#curly lob

[steddie-as-they-come]

ok listen so i saw this tiktok where this girl was at a concert and the singer gave her his ring to hold for a song and then didn’t take it back and i knew i had to steddie-fy it. enjoy!

Steve didn’t know what he was doing there.

Robin had dragged him along to this bar to chaperone for her date with some metalhead girl, but sometime during the night she had disappeared into the bathroom to go make out with said girl, and Steve had been left alone at the front of the crowd.

Look, he never said he was a good chaperone, alright?

And now the next band was coming out.

Corroded Coffin stepped onto the stage, and Steve felt his mouth go dry.

The guy in front, the lead singer, was the hottest fucking guy he had ever seen.

He had dark, curly hair, was dressed in skinny-as-hell jeans, and his shirt had the sleeves cut off, as well as most of the seams on the side. When he raised his arms, Steve caught a glimpse of ink under the shirt.

The guy wrapped a ringed hand around the neck of his guitar, smiling devilishly at the crowd. “Ready for the most metal concert ever?”

The crowd screamed their approval, and Steve screamed along with them, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. He knew he looked so out of place among them, his soft yellow sweater a spotlight against the sea of black clothing and silver chains.

The singer strummed an experimental note, then frowned down at his hands. “Dammit, wore the wrong ring today.” He slid a ring off his right knuckle, then peered at the crowd. “Here.”

He pointed at Steve, whose heart froze. He tilted his head. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He lobbed the ring at Steve underhanded, who caught it gently. “Hold that for the rest of the show, alright, pretty boy?”

The guy backed up and started the count for his band, but Steve didn’t even hear when they started to play. He was too busy staring at the ring, turning it over and over again in his hand. It was a cool silver, with an amber stone inlaid in it.

He slid the ring onto his pinkie.

“Holy shit, Steve!” came a familiar voice in his ear. It was Robin, hair messed up and makeup smeared. “These guys are good!”

He laughed. “I see you had fun.”

“Steve. Steeeve. She is so fucking hot, dude.” Robin said, splaying over his shoulder. “She went to- where’d you get that?”

She was looking at the ring.

“Uh,” Steve said dumbly. “He gave it to me.” He pointed up at the lead singer, whose hair was flying everywhere as he belted into the mic. His voice was amazing, like a wrecking ball crashing through Steve’s heart.

“No fucking way.” came a voice from Steve’s other side. Robin’s date, Emily or Amelie or something like that, he couldn’t quite remember, said. “Eddie Munson gave you a ring?”

“Yeah?” Steve said. He plucked the cup out of her hands and passed it to Robin, who drained it. “Why?”

“Because he never takes them off. There’s band interviews of them where his band mates are complaining because Eddie won’t share. And he just gave you one?”

A particularly loud stomp broke them out of their trances and made Robin fall off Steve’s shoulder. Eddie must have seen they weren’t paying attention, and decided to make them pay attention, by jumping and landing right by Steve’s head.

Steve jolted back up, staring directly into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie winked.

Steve felt his face grow hot, and even though he tried to tell himself it was only the stage lights reflecting onto his face, he knew that wasn’t it.

Corroded Coffin may not have been Steve’s taste in music, but he couldn’t deny they were good. Eddie, of course, stole the show, his undeniable stage presence drawing everyone in.

Including Steve, of course.

By the time the set was over, Corroded Coffin packed up their shit and left the stage. Steve was preoccupied with getting home.

As the two of them exited the bar in a stream of other patrons, he looked down at his hand.

The ring Eddie had given him was sitting innocently on his pinkie, twinkling up at him.

“Shit.” he whispered.

“What?” Robin asked. “Steve, what is it?”

“His ring. I think I was supposed to give it back at the end of the show.”

“Aw, really?” Robin said. “And here I was thinking he proposed.”

Steve shoved her, then dragged her out of the way of the doors. “Shut up, I gotta return this before he reports it as stolen.”

“I think the only thing that’s stolen is my heart.” someone said from behind him.

Steve whipped around.

Eddie.

“That was…really, really corny.” Steve said, trying to regain his footing. His entire brain was screaming “HOT BOY” at him, so it wasn’t really working. He thought he made a valiant effort, though. Robin had slunk off to hide somewhere and watch from afar, the traitor.

Eddie shrugged. “Eh, opportunity came up, had to take it.” He held out his hand to shake. “Eddie Munson.”

Steve took it. “Steve Harrington.”

He slid the ring off his finger and made to drop it into Eddie’s hand, but Eddie held up a hand. “Listen, I’ve decided you can keep it, but only if I get your number in return.”

“Really?” Steve crossed his arms, balling the ring into his fist. The cold metal pressed against his palm. “I’ve heard from one of your fans that you don’t even share your rings with your band mates. Why do I get one?”

“Let’s just say I’m curious about why a guy dressed like he just got out of a PTA conference is in my metal audience.” Eddie said.

Steve looked down at his sweater. “Okay, listen, it wasn’t a PTA meeting.” he said. “It was a bake sale.”

Eddie laughed. “Even better, Jesus. You’ve got to tell me more.”

“I’m free for lunch around one?” Steve offered.

“Perfect.” Eddie tapped his phone and offered it to Steve to put in his contact. “Text you soon, pretty boy.”

Steve was so preoccupied with watching him walk away, he didn’t realize he still had the ring.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington

[bowieandqueen11]

Monkey D. Luffy Confessing His Love For You Would Include...

Request: Hi! I absolutely loved your Straw Hat Birthday post 💖 genuinely didn't fancy Luffy until I read that and now can't stop thinking about him! I saw you wanted to write another post for him so how about a classic How Would Luffy Confess/Show His Feelings for you? I just know he'd be an absolute clingy weirdo about it 🤩 thank you!!

Awww thank you lovely!! SO glad to be sharing the Luffy love, and you're so right, he would be so clingy!! :)

Imagines always take a lot of planning and time to write, so comments are much much appreciated!!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @general-cyno.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look, Luffy HAD to release his feelings for you. Right now. If not for the fact that every time he was in a ten centimetre radius of you his whole body shook with such perfervid vibrations he's nearly left a gaping hole in the deck, Zoro's clenched jaw was dead giveaway that he was ten seconds from lobbing his Captain off the side of the ship.

If he had to hear about it one more time. It was bad enough Mr. Curly Brows finding his way to butt into every conversation: placing down his whisk so he could clasp his hands to his cheek and turn to Luffy with such pulsing hearts catapulting out of his eyes at the mere thought of romance. Even worse was being subjected to Luffy's tireless campaign; the incessant drilling of Luffy in trying to make sure every crewmate knew his every inner, cogitating... sappy thoughts about you was starting to eat into Zoro's much needed nap time.

On second thoughts, hearing solely Luffy talk about romance was far better than hearing both he and the waiter prattle on about it.

Zoro placed his palms over his eyes and tried to block out the way the cook had begun fanning himself with the bottom edge of his apron. 'You need to woo them, Luffy! Make them feel like they're the most stunning person in the whole world- the most important crewmate on this ship!'

Luffy took a break from tearing apart the third plate of roasted beef and fresh bread poor Sanji had spent all afternoon sweating in the kitchen to bake to glance down at the meat quizzically. No - not quizzically, much to Zoro's chagrin. Luffy's eyes widened; his head tilted as he rubbed his fingers together and let his meal clatter back onto the plate, his eyes brightening as if he were burnishing all the world's sunsets between his hands.

He looked yearning.

What Zoro didn't understand - heck, what even Luffy himself didn't understand, was how long this long-held devotion had been balling in the pit of his stomach like gilded butterflies, trying to flutter out through his ever-growing smile. After his dejection at Shank's departure from Dawn Island, you had been the only person left in Luffy's life whom he still felt hope from. The only person, besides the kind Makina, who didn't treat Luffy and his dreams like a whimsical joke.

When you had found him on the shore of the coast that day: his legs shivering as he ignored the chill splash of the tide soaking over his legs, his straw hat hanging sorrowfully over his eyes, you knew immediately that all Luffy needed was a little bit of optimism. A little bit, as you stepped over the shards of splintered wood that you could only make out as the remains of a makeshift mast, of belief. As you folded your legs down on the sand and settled next to your friend and gently took the torn Jolly Roger flag from his clenched hands, that what Luffy really needed was your unwavering devotion.

Little did you know, as Luffy turned with bleary eyes and that - god - that still so tender smile twitching at his lips when he spots you, that he was thinking exactly the same. As you grasped his hand between your own and pointed out to the horizon, promising that one day the two of you would sail away underneath that spot: right there. That one! That little spot: those wavering streaks of shimmering gold that lay like a transcendental passage underneath the orbed sun, you could never have realised that Luffy would only reflect your adoration tenfold.

'Wherever we go, we go together right? You won't leave me?', Luffy has asked, wiping his snotty nose with the back of your intertwined knuckles.

'Of course! I promise, Luffy', you had recoiled with a laugh, wiping it off on his vest.

Luffy's so uncharacteristically still, so silent for a moment, that Zoro's almost tempted to shout for Chopper. 'They are!', he finally shouts, nearly making the table clatter onto its side with how fervidly his knee jolts. For a moment, Luffy looks almost sad as he drops the last piece of beef back onto his plate, but his spine is quick to shoot as straight as an arrow again: his wide grin blooming across his face like roped starlight when he remembers what he had been so busy thinking about mere moments before. And every hour before that. And every single day before that as well. You.

You had always been an integral part of his dream, and now he was beginning to understand why.

'I can't stop thinking about them!', he declares, much to a chuckling Sanji's delight and a groaning Zoro's annoyance. 'They're more beautiful than all of the meat in all of the entire seas!'

Zoro pinches his temples lightly before rubbing his hands down his face and crossing them stoutly over his chest. Sanji's quick to scowl over at him. Leaning back on his stool, the first mate sighs as he watches Luffy whip his head between his two cremates like a puppy whose just been tossed a juicy bone.

'What do I do now!'

'Just... don't... don't say that to them. The beef part. The rest of it's fine.'

Sanji clucks his tongue at the swordsman, desperately trying to hold back a seething retort. Instead, he turns his attention back to his Captain, coming to clean up his plate and reassuringly pat his shoulder at the same time. 'Don't worry, Luffy. You just need to show them that you care! Spend some quality time with them, shower them with gifts, offer them your hand when they're disembarking the ship... ', Sanji's eyes glaze over as he bites his bottom lip, and Zoro tries desperately to restrain himself from picking up the bowl soaking in the sink and dumping it over the moron's head. 'Such beautiful creatures should be treated with the upmost devotion.'

The only problem with Sanji's advice is, that Luffy somehow manages to become a thousand times clingier when he finally realises he's in love.

You'll be minding your own business: trying to eat dinner with your friends when you'll sense something sprightly and warm barrelling towards your side. Before you can even register why Nami's stopped chewing on a chunk of torn bread to wiggle her eyebrows facetiously at you, the jut of Luffy's chin weighs down on your shoulder. You flush, trying not to embarrass yourself in front of your crewmates (and losing your bet with Nami to see whether you or Luffy will cave in first and kiss the other one silly), you pretend to be intently stabbing at your carrots. Definitely not squirming your legs together under the table at the feel of Luffy's jean shorts riding up the edge of your thigh. Definitely not inadvertently hitching your breath as the harsh edge of his knee bumps against your own, his leg resting heavily as he your Captain nearly climbs on top of you. And definitely, definitely not feeling your hands go clammy with the intensity of Luffy's puppy dog eyes fixedly contemplating the faint splatter of blush on the cheek nearly pressed against his nose: as if mapping out the intricacies of your body was the most interesting thing he'd ever done.

'Y/n!', he finally starts, making you jump up. Nami was not impressed when your leg reflexively kicked out and hit her shin, but you Luffy was more than delighted when you slunk it back with an apologetic smile and hit the side of his big toe. Without a second thought, he wrapped his foot around your ankle under the table and nuzzles his forehead against your jaw. 'You've been training so much with Zoro lately, I saved you some of my meat so you can get big and strong like me!'

*Cue the shocked gasps from Usopp and Sanji, the controlled exhale from Zoro as he tilted his head back against the porthole and closed his eyes, and the self-congratulatory smirk from Nami.*

'I also borrowed some cookies from Sanji! They're super chocolatey. I tried a few to make sure that you'd like them!'

'Hey, those weren't for you!', Sanji bites his tongue and flops his tea towel down onto the table, but Luffy's too busy inadvertently ignoring the cook to care. His sole focus is on the sweet delight that blooms across his face at the thoughtful gesture as he fumbles some half-broken cookies out of his pockets.

'Sorry', he murmurs as he places them into your hand. 'I got a bit hungry and ate some of them.'

'On your way from the counter to the bench?', Usopp asks.

'Yeah, what is that? Like, ten steps?', Nami teases, but the words don't even register in Luffy's whirring mind. He's far, far too busy trying to stop his heart from pouring out of his gaping mouth like choking saltwater, he's blubbering so much. His fingers shake as he splits the last cookie from his vest in half and - as gently as he can - prods it against the plumpness of your closed lips. Once you've started chewing, you decide to return the favour; you barely half to lift the other half of the cookie before Luffy's nipping at your fingers like an energetic snapping turtle. When your pointer finger accidentally enters his mouth though, and brushes against that warm velvety spot lining the inside of his bottom lip, he freezes; the faint taste of sugar of toffee melts off your skin and against his tongue, and the usually so assured man forgets, for a second, how to breath.

It's only when your finger pulls back to wipe a few stray crumbs away from his Cupid Bow that Luffy finally springs.

'Y/n, let me get your crumbs too!' He leans forward with crinkled eyes almost closed painfully tight and pursed lips. Whether he was going to kiss or lick the crumbs off your face you'll never know, because at that exact moment Sanji tackles Luffy to the floor before he could get any closer.

Just want to warn you in advance: if you want to sleep alone, you'll have to bribe Nami into keeping watch outside of your room every night. Or you'll have to sneak off and try and stowaway in some old oaken kipper barrel under deck (although the stench is so bad you couldn't sleep anyway, and Luffy went wandering around the pantry for a midnight snack that he lifted the lid and found you anyway.) Because the only preparation you'll get before being launched into your hammock is the pounding of his sandals making the gunwales shake, and the slight pant of his famished breath before your door is kicked open.

'Y/n! I can't sleep! Can I come snuggle with you? Captain's orders!'

