#mini pin mix

[circadiancrunch]

And we're approaching the end of our kickstarter~

Doing a couple more pieces of original work. This time a mini and mixed media Sandbar Shark that I need to finish, and the finished Blue Shark. I should have the sandbar shark up this coming and last week but the blue shark is already up there as a reward. I'm going to go back and finish up some education about sharks after this. Shares always appreciated and see you at the end~

#fish #fish sketch #wip #work in progress #mixed media #sharks #shark week #kickstarter #enamel pin #traditonal illustration #traditional art #mini painting #mini art #blue shark #sandbar shark #original art #natural history illustration #natsci

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: GETO

A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)

C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+

Suguru should stop.

He really should fucking stop.

You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.

And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.

Keys to the left.

Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.

He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.

And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.

6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.

There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.

Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.

Because you’re his friend.

His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.

Oh fucking hell.

Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.

And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.

The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.

“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.

You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.

How could you do this to him?

You’re his best friend for fucks sake.

Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.

Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.

“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.

His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.

Because the way he feels right now?

The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.

Beautiful, enchanting girl.

You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.

You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.

He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.

He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.

Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.

Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.

The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.

“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.

Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.

“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”

“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.

You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.

“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.

You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.

Because he’s your best friend.

“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—

“God I love you.”

And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.

You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.

His best fucking friend.

“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”

PART. II

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk fanart #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto satoru #geto sama #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk suguru #stsg #stsg x reader #gojo x geto #geto fanart #geto fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #nanami smut #jjk x y/n

[roronoaswifey]

thinking about zoro fucking you in a full nelson hold.

he fucks you relentlessly, brutally and mean, tip of his girthy cock ramming into your cervix with precision, each stroke driving your brain to mush. arms and leg bind together, you’re left open and helpless, and left no choice but to sit and take as he fucks into you with everything he has.

it’s so unintentional too; you’d started off riding him in reverse cowgirl, arms reaching back to rest as support on his toned torso, bouncing up and down on inches of dick, desperate to chase that orgasmic feeling you craved so bad. your pussy drove him to madness— the silky feel of your gummy walls tightening on his dick, gushing with wetness and rubbing up and down on his achingly hard cock, the friction resulting in creaming all over, a ring of pearly white nut encircling the base of his dick. the sounds were downright pornographic, your sticky ass clapping back on his firm thighs, and gods, zoro had to fight with every willpower stored in him to keep his damn eye open. though, he knows what his baby wants, and even if you hadn’t exactly said it (instead approaching with “hnng—daddy please!”), the desperation in your voice, the kegel in your riding, the tightening in his gut at when you fucking called him daddy and begged for him to help you sent him over the edge.

in the blink of an eye, you found your hands that once held onto a flat surface of stomach were now holding onto bulging forearms, same forearms that managed to pin your knees to your damn ears. planting his heels to the mattress of the bed, his hips snap up and lord, this new position hits an entirely deeper spot that had your glossy eyes crossing.

“fuckin’ hell, mama,” he groans, and you’re utterly helpless in his hold, your eyes dazed and rolling to the back of your head. your limbs fall limp and you feel heat spreading from your toes all the way till the top of your head. he’s fucking raw and rough, and with no choice but to lean your weight on him, you let him use you.

“s’goo— hnngg, fuuuuckkk” you babble, unable to concentrate on anything else other than the way your cervix gets abused by the tip of his girthy cock. you feel drool pool to the corner of your lips, your jaw slackened and sweat sticky between your back and his rugged chest.

“yeah?” he chuckles breathily, and though you can’t see his face, you can’t imagine anything else other than a smug look decorating his expressions. “see how greedy yer pussy’s taking my cock? clenching so damn hard,” he pants, hips snapping and the echoes of your ass clapping on his thighs mixed with your wet cunt is downright sinful, “jesus baby, y’must love it when i fuck you like this, huh?”

you nod, words stuck in the back of your throat and instead moaning pathetically. he’s taken the ability to comprehend any question he asks you, and has you completely turned on around the idea of him using his strength against you.

“words, princess,” his warm breath fans your neck, grumbles deep from his chest and you feel shivers crawl up your spine.

“y-yes— yesyesyesyes!” you whine, the words of approval falling past your lips and into the room.

“gonna fuck you full,” he groans shamelessly, feeling arousal creep up to his gut quicker than he would like to admit. you were clenching so hard and he knew he was bound to finish soon. “full of my cum, leave you oozin’ and fuck it right back into your pretty pussy. sounds good?”

“please zee,” you begged, toes curling and the familiar sensation of an orgasm washing over. you clit aches and you spray your liquids all over the sheets, down your and zoro’s thighs. “puh— please! want it—need it bad!”

“good. fuckin’. girl.” he fucks to each word before spilling hot cum into your spasming pussy. true to his word, his nut paints your walls white and you feel so full, a mini bulge forming right above your pussy due to his cock and semen filling up the tiny space. you shudder, tongue lolled as he drags your orgasm even further while chasing his own.

