends? No one outside was being bothered.

Also, if you really need to toot your religion’s horn by a (biased) comparison with someone else’s, then believe me when I say that your faith in God isn’t half as strong as you like to think, since you need a catalyst that requires you too be a shit person. We never asked what your religion is like, we don’t even care, that’s your personal matter. Why try to grab our attention by falsely accusing what we believe in and force us to form a negative opinion on you? Who do you think you are, to drag my gods into this?

Also, is it just me or does it seem like this guys is talking about women but not to them? Its like he hasn’t addressed women in this video even once and thinks men are the primary ones concerned with issues like groping and how women are to be touched or not. He is literally using women as a bait without really bringing our psychology regarding all this into play. Am I the only one who finds it concerning?

Islam is practical— DID I FUCKING ASK?? NO, BECAUSE I DON’T FUCKING CARE! IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOLI OMG—

This guy has his head so far up his ass, he can’t stop talking about things he thinks make him superior. I swear to God, don’t feel surprised if he makes a video about why guys with (whatever was his first tricycle) fucking stomp over others who grew up with “girl bikes”.

I know its not my place to say it, but I just wanna bust this guy’s bubble so I’m sorry to any muslim reading it: Its the fastest growing religion because it has the highest birth rate, and conversion for sake of marriage. And about his point regarding women converting, Not saying that there aren’t those who genuinely do and good for them, but whose gonna tell him about the dark stuff happening here💀 A part of me thinks he already knows but thinks its wonderful.

So yeah, that was all from this asshole. I hope this white bearded man baby grows up and learns to reach God with his chosen path, without requiring to bring others down. All in all, my last words to this guys are:

#I’mmso fucking done #This took me 2 hours guys #2 FUCKING HOURS #desiblr #hindublr #hinduphobia #hinduism #bhoi being bitchy #holi

[magicalmadrigals]

Never A Dull Moment - One Shot

[Synopsis: There has never been a dull moment in the Madrigal household and the morning of Dolores' wedding is no exception. With Isa and Dolores driving Mira up the wall, Pepa going out of her mind and Agustin being...well...Agustin, Julieta is slowly giving up hope of getting anything done. She can't find it in her to complain though. After all, it is probably the most fun she has ever had.]

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

“Get that thing away from me! Mamá! Mamá!”

Julieta sighed under her breath and moved away from the counter at the sound of thundering feet and her daughter shouting at the top of her lungs, wiping her hands on her apron and palming a curl from her face seconds before she came racing into la cocina with Isa and Dolores hot on her heels. She had little time to work out what was going on before Mira moved behind her, using her as a human shield, and she laughed when the two elder girls halted in front of her. “Ay, I already know I’ll regret this,” She pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back and forth between the girls. “But what’s going on?”

“Only a game, Tía.” Dolores smiled, smoothing her hands down the front of her dressing gown.

“Mamá, I don’t know what that thing is or what it does,” Mirabel waved her hand in the direction of Isa who was holding up her mascara applicator. “But you can tell them to keep it away from me because I have no interest in finding out.”

“Ugh, I am just trying to make you look beautiful!” Isa snapped.

“Excuse me, I am already beautiful!” Mira retorted. “Mamá, tell them I don’t need any of that stuff.”

Julieta glanced over her shoulder at her, reaching to stroke her face. “You are muy hermosa, mi vida.”

“And that is why you’re my favourite.” Mira leaned in to peck her cheek.

“But…”

“Wha? No, no, no. No buts!”

“But amor, today is a special occasion,” Julieta pointed out, laughing when her daughter gawped at her before turning back to the elder girls and seeing the smirks on their faces. “I think you should give her a ten-second head start. The poor girl deserves a chance.”

They glanced at each other and shared a knowing look before turning back to Mira.

“Diez, nueve, ocho…”

“Oh, you are so not my favourite anymore.” Mirabel grumbled, moving from behind her and fleeing la cocina.