You don't mind though, and even if Luffy can be incredibly clingy, if you told him no he would feel sad, but he would always respect your wishes. It would be the worst thing in the world for him to hurt you in any way - seeing you upset feels like his heart is being clawed out of his chest, because in a way it is.

There's barely any time to plop your book down onto the floor and hold your hands out to Luffy before you're flung into the air like a ragdoll, his rubbery arms wrapping five times around your abdomen as if he were growing sunflower roots from his fingers: winding the roots around to kiss your body, rooting his blooms within your skin. Embedded together until you were almost sharing the same breath, Luffy passes out almost immediately; he spends the whole night snoring with his nose squished just under your eye, but you can barely sleep with the way he keeps rubbing butterfly kisses against your cheek every so often. It doesn't help that he keeps whining desperately in his sleep - his already clenching and unclenching fingers leaving their home in your side to claw at your thighs and lift them closer to his bellybutton. His dragging lips left a wet trail against the pulse point as he burrowed himself further against you, only settling again when the heavy weight of his legs squirm in between your own.

One time you were spending the afternoon wandering through the delightful market square of Seahorse Shore: the sweet smell of jasmine blooms woven between sun streamed lattices was matched only by the warm sound of Sanji's friendly chatter as he walked beside you, stopping from time to time to pick up and squeeze a rare fruit.

You froze when you heard something: an echoing pounding, like an elephant stampeding away from a wild hurricane that whipped at its tail, before someone jumped on your back.

You were about to toss the guy head over ass onto the ground, when you heard the delighted shrill of Luffy's frantic voice ringing against the shell of your ear.

'I missed you so much today! Mmmh, you smell so good, like meat and flowers!'

'Luffy, how did you get back here so quickly?? You were at the opposite end of the island!'

'He followed his nose back to you.' Zoro just turned around, deciding to take his chances getting lost down the billion white sun-bleached cobblestone alleyways on this twisty island than to stay watching the two of you be all lovey-dovey for another second. Gosh, by all the seas even Sanji yelped when he you stumbled forward, steadying yourself by wrapping your fingers behind the raised kneecaps Luffy had haphazardly thrown around your hips. The man hugged onto you like a koala bear backpack, because he had been apart from you for... hmm... twenty minutes?

He's always dragging you off for some big, wild adventure, I don't know, there's just something about the two of you sitting under the speckled shade of an orange tree with interlocked arms, a few fireflies beginning to peek their heads out from between the stout leaves, like honey dripping down from bowed boughs as you leaned against each other, watching the sunset. You were here. You had made it. You were free.

And most importantly, you were together.

Luffy lunges for your hand and starts pointing at the grass swaying between your shoes, excitedly telling you about all the bugs and beetles running around the soil (to Luffy, a big part of love is trying to share what you're passionate about with each other.) He does lift up a stag beetle at one point and places it on your hand, but he starts to panic when the insect frantically starts scurrying up your arm. Somehow you end up face down in the dirt with Luffy leaning over your back; the buttons of his Hawaiian shirt sway over your spine as his chest heaves, his lips dangerously close to being only a few centimetres away from landing on your shoulder blade. You would have blushed at the proximity if you weren't too busy picking grass blades out of your hair, and trying to help Luffy's stretchy arms unloop themselves from under your armpits.

When Luffy gets to flop his head back down into your lap though, feeling you card your fingers through his hair, all is right in the world again. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking about your latest adventure against Captain Kuro at Syrup Village and playing with each others shaky fingers. Its only when you take a break from stroking his curly hair against your palm that he stops and pouts, blinking rapidly up at you. When you lean forward though, tickling that soft spot between his earlobe and the cute freckle by his jaw using your free hand to pluck a daisy from behind the rim of his hat and tuck it through the loop, a bashful burn shines across his face.

Before he can think twice, he musters his courage and determination, squeezes his eyes shut, and lifts his spine up so he can plant a wet kiss against the tip of your nose.

Your eyes flash as you pull back, tenderly rubbing your nose against his. Cupping his cheek, you press a kiss against his forehead and fold your enclosed hands against the rapid pulse of your heart. Your eyes never leave his, and his eyes trace your path in... confusion?

I mean, the two of you have been in love with each other since you were ten years old, and this is the first time Luffy's brain has stopped to think: 'Hey! Maybe Y/n likes me too!'

The real time he surprises you though is when he plops his hat on top of your head. You'd been caught up fighting some Marines off the coast of the Conomi Islands, and had unfortunately been struck down by a rather forceful cannon ball to the side of the Going Merry's railings. When Luffy bust down into the Medbay, you'd never seen such clouds thunder across his face. His whole body seemed to sag once he spotted you, his eyebrows unfurrowing as he almost tripped over his own feet in his desperation to get to you.

'I... I was so worried. I saw that Marine hit you, and I-

For once, Luffy stops talking. Instead, he takes his hat and places it over your tired eyes, hoping you won't see how flustered he looks when he leans down to press his lips against the top of your bandaged arm.

'You- you promised', his voice wavers as if he's about to start sobbing, but he hides the noise by wiping his nose with his forearm. 'You promised you'd stay with me. Always.'

'I meant it Luffy - I'm a Strawhat Pirate, you can't get rid of me that easily. What would my helpless Captain do without me?', you smile, brushing the back of your knuckles languidly down his the growing tearstains of his cheek, despite how much your whole body screamed at you to rest.

'Promise?', he asks, his voice shaky.

'I promise.'

He didn't have to say it. You both knew. You had always known. There was no one without the other. There was no dream without you.

So when he clumsily slapped his hands on either side of your cheek, smushing them together so you looked like a blabbering pufferfish, you weren't surprised. When he nearly sent the stretcher you were perched on rolling across the room by standing between your legs and pressing his torso up against your chest, you didn't blink. When he smashed his lips against yours, leaving kitten licks against the inner seam of your mouth as if he were trying to eat his way into your tongue, you didn't think twice.

All you did was kiss him back, the unwavering devotion that had always tied your lives together finally finding freedom by flooding into your hearts.

#one piece #one piece imagine #monkey d luffy #luffy #monkey d luffy imagine #luffy imagine #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy headcanons #luffy headcanons #opla #sanji #zoro #nami #usopp #one piece headcanons #opla headcanons #luffy one piece #luffy one piece imagine

[florvaine]

silver spikes and pastel ribbons.

headcannons of Hobie with an opposite aesthetic gf. (afab! reader)

genre: mainly fluff, slight angst, nsfw(?)

warnings: little nsfw if you squint, crying, some kid gets a car lobbed at him 😭

i imaginee the two of you actually met at one of his gigs 🫶🏻

He was on the stage, flicking his roughened fingertips on each string on his guitar, a harsh rift sounding through the amp on the edge of platform as he moves his hand further up the fretboard.

Then he looks in the crowd, right by the barrier of sweaty, headbanging and most likely hammered fans, and you’re right there.

Directly in front of him, pressed against the metal-barred barrier that security was struggling to keep people from hopping over.

What caught him off guard wasn’t only the fact you were fuckin’ gorgeous, but the fluttery, light pink dress that was just above the middle of your thighs. White lace trimmed the v-shaped neckline that was held up by thin, spaghetti straps.

Strips of silky ribbon cascade from the wrap around your waist, dangling pearls and a small-chain necklace decorate your collarbones and shimmer like the sheen of sweat that held stray hairs against your temples and your forehead.

And your shoes - a pair of white, glossy, open-toed high heels that added a few extra inches to your height (Hobie secretly wanted to give you a few other inches), but even with them Hobie could still tell from the stage that he was way taller than you.

He misses a single strum of his guitar, so he temporarily redirects his attention back to the gig, his hickory eyes still wandering over to you from under his mask.

100% got the security to practically hunt you down so you could meet him backstage.

He’s a little anxious because they were taking a while, and he’s slightly disappointed at the thought you already left.

But then there’s a knock at the door and one of the security guards speaks muffled through his private backstage room.

“Hobie, got the girl you were askin’ for.”

The rest is history, really. You were officially dating after 7 painfully long months.

You got along well, even if everything else about each other was contrasting, you’re political ideals, music taste and humour are practically a copy and paste.

The two of you get undoubtably get some stares.

A man clad in black leather and silver spikes and a woman dressed like a doll stood out a lot against the Nike trackies of London.

“Everyone’s staring, Hobie.”

“Ignore ‘em, hun. They’re pissed JD is shut.”

Every now and then he takes you to a more quiet, downtown street with a collection of thrift stores and craft shops.

Hobie’s definitely caught in Hobbycraft at least twice a week 😭😭

Literally loves your style - everything from your jewellery to the way you get your nails done.

He’s whipped ‼️

Loves everything about you, but especially your hair.

If you wear wigs he’s helping you install it, if you have naturally curly hair he’s taking note of each step for later on, he reads the labels of every hair product you own.

I feel like he has a thing for curly hair idk why I just get the vibe.🤭

Hobie definatly told Pav and Gwen about you when you first met, like the next day he’s at the Spider Society talking even more than usual.

“She was stunnin’, I’m tellin’ ya’ now. Really nice eyes,” He turns away from them and mutters under his breath, “And tits.”

Gwen smirks, “You’ve told us, I’m pretty sure.” She nudges Pav, and he’s giggling like an excited schoolgirl.

“Never thought I’d see Hobie have a full-blown crush!” Pav comments.

Hobie hums, a small smile on his face as he stares infront of him. Gwen and Pav share a look before they imitate the way he looks - like a lovestruck idiot.

It’s funny with one of you in the other’s room - Hobie, dressed in dark blues and blacks with an overall threatening aura just sat on your pretty pink bedsheets in your floral-scented room.

Sometimes you’ll randomly go on a tangent about a new dress or concert tickets whilst doing something else, and you’re convinced he’s uninterested.

Next time he’s at yours he had that new dress in a silk scarf wrap, or he pulls the tickets out of one of his pockets.

You’re in the kitchen of your apartment, stirring the milk into your tea as Hobie scrapes butter onto two slices of toast you had put in.

When he’s finished, he slides the plate over to you before leaning back on the counter and looking at your over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Bee,” You pick up the plate, moving it closer to you for easier access to the toast.

There’s two rectangular, shimmery-sheened tickets underneath the circular plate.

You’re shocked, looking at the ticket now in your hand, eyes moving from the words and numbers printed onto it and your boyfriend.

“Hobie, you didn’t have to!” You say.

“You said that ya’ wanted to see them, so I got us tickets.” He shrugs, a small proud smirk on his lips.

Movie nights every Friday after dinner 💕

Sometimes he has to leave early or he shows up later on, but he makes up for the time lost by bringing you your favourite food and drink from the local corner shop.

If you’re in college or uni, he will swing in every break and check in on you and everything.

When it comes to cuddling, he’s the big spoon 95% of the time unless he had a really shitty day.

Like really shitty.

It’s not very often Hobie crys, and even when he does it’s not for very long.

The man prides himself in being Spider-Punk, saving civilians whilst preaching his beliefs to his followers that feel more like a family than fans.

He can only hold on so long, and it’s only a matter of time before he can’t save someone.

Sure, the little boy wasn’t dead, he was in hospital after a car had been carelessly tossed into him by the anomaly he was supposed to contain.

After visiting the boy in hospital, chanting apologies and ‘get well soon’s like a broken record, he goes to the first place he can think of.

Yours.

There was something so special, so serene and comforting in the confines of your cluttered shelves and organised wardrobe pressed against the walls of your bedroom.

Hobie knew it wasn’t the room, but it was you.

You, so different and relaxing. Calming and exciting, understanding and motivating. Anywhere was safe if you were there.

He swings through shadowed alleys, reaching your apartment over the bustling roads and honking horns of the cars below.

Hobie perches on your small balcony, and taps on the window.

In his reflection, Spider-Punk looks back at him. Strong, unbeatable, selfless and stubborn. But as he pulls the mask off, the fabric hanging limp like a ragdoll cat in his had, Hobie Brown stares back at him.

Tattered, exhausted, overwhelmed and in desperate need to be in your arms.

The window opens. His mental image of himself splits away as soon as he sees your face.

“Rough night?” You ask, voice slightly raspy and muffled, yet still as soothing as hot tea and honey on a sore throat.

The routine begins when Hobie nods. He clambers in, he takes off his boots and jacket and leaves them by your desk, his mask discarded somewhere beside them.

You pull out one of his white, soft cotton shirts from your dresser, and a pair of dark grey shorts. He gets changed, you make a cup of tea.

Then he cries. Salty droplets of embodied sorrows paired with the pinch of his eyebrows and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Each time a tear drips down his soft cheeks you wipe it away with your equally as soft hands, smearing the liquidated sadness into his now clumpy lashes.

You count sixteen droplets this time before he stops, and you stand up to offer the silk scarf he wrapped your gifted babydoll dress in, and he takes it before wrapping the coarse, black wicks that topped his head.

And then he’s curling his back against your chest, holding the hand of your arm that loosely covers his waist.

Their consciousness fades into two seperate slumbers. A comforting silence drapes over the two lovers, knowing that the other will be there when they awake.

-—-

#*{ ‘. florawrites<3 #hobie x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie headcanons #hobart brown #into the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #x reader #spider punk #spiderman x reader

[januaryembrs]

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard. 

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already. 

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears. 

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger. 

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line. 

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about. 

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour. 

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard. 

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl. 

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?” 

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog. 

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails. 

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy. 

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven. 

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. 

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in. 

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was. 

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode. 

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous. 

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was. 

He was just a kid. 

They were just kids. 

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult. 

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him. 

And if that had been true, then where were they? 

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering. 

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours. 

Which was when he ran to get his dad. 

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank. 

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks. 

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier. 

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son. 

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together. 

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave. 

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about. 

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien. 

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,” 

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other. 

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do. 

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him. 

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military. 

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell. 

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was. 

-

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life. 

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again. 

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning. 

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,” 

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it. 

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left. 

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated. 

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” 

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here. 

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person. 

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,” 

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly. 

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together. 

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias. 

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway. 

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard. 

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. 

She was a mother. 

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers. 

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body. 

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again. 

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?” 

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself. 

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite. 

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him. 

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight. 

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.  

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked. 

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way. 

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely. 

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,” 

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?” 

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave. 

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in. 

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.) 

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful. 

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-” 

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely. 

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset. 

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes. 

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them. 