“fuuckkk, that’s it,” he groans, his pace slowing down as his high finally comes down. feeling sated enough, he slowly releases your limbs and you fall flat onto his chest, body weight suddenly so heavy as you twitch from the overstimulation.

with a huge ego boost, zoro chuckles, now gently wrapping your slump body with his bulky muscles. “still here wimme?” he asks you, pushing a lock of hair away from your tear streaked face. you nod sleepily, too exhausted to formulate words and he kisses your temple tenderly in understanding.

“didn’t realize you loved being used like a toy so much.” zoro teases and you tilt your head just a bit to frown at him.

“as if y’r any better..” your words come out slurred through your pout and he can’t help but release a hearty laugh at your willingness to bite back despite fatigue.

“ah, fair enough.”

;-; don’t look at me.

#roronoaswifey.exe #kazuha’s works 📂 #one piece #one piece smut #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #zoro smut #zoro x reader #x reader

[blughxreader]

I've been watching natural disaster documentaries and I'm so down bad for the idea of Platonic Yandere! Batfam during a blizzard.

They obviously have enough supplies to maintain a small village, so no one is pressed when sudden snow picks up. Batman has special cold-resistant suits for all of them but when the windchill drops to the negatives, their patrols are an hour at a time.

When the blizzard finally hits, they escort stranded cars to safety for as long as possible before the white-out makes it impossible to work.

That first night, they're all huddled in the the smallest lounge, fireplace roaring and hot chocolate in hand. You're pulled to the very front of the pile, bundled in blankets and Tim's various school hoodies and up against the rolling heat of the flames.

Despite the temperature breaking record lows, you've never been more toasty. Chocolate on your tongue and cheeks hot from the fire, they only let you unbundle yourself when you complain about sweating.

However much the others bitch and moan, Jason and Bruce are the ones at your side. They're packed full of muscle and do a great job of trapping in heat, so the skinnier Bats have to settle for watching you. Jason and Bruce take great pleasure in draping a big arm around you, pinning you so close to their sides that you have to fold your arms to keep them from getting squeezed.

Bruce insists you sleep in his bed, since this is one of the few times he gets to fall asleep at the same time as you. Damian insists, on account of being the least efficient at maintaining heat (i.e. the smallest), he should join you two. Bruce relents with an amused smile. You fall asleep pulled almost fully across Bruce's chest with Damian wound tightly around you.

The whole situation would almost be reminiscent of a family enjoying the winter holidays, had it not been for the Bat’s palpable longing.

Normally, they're desperate to touch you, to hold onto some part of your person and bask in the closeness. But with their fingertips cold and a slight shake to their limbs—they're ravenous.

Their yearning mixes with the cold and spurs on their dark thoughts more than the heat ever has. They have to hold you or they'll die. They have to feel your warm breath fan their faces. They have to take your body heat and to give you theirs.

Physical intimacy seems so much more personal when they could die from the cold (never mind the fact that they're at a healthy temperature).

Fights break out faster as they get more clingy, and Bruce creates a rigid schedule. The Bats must follow the rotation by the second, no bartering time for favors, and no incapacitating others to extend your time.

The weak sun travels the sky and snow swallows houses whole. Almost two days in, the power cut and everyone was forced to move into the small living room. Using the back-up generators, they powered only a few important rooms in the house and set up space heaters in every corner. Blankets were nailed over windows and Damian and Tim had a mini bitch-session over the unusable internet connection.

Dick and Jason carried down mattresses, while Tim, Cass, and Steph found every blanket and pillow in the house. Damian and Bruce brought up laptops, monitors, and a radio for work. Alfred is forced into the recliner with an instant water heater and a teapot by his side. He hasn't complained once, but everyone knows the cold isn't kind to his joints.

Then there's you, sitting on a pile of blankets and pillows and wrapped in sweaters, throws, hats, and gloves. You almost threw a fit because you were warm enough, but Cass's darkened face silenced you immediately. She backed off when you settled into Steph's side, gloves and all.

The time passes slowly. On the third and worst day, the wind chill reached negative 50. The house rattled and creaked against the cold, and the Bats took turns nestled against you.

Dick flipped through his old high school year book and told you stories about the students, while Steph chimed in with made up-ones to add drama.

You and Damian played a game that involved finishing each other's drawings.

Tim pretended to be stuck on a video game level and let you help. Cass somehow procured a party horn that she honked to celebrate each victory.

Despite how hard Jason tried to avoid Bruce, they always finished their books at the same time and left to get more. They returned with arm-fulls of books and a frozen snack that they shared with you.

At the end of the week, when the sun finally began melting the snow and the were having an increasingly difficult time keeping Bruce from the cowl, they were all sick of each other.

It was slightly satisfying, considering you never caught a break from any of them and this was a taste of their own medicine. The Bats finally returned to duty after a spectacular meltdown from Dick after Bruce asserted his opinion one too many times.