Julieta crossed her arms and chuckled when Isa and Dolores gave up counting and ran after her again, Dolores with one hand on her head to keep the pins in place and Isa clinging to her mascara, and she shook her head when Pepa walked in. “Lolita, please…” She watched her reach out to take her daughter by the arm, but it was too late and there was a scowl on her face when she turned to her once her girl was out of sight. “You did this! You!”

“Me?” She brought a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “I have no idea what gave you that impression, but you are absolutely right.”

“Do you have any idea how long I have been trying to get her to sit still for?” Pepa asked. “You are not helping, hermana!”

“Ay...Casita, help me out here,” She rolled her eyes before the house moved a chair towards them and made Pepa sit down. “Pep, calm down. Remember what happened the last time you got worked up on a wedding day? It was not pretty. You gave me the flu!”

Her hermana sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “Lo siento. I…I want it to be perfect for her.”

Taking a buñuelo from the plate on the counter and sprinkling some powdered sugar onto it, she let Pepa take it from her and watched her take a bite. “It will be, I promise. I know you want everything to be done as fast as possible, but we have time before she needs to be at the church. Besides, she is the novia which means she has the right to be slightly late. She also has the right to a little fun before the anxiety takes over. Remember us in the hours before Gus and I got married? Chasing Bruno around the sitting room, trying to force him to wear that stupid tie? Mamá was so annoyed, but we had some fun.”

“You two had fun. I was strangled. You know; still not convinced you weren’t trying to get rid of me.”

They looked at each other for a second after Bruno poked his head into the room purely to make that comment, their laughter taking over when he vanished again as Pepa ate the last of her buñuelo before wiping the crumbs from her mouth. “It has been nice to hear her laughing,” Pepa admitted. “She does deserve to have some fun, you’re right.”

“Do you think I could get that in writing? You say it so little…” She teased.

All she earned herself was an eye roll in response as Pepa stood up. “I needed that. Gracias hermana.”

“De nada,” She shrugged before watching her leave la cocina and turning back to the counter to go on wiping it down, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk when a pair of arms snaked around her waist and her husband kissed her on the neck. “I may have to accept the fact that I am never going to get this counter clean again,” She feigned annoyance, leaning back against him. “So many distractions.”

“I think you’ll find you are the distraction here, amor, not me,” He replied, tucking his head gently into her neck and grazing the dip there with his nose the way he knew made her shiver. “I only came in to see if you’d seen my tie, but now I hope we never find it.”

Setting the rag down and turning in his arms, bringing her hands to his chest and taking a moment to admire him in his suit, she smirked as his hands moved to her waist. “And why would you hope such a thing on a day like this, Señor?”

“Because…” He stepped further into her. “Until we find it, I can’t get dressed and that means I can stay here with you.”

She hummed in response, pretending to think about what he said while her gaze moved back and forth between his and his lips. “I have had better excuses from you in our many years of marriage, but I may be able to accept that one,” She admitted. “Just about.”

“Good. I mean, I would have regardless, but I like knowing you and I are on the same page.” He smiled.

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to stop talking at some point and kiss me? Else, this is turning out to be muy anticlimactic.”

Chuckling under his breath, he took a hand from her waist and brought it to the side of her neck under her curtain of hair before using his thumb beneath her chin to tilt her head back. He let his nose graze hers for a second, revelling in the way her eyes fell closed at the contact, and captured her lips with his in a soft kiss. She went up onto her tiptoes as the kiss lingered and he felt her arms circle his neck, her fingers teasing the hairs at the nape as they slowly gave in to one another. It was little wonder neither of them heard their daughter approaching the kitchen until it was too late.

“Ay, Mamá!”

Mira’s outcry prompted them to pull apart and turn to look at her, but their initial shock at her finding them like that passed quickly and they struggled to mask their amusement at her standing there with her hands covering her face.

“Mira, look at me.” Julieta told her.

“Nope.”

“Mira…”

“How could you let them do this to me?” Mirabel dropped her hands to reveal herself completely done up, mascara on her lashes and her lips a subtle shade of red. Her cheeks had even been patted with a little rouge by one of the girls. “I stopped running because they stopped counting, but then they both jumped on me. I think Isabela stabbed me in the eye with that stick thing and now I can’t see out of it.”