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moonknight x reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #jake lockely fanfiction #jake lockely x reader #steven grant imagine

[heartfullofleeches]

Sugar Harvest

Yandere Candy Entity + G/N Reader

[Candy] gore, faux body horror

Summary: You collect tomorrow's batch of customer praised taffy from your sweet as can be lover

You lift your surgical mask over your nose as you enter the bathroom.

Clouds of cherry scent steam pour out from the fog filled room; your eyes stung from the mist and sugar presence in the air. Small lovehearts stain the mirror, reddish, sticky fingerprints engrained on the warped glass. Puddles of pink tinted water trace back to the bathtub where a fuchsia limb dances atop the still flowing waters; faucet spewing a scolding charge on the body casually kicking their legs in a soup of their own skin. The flesh of their outstretched appendages falls apart and straight into the large container on the floor, exposed sugary bones reaching out to you with glee.

"Gumdrop.... Water's just fine."

You walk over to the side of the tub. The flesh of their upper torso, neck area, and arms had been melted off by the boiling water - most scooped into the various boxes around the tub while the rest floated on its plastic covered floor. Its cherry scent is even stronger up close, mixed with a hint of watermelon. Sucrose had been drinking extract of the same flavor the whole week to see if it would make any difference. The bubbling taffy caked around their injuries pours over the wounds, welding them close throughout the process. Sucrose hops up on their legs and turns so you can see the back of their head.

"What do you think, Hun? I wanted to stock up more than usual this time, plus I wanted to see what I looked like with shorter hair - so I cut it!"

What once was twin ponytails that reached their lower back had been hacked off into a curly bob right at the nap of their neck. The lobbed off hair sits in the tub closest to you, frayed like the dead ends of real hair, but taffy none the less. It'd be back to official length by the following week. You had little opinion on that matter, but more product meant less time you had to spend in this sweat shop.

"Looks great..."

"Aha, I knew you'd love it! You really are the best partner there ever was."

Partners. That's how this all started. You were the first hire to the pink abomination's candy store. The only hand their stubborn self would ever bring on to deal with the sudden, but swift boost in popularity. Your boss got - comfortable with you. Pay raises, making sure you got home every night, teaching you the recipes of their less popular treats.

They warmed up to you so much they forgot to keep the lid on their biggest secret which led to the horrific discovery their highly sought after candy was made of their own flesh and little were nothing more than a walking mound of sugar. Needless to say, you joined them in the harvest out of fear and the amount of money rolling in. Apparently, consuming their parts caused terrible nightmares, but if the flesh is boiled it negates the effect. Sucrose promises that won't have harmed you if you refused to stay. They would have kidnapped you instead.

"Are you ready to get out?"

"Just a moment...... Mm, yup!"

You toss on a pair of latex gloves and reach over to turn off the water - Sucrose's goopy hand stopping you from twisting the knob.

"You're forgetting something~"

The tensing off their jaw and a soft chewing noise tells you all of what you forgot. You couldn't collect the remaining taffy with the water so hot and it should be safe, so you have no say. Removing your mask with their sticky digits, Sucrose kisses and shoves their own severed tongue into your open mouth. They shut your lips and divulge in their taste as you bite through the wad of taffy and force it down. It's cherry flavored, with a hint of melon. More sweet rather than tart like some brands of taffy. Sucrose marks your neck with their melting essence, groaning faintly as you swallow beneath their touch. They stroke it all the way down to the center of the chest, grinning against your mouth.

"Another successful hall."

#Sucrose my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere cannibal #yandere teratophilia #yandere nightmare #yandere monster #yandere drabble #yandere horror #yandere x y/n

[violetthekiller]

curly lob Z you will always be my fave xx

#zendaya

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

i've been thinking abt this for the last 10 seconds and i need to share this LMFAOO but how but either jack or kappa with "i would never let anyone or anything hurt you. i've never felt that way about anyone." AAAAAAAA imma pass out oki lob u lots and i love the way you write i like hang on to every word ITS SO GOOD EVERYTIME

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS! Let's celebrate that with this little something something here 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I'm very much left speechless by the sheere amount of people that apparently enjoy my deranged writings enough to follow this flaming dumpster fire of a Tumblr blog. I love and appreciate all of you so incedibly much! 🖤 Thank you from the very bottom of my heart!

Going To California

Summary: Kappa displaying insane amounts of husband material.

Pairing: hippie!Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content Warnings: Romantic Van Life Smut 18+!, Unprotected P In V, L-Bombs, Very Fluffy And Domestic, Kappa Being A Heartthrob, Kappa Talking You Through It, Sprinkles Of Actual Plot, Dad!Kappa 👀

A/N: To the wonderful nonnie, I have to confess that I thought much longer than 10 seconds about this 🤭🥴

I put together a hippie!Kappa playlist!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai

Spent my days with a woman unkind

Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine

Made up my mind to make a new start

Going to California with an aching in my heart

Someone told me there's a girl out there

With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair

- Going To California By Led Zeppelin

With his plush, soft lips Kappa left a trail of slightly sloppy kisses all the way from your forehead down to the tip of your nose that he eventually nudged playfully with the tip of his own.

"And here I thought you'd let me sleep.." You giggled, your tone a little drowsy as your senses had already been on the best way to slip towards warm and comforting dreams for tonight.

" 'M sorry, sugar, didn't wanna wake you up again." He nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his left cheek soft against your jawline.

"Are you though?" You pushed somewhat teasingly, arching your brows in the dark of the van while a smile tugged your lips.

"Well, yeah…but also not really." Kappa admitted, his curly, black hair ghosting over your collarbone whilst his hands searched for your waist further down underneath the woolen blanket that the two of you shared.

In gingerly soft touches, his fingertips caressed over the bare skin of your hips, tracing your curves slowly to savor every inch of you next to him.

"Go on.." You inquired, feeling how he sent little waves of gentle goosebumps all over your body.

"I'm just..y'know…I've never been just that happy and I can't help myself here, really. I hardly get enough of you, babe." His slightly raspy voice hummed into the crook of your neck which had you leaning your head back just a little yet enough for him to take note of the invitation.

"Hardly enough, yeah?", It rolled over your tongue in a tender laugh as you recognised his lips softly nipping right underneath your earlobe, "I'm with you all day everyday. How are you not tired of that yet, honey?"

"How could I ever, hm?", To underline his point, Kappa suckled your sensitive skin right between his teeth, effectively leaving a hickey just like a love-sick teenager, "None of this would just be remotely as heavenly as it is right now without you. Living in a van this, being free to go wherever that…but I wouldn't wanna go anywhere without you anymore. I love you."

"Good god, you're so sweet, Kappa.", You felt your entire chest swelling with a very distinct kind of fulfilling warmth as you led your fingertips to sneak under the hem of his linen shirt and caress his soft skin all the way up to his shoulders, "I love you, too. So incedibly much."

Turning your face to the side just a notch, you pressed a long kiss to the crown of his head, holding him close in your embrace, your senses following closely how his body heat quickly engulfed your statue, seeping through the layers of fabric.

'Hmhmm…right there, sugar." Kappa quietly groaned into your neck, pressing his front further against yours.

You very well knew how much of a slave he was to being touched around his shoulders and you eagerly followed his plea for more of your tender strokes. Planting another kiss to his hair, you started drawing random shapes and forms, curly waves and loops all over his shoulder blades and along his spine, pulling little moans and whines oozing with enjoyment from his mouth.

"S-so good to me, love." He hummed in a low voice, his own hands fastening their hold on your hips.

"Always." You returned softly while it didn't go unnoticed how both of your bodies reacted to one another.

You could feel Kappa's growing hard on pressing through his pants against your thighs just as much as you acknowledged your perked up nipples brushing against his collarbones whilst your own arousal throbbed between your legs.

"So much for just falling asleep, huh?" You joked amicably, pressing both of your palms against his back before pulling him on top of you as you turned to lay on your back.

"Oh, that's all you now!" Kappa reciprocated with a hearty laugh right before lowering his lips onto yours, nipping and nibbling at them teasingly.

"Is that so?" It left your mouth in a chuckle, your hands busy with pulling his trousers off of him.

"I might just be a tad bit involved in this.." He groaned, feeling his cock prodding against your cunt without anything left in between.

"A tad bit, yeah?" You inhaled sharply at the sensation, noticing how your body turned gradually more greedy.

"Probably severely very interested, s'that what you wanna hear, sugar?" Kappa sighed against your mouth before thrusting into you in one languid, careful stroke.

"Fuck…", It rushed over your tongue as you felt his girth stretching you out, "Feels so good, damn."

"Still mad about being awake?" Your lover huffed against your jawline as he rolled his hips into your lap, having your eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

"Hmhmmm…" You moaned out whilst allowing your head loll back into one of the plenty tie-dye patterned cushions.

"Fuck, I love you so much.", Kappa groaned, raising his forehead to rest right against yours as he thrusted into you anew, "I'd never let anything or anyone hurt you, sugar. You know that, right?"

Kappa's words reverberated, echoed right through you, making you feel as one with him.

"I've never felt that way about anyone before." His voice filled your mind as the tip of his cock nudged against that especially sensitive spot on your inside.

"My one and only…", You moaned softly against his warm, slightly sweaty cheek, your lips brushing over his upper lip and pressing soft pecks to the corner of his mouth, "Wouldn't trade the world for you. Ugh, god, hear that? You turned me all soft, damn hippie."

Both of you chuckled for a moment, the vibrations of his chest against yours making your heart feel like it was about to explode right into his aura that smelled like lavender and freshly cut grass to you. The warmth of his character, the carelessness in the most inappropriate of moments and just simply being with Kappa had done things to you…good things for once in your life.

"You were soft way before me, love, the world just didn't appreciate you showing it, but be certain that I do." You couldn't quite decipher if it was the way Kappa spoke to you or the way he cradled the curves of your waist in his grip, making you feels safe and protected with him right on top you, between your legs, that eventually pushed your body over the threshold of a rapidly building orgasm and quite frankly you didn't care.

Soft moans, repeated chants of his name cascaded from your lips as you arched your back to shove your hips into his lap, needing to feel him inside of you as deep as you possibly could, your pulsing and contacting cunt clenching down around his cock.

"There, there…let it all just go, 'm here, sugar." He cooed into your flushed cheek in a low groan, his own body turning rigid as he felt your walls pulling him in deeper.

The tide of your orgasm, the push and pull of your release was enough for Kappa to come undone himself, spilling his load as deep as possible, shoving it and pushing it deep inside of you.

"I gotchu…" Kappa hummed, enjoying the bliss of his own release rippling through his muscles, allowing himself to get lost in that instant of being ultimately close to you.

Only very reluctantly he pulled out of you eventually, the load of his seed trickling out and pooling all over the inside of your thigh.

"Uh, I gotta tell you something, actually…" You started awkwardly, immediately drawing Kappa's attention towards you.

"Huh? Are you trying to give a panic attack right after cumming now?" His hand fumbled around the headboard above the mattress, fingertips eagerly trying to find the light switch for the fairy lights dangling from all over the ceiling.

"No, sorry, oh god, sorry. It's just… come here.", Right after he flipped the switch, illuminating the inside of your van in a warm, almost orangy tint, you reached for his hand and gently pressed it against your lower abdomen, "I have a strong feeling that we are at least 3 now."

"What?" It blurted out of him, brows knit together in confusion as he stared at you with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"I'm way past my period, Kappa.", You hinted further, "Sore breasts and, good god, the nausea lately?"

"What I'm hearing you say right now is that you are… pregnant?" His forehead crinkled in soft creases.

"Ah, there we go. That took you a hot second, no?" You chuckled out softly, planting a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

" 'M gonna be a dad?!", Confusion was swept aside by unbridled joy and excitement, "And you're gonna be a momma?!"

"Looks like it an awful lot now, babe." You couldn't hold back the wide grin spreading on your face before Kappa practically jumped you, attacking you with a wave of kisses, pecks and smooches all over.

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #kappa #kappa black mirror #kappa x reader #kappa x you #rory culkin #kappa smut #kappa x fem!reader #black mirror #black mirror 6 #black mirror: beyond the sea

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Ur good 🗞 anon I don't have a problem with it :))) also I'm sending u a red eye (drip coffee w a shot of Espresso in it) it is the fuel that keeps blue collar guys going

ALSO ALSO IM STILL FERAL OVER GENDERBENT 141 FUCK WOMENNNNNN

-🔪

I love how you 2 are having a love affair in my asks

speaking of Genderbent!141,

Let me use highjack this ask to cook up something good:

Genderbent!Los Vaqueros (and everyone else).

(this is especially for @lyralein and their promise to draw me Alejandra and Rosario)

Alejandra Vargas has the longest, prettiest hair for someone who spends their time with it TIED IN A DAMN HIGH PONYTAIL???? She 100% wears SOOOO much hair gel to keep it slick and from having flyaways while in the field but that means it exposes her widow's peak and big ass fivehead. She's very used to being underestimated (just like Jane Price) but she has natural scary dog privilege and even her smirks and smiles look evil, so her subordinates Know Better™️. Also, she's tall as all hell, just like Simone. Fuck you mean she's 5ft10???? She serves cunt everywhere she goes when off-duty.

Rosario "Rosa" Parra has a curly bob and has the longest prettiest eyelashes. Does it pass regulation? No. But are you gonna go tell the Colonel's best friend to fix her hair, cut it? No. Exactly. Now get out of her face before SgtMj Parra makes you run drills. She and Alejandra have MATCHING tattoos that they got after the betrayal of their teammates who were on the cartel's payroll (like Valerio Garza). I'm entirely convinced her and Alejandra have gossip sessions over coffee when doing paperwork.

Valerio Garza is 100% such a fucking papi chulo. You know it, I know it. Man's got the most beautiful brown eyes, thickest brows, and the nastiest little smug smirk on his lips at all times. Has a shaggy little hairstyle that just makes him look like SUCH a fuckboy and a 5 o'clock shadow. Man's tall as all hell and I just KNOW he's got a fucking scorpion tattooed in his forearm. Just trust me on this.

Patricia Graves (yes I know Philipa exists but I don't like it for him bc it's not 'common' the way 'Philip' is common for men) is such a fucking bitch. I'm sorry, but she is. (to me, Philip's actions just become even more inexcusable when she's a woman like????) Anyways. Has the sleekest light brown hair but she gets it lightened to blonde because she can. Who's gonna stop her? Wears her hair cut into a lob (long bob) and unironically loves cowboy boots when she's out of uniform.

Alexa Keller is ready to fuck shit up at a moment's notice. Give her a time and a place and she WILL show up, drop some bodies, and leave without a word. Tall and strong, but not as beefy as Soap. Especially top-heavy. I'm convinced she binds her chest with bandages in order to fasten her vest on properly. Has a layered bob and carries bobby pins in her pack/pockets so she can keep pinning it back, on TOP of already carrying hair-ties around her wrists. At one point, Faris teaches her how to tie a scarf to keep it off her face.

Faris Karim is, I hate to say it, tall and on the skinny side. The ULF is a freedom fighting group and he's spent much time in prison, so, he's not as 'well developed' as many soldiers would be. Nonetheless, he's a good leader and makes up for his lesser build with determination. Has a beard that he cannot keep up with more often than not so he shaves it off when it gets too long, and keeps his hair in a combover or quiff.

Christopher "Chris" Laswell is, point blank, tall and slightly pudgy, used to being behind a desk, writing reports and fucking people up with words more than with fists. That being said, piss him off hard enough and he'll have you on your ass. Has an Ivy League cut with a side part and is either PERFECTLY clean-shaven or has the THICKEST beard you've ever seen. (I was gonna 'pick' a mustache only but then he'd look like Alex Keller too much)

Natasha is, I hate to say it, the most stereotypical Russian woman you've ever met... minus the blonde hair. She has the beautiful waves, she has the red lipstick and the heavy make-up, she has the expensive fur coats, and dresses and heels, and all the jewelry. Is it practical? No. But she's a CEO and a forced to be reckoned and there's nothing stopping her.

#asks #🗞️ anon #genderbent!cod #genderbent!141 #genderbent!los vaqueros

[miraculan-draws]

malcolm and the twins bc i lob them. carver is a teeny tiny baby they didnt even know there were two babies on the way. he is also clingy. befferny is a discerning and shrewd baby. also the only curly baby.

#hawke family #bethany hawke #Carver Hawke #Malcolm Hawke

[punk-in-docs]

🎃Trick? or Treat?🎃

Summary: Eddie’s friends don’t actually believe you’re really dating him, and they require some proof. Cause no way has the freak scored a girl like you- 3k- a dirty funky little drabble really…

Reader is related to my Eddie Series. Come take a look-

“There is no way. There’s just no way.” Dustin piped up. Dismissing it with a shake of his curly head.

“Agreed.” Mike pitched in, solidly. “I don’t buy it.”

They’re talking to each other like you aren’t even there.

“It’s gotta be a set up.” Comes Gareth’s opinion. Nodding as he points his fork at Mike. A wedge of yellow fruit speared on the end.

“A bet right?” Says Jeff. Crossing his arms and eyeing you up, like he’s waiting for the punchline.

You were currently sat at the Hellfire table, so dubbed the freaks’ spot by the jocks, in the canteen.

It was Fall. Inside there were paper streamers looped about the walls in twisting orange and black. Cardboard cut-out Jack-o-lanterns and skulls sneer from the walls.

Outside was a mucky amalgamation of Indiana Fall. Bone chilling rain and sticky brown-gold leaves, that had come off the trees days earlier. The huge windows in here misty muggy and smeared condensation with rain knifing down the glass the other side. The sky is dark grey, all bruised, and heaving with chowder thick clouds.

Droopy paper halloween decorations are tacked everywhere in this space that smells like stale pepperoni pizza. Hand made felt tip posters are tacked up on every surface for the ‘Fright Night’ party happening in the gym.

Now you were looking down the table at five very concerned faces. All of whom were waiting for you to spill the truth.

Quite frankly, they’re all looking at you like you’re Judas Iscariot at a disciples reunion.

Your eyes darted around from person to person.

They don’t believe you exist. They can’t believe it.

They cannot buy that you’re dating the curly haired scarecrow that is their metal headed Hellfire Leader. Your Eddie.

Who at this moment had dashed out in the rain to the parking lot with his black hoodie yanked over his wild hair, cause he left his lighter in his van.

And cause you’d left your chapstick in there in the glove compartment. And well, he did offer to retrieve it for you. Such a Prince.

“What part of are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask as you reach in your bag for your book, and your brown paper bag of home made lunch. Chicken salad sandwich and a bag of chips. Extra large portions. You knew who would be stealing half your lunch.

Your chunky blue sweater slides off one shoulder. Revealing a lilac bra strap and a definite indication of a grape-purple hickie nestled in the crook your neck. The mystery continues.

“It’s gotta be fake. You’re like, dating a jock or something, aren’t you?” Jeff narrows his eyes at you like you’re a suspect.

Your gaze is packed in snow. Something razor cold skimmed off the Arctic Ocean.

“I take offence at that, dweeb.” You lob your eraser at his head.

That move is eerily similar to… someone else.

You hold your hand out, palm up to him, with a thundering frown. He throws your pink eraser back.

“But you’re-“ Mike starts. Then his tongue stunts itself.

You pause. Brows shooting up your head.

“I’m what, Wheeler?” Your tone invites him to think very carefully about his next words.

“You’re a girl.” He splutters.

“Hey. Only on the outside, kid.” You wink and click your tongue at him. Grinning. Widening your eyes. You learnt that from someone else too. The Kubrick stare.

“No- you’re, like. You’re a girl, girl. Like, you’re popular and. Normal? You get good grades. You’re friends with Jonny Lopez’ girlfriend. You’re going to like, a big league college.”

“I wouldn’t say popular. And we’re not entirely like friends. She just sort of bitches at me, and I occasionally give her a ride to school.” You shrug honestly.

“And hey excuse me, I’m not normal.” You point out. “I was reliably told this was the table that celebrates being ‘not normal’ anyhow.” you curl your fingers with air quotes.

They shrink down a little with that point. “Well yeah- actually.” and a chorus of shuffles, awkward coughs, and agreeing grunts comes your way.

“Good. Cause if I wanted to be ordinary I’d go sit at that table over there.” You nudge your head across the way where Jonny and Linda are sitting.

He’s telling some stupid macho story about a keg party to his fellow guffawing gorillas. She was busy chewing gum, not listening and painting her nails slutty cherry red.

“Did he pay you to do this?” Dustin asks. “Like $20 bucks if you come sit over here and prank the nerds.”

You slowly crunch a chip on your tongue and shoot him a spiky look. “Careful, Henderson.”

“Who paid who, to what, to the nerds?” Bursts a new voice into the conversation.

Quite possibly your favourite voice ever.

Eddie thumps himself down on his throne at the end of the table. Nudges his chair right up close to yours.

He’s flicking rain drips off his hoodie, some beaded down his leather arms. Some still clung to his big dark doe lashes and his messy bangs now growing wonkily down into his eyes. You’d seen him loping into the trailer bathroom the other day with a cigarette on the go, and a pair of scissors to just whack at those bangs. Messy as fuck.

A few rolling rain drips are still skating down his forehead. Soggy black sleeves nudge your chapstick into your palm on the table. He shakes off the rain like a wet dog.

Eddie drops a kiss on your head. A soft “Mwah” before he takes his seat. His hair hanging on your nose smelling like your dreamy coconut conditioner, because he’d spent the night at yours last night.

Neither of you got much sleep, naturally. You were sore in places you didn’t know could be sore. That boy was a sexual menace.

“Dude. We were just talking about your not girlfriend here.” Gareth pointed out. Jeff was deciding to take a cowardly out and hide behind a comic book.

Eddie tilts his head at the guy. Winding his cold knuckles through yours. Right there on the table top. Skin chilled from the rain.

“Is that a challenge in that sentence I’m hearing?” He asks with a stormy edge to his expression.

Eddies gaze could be lethal if he willed it to be. Shredding metal he could cut you on. These geeks rarely wanted to be in the ireful wrath of their leader’s disapproval.

“There’s no way you’re dating! It’s a hoax!” Dustin exclaims, loud. Laying his hands on the table in emphasis. Almost rising out his seat.

Eddie flicks those dark eyes to his curly haired companion.

“Alright punk. What about this are you struggling to get through your little head?” He barks out.

“How about, I don’t know, all of it. The fact she’s sat eating here. The fact you’re supposedly dating…” Sinclair lays out.

“Stop putting adverbs and negatives before the word dating.” You scowl at them.

Eddie chuckles, sneers and slings an arm around your shoulders. Looping you right close to him. You’re munching your lunch and smiling as he brings you in closer.

“Is it cause I’m so hot and so so way out of her little arty girl indie state league? I know. Poor baby girl, she can’t help that.” He coos.

You twist your head and his smirk is right there. Would be a shame not to kiss it. You lean in and peck him on the mouth sweetly.

When you pull away the pair of you take great delight in the shock still on their faces.

Eddie nuzzles his nose into your neck to make you squirm. Then he sits there with his chin on your shoulder. Opening his mouth like a little baby bird when he wants you to feed him chips. You do and he bites and sucks on the salty ends of your fingers.

“Seriously Henderson, You couldn’t shell out the amount of money required to fake constantly wrangling this one’s humungous ego.” You pat Eddie’s cheek three times.

“Not the only humungous thing she has to wrangle.” Eddie leers. Does that curling devil tongue at you. Tries to shove his tongue in your ear. You laugh and bat him away.

“No. No. Gross.” Says Mike. Shaking his shaggy head.

“….Plus serious compensation would be required for anyone to sleep in his flea pit of a bedroom.” You tell. Eyes turned down towards your book.

Eddie reached over you with his free hand and pawed at your chip packet for more. Scooped up your sandwich and stole a bite. Extra crispy bacon. Lettuce, Chicken mayo and that spicy mustard he likes- oh he was in love.

“Hey, I tidied it up for you, pencils. I put clean sheets on the bed. Made sure you could see the floor.” He spoke through chewing. Cheeks full. Sucking a glob of mustard off his thumb.

And yet, they’re all sat there looking at you like you’re selling bullshit.

“Alright you little assholes.” You clap and dust your hands off. Some of them actually jump back. Flinching.

Eddies staring at you with literal red bursting heart eyes watching you get irate with his table full of nerds.

You’re sat here all puppy love bundled up with him. Cupid arrow pink kinda gooey love, enshrined with little hearts squished above the i’s. Surrounded by pink ribbons and fucking bluebirds. Mushy love like a damn Carpenter’s song, and you’re so fused together at the hip bones. Like it actually hurts to break apart.

They’re still not buying it.

“What will it take to convince you, that we, are a real thing?” You nudge your thumb at you and Eddie.

They eye you shrewdly. Mike is the first soldier over the top the face the clattering guns.

“What’s his favourite band?” He fires out. Twisting towards you. All elbows and angles and those Wheeler nuclear-family enviable cheekbones.

“Bandsss plural.” You correct. “Metallica, Black Sabbath, Megadeath, Iron Maiden, W.A.S.P, Judas Priest, and Van Halen...”

“Don’t you dare do it.” Eddie warns to that naughty gleam in your eye. “They’ll never look at me the same.”

The guys lean in all interested.

“… And Dolly Parton. Especially Jolene.” They descend into laughing uproar. Eddie throws chips at Sinclair who was cackling.

They were never to know you two hollered along to that at the top of your lungs, on the drive to school in the summertime. Windows open. Hair flying. Shades on. Soupy sunshine and enjoying another cloying Indiana July.

That was the month you’d met this gorgeous creature. Watching fireflies come out laying in the long cool grass at the trailer park, sharing a joint. You in a gossamer sundress the colour of blushing peonies. It was like a way too good fever dream. Hazy days and deep purple sticky summer midnights.

“Favourite food?” Comes the next.

“His favourite meal is a chilli dog, with jalapeño loaded dirty fries with everything, and I mean everything, on it, and one of those strawberry mega monster shake things you get at the diner over on Admiral. He also loves sour candy, like a ridiculous amount. Sour patch kids, nerds, jolly ranchers.”

Eddie who was eating next to you frowned through chewing your sandwich down. The whole thing was nearly gone. Your half was looking pretty tasty too.

“I also know he doesn’t really have a great sense of a varied diet. He won’t eat for hours and then he’ll scarf it down in five seconds like a seagull. Case in point-“ Wave your hand across at him. Like you were presenting him.

“Hey-“ He mumbled. Mouth stuffed with almost all your sandwich.

“All in all, Bottomless void when it comes to food. Runs almost entirely on nicotine and caffeine. Or gas station beef jerky, and out of date mini powdered doughnuts.” You finish.

“Celebrity crush?” Dustin points a finger at you.

“Eartha Kitt. In her skin tight Catwoman costume.” You smile sultrily. “Next?”

“Damn.” Jeff laughed.

“Favourite subject?”

Oh you scoff.

“DND. Obviously. He hates science and math. But he’s actually shockingly good at English. He’s a reader. Reads more comics and fantasy books, than anyone I know. If you can’t find him, guaranteed he’s in the fantasy section.”

“Wow dude, really?” Gareth asks.

Eddie actually blushed.

“It’s actually pretty cute. You know Mrs Coulter, the elderly librarian? Yeah. They exchange Xmas cards. She properly dotes on him. Adorable. Calls him Edward.” You chuckle.

“No way-“ Dustin grins. Giggling. “Edward.” He preens. Cheeks all squidgy with his smile.

Eddie flicks a gaze over at you. It’s almost edgy, but he’s smiling. He’ll remember that- for later on.

“Henderson, I will jam that fork in your eye.”

You overlap the violence and pat the back of your boyfriends hand. Nudge your lunch towards him as a consolation prize.

“He’s just terrible at being forced to read and write stuff. Nonconformer in him really rails against being told what to do.” You lay out nodding.

Cause that was kinda a given where he’s concerned.

“Oh, oh, I know. Favourite movie…” Jeff clicks his fingers at you.

“Friday 13th. The Goonies when he’s stoned out his crazy brain.” You pat Eddie’s head affectionately as you speak.

“Ok those are fairly standard. How about a random trivia round?…” Dustin decides very loudly. Slamming his fist down on the table top. Almost knocking over Mikes can of tab. Jesus Dustin. Watch it man-

You roll your eyes and think. You also shut your book cause you know you won’t be cramming for your English test with the current inquisition going on.

“What does Eddie hate… what are some of his dislikes.”