Agustín chuckled. “Miraboo, you couldn’t see much before. I don’t think you can blame Isa entirely.”

“Pa, I need you on my side.” She whined before he walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.

“Lo siento, but you really do look beautiful, mi vida.” Julieta shook her head, her hands on her hips.

She pouted. “I do not. I look like Isa threw up on me and yes, it feels as gross as it sounds.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Julieta made her way over and cupped her face in her hands. “If I help you sort this, will you forgive me?”

“Potentially,” She hummed. “I might forgive you a little faster if you give me a buñuelo after.”

Julieta nodded before taking her by the hand and walking her towards the exit of the kitchen, she and her husband sharing a smile when she stopped for a second to look over her shoulder at him. “Back in un momenta. Do not eat all those buñuelos, I beg you.”

“Promise. Uh, I really do need to know where my tie is though.”

“Bread bin.”

“Wha…”

“Amor, your guess is as good as mine.”

Standing there thoroughly confused, he watched his wife and daughter leave the kitchen together and frowned with a shake of his head. He had no idea what had gone on – it had been an insane morning already – but he was sure of one thing.

There really was never a dull moment in this house.

#julieta madrigal #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #agustin madrigal #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #isabela and dolores #isabela and julieta #isabela and mirabel #mirabel and julieta #mirable and isabela #mirabel and dolores #agustin x julieta #agustin and julieta #julieta and agustin #julieta x agustin #julistin #julieta and pepa #pepa and julieta #julieta and bruno #bruno and pepa #encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fic #encanto fanfiction #encanto julieta #encanto mirabel #encanto isabela #encanto dolores

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 15, Part 2 (Lost and Found, Aka The One Where Rory Loses Dean's Shitty Bracelet)

Part 1 and all previous commentary here. I should start renaming these things "Gilmore Girls 10 Minutes At A Time" because right now that's about all I can get through per day before Lorelai has me grinding my teeth into a fine powder. Luke and Jess are checking out some houses because Luke is totally going to move out to a new house in the middle of season 2. Luke and Jess have looked at about a half dozen apartments and they squabble over minor imperfections of each one, whether it be pink paint on the walls or an excess amount of windows. To both Jess and Luke: I would implore you both to be a little less stubborn and just take anything with two bedrooms. Your lives will drastically improve with any two bedroom apartment. Better yet, keep turning down every apartment in Stars Hollow until you've reached the next town. Continue this process until you're both living in another state completely. Jess eventually whatevers- I dont cares- you pick the place out of the situation because he's due at Lorelai's in 20 minutes to get treated like used gum on the bottom of her shoe and get paid in stale jelly beans. And we get a SadBaby™ quote.

Let's play another game of "What the hell is that: early 2000's gadget edition"

What the hell is that? VHS rewinder thingymabob.

Oh. It's just a clock. A clock that plays cds and makes barnyard noises. Would you look at that. Another one of my favorite mini games to play while watching gilmore girls is "Determining how an object is going to be integral to the plot of the episode". This is Gilmore GIrls so we are seeing this clock for a reason. This clock won't just show up and disappear with no further explanation. It always means something. Please say Lorelai hides her squealing State of the Art CD player pig clock when Jess arrives because she thinks he is going to steal it. PLEASE. I promise it's been long enough since I've seen the show that I don't know if that actually happens but I put nothing past her. Nothing. Let's take a break to Admire The Baby:

Although he may flake out on dates with Rory and skip school, our little Employee of the Month is always on time for work.

Narrator: He would not be getting his own room.

#AdmireTheBaby #Quick #BeforeLorelaiShowsUp

Narrator: Lorelai Gilmore did not find Jess Mariano's arrival to be all that terrific.

Nevermind moving down the street in Stars Hollow, he's hoping for that Male Gilmore Characters California Wormhole to suck him up and transport him to the opposite end of the country to get away from this hell. He still has to suffer for another season and a half before that'll happen. Jess is this emoji: 😐

Narrator: She was not trying. Rory gives Jess the ol Razzle Dazzle: "Why don't you talk more?" or more precisely "Why don't you talk around my mother"?

Why is Jess supposed to trust and adore and respect this random woman he doesn't know, who he sees pawing at his uncle he also doesn't know, a random strange woman who is very transparent in her feelings about him, who is transparently suspicious of him for no reason, someone so full of shit that he can see right through her when no one else can or will admit to it. WHAT I'M GETTING AT IT IS: Is he supposed to be happy to be in her presence or something? Why should he have anything to say? He's only doing this because of a rock solid work ethic, and I’d say because he hopes to earn some money. But I’d hate to dash poor Baby’s hopes about making any money and inform him that his uncle and his uncle’s weird friend agreed he could be paid subpar wages.

I think everyone in Stars Hollow is two faced anyway. They act like they like her but you know Patty and Babette talk shit nonstop about Lorelai when she's not around. Kinda like me.

Honey, you can just keep your pretty little mouth quiet around her and let me do all the shit talking.

Why? Even Rory is still more or less a stranger to him at this point, an acquaintance or loose friend at best (we know this because minutes earlier, Lorelai had Lorelai Thoughts about Rory saying Jess was a casual friend). Why does he have to please her mom? Rory says she went out on a limb to try to convince her mother that Jess was a good person. This is true. But why is she even wasting her breath trying to convince Lorelai when her mother clearly refuses to listen. It’s a hopeless endeavor. Jess does not even owe Lorelai the time of day so stop asking him to be nice to her.

#AdmireTheBaby Rory: It wouldn't hurt you to be nice to my mom. Jess: Why? Rory: Because she's my mom and a friend of Luke's. Jess: So? Just because she's your Mom or Luke's friend doesn't mean I automatically have to get along with her. Thank you for doing the work for me, babes. Mwah.

Fixed it with some flawless editing. Rory: If you care about me at all you'll be mildly polite to my mother.

GOT HER! :) #SharpAsATack

Mmm. Do go on.

I just skipped ahead to see what was happening at the 20 minute mark and it's Dean and I can't complain because yesterday I was literally begging for him to show up to divert the plot away from Lorelai even for a minute. Thank you Dean. Thank you. I am eagerly anticipating your whining and sulking at the book fair.

#AdmireTheBaby

We have been blessed with another Milo Ventimiglia Okuh. An okuh is like a soothing balm that makes everything better.

#AdmireTheBaby.

YAYYYY ITS DEAN! HOORAY FOR DEAN! DEAN DEAN DEAN DEAN.

Taylor's back on his bullshit I see. What are we raising money for, err should I say what cause is Taylor stealing money from? Please tell me it's the Bridge so I can divert my Lorelai Rage into Bridge Rage and Dean Rage. I'm a bit delirious right now. Amy Sherman Palladino: This character Dean likes to read books. No, sports. No, books again. No, he rides a motorcycle. Wait, books again. Softball? Dean hates to read. HOCKEY. Here is Dean early in season 1 contrasted with Dean halfway into season 2 (still wearing that smelly leather coat too):

I am particularly delighted whenever the 3 Dean Forrester fans in existence try to use Dean telling Rory "I watched you browse for books for two hours" as an example of his devotion to Rory. As you can see by this display of unbridled enthusiasm, he clearly wants to be here with her. When Rory disputes that it’s been that long and feels guilty for boring him, he shows her his watch to prove to her its been two hours. Dean Forrester is a stale chicken nugget that's been laying on the floor for 4 days. You know what would make everyone happy? Jess and Dean switching places. Dean could go over to Lorelai's and spend some time "cleaning her gutters" and Jess and Rory could enjoy the book fair. God, in what universe is it fucking fair that DEAN is the one who gets to accompany Rory to a book sale and he just acts like a miserable turd. While Jess is missing the book fair to work for Lorelai? UGH. I hear Rory's voice screaming "WHAT'S UP QUIPPY! WHY SO SILENT!" at Paris but my inner monologue is screaming "WHAT'S UP AMY! WHY COULDN'T JESS GO TO THE BOOK FAIR? HUH? WHY SO SILENT?! AMY!" Literally the only thing to ever happen in Stars Hollow that he would enjoy and voluntarily attend and instead he's slopping some bitch's gutters. I maxed out my 30 screen shots and I can't delete any of Baby so this three ring shit circus will spill into a part 3. See ya soon.