“Jocks. Uh, He uhm, hates mushrooms on his pizza. Picks the pickles out his burger. He prefers winter to summer. Cuts all the scratchy labels out his clothes cause they annoy the hell out of him. Gets hay fever pretty bad. He thinks playing or watching sports is dull as shit. He can’t stand CCR, or mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“I’m sorry but no ice cream should taste like toothpaste. It’s sick.” Eddie whines.

“He has little scars on his back that he likes to claim are scratches from sex.” You begin.

“Yeah he’s showed those us a lot. It’s sickening.

“Okay, wait til I tell you that he actually got them from falling ass first into my moms rose bush when he was sneaking in through my bedroom window one night.”

“I brought you chicken noodle soup when you were on the very verge of death. Pencils.” Eddie defends.

You turn and catch his pouty little eyes as he leans into you.

“He thinks I don’t know that he sometimes feeds the trailer park strays. Leaves out a can of tuna and bowls of water for them. Has given most of them metal names.”

Holy shit. Eddie makes this face at you like he’s in awe of all the little things you’d grasped about him. Made his stomach feel all slippy and gooey. Yeah. This is definitely love, kid.

“Awhh.”

Eddie snaps his eyes across to his friend who dares make that noise. He picked up the fork closest to him. Shooting feral eyes.

“Oh, He’s named his van.”

“Pencils.” He warns.

“Shut up.” Mike counters. “What is it?”

“Galadriel.” You chirp all sunny.

Dustin looks so happy.

“You’re single handedly ruining my reputation here, honey.”

You lean in and smack a kiss on the end of his nose.

“You have a sex rep I don’t know about, Munson?” You raise one brow. Up in his face about it. That jumper sliding down a silky skinned shoulder he wants to nose at. Call a spade a spade. He wants to bite it. Soothe the bite with his tongue and hear you coo oh, Eddie.

“Not in front of the halflings, Baby. They’re fresh faced and innocent right out the shire.” He dotes at you.

“Hey we’ve seen some shit.” One of them defends

“Not talking about a DND campaign you little pipsqueak.” Eddie smirks.

His hand is sliding around the waistband of your hip. Scooping around your back and pulling you to him. Clutching at his leathered shoulders and your thighs guided sideways over his lap. He snatched you right out your seat.

“Children avert your gaze. Some very 18+ activities are about to happen here.” Eddie warns them as his hands smooth up your jumper. Over your hips and back. He growls when he gets his ring clad fingers clutching your ass through your jeans.

“Ok, I really didn’t need to see that.”

“Buckle up, Pencils.” He whispers into your ear and brushed his tongue over your pulse.

“I’m going for public indecency to prove a point to these assholes.”

Then he seals his lips across yours and pushes his tongue into your mouth, as with any wild Eddie kiss, you melt. You feel his jaw open.

Your spine uncurls and slopes down your body like jello. It’s a movie star kiss that demanded Dolby technicolour and surround sound. A swooning kiss off the silver screen that could curl toes, and bloom whole fields of daisies.

You grasp his hair and reel him in. Kiss him back all spitty and wet to prove a point, and you’re not shy about shoving your tongue in his mouth. He moans.

You scratch his scalp. He sucks your bottom lip like you’re a delicacy. It’s way too much. So filthy. Fucking beautiful is what it is.

Then you feel his wicked, wicked hand pinging dangerously at your bra clasp. Snapping it to your skin. He bites his lip when he pulls back and shoots you those sultry black bedroom eyes.

“This is the one I hate getting off isn’t it? The goddamned purple one.” He says all lusty as he rubs the tip of his nose into yours. Your cheeks are so hot. Blood lava hot pushing in your face.

“You’re a trooper. Munson. You’ll figure it out.” You tell him with a teasing voice that you can feel makes his dick throb under your thighs.

“Can’t wait to get in those panties, later.”

“I’ve got art class after school. Come by around eight. Moms out tonight.” You flirt. Which means takeout, and suffocating, hands wandering, kisses, til you can’t remember which way is up or down. And so much Eddie. It feels like you’ll burst with love of him.

His lips taste like sugary tab and, now, your chapstick. Ash swirls on his breath from his last smoke. He’ll be itching for another one soon. Maybe you’ll sneak away and join him. Make out for the remainder of lunch time.

“Good. I really love it when you can scream loud when I bury my face in your pus-“ You clap your hand over his mouth.

“They don’t need chapter and verse. Baby.”

Eddie responds by licking a big hot stripe up your palm.

“You know, guys, maybe they’re not faking it.”

“Please, people are trying to eat here!”

“I’m definitely gonna barf.”

~

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie my boy #EDDIE DESERVED BETTER #EDDIE MY BELOVED #eddie drabble #wrote this in like half an hour lol #its silly #eddie feels #eddie x reader #eddie x oc #eddie x pencils ride again #love #lovers #fake dating #dustin henderson #welcome to hellfire #hellfire club #mike wheeler #jeff & gareth

[madeintheniamh]

I feel like Lottie gives me rebel teen vibes compared to Tilly...... so could we please please have a one shot of teen Lottie doing something rebellious ;)

hehehe... loved writing this one

a hairstyle for a styles

stmf one shot #19

You weren’t that fussy with how the girls looked growing up- whilst Tilly was more similar to you in that she liked to have her hair done and wear matching socks and fancy dresses, Lottie followed much more closely to Harry. But you did have a rule, which was that you wanted the girls to keep their long hair. Both of them had inherited the typical Styles hair genes- with Tilly’s hair being long and dark blonde, and Lottie’s being a mad, curly chocolate brown lob that formed ringlets around her head. There were only a few things that Lottie didn’t like about herself- she was much more confident than her older sister- but her hair was unfortunately one of those things.

new imessage from kitty:

just chop it. you’re gunna look amazing 😉

“Fuck it,” she muttered to herself, as she took the scissors to her hair and made the first cut. “Fuck,”

It was shorter than she had intended, with the offending chunk now barely touching her collarbone, whilst the rest of her hair still rested halfway down her spine. There was no going back, she thought, as she took the rest of the thick curly lob in her hand and chopped it off at her neck, and then proceeded to stare in the mirror for a good-few-minutes, realising her mistake, her long brown hair now scattered all over the bathroom floor. She was glad you weren’t home, but she had no clue what she was going to do when you did arrive home.

The first person to see the botched haircut was Tilly, who audibly gasped.

“Oh my god,” She screamed. “Your hair,”

She ushered Lottie downstairs, still virtually screaming at this point. Harry was sat in the living room, guitar in hand, as the noise made him look up.

“Hey my best girls, whoa, wow,” He choked slightly. “What happened?”

“I think it looks better,” Lottie smiled.

“Better!” Tilly scoffed, running her hands through her sister’s hair. “It looks like a toddler’s cut your hair!”

Harry sat up slowly. “It looks good, from the front,” He laughed. “But it’s not very even, and what is your Mum going to say when she gets home?”

“Why,” Tilly moaned, as she directed Lottie towards one of the barstools in the kitchen. “Your hair was so nice,”

Harry laid one of the tea-towels out on the floor, and grabbed a pair of scissors from the cupboard, passing them to Tilly.

“You want me to use these? On hair?” Tilly gasped. “These are for cooking!”

“We don’t really have a choice,” He sighed. “Just try and make it a bit better before your Mum gets home, surely it can’t get much worse,”

Tilly’s brows furrowed in concentration as she attempted to make both sides of her sister’s hair even, with a lot of colourful sounding words escaping from her mouth in the process. Harry stayed watching the entire time, laughing every-time Tilly would forcefully grab hold of Lottie’s chin and wrench it upright.

“Stop moving, or it’s going to be even worse! And stop laughing, Daddy, it’s not funny,” she scolded, whacking Harry’s back with one of the tea towels they had laid out on the back of the chair. “This is serious,”

Twenty minutes later, Lottie’s hair looked somewhat better. Whilst it was still slightly uneven, it was pretty good considering that Tilly had never cut hair before, and in the process, Harry had called his hair stylist to come round the next day and try and make it look a little bit more presentable.

“Quick, hide!” he shouted, as he heard the front door unlock, you entering the house with a few bags full of shopping. You pretended to not have heard all three of them shuffling around in the kitchen, as Tilly attempted to shove the scissors back in the drawer. When you walked in, Harry was stood in front of Lottie, blocking her from your view, Tilly stood next to him.

“Harry,” You began to laugh, as you put one of the bags down on the worktop. “Why are you standing like that,”

“Like what?” He asked, a dimple beginning to show on one of his cheeks. “Just standing here, that’s all,”

“Tilly,” You looked over at her. “I feel like you and your Daddy are up to something, I hope you’re not playing pranks on me again, I told you to stop that,”

She smirked slightly, trying to avoid your eyes, but found Harry’s instead, and they both burst out into a roar of laughter, their movement revealing Lottie to be sat behind them.

“Your hair!” You gasped. “Harry! Did you encourage this?!”

“We were trying to fix it!” He laughed. “To be honest, it doesn’t look half bad,”

“Lottie, why didn’t you just tell me, you wanted it shorter.” You sighed.

“You wouldn’t have let me anyway!” She replied, standing up from the chair. “And Daddy says it looks good, so it’s fine,” She winked at Harry, as she lent into his arms.

“It does look good, Lottie baby,” He played with a loose strand of her now shoulder length hair with his fingers. “But you always look good no matter what, my best girl,”

________

there you have it. my full intro to rebel teen lottie. more will come soon. thank you to my bestie becca for helping me craft lottie’s personality somewhat (we have many secrets about both her and Tilly that will be revealed gradually teehee)

this forms part of my slipping through my fingers series! I have linked the masterlist for the rest of the series here. as always if you have any requests feel free to send them to my inbox and I will try my best to write them for you. love you all have a wonderful Sunday and week xxx

(my ear is still throbbing from having my helix pierced today so I’m going to bed now)

#harry styles #dadrry #harry styles imagine #harry styles dad #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #stmf #harry styles one shot #dilfrry

[killersfool]

Special Guest | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: strangers to lovers

SUMMARY: hina and her band are invited as special guests to inhaler’s show in germany

WORDS: 7.3k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use

I clutch onto the handle of my suitcase, feeling it bump against my fingers as the wheels roll along. It's a boiling day. It's so stuffy within the airport and the pace of our steps really isn't helping. My other hand is clutching a cup of iced coffee from Starbucks. It's freezing cold and as I gulp it down, I start to feel a little bit cooler. Sweat lines my back and neck. I really need to get out of here.

Michael, the band's bassist, has decided to lob all of his things into a luggage trolley.  I pile my suitcase and rucksack onto it. My arm needs to rest for a while. Especially since I'm going to be playing piano tonight. I need to make sure that my fingers are actually intact. Or else everything would probably go wrong.

"Where's the exit?" Sadie calls out. She's got her drumsticks out already. Eager. She's walking around in circles, glancing around corners, shifting through people. She stands out amongst the crowd of tourists. Her blue, braided hair shines under the glimmering lights above her. She's wearing a silk dress and fishnets, completely oblivious to the world around us. She doesn't seem to care. She's instead focused on trying to find the way out. If only airports were simpler. Us idiots can never understand what the bloody hell is going on. The fact we're in Germany in making it a lot worse. My German skills are almost nil.

"Hallo! Wo ist der Ausgang?" Michael is the only mildly intelligent one out of the band. He's got google translate on his phone and is talking to a random man.

"Es ist hinter dir. Hast du kein Augen?" The man seems to be rather pissed off.

"Danke!" Michael points to the sliding doors only metres ahead. Sadie had somehow looked in every direction except the right one. "Wasn't that hard was it?" Michael says.

"What would I do without you?" There's sarcasm dripping through each of Sadie's words. She shakes her head at the sight of the sliding doors.

We walk out of the airport. Michael's bass case gets trapped in the door. He groans frustratedly and uses all the strength he has to pull it out. We laugh at him. German families side-eye us.

"I want to see Bobby Skeetz already, " I say as we leave the airport. There's dozens of cars and taxis dropping off groups of people. "I'm still pissed at him."

"About what?" Eric, the lead guitarist, is clueless as always.

"About blocking me on Instagram, that's what. Just because I commented that his hair needed a wash or summat. I'm going to have a right word with that—"

"Hina —" Michael interupts me. I ignore his attempts.

"—complete total bellend-sucking rat." I grin to myself, downing my drink. The rest of the band are staring at me as if I've killed someone. Sadie's eyes are so wide I wonder if her eyeballs are going to fall out. Eric has a hand over his mouth. Michael is completely frozen in place which is rather unusual.

"Nice to meet you too."

I stop in my tracks. An Irish accent rises behind me. It's close. I can almost feel the words press against my sunburnt neck. I'm trying to mouth questions to my band mates, trying to ask them who it is that's standing behind me. If it's Bobby, I'm fucked. If it's Eli, we could probably laugh it off. If it's Ryan, he'll throw his drumsticks at me. If it's Josh, I'll jump off a cliff. All great options.

I pluck up some courage. Cautiously, my feet swivel around. Then my legs, then my torso, then my head. I take a thankful breath at the sight of dark, curly hair. This feeling deteriorates when right beside him, blue, piercing eyes are staring me down. Arms are crossed across his chest. Lips are pursed tightly shut. Messy hair has been blown in all directions due to the light, fluttering wind. Sunglasses are resting atop his head. I try to look anywhere else but him. He's taller than I'd expected, he looks down at me and I'm finding it very hard to escape those eyes. I stare at the sliding doors we'd just passed through. Eli is laughing to himself. Just as I had suspected.

Josh and Ryan are beside the two other boys. They're laughing as well. At least they're not taking it too seriously. I didn't mean it. I think.

I'm caught in the most awkward silence of my life. My lips have parted out of pure confusion. No one is saying anything. I don't know whether I feel stupid, embarrassed or proud. I just stay there, rooted to the ground like an oak tree, standing as tall as I possibly can.

"I was not expecting that," Eli tries to ease the tension rising in the air. I silently thank him through the motion of my eyes. Who knows how long we'd just be stand there if he hadn't have said anything?

"Well, shit. Hi," I say. For some reason I'm standing in front of the others. They've left me to fend for myself. I probably shouldn't have said that. I can never really control my mouth. I guess this is karma. "Nice to meet you too..."

Robert isn't speaking. I take a look at his clothes. He's got shorts on and a plain white tee with the words 'The Strokes' upon it. There's a hat atop his head which barely fits him and sort of hangs off his head. His long eyelashes flutter upwards and downwards as he traces his gaze towards me. He's still giving me a certain look. It's angered but it also seems as if he's trying to contain a smile.