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #denise rewatches gilmore girls #jess mariano #milo ventimiglia #gilmore girls season 2 #lost and found #luke danes

[wambos-storytime-corner]

7 Deadly Diapers: Lust pt 1-4 (TW: Harassment)

“Anything else, sir?” The waitress said with a biting tone, bill in hand.

“Actually.. i was hoping for some dessert.” Max said with a mischievous smile dropping a piece of cutlery onto the ground. “Oops! Could you grab that for me, doll face?”

Mindy had enough of the man’s catcalling and wandering eyes. Being a regular at the diner, Max was a generous tipper. But the pay was not worth Mindy’s dignity and patience anymore. And while everyone knew Max did this to nearly every woman in town, Mindy had unfortunately become his white whale. Tonight she was determined to just hand off the bill and get him out.

“We don’t have a dessert menu, sir.” she rolled her eyes, bending down to the cutlery.

“Don’t lie.. There’s a perfectly good cake right here!” He reaches but Mindy furiously slaps his hand away.

“HOW DARE YOU!” She exclaimed, “you slimy pig!!” With a single hard slap across the face she turned towards the kitchen.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry…” he adjusts his jaw. “But lighten up. You’re really mad at a guy for giving you a compliment? No thank you?”

“You make me sick. You think it’s nice to be ogled at? Objectified?” She takes him to the door by his collar and shouts:

“I wish you’d understand just how small and dirty you make us women feel! Now GET OUT of my diner!”

With a shove Mindy slammed the doors. As she sighed she swore she smelled baby powder…? But turned and walked to the kitchen to compose herself.

Max huffed at the door. “Dumb bitch! She was fat anyway..” as he walked down the road, muttering, he hardly noticed the sudden draft around his legs and an odd bulk growing around his groin. A tall shadow suddenly cast over him as he bumped against something big and solid.

“Hey watch where you’re..!” Looming over him was a group of huge amazon women, eyeing him hungrily.

“Oh we’re watching alright.. where’s your mommy little boy?”

…

“Uh.. Excuse me?” Max felt an immediate nervousness wash over him by how the huge, mighty women were looking at him. They all were dressed like celebrities in tight, mature, womanly dresses accentuating each of their uniquely alluring figures.

“Aww… look at him squirm girls! How adorable.” The tallest one swooned, leading all the others to coo. She bent down, her buxom chest hanging in front of his face. “Do you understand what we’re saying, sweet boy?”

“I-I-I.. uh.. I..” normally he’d feel willing to take charge in front of such a gorgeous woman but he felt tongue tied and almost scared by the way they looked at him. It didn’t help that bystanders had started watching the whole scene unfold as well.

“Go on, baby.. use your words!” The darkly-clad, motherly leader cheered him on.

“Oh Claire.. maybe he’s lost! Poor thing!” An equally curvy, ditzier blonde in a red slitted sequin dress chimed in.

“Oh my god.. rose, Claire, look at his dress!” A tomboyish, muscular one in a bra and low rise jeans snickered at the man.

“My what?!” He glanced down to find his new summery orange dress dancing in the wind. The women cackled at him as he swiveled and turned to walk away. But then his dress twirled over his waistline for a moment, revealing another surprise.

“Whoa there girls.. Did I just see what I think I saw?” Said the tomboy. Before Max could run, his dress was tugged up all around him. In shock he felt his bladder empty. Except it didn’t stream down his leg.. instead he felt swelling right where the amazons were inspecting. Their laughter boomed.

“AWW! It’s true, Holly! Looks like he needs them, too! How cute is that?”

“Naughty boy! Right In front of your aunties?”

“That is the FATTEST diaper I’ve ever seen!” From every angle he felt the girls squeeze his butt.

“Let go!! P-People are staring!” He demanded.

“So? If you didn’t want anyone checking your diapers, why’d you dress like that?”

“You should be grateful for the attention!” Rose scoffed with a spank.