"Sorry about that." I look at Robert.

"I'm very hurt." He feigns a look of sadness. He lowers his gaze to the ground, downturns his lips and shakes his head from side-to-side. "I can't believe you could ever say that."

"Oh shit-" Michael murmurs behind me. I kind of want to hit the three of them. They're not helping at all. God... is he joking or not? Elijah and the other lads seem to be taking it seriously. They're patting his back awkwardly.

"Where's the nearest exit?" Sadie's already planning an escape route. She's taken a few steps away from the group to look around at the airports different paths.

"Geez, Robert, I wasn't being serious-"

"Only joking, you tossers." He cuts me off with the biggest laugh I've ever heard. He finally breaks through the morose facade, revealing a toothy grin. His earrings glint as he tilts his head. The other members are having none of it. They all punch him playfully in the stomach. He groans. "Welcome to Berlin," Robert continues, raising his hands up in the air. My friends are still unsure about this whole situation. I am too. We start to stride down past the airport to a long stretch of streets.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes," Elijah says to the blue-eyed boy with an irritable sigh.

Robert grins. "Oh, I know you do." He then approaches me. "Did I actually block you?"

"Yeah, you did. I was heartbroken."

"Don't remember doing that." He snorts. The tension between us is starting to diminish. "Must've been drunk. Or played one too many rounds of bird bingo. Gets me angry, to be fair. Probably went on a blocking spree. Went through all my followers and eeny meeny miny moed them."

"Bird bingo?" I try not to make fun of him. It's proving to be a difficult task.

"Don't even try to disrespect it- I will actually burst into tears if you dare say a word against it. We'll show you at some point. It's life changing." He's stepping down a stone path, trying not to step on the cracks. It's the most Robert thing I've ever seen. "How's the new album going?"

I didn't expect him to ask that. By the cheeky smile upon his face, I was sure he was going to make some weird comment. "A lot worse than the first one."

"I'm sure it's class," he assures.

"It really isn't."

"I bet it is."

"It's not."

"Alright. It's shite then."

"Better."

Eli has somehow become our tour guide. We're following him now down the streets. "We've booked you a hotel down in Berlin. It's grand."

"Brill, thanks," Sadie says. She's been flirting with Josh for the past half hour. She'd been eyeing him up and down at the airport and is now making him laugh like crazy. They'd be a great couple. I watch them walk together. I just know that they'll be a thing by the end of this.

"Where are we actually going?" Michael, as usual, is the one asking the sensible questions. We've been following Eli like blind puppies. We could literally be walking into a trap. They could kidnap us right now and we would never have expected it.

"The tour bus," Eli explains. "It's green. If you see it, shout."

Michael and Eric are talking to Ryan. They're talking about all things music theory, tour, favourite songs. Just your typical musician conversations. Eli is at the front, navigating. He's spotted the green tour bus in the distance and is making sure we're all going the right way. It's helpful because none of us really have a sense of direction. Robert is walking with me for some reason. He's been a few steps in front of me for the whole time. It's probably because he's got longer legs. I think he's cute. Sure. I might have stumbled across some Twitter edits of him and daydreamed about him a few times. In person, he's just as pretty— prettier in fact. I feel annoyed at myself for making a fool of myself.

I watch the muscles in his back as he strolls before me. His shirt has stuck down due to the nightmarish temperature. I thank the sun for it's service. I don't think it gets any better than this.

We continue through the streets of Berlin: winding paths, brick graffiti-stained walls, little German cafes. I've been to Berlin only once before. It feels different this time. My brain has somehow warped and I can now appreciate the simplicity of each street. Maybe it's because I focus more on the world around me as a songwriter. Ice creams are melting, music is thrumming from little speakers where buskers are singing in German. I close my eyes, feel the heat dance across my skin.

"I'm sorry about earlier." I decide to break this weird oath of silence we've somehow agreed to.

"What, the bellend-sucking rat thing?" Robert says with distaste. He now turns to look at me. He raises a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Silver rings adorn his slender fingers. He seems to be taking a long, hard thought about what to say next.  "I forgive you. I mean, fair enough."

"What?!" I'm flabbergasted.

"I deserved it. Had it coming. I guess I've learnt my lesson to not block Hina Irvine." The way my name falls from his lips is so effortless, so smooth. Honey spilling onto a morning toast or yoghurt upon granola. It almost feels practiced. As if he's said it countless times before. I let the two words echo in my mind, dance through my skull.

"Good," I say, an afterthought. I'm glad it's settled. "Are you going to unblock me then?"

"Later. Phone's dead."

"That's what they all say."

"No, honestly. Eli drained the battery because he was calling his mam. They would not stop talking." He rolls his eyes.

"Why didn't he use his own phone?"

"He 'left' it in the bus." He moves his index and middle finger to make parenthesis. "Five minutes later, lo and behold, out appears the phone he'd supposedly 'left'. I don't know why I trust him. He's just got such a trustable face. God. I hate him."

"If any of my friends did that to me, there'd be consequences."

"I'm sure." He nods.

We follow Eli into the doors of the tour bus. It's pretty much a physical form of the band. Posters are scattered across the walls, stuck in by little silver pins. Their instruments are leaning against the two little green sofas sat in the corner. There's music playing on a bluetooth speaker. It's a song by 'The Strokes' which is perfectly matching Robert's shirt. There are a few cowboy hats sat on top of a coffee table. They've probably started accumulating them after each show.

"Ignore the hats." Josh is the first to address the mess. He picks up the hats and takes them away. He passes a green curtain to what I assume are the beds.

There's still one hat to spare which has the words 'Cheer up Baby' made with black glitter. It's bright pink with little frills across the sides. I plonk it onto my head without a second thought. I'm sure glitter has just splattered everywhere.

"Make yourself at home." Eli points over to the sofa. There are dark green pillows planted all over the place and a black blanket is draped across it. I glance at the polaroid pictures of each of the band mates that are pinned to the walls. There is one where Robert is half asleep on the ground. His hair is messy, his arms are across his chest as if he is a vampire. Each of the photos tell a story and they are all set out in chronological order. The oldest is from 2017. As I take my gaze to the first ones, I notice how much younger they all look.

The keyboardist, Louis, appears out of nowhere. He's been in the other room and is holding a cup of coffee. He greets all of us, compliments our music then begins talking to Eli.

I sit down. Ryan passes each of us a cup of orange juice. I accept it gratefully. I'm parched after being in the heat for so long. The tiny fan beside the coffee table is a welcome relief. I sigh as the cool air reaches my skin. I watch the ice cubes swim inside my cup, nudging them along with my straw.

Robert has sat down beside me. He's adding songs to the Spotify queue on Ryan's phone. He's been swiping through a playlist. I see one of our songs on it. His thumb hovers over the 'add to queue' button. I push it down onto the screen. He startles at my touch. I only realise how close I am when he turns around.

"Good song, right?" I joke. His hair has just swiped across my cheek. I try to ignore it just happened.

"Yeah..." He continues staring at the screen. It's almost as if he's scared to look at me.

"Who wants to drive?" Ryan asks.

Michael jumps up. "I will. I'll need some directions though."

"I'll co-pilot," Elijah offers. "I think I know where we're going."

The pair walk to the front of the bus. It starts moving. I drift from side-to-side as we turn corners. My head hits Robert's shouder more times I can even count on my fingers. He's still evading my gaze. He's pulled out his bass guitar and is playing through some of the songs. I watch his thin fingers dancing across the fretboard. He's got his eyes closed as he plays. I'm trying not to stare down at his hands or the muscles in his forearms. It's proving to be a very difficult task. His movements are so skillful. He makes it seem so easy.

Sadie somehow has a sixth sense which helps her detects where the nearest bottle alcohol is. Every party we've been to, every place we've performed at. She arises from the most random of places with a glass of wine or vodka. I remember one of our first gigs was in Edinburgh. There was a room backstage where we'd been left to get prepared. Michael had mentioned wanting some drinks. Sadie literally picked up a piece of the wooden floorboard to find a secret stash of whiskey. I never doubt her powers now.

She's pulled out a bottle of vodka which had been left behind the sofa. Fleetwood Mac is playing. She turns the music up and starts waving her hands in the air, already drinking shots. Eric never really know how to control her. Ryan and Josh entertained. They're bopping their heads to the music. I contemplate moving away from Robert. They're all having so much fun. Robert has gone quiet. He's still picking notes on the bass guitar.

"Hina? You want a shot?" Sadie shouts for me over the loud music. She pours some vodka into each of the boys' cups.

"Yeah, sure." I'm about to hold out my glass. Instead, I grab the bottle and take a swig. I instantly regret it. My features contort into a look of disgust. I can barely even feel my tongue. I hold it in place at the roof of my mouth to try to find any sensation. Nothing works.

Robert, now awoken from his trance, peels his head from the sofa. His eyes open until they're half-lidded. A little blue is visible under those long eyelashes. His head is tilted to the side as if he's questioning something. The bass guitar is still resting on his thighs.

"D'you want some?" I manage to say after staring at him for far too long.

His eyes fall from my face to my hands. He takes the bottle from me. His fingers brush softly over mine, all calloused yet delicate. He, similarly to me, takes a drink straight from the bottle. The others make some drunken noises of excitement. I don't even know if we'll be able to perform in this state. Sadie is standing on top of the coffee table, holding Josh's hands. Eric and Ryan are jokingly slow dancing together with cheesy smiles. Elijah has appeared and is on the phone to his mum yet again in the corner.

"We'll be at the venue in five minutes everybody!" Michael shouts down the bus.

Everyone begins to cheer. I lean against the sofa, now suddenly realising I'm sort of alone with Robert.His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed again. He's humming along to the song that is playing. It's Love Story by Taylor Swift. Eric surely suggested it. He's obsessed with Taylor. Robert is sitting with both of his legs parted. Manspreading. I don't think he understands the effect he has on me. Especially on my intoxicated mind. I just want to crawl onto him and-

"Hina," he whispers, eyes still closed. I like the sound of my name from his mouth. It sounds like he's singing it. "When we perform tonight. Can I sing a song with you?" He looks at me. His hands are wrung together. One goes to play with his hair and his voice is hushed, nervous.

"Really? One of my songs?" I remark. I can't help but smile.

"No.. nevermind." He turns to face away from me. "Yes. Really." He says those words with more force. He leans forwards in a way of accentuating his point. "It'd be an honour."

"What do I get in return?" I challenge. He's getting closer by the second.He smells like blackberries and melted chocolate. It's a cozy scent. Inviting. I'm trying to figure out what's going on in his head. He's lost in his thought. Gears are cranking, mechanics are whirring. Until, he nods to himself as if an idea has appeared. A lightbulb has turned on. I hope he'll spit it out. Hopefully soon because the bus is going to stop any minute now.

"After the things you've said about me... I'm not sure if you deserve the incredible the thing I'm about to offer you. Like, not to burst my own bubble or anything but this is just- out of this world," he begins to ramble. I wonder if it's nervous dribble or if he's buying time because he doesn't want to say it. He leans away from me. His cheeks are a little flushed and his lips are parted the slightest bit.

"What is it, Rob?"

He takes another sip of the vodka before murmuring something incoherent.

"What was that?" I put a hand to my ear.

"A kiss!" He says it far too loud. Ryan gives us both a look, his eyebrows thread together in confusion.

I feel like we're teenagers again. "That's a shit offer." I glance down at his lips, they're pink and a little chapped. I then see how red his cheeks are now. His hair has fallen over his eyes. I ask myself whether he'd be a good kisser. Would he cup my face with his hand or grip my waist? Would he be delicate and soft or rough and practiced? My mind begins to wander to all kinds of places. I've got into a spiral of thoughts. Would he kiss me here on the sofa or press me against the wall of the bus? In the venue? At the hotel? In a bed..? I swallow. Breathe out.

"Well?" He runs his tongue over his lips, teeth appearing. He's trying to tease me, trying to make me nervous.

I bite down on my bottom lip. I try to find an answer in those angelic eyes. There's nothing. Singing with him would be great. He's got an amazing voice. Kissing him would be... well-

"Fine," I murmur.

"Now or later?" He points between us with a devilish smile.

I scoff. "Later. Don't get too excited. Which song do you want to sing?"

"Nightmare," he says. It's the title track of the album and my personal favourite. His harmonies will surely add more to the song, flesh it out all the more.

He's sat there, studying me as if he's a painter. Maybe he's asking myself the same questions I had been asking myself a few minutes ago. That's a strange thought.

"We're here!" Eli announces. Thank God. Saved by the bell. I take this as an excuse to run away from Robert. I meet with Sadie. She wraps her arm around me to steady herself as we step off the bus.

"Think you can still play drums?" I pass her the drumsticks she'd left on the sofa.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, of course. I'm not even that drunk." Her words are incredibly slurred.

"Doubt that."

"What's going on with you and Bobby?" She winks.

"Nothing."

"Hmm. Didn't look like nothing. I think he likes you. Josh said he wouldn't shut up about how great your songs are."

I blush. "Oh? That's..."

"Yeah."

It's still warm outside but there's a slight chill that strikes me. It's windy. It's nice. After being cooped up in the bus for so long, fresh air is a gift from the heavens. My hair blows away from my face and I breathe in.

We've reached the venue and parked at the back entrance. There's thankfully no fans around. They'd probably be scared of us, seeing how drunk we are. We walk over pebbled ground. Stars are glittering up above us. There are street lamps everywhere, illuminating everyone's faces.

I'm pretty sober compared to the others. I make fun of them as they stumble around like total idiots. It's my favourite pastime when touring with the likes of Sadie Green. They're all unloading their instruments from the bus, carrying them on their backs. As the keyboardist and singer, I don't have to take anything. They already have a piano in the venue and microphones. Louis has his own keyboard and synth stuff. I feel a little out of place with everyone else.

A crash sounds. The backstage door opens. We all turn at the exact same time. There's an old man with hair like a storm cloud who waves at us. "Willkommen! Welcome! I'm Albert. Come in, my friends!" His strong German accent catches me off guard. "You're just in time. The crowd is getting loud."

"Hi!" Eli shakes Albert's hand.

We follow Eli into the building. It's has a pale, beige exterior with moss growing against some of the upstairs windows. Robert walks in before me and holds open the door. He's staring right at my lips. Not even being subtle. I kick his shin once I've got inside. He makes a mouse-like squeak.