“Exactly!” Holly said easily lifting him onto her hip like a child.

“You’re coming with us, young lady! There’s a diner over there. Maybe they’ll have a changing table big enough for your big soggy butt~!”

…

The bell to the diner rang. Mindy groaned having just calmed down from earlier. “Welcome to Patty’s. How man—“ she was stunned to silence by the posse of beautiful giants in front of her. “H-hey. Table for three?”

“Make that four actually!” Chimed Rose.

“And we’ll need a high chair for our plus one~! Can you say hi?” Claire maneuvered Max to the front of their crew, each hand held by a different Amazon. His dress was no longer blowing but his freshly soaked diaper hung low enough to be plainly visible to the waitress. In a moment, she registered his face, and could do nothing to suppress her laughter.

“OH MY GOD!! THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!” She teared up from laughing so hard, causing Max’s face to steam, “I’ve got a table right by the window hold on ladies!! You’ve made my day!”

“What a polite young lady!” Claire said reading her name tag as Mindy swiftly pulled out a childish, neon colored high chair, a kids menu and crayons with the biggest smile she could muster, “can you say thank you Ms. Mindy?” Mindy paused leaning in with a cupped ear as gleeful as she could be.

“… thank you.” Every Amazon gave a stern look. Holly swatted his bottom hard. “T-thank you Miss Mindy!”

“Oh you’re so welcome! My, what a well-behaved little girl!” She said pinching his cheeks with an evil hiss. She suddenly noticed how bulky the man’s diaper was and how vulnerable he was with his hands being held. She snorted but containing herself. She walked over puffing out her bottom lip as though out of pity. “Oh dear.. are we still potty training at her age?”

“I’m afraid so! Why the poor baby wet herself on the way here!” Claire yarned like she were Max’s legal caregiver. Max shot a scowl at the woman. Before Mindy tilted her head with feigned innocence.

“Now now maxie! You’re much too big for that! Don’t your aunties teach you any better? Tut tut! Do you mind if I take a look? I used to babysit.“ she fluttered her eyelids.

“No!!” Max shouted.

“Nonsense! We don’t mind at all!” Rose ruffled the boys hair.

“Excellent! Now let’s see what the damage is~!” She hummed a tune and yanked up the dress with a yip from Max. She pulled his plastic pants down, gasping loudly so all the patrons would hear her. “Yup! This thing is drenched alright! I can hardly believe it. She must’ve not even tried to get to the potty!” Max was beet red as everyone stared at him trying to get eyes on this “drenched” diaper. “Buuuut, I’d say she’s got room for one more good wetting before she leaks!”

“Really? So no change needed?” Claire asked innocently.

“No not at all! Besides she’s got these big pretty plastic panties just in case right? And if she ever wants to learn how to be big girl, you gotta make her sit in what she did. That way she knows it’s naughty.”

“That makes perfect sense!” Rose agreed.

“Anyway ladies! Here you are! I gave the little tyke the whole shabang! I made sure to put her high chair right in front of the windows so people can see her pretty dress and squishy little booty! Just so you know kids under 5 eat free today so she’s on the house! Please, PLEASE let me know if you need anything else!” She clasped her hands grateful for the chance to humiliate the biggest womanizer in town.

“Such wonderful service! And they’ve got a coloring mat Maxie!” Rose’s fawning made Mindy need to turn and compose herself.

“Upsie daisy, now!” Max was unwillingly lifted by Claire and stuffed into the much room small high chair. His diaper seems to push out of every opening in the bars and his dress rode up in the back where he couldn’t reach. His soaked butt was on full display of the restaurant. He pouted and hid his face in shame fighting away Claire’s hands. “Someone’s fussy! I’ll take a coffee! Can we get some scrambled eggs and a warm milk for her?”

“HAPPILY!!” Right before taking off Mindy curled her face into a smile, “would you like me to put it in a bottle and bring a bib with that ma’am?”

“Yes please!” All the amazons said in unison to Max’s utter dismay.

…

“Alright Maxie! Here comes the airplane!”