"What was that for?" He trying to act serious but he's most definitely holding in a laugh. He softly kicks the back of my leg once I've passed.

I ignore him and continue down some stairs into a dressing room. Eric, Michael and Sadie are already getting their stuff ready.

"You four are on in ten minutes, we've already set up everything for you on stage." Albert steps into the doorway. He looks like the type of guy to wear a monocle. His pocketwatch is in his hand. He gives each of a bag of German sweets. "I must say, I am a fan."

"Thank you," Eric says as he rips open his bag and begins munching.

I put my bag into my blazer pocket. I drop the cowboy hat down onto the floor, forgetting I even had it on. I sit down in front of the mirror and begin to do my makeup. Eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, eyeshadow. The speed of my movements is impalpable. I never knew my hands could move this quickly. By the time I'm finished doing my dark blue eyeshadow, the Inhaler boys come to the door.

"Good luck. You're gonna smash it," Josh says. Sadie jumps towards him and pecks his cheek. There's a lipstick stain left there once she pulls away. He cups his hand over his face with a nervous smile.

The other boys all wish us luck as we begin to file out of the room. Eli gives us all fist bumps, Louis gives us hi-fives. Ryan, Josh and Robert just wave us off. I'm the last to leave the room. I pick up my water bottle then pass all the instrument cases to get to the door. I give Eli a fist bump and I'm about to give Louis a hi-five when Robert grabs my arm. My gaze falls down to the hand on my bare skin. His fingertips are warm and soft. He just whispers into my ear, "Be prepared for the unexpected."

"What?" My nose scrunches out of confusion. I didn't think he'd be sending some random quotes in my direction.

"Hina! Hurry up!" Eric shouts from upstairs.

I just shake my head and keep walking. Now, I'm worried. Is he going to do something when he comes onto stage? Something stupid? Am I going to regret agreeing to this dumb deal? I just continue forward. I need to focus on what I'm about to be playing, how I'm going to cope multitude of people just down the hallway.

We reach the wings of the stage. Sadie is the first to go on. The crowd erupt into a frenzy at the sight of her. I glance around the corner to see dozens of smiling faces. The majority of people are hidden under the cloak of darkness. But, the ones at the front are coloured blue by the lighting above us. The crowd looks endless from here. There's a knot forming in my stomach as Eric and Michael follow Sadie onto the stage. They plug in their instruments to the amps laid out. I finally step onto the stage. The crowd screams all the more. I wave as I place my water bottle beside the mic stand. There are little golden stars painted all over the floor of the stage. I step onto one, deciding that it's going to make me lucky. This is all going to be great. Definitely.

I sit down at the piano. I press my foot onto the peddle. Sadie begins playing. The beats of the drum crashing through the air sound perfect. There's not even a single sign that she's drunk at all. This is probably the best I've ever heard her play. We play through two songs from the album. The crowd recognise them and they sing along at the top of their lungs. They're punching their arms into the air, filming us, laughing as Eric cracks his signature jokes.

By the end of the second song, I'm sweaty and pretty out of breath. I don't know how Inhaler cope with the amount of songs they do. I already feel like I'm on the verge of passing out.

I take a sip of my water. I turn to the side to see all of the Inhaler boys in the wings. They're holding their thumbs up. They had been singing along to both of the songs.

"I'm going to have a special guest for this song-"

At that, Robert decides it is his cue to run onto the stage. He doesn't even let me finish a sentence. The crowd begins chanting: 'Bobby Skeetz. Bobby Skeetz.' I laugh awkwardly into the mic. Robert sits beside me at the piano, wrapping a lazy arm around my waist. My head bumps into his side. The other band members are all mouthing words to eachother.

"Hello," Robert whispers into the mic. The crowd go silent. He's changed into some flared jeans and a white button down shirt. There's a silver chain around his neck, sitting just above his collarbones. It's weird to see him on stage without his bass guitar. It doesn't really feel right. More people have pulled up their phones to film this strange interaction. "This will be the duet of a lifetime." His hand is still at my waist, fingers lazily moving around my lower back. I drop my head upon his bare shoulder, closing my eyes at the feeling of his cooler skin.

"Are we sharing a mic then?" I whisper into his ear as Michael starts playing the bass riff. Some people at the front of the crowd instantly figure out the song. They're jumping around like lunatics.

"Is that really a bad thing?" He smirks.

"Fuck off."

"You're stuck with me now, darling." His fingers traipse up the length of my spine.

"I could stage dive right now."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

The introduction finishes. I start to play chords on the piano. Robert sings the first line. He sounds like a fucking angel. He waves his hands along with the audience. They're loving this. No one is singing. They're all listening to his voice. I'm in some kind of trance. I can barely even remember the words. Words that I literally wrote myself. He's driving me crazy.

I near the microphone. My head brushes against his. He doesn't want to move. He's still holding onto me. I sing along with him. He starts to harmonise and I almost melt on the spot. He's looking at me with those eyes. He's smiling, freckled cheeks tinged pink. His nose bumps against mine once we get to the chorus. I swear I hear someone below us scream. There's a little beard growing that I hadn't noticed before. Little spots of acne are on his jawline. I'm using all the strength I have in myself to not kiss him right now.

As we sing the next verse, for the whole time, he just rests his head on top of mine. Strands of his hair are drifting over my forehead. He harmonises every other line. Each word is spoken softly as if he's speaking to me. It's like the crowd isn't there, or the band, or anyone. It's just me and him and the piano.

His mouth reaches my ear again. I shiver as his lips brush across the lobe. "I want to kiss you so much," he says, breathless.

"Don't." I feel a warmth in my lower stomach. I point to the crowd. They look like they're waiting for something.

"I know." He removes his hand from my back, moves away. He's using all the strength he has to not kiss me right now. He grins at the crowd. The song draws to a close. Michael plays the bass riff for a final time.

Shouts reverberate throughout the room. Robert puts his hands up and down as if he's worshipping me. I smile. He laughs. The crowd are loving it. Eric and Michael are still extremely confused but they also seem pleased. We walk towards the wings after bowing. I have a bouquet of flowers in my hands. It had been thrown in my direction by a fan.

"After our set..." Robert is at my ear again. He's panting like a dog after a walk. "Meet me in my dressing room. For, you know, bird bingo of course."

"Yeah, yeah. Course." I leave him to get prepared for their performance.

"That was bloody awesome!" Ryan gives Robert a pat on the back before they walk on the stage. "We fucked up not making you the lead singer."

Eli snatches a drumstick from Ryan's hand. He holds it centimetres from his friends face. "Don't make me do this!"

"Chill out, Eli. I'm just better." Robert crosses his arms over his chest.

Eli just scoffs. "You tell yourself that, mate." He pauses. "But, honestly, you two sing so well together."

They all go onto the stage and start playing. I'll admit this, I have seen them on stage before. I went to one of their concerts about a month ago in Dublin. We had been touring up and down the UK and somehow ended up in Ireland.  I kept it a secret from my band mates that I was going to watch Inhaler. I needed some time to myself. It gets tiring being with the same people for such a long period of time. That was one of the best nights of my life. The music, the atmosphere, the band. It was brilliant. I don't think any of them remember me being there, thank God. Sadie still thinks I disappeared that night because I'd met a fit Irish actor in a pub.

I sit down on the ground, taking a massive gulp of water. My friends are all breathing heavily. I always enjoy the feeling after the show. I always have the best sleep. I'm so tired. I can barely process any thoughts. A comfortable silence dances between us. We're all drinking and laughing.

"Should we just hire Robert at this point? The chemistry you two had was- can't even describe it." Michael is leaning against the wall, his long legs are sprawled across the dusty floorboards.

"I thought you two were going to start making out or something," Eric admits. "Sexual tension was off the charts."

"Stop." I laugh to myself.

Sadie hasn't spoken. She's too focused on Josh. Her eyes are gliding across his whole frame. She gasps everytime he plays a solo.

"You too as well. Get a room. I swear to God." Eric has had enough of us. He really can't take us seriously. "I mean, fair enough. They're pretty hot."

"Exactly!" Sadie seems to be thankful of where she's seated. A front row view of Josh. Robert has been looking at me for this whole time. He's making that unbothered face. Each time that he sings into the mic, I can't stop myself from looking at his lips. I can't stop thinking about how they'll feel against mine.

-

Robert's dressing room is a mess. His bass case has just been left on the floor. There are picks everywhere. His jacket is on the chair, his cologne is also on the floor. I glance into his open bag. There are a few records inside. He must've bought them recently because they've still got plastic seals on them. I pull them out carefully. One is 'Bleach'. I love Nirvana. I slide my fingertips over the plastic. I contemplate strealing it. I replace the record then pull out the other. It's our record. I'm in the centre of the picture with the others staring at the camera beside me. I hold it to my chest, trying not to smile too widely. I then place it back as if I'd never even seen it.

I lie down on the cold, hard ground. It's so quiet down here. They must've finished playing. My eyes fall shut. I want to fall asleep. My mind then goes to Robert. I'm in a daydream. We're both walking through a field. He's holding my hand, pointing out the birds up above us. I'm trying to focus on the words leaving his mouth but in the harsh light of the sun, he looks perfect. I'm just about to lean it to-

"Hey, Hina." The door opens. My eyes first land on long legs that seem to go on forever, then a belt, then a sweaty shirt and a sweaty face. The thin material sticks to his chest. He closes the door behind him. "What you doing down there?"

"I don't know. I'm tired."

He wipes a hand over his face. "Same."

He sits down beside me then falls back, resting his head on the floor next to me. I roll my head over to see his side profile. Perfect nose, perfect lips, perfect jaw. His hair has gone wet from all of the sweat and he's tried to move it out of his face. I'm sure he can feel me staring because he starts to smile.

"It's nice down here." He's staring at the ceiling. Our hands are so close together. I hold onto his thumb. His fingers twitch at the sudden touch.

"How was the show?" I ask him. He's still not looking at me.

His fingers intertwine with mine. "Good. I couldn't stop thinking about something though."

Now, he looks at me. His eyes run from my chin to my lips to then they meet my gaze. I don't think a guy has ever made me this nervous. I don't know why we're still on the floor. I kind of like it though.

"We don't have to... if you don't want to." I press a hand to his cheek, moving any stray hairs from his face. His skin is so warm. I want to keep my hand there forever.

"I want to," I say. I start to close the gap between us. He parts his lips when I'm just about to meet them.

"Wait." He turns away from me. I press my forehead to his ear, pepper a few kisses along his jaw. He's going red. I love it. "You were at that show, weren't you? The one in Dublin."

"No I wasn't." I grin as I nibble on his earlobe. "Must've been someone else."

He sighs as I start to kiss along his throat. I keep it delicate. I run my hand though his hair, feel each strand fall between my fingers. "Yes, you were. Near the front. You had that dark green cowboy hat. You knew all the lyrics to every song. I remember seeing you and thinking: 'I know who she is'. For the whole show, I was trying to figure out who on Earth you were. Well, now I know."

"Don't tell the others. It's a secret, okay?" I now hold my face just above his.

He places his hands carefully at the back of head. He rubs up and down the nape of my neck. "Okay."

He brushes his lips across mine, teasing me. I close my eyes as our mouths crash together. There's passion in the way he kisses. I imagined him to kiss slowly, softly but instead he's kissing me as if the world is crumbling around us. He's rough yet the movement of his hands across my skin are gentle. He tastes of coffee. His tongue drifts into my mouth, searching, tasting.

I grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling a few pieces. He groans into my mouth. I found his weak spot. I smile into the kiss.

I pull away from him. He raises an eyebrow at the movement. I then clamber on top of him, my legs wrapping over his sides. He puts both of his hands onto my hips to hold me upright. He looks up at me. He's exasperated. I think he's trying to formulate some snarky comment but all he can do is stare at me.

I lean down to kiss him again. He starts playing with my hair, kissing along my collarbones. He sucks and bites every now and then. I play with the chain at his neck, my other hand nearing the top button of his shirt. I tilt my head up to allow him better access. He licks along the base of my throat.

"I thought you said one kiss," I mutter. He's surely painted my skin with a whole load of lovebites.

He just shuts me up by kissing me once again. This time is more passionate that the last. He's bring down softly on my lips, tongue still looking around my mouth. My body is pressed flush against his. He loosely wraps his fingers around my neck, thumbs running up and down. I grind my hips against him. He grunts. "Hina..." He looks up at me. He's now bright red. He's still got his hands around my neck.

I hook my fingers to get under his shirt, slide my hands under the fabric. He leans his head further against the floor as I lean down to press my lips to his lower abs. My fingertips feel every part, as if I'm sculpting a God. His body is too good to be true. I start to suck down on his skin. He's sighing and breathing heavily. He holds onto the back of head for dear life. I start to unbutton his shirt. He puts his hands underneath my shirt as I do, cautiously sliding upwards. Once I've undone every button, I lick a stripe from his lower abs to the centre of his chest. I'm driving him insane. He keeps muttering words under his breath.

"Do you regret blocking me on Instagram now?" I move away from his torso to admire my work. There are at least ten lovebites on his skin, all scattered around his body. He pulls his body upwards to allow me to take of his shirt. I then throw it off to the side.

"Maybe." His hands are cupping my boobs over my bra. He just lets them stay there for a while.

I run my fingertips over the muscles in his back. His shoulder blades shift around. I fall on top of him. We're both tired out of our minds.

"I want to— you know. But, I'm so tired," he admits. "I don't think we'll enjoy it that much."

I glance down at his jeans. I could feel how hard he was. "I could..."

"It's fine," he whispers. He pulls me down against his bare chest. He starts to fiddle with the little braids scattered through my hair. "I just want you here. Hina, you're fucking perfect."

"Says you." I still can't get over how good of a kisser he is.

"I want to stay here forever." He presses his lips to my forehead.

I take a deep breath. Kiss him again. Now, he kisses me slowly. I drift back down to his chest and listen to each pounding beat of his heart until I'm lulled into a deep sleep.

#robert keating #bobbyskeetz #inhaler #inhaler band #inhaler oneshots #inhaler imagines #elijah hewson #ryan mcmahon #josh jenkinson #bobby skeetz #fanfiction #inhaler fanfic

[razrogue]

a lyric on your tongue (Astarion x Tav)

Summary: They weren't a fan of pet names so why had they given him one...

READ ON AO3

Astarion mindlessly twirled the curly end of their braid between his fingers as they rested at the side of the lake.

Fighting Ethel had taken more out of the group than expected. Who knew some bloody mushrooms were keeping the damnable hag alive? It'd taken them far too long to realize it until one of the lobbed fireballs finally took out a cluster in one instance. They soon make short work of her and made their way out of the cellar.

As they left the tavern, Gan started heading out of the city, Astarion following behind. The two of them reached the lake and he sat back on the shoreline while they stripped and dove in. Astarion took the time alone to clean up their gear while he waited. They finally began making their way back before the sun was fully set, he met them with a cloth and open arms.

"Thanks Plum," Gan remarked as they briefly snuggled in his arms before drying off.

Their gear back on, the two of them sat down, propping their backs against the small boulder just off the water. He tightened his hold on them as the two of them sat there watching what remained of the sun set over the water.

"I thought you didn't like pet names," he commented, interrupting the quiet as he tapped his fingers lightly on the back of their hand. They waited for him to clarify his sudden remark.

"You started calling me Plum ever since…" Astarion paused, letting the sentence stop. He was unwilling to give things more weight just then. It was pressure neither of them needed. Sure he called them darling or beautiful but he said that to everyone. Well almost everyone, Lae'zel and Minthara were only going to be Lae'zel and Minthara since he valued his pretty little head remaining on his shoulders.

He'd even taken to calling them Darling One because well…that's what they were to him. The one who'd pushed him to face uncomfortable truths and uncover revelations about himself. Astarion had been forced to do a lot of shitty things under Cazador's compulsion. Unattended for the first time in years, he thought he'd have no choice but to do those things with them in order to stay safe and be protected. They'd done their part of his plan as far as he was concerned. Skilled with daggers, dangerous from the shadows, observed far more than they spoke initially, Gan made him feel safe, if not a little uneasy about those skills possibly turning upon him.

He was even able to hold up his part after they knew what he really was that fateful night. It would have been nothing for them to slip a dagger into his heart before the rest of camp had even heard them scuffle. A personal attack vampire, they'd pondered aloud before agreeing to lie back on the mat and let him feed. Astarion should have known though when the instincts wore off and there was no more fantasy to be played; when he'd found a sliver of wanting buried deep beneath the layers of disgust and pain that something was different. Something he hadn't quite wrapped his mind around but he was willing, just like them, to see where the journey took them both.

His thoughts drifted back to the elf snuggled warmly against his side. They'd never uttered a darling or whispered a sweet in his direction. They'd only ever called him his name or Vamp when they were in a playful mood. So he certainly wasn't expecting to hear it when they asked what gear he needed as they perused a trader's stock. And he was sure he was hearing things when they told the barkeeper to get my Plum whatever he wanted. And when it was just the two of them, nestled against that tree just outside camp in Rivington, when they looked up into his eyes and said Plum we'll make sure he pays, he was confused. Astarion would have asked at that moment but before he could his attention was diverted elsewhere. Distracted by the warm hands cradling his cheeks and the softest kiss pressed to his lips. If his heart was still beating, he was sure it would have been racing in his chest.

So as the two of them sat there, huddled on a lake shore together, watching a setting sun, he asked. He asked and he waited for a response. Waited patiently first then impatiently while they sat there quietly, never stirring at his question. He was about to open his mouth, a quip ready on his tongue when he finally heard them speak up.

"Because…"

They hadn't continued just yet and he was ready to just say forget it, he told himself to practice some restraint for once.

"The first time I bit into a red plum…" A satisfied hum coming from them, as if they were reliving the moment right then, they finally carried on. "It became one of my favorite fruits."

Gan continued to look out over the water and left the sentence at that. Astarion shuffled slightly, "....come now don't leave me hanging."

Rolling their eyes as they turned to face him, "Really???"

He grinned and batted his eyelashes, finally conceding as they let out an exasperated sigh.

"Simply put, you've become one of my favorites."

He beamed proudly, sticking his chest out a little. He'd been called many things over the centuries but he'd never been anyone's favorite anything.

"I may need to reconsider my decision making," Gan teased as they grabbed him by the chin and shook his head side to side.

Astarion freed himself from their grasp, pretending to be hurt, "Oh darling one! You wound me!"

Gan playfully elbowed him in the ribs before settling back against his side. He wrapped his arm around them as they watched what remained of the sunset. It was all new. Terrifying and unknown and new. A tadpole in his brain, walking in the sun after over 200 years, figuring out there may be a way to become a living vampire, so many mysteries in so little time.

Astarion wasn't sure how this whole ordeal would turn out but he'd grown sure about one thing. There wasn't anyone else he'd rather face the approaching storm with than them.

#Ilina Gavren #Gan #Astarion #Astarion Ancunin #Astarion X Tav #Astarion romance #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 spoilers #Ganarion #otp: hand in despicable hand #razrogue writes #long post #this might have been written when I was fueled by spite earlier today #and feeling a little giddy as I listened to their playlist LOL

[soldier-poet-king]

Debating bringing back this look??? Probs shorter in the sides and a lil shaggier on the top so my lil curly waves can form? Is it just my need for dramatic change?? Probably but still??? Am I gonna be doing the chop->grow into a lob->chop circuit until I die??

#the duality of fran #u know when everything has just been AHHH??? for a bit #and then its like. cut ur hair. u need to cut ur hair IMMEDIATELY #ive had my bob for the last year and a half #since i grew out my LAST dramatic chop #(this would be what 3? 4 if you count pandemic self generated buzzcut) #on one hand. short hair. on other hand curls dont form super well when its short. other hand very fine hair and greasy scalp SHOWING??? #but also. all my piercings on display. gnc. easy #but also. round ass mf face. #WAHHHHHHHHH #i am not going to do anything til i hear back from that job #which should be next week #maybe afterward it will be a meltdown or a celebration chop #idk folks im a lil insane lately. like more than usual the past few motnhs #<-is severely lacking sunlight #FINALLY REMEMBERD TO PUT SEE RESULTS FOR MYSELF ON A POLL. F YEAH

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ these are the outlines / headcanons that I follow when writing for the ainur or just referring to them in general on my blog. you are welcome to use some as well or dm / send in an ask should you have anything you'd like to add. I'll be including the rest of the ainur as I add them to the masterlist

valar‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ manwë.

ʚ long, white hair that looks like clouds around him with how soft it is

ʚ his eye colour changes in accordance to the sky's colours, he often does not have irises or pupils

ʚ fair skin, pointed ears, white lashes — sometimes he tops it off with white / blue eyeliner and simple, clear gloss

ʚ has large white wings that he can summon at will

ʚ tall, very tall. I range him from 8 - 9 feet

ʚ wears white and blue robes, most likely has a feather drop earring and a crown which mimics feathers along the sides but joins at a jewel at the centre of his forehead

ʚ he is kind-hearted, calm and collected, typically seen with a gentle smile on his face. his voice is generally soft and rarely does he raise it. definitely one of the valar who babies the maiar the most. tries to avoid conflict but that does not mean he’s incapable should conflict arise

ʚ in his free time he ventures to a little section of Ilmarin where there are bird baths and feeders, it is there that there are a variety of small birds which he loves to talk to

ʚ a tenor in terms of singing vocals

ʚ naturally, he can control the air and elements of the sky. ranges from manifesting little clouds in his hands to creating roaring winds and storms

ʚ most likely has attachment issues due to melkor. he honestly just wants his brother back the way in which he remembers him

ʚ fights with a sword and most likely has trained some of the maiar in swordsmanship

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ melkor.

ʚ long black hair, honestly very hard to maintain but hey, he manages to do so. a bit curly, very very voluminous

ʚ pale violet eyes, sometimes he makes it so that the whites of his eyes are black, other times he has slits for pupils

ʚ warm, tanned skin, pointed ears, black eyeliner around the lids of his eyes, long and sharp dark nails. most likely has some form of elongated tongue which is most likely also black

ʚ tall, I range him from 8 - 9 feet

ʚ piercings along his lobe and helix, mostly ring piercings

ʚ he has two forms in specific, his ‘normal’ one which includes what I have mentioned above and his more terrifying one in which his form becomes warped and monster-like. he becomes taller and his mouth splits to bear sharper teeth, his eyes become black altogether and there are various dark markings all across his body

ʚ difficult to describe his outfit, so here’s a link of what I imagine him to be in

ʚ as expected, he is cunning and deceptive with a warped, blunt sense of humour. he may not seem to take much seriously but that only adds to the deceptiveness of his character. short-tempered and harsh, yet will somehow still keep that unnerving, smug smirk. reckless, uncaring, but surprisingly calculated when it comes to a lot of his schemes

ʚ spends a lot of time in working out new inventions and devices, especially when it comes to his creations

ʚ a bass in terms of singing vocals

ʚ his powers are corrupted versions of the rest of the valar’s

ʚ his weapon is a large club, however, he can alternate when it comes to weapons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ námo.

ʚ long black hair which is straight and neatly kept. sometimes he’ll throw it up into a high ponytail sometimes with a dark hairpin

ʚ viridian eyes

ʚ pale skin, slightly pointed ears. black eyeliner around his lower lids and wears black lipstick, however, only on his upper lip

ʚ height ranges around 8'

ʚ wears rings on his fingers and his nails are dark. sometimes wears a black veil that starts below his eyes, most likely has silver accents. he wears dark robes which are styled after hanfus especially. has standard lobe piercings with tassel-drop earrings but also has piercings on the helix of his right ear

ʚ monotone and blank, even his voice sounds flat. he isn’t one to show emotion often, however, that does not mean that he does not experience emotions. he is straightforward and blunt, having a very firm belief in what is right and wrong. typically, he appears to be rather irritated and it wouldn’t be too far off from the truth. won’t hesitate to debate with someone and most likely has a knack for proving people wrong

ʚ reads in his free time

ʚ has a soft spot for gorgumoth, who is huge and looks like a man-eating hound, but is honestly just a big puppy around námo

ʚ most likely has a kiseru which he sometimes smokes from, depends on just how stressed he is

ʚ baritone in terms of singing vocals

ʚ powers include some level of foresight and aura absorption ( this is temporary and he ensures that it is not harming whatever he took it from ) with this he can make physical manifestations

ʚ associated with crows in particular

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ irmo.

ʚ medium length white hair which is very very floofy and honestly just full of sporadic curls, sometimes he puts his hair in a bun

ʚ bright violet eyes, he alternates between irises and no irises or pupils

ʚ fair skin, very pointed ears which bear piercings along them. sometimes wears gloss or white mascara

ʚ height ranges around 7'5" - 7'11"

ʚ he has a variety of silver bangles around his wrists along with silver head chains and ring chains on his hands. his outfits consist of layered white robes, typically fashioned after hanfus like his brother, however, his are far more flowy

ʚ calm yet cheerful and honestly a little outgoing. he's more on the pacifist side and honestly is such a ball of sunshine when standing next to his brother. such a sweetheart, very compassionate and honestly can even be seen as a little silly at times. however, he takes his duties very seriously and is always ready to lend a helping hand

ʚ one of the only people that can read his brother despite námo's blank expression

ʚ very emotionally intelligent and is honestly the therapist friend of majority of the ainur

ʚ tenor in terms of singing vocals

ʚ most likely has some sort of pet ferret, or perhaps a mouse, one of the two

ʚ powers include illusion manifestation and manipulation, dream / sleep inducing and can sense the desires of those around him

ʚ carries around hand fans most likely, in fact, they can even double over as weapons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

maiar‧₊˚࿔

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ mairon.

ʚ medium-length auburn hair that curls at the bottom and honestly looks quite soft from afar

ʚ golden eyes, he often doesn't have irises but maintains slitted pupils

ʚ warm skin tone, leaning towards tanned. red eye shadow and eyeliner but also doubles down with black eyeliner as well. depends on his mood but usually he goes for black lipstick which can alternate to red. dark, long nails

ʚ height of 7'5"

ʚ I'll link his outfit here as it's a bit difficult to explain for me but couple these with heeled boots

ʚ sarcastic but also with some level of bluntness. he has zero patience and honestly looks irritated majority of the time. he seems exasperated with everyone's behaviour. he's a huge perfectionist and sometimes it projects onto others, which only further cements his irritability. he's very intelligent and calculating but is emotionally inept

ʚ another dog dad, he absolutely loves all of his 'puppies' ( aka, werewolves )

ʚ overworked most likely, he does a lot around angband and while melkor is very capable, a lot of the planning does go to mairon

ʚ sometimes when he's mad his hair catches on fire

ʚ tenor in terms of singing vocals

ʚ makes little trinkets and inventions in his free time

ʚ power set includes manipulation and manifestation of fire

ʚ he uses his powers mostly in combat but he can settle for close range weapons pretty well

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ eönwë.

ʚ curly white hair that bunches around his shoulders, so much volume

ʚ deep brown eyes that have flakes of gold in them

ʚ fair and warm skin tone, he has little wings behind his ears and a large pair of white wings from his back. he wears a few beaded bracelets. has a drop earring on his left ear

ʚ height of 7'5"

ʚ white robes with gold accents, they're rather neat and put together as to not get in the way of his training. always carries his sword on him and a few other weapons

ʚ he seems to be very serious and sometimes even unapproachable, but that couldn't be further from the truth. he's actually beyond kind and compassionate. while he does take all of his duties very seriously he can be quite adorable sometimes, akin to a lost puppy in areas where his duties are not needed. he has a lot of patience but a strong sense of justice

ʚ has trained a lot of the maiar when it comes to weapon usage and combat

ʚ during his free time he flies around or hangs out with the birds

ʚ it's difficult for him to just sit back, relax and do nothing. he always has do be doing something, sort of leaning towards a workaholic

ʚ baritone in terms of singing vocals

ʚ his powers include the manifestation and manipulation of light along with some semblance of control over the air

ʚ naturally, his main weapon of choice would be a sword but he is skilled in various weapons

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊ #manwë #manwë súlimo #melkor #morgoth #námo #namo #námo mandos #irmo #irmo lorien #mairon #sauron #eönwë #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #valar #maiar #ainur

[violetthekiller]

It does make me laugh when people get mad about the hair and makeup. Like I need y’all to know Z is hiring these people and ultimately has a say in the finished product. This is obvi the look she’s going for 🤷🏽‍♀️

i get people being bored of the same things day after day but i like a slicked back bun and she looks pretty. nothing fancy would be happening for sitting doing interviews all day

her curly lob is my fave but that’s more how she has her hair casually rather than while doing press

#ask