“Open wide dear!” Claire buzzed the spoon of eggs into his mouth. He was full to bursting, unable to eat another bite despite so many eggs littering his face, bib, and table. It had been two hours of cooing, babying, and chit chat with Mindy who hadn’t smiled this much in years.

“If we ever need a babysitter we know who to call!” Said Holly sipping a coffee.

“Aw shucks I’d be honored to look after the little angel! But.. I don’t change diapers too well.” Mindy sang, elated to discuss his waking nightmare in detail. She meandered behind the boy and freely hiked up his dress, gesturing to his swollen seat in a loud embarrassing whisper, “Does she.. yknow?”

“Oh Make poopoo? Well we’re not too sure..”

“I think she’s plenty old enough to be past that!”

“She better be.”

“Oh I bet she is…” Mindy watched max’s face contort as she saw the laxative milk the women made him drink take effect, churning his insides at the table for a half hour now. “Um is everything okay little lady? Do you need something?” All eyes turned to him.

“I-I uh.. I gotta use.. the bathroom—“

“You mean the potty? For what?” His face burnt but he was too desperate.

“To.. yknow..” the long pause following insinuated all the women would wait until he said it. He groaned and let it fly “I gotta poop now! Please let me down!”

“So polite! Of course!” All the Amazon’s dotingly complimented and applauded max like a toddler setting him on the floor from the high chair. But as soon as he booked it towards the bathroom, the sound of a spoon on the floor sliding in front of him caught his ear.

“Oops! Such a klutz.. can you get that for me, baby girl?” Mindy smirked. Max was ready to explode. He couldn’t possibly pick it up and not lose control.

“Maxie. This instant. The potty isn’t going anywhere.” His aunties commanded. He had no choice. He bent down with great care but knew his fate was sealed. A hand slammed then caressed his bottom. Then it was over. A hot and gooey mass piled out of him, cupped by the waiting palms of Mindy..

“Aw.. so close! But That’s okay! Would some dessert cheer you up? I’d offer cake, but I think you won’t be getting any for a long, long time.. Maybe a big gooey batch of brownies instead?” While Mindy squished his mess around in front of a whole diner cooing for him, max just cried. This was his new life.

Madam twist watches on in joy as the events unfold.

“Bravo, my clever waitress.. so lies the sin of lust. To covet after someone with complete depravity. What a lowly position: thinking merely with one’s loins. Thank the cosmos Mindy called, so I could free the women of this town from such tenacious perversions before anything got out of hand. And young Miss ‘Maxie.’ You deserve to be constantly looked down upon, so the amazons are a most brilliant gift from me. Be grateful for it. Perhaps once you abandon your misogyny for good, you can find a loving woman who will whisk you off your feet… *sniff* gah! and promptly onto a changing table. Oh I pray for her sake your future mommy lacks sense of smell. Tata and behave, princess. Now onto our next victim.”

#adult diaper #diaperboy #diaper baby #diaper bum #diaper captions #diaper domination #diaper wetting #diaper mess #diaperbutt #exposed and humiliated #diaper humiliation #ab/dl blog #ab/dl diaper #diaper check #stinky diaper #ab/dl lifestyle #diaper story #ab dl #ab/dl caption #ab/dl community

[powderblueblood]

I hope this isn't too random but I really like your taste in movies and media and one of my favourite movies ever is Dogfight (1991) with River Phoenix (which I think you'll like if you haven't seen it already) and I love the idea of a Dogfight AU with Eddie or maybe Steve. It's pretty convenient that the lead character's named Eddie in the film too lol. Anyway, I'm not making a request or anything like that I just wanted to say that ever since I started following your blog I've felt that you're the perfect kind of writer to do a story like that. I watched the movie again a few days ago and I was reminded of your blog and I kept thinking oh man if anyone could get this AU down the right way it would be powder

so I want to preface this with telling you that I hadn’t seen dogfight when I received this ask but I read this and I was like you know what. I’ve got nothing on this morning lets pop in a movie

and jesus christ anon, have you ever got my number. i really, really liked it. took a few notes during. this was one of them

and i also got to thinking about this little sketch-- i mean, i have a bias towards wisecracking tragedy boy eddie munson lets be so serious, so i watched it with him in mind. (i also think there's such fertile real estate with steve as berzin-- i wanna talk about the marcie of it all with him!)

but you've got eddie, okay, eddie with a crew cut and a malaise that seems boyish but isn't. in boot camp, they cut off one of the last things that made him him (his hair, i am always thinking about his hair) and dressed him up to send him off to die.

on the one hand, he's dabbled in the counterculture by virtue of being an outsider all his life (he knows the war is fucked); on the other, he doesn't want to be a draft dodger like his father. the more he's surrounded by something like the rigidity and after-dark feral lost boy-ishness of the marines, the easier it becomes to surrender to it. forget himself. make a bunch of jarhead buddies and put money on a dogfight.

they're calling for okinawa in the morning. he's got twelve hours in frisco and a mission to find the ugliest date that he can.

and then he meets you.

you, and you are sweet and weedy in nature with a guitar in your hand, with hands you hold like there oughta be rosary beads webbed between your fingers. your shrine to joan baez and odetta holmes on the wall of your bedroom in the apartment above the diner that he stumbles into, sweating and desperate and running low on that classic munson charm, trying to find the gnarliest bitch hound in all of san francisco.

your hair is a little too done up in a poor imitation of girls in the magazines and you move your body like it's a constant obstruction, apologetic to everyone in your path. you're perfect-- for this. he asks you to a party, a party set up to humiliate you and amuse him and that's all well and good until--

you pluck off the chords of dink's song and you remind eddie of something he'd tried to beat down, you pressed little flower you.

and this eventual exchange.

'what are you grinnin' about?'

'i was just wondering what you'd look like with your hair a little longer and without that bruise on your face...'

sweetheart, i need to have a fucking LIE DOWN. this really might end up on my WIPS by VIRTUE OF THIS ASK ALONE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I LOVE YOU

#powder room talk #anonymous #eddie munson x reader #dogfight au #WHAT TJE FUUUUUCK THIS IS SO ENTIRELY MY SHIT!!!!!!!

[apoptoses]

🧠 Pick a character, and I'lI tell you my favorite headcanon for them. LESTAT because I wanna challenge you Imao 🫶🏼

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'lI tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

lmao as if this is a challenge

king of 2000s trashy aesthetic. He woke up after memnoch and needed a coping mechanism and that was FASHION baby!! he was all in on the hair feathers, the metallic eyeshadow, the extreme low rise jeans that showed more pubic bone than hip.

speaking of 2000s trends he was so enthused about the edible body shimmer powder trend of the era, like the jessica simpson dessert collection?? he had them all because it's just flavored powder, there's not really anything there for the vampire body to reject. but that also means there's photos of him covered with shimmer dust and now armand and louis roast him for having an edward cullen sparkle vampire phase before twlight even existed.

the king of girl math. "but louis i had $320 of items in my cart and shipping would have been $10, but if you spend $500 then shipping was free. so naturally i had to get the shoes as well, otherwise i would have been losing money. i mean it practically makes them free!"

loves a scented candle, has enough of them that he keeps them in a closet and rotates them out depending on the weather/his mood/the season.

enamored by the modern invention of central heating and air. he grew up in such a damp, cold castle and being as poor as he was probably only had a fire in his room if he chopped his own wood. so now in the winter he keeps the house set at a boiling 80 degrees and takes joy in walking around in his underwear while there's a snow storm outside.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

oh lord i hate thinking about this because immediately the things i do that feel repetitive come to mind lmao like i set most of my fics with the characters at home instead of somewhere more interesting. half the reason i like medical kink is because it forces me to put them in a fresh setting.

i guess i also lean hard into the romantic side of things in most fic, i'm more of a hurt/comfort than a straight up angst person. which i have beat myself up about a little because i worry about being sappy, but also i think that's a fear that needs unpacked. romance isn't taken seriously as a genre of media because it's largely created and consumed by women and telling myself my work isn't as valuable as something more external conflict driven/angsty is letting patriarchy win.

#apoptoses answers