You, however, remained locked in the living room nest for several more days because "it's still too cold for you to sleep alone" and "patrols will be very short until crime picks back up."

It was already safe to return to your room, but there was something so comforting about knowing precisely where you'd be at any given moment. And Bruce, settling into the couch after patrol to thaw his frozen limbs, melted at the sight of his kids all piled up together.

for more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!

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[chvnnie]

just some dad!skz thoughts for y’all

a little suggestive here and there, and because of that, MINORS DNI

bang chan - first daughter only

Definitely was the first to have a kid in the group. Spoiled is not a good enough word — his eldest daughter is like royalty in the group. If they know the baby is going to be around, somebody has something to give her.

Religiously watches hair tutorials (one screen has his mixing board, while the other is playing YouTube videos on loop) so he’s ready when she asks him to braid her hair. Has practice on you, Hyunjin, himself. They’re going to be perfect, because she deserves nothing less. The first braid is a little sloppy, but no one has the heart the tell him.

Travel crib folded up in his office, tucked behind the couch just in case. Everyone has used it.

If his little family goes on tour with them, or even just the local shows, he’ll make sure she has a set of headphones. Walks around to check mics with her in his arms.

It took him six weeks to find the perfect car seat for her. No, he’s not being picky. He’s being safe.

Keeps a mini diaper bag on him at all times. You’ll never catch him slacking.

When it comes to you, he’s the most devoted husband. Helps you postpartum, continually encourages to take days off. Reminds you daily how much he loves you, cherishes you, and always takes time to make you feel beautiful. (People sex after child is nearly impossible, but Chan is determined to make it possible.)

Very hesitant about co-sleeping until she’s old enough. Would even say he’s almost anti. But when she falls asleep on his bare chest, and the tv is playing at a low volume, and he’s just really, really tired. Your heart beams at the sight of them, matching expressions, snores coming from the both. You snap a bunch of pictures — it’s his favorite set.

lee minho

Protective? Please. Don’t offend him with that word — it’s not strong enough. If someone even breathes the wrong way in her direction, he’s ready to take measures to insure it will never happen again.

No. He won’t tell you what kind of measures.

He loves bath time. The little sink seat, the bubbles. When his daughter gets good motor skills, he loves the way she always reaches for the duck. Clutching it in her little fist, giggling with her father puts bubbles on its head.

Makes his own baby food. Why would he waste money on that canned stuff when he has fresh vegetables at home? Tsk. His blender is his best friend.

Has a whiteboard on the fridge with a list of what she likes (BIG YES for strawberries, or any berry mix, squash, sweet potatoes. HARD NO when it comes to bananas and anything green). Likes to introduce her early to foods, letting her explore.

Has taken Doongie out of her crib more than once. Caught her trying to feed Dori once. Always reaches for Soonie when she sees him past. Minho’s heart warms at his first babies loving on his new baby (even though she cried the first time Dori licked her cheek).

Daily family walks. It’s important to make sure she gets sunshine, and the fresh air is good for everyone. Always wants to push the stroller, but doesn’t complain when you reach for it.

Shower sex has become a habit, but he won’t complain about it. When you have a clingy baby, you take any opportunity you get. So pinning you the glass door happens more than it did before.

Fondly refers to you as “his girls”. It brings him so much pride that this is his family.

seo changbin — twins only

When the ultrasound showed two babies, he’s surprised he didn’t pass out. He got close though; the cold sweats, ringing in his ears, chills. Two babies? At once? Is it possible to be shaking with excitement but also absolute terror at the same time?

Your pregnancy wasn’t easy. The boys were heavy, and you found yourself on bed rest more often than not. Changbin wouldn’t tell you, but he was on edge the entire time. Seeing you so exhausted, so ready to get out of bed but unable to — he felt so useless. Even though he never left your side, making sure you had everything you could want and were as comfortable as possible, he hated himself for doing this to you.

And to top it all off, they were late. Of course they were. “They just love you so much, they don’t want to leave.” He tried to make you feel better, kissing your stomach, wiping your tears. Held your hand during the c-section, nose pressed to your forehead. Whispering every encouraging word he could think of to ease your fear, like he wasn’t drowning in his own.

When they finally arrive earth side? Oh, you both agree. It was all worth it.

They’re identical. The only difference are their eyes — one has yours, the other his. It was your idea to assign them colors (one is yellow, two is grey). Thank God for it too, because when they’re sleeping, he has no option but to guess.

Not a single second is taken for granted, but Changbin won’t lie and say the first year was his favorite. No, it’s when their personalities start to develop that he loved the most.

One really, really loves trucks. Is loud, runs through the apartment without a care. When he inevitably crashes into something, he bounces back up. Tiny feet carrying him away from the injury, like there isn’t a scrap on his forehead (isn’t a fan when Changbin chases him down to clean the wound).

Two prefers a quieter day. Sitting on the couch, eating yogurt bites as he watches his twin hit the wall. He’s low maintenance, most of the time, but when he gets upset? Oh, how the world is ending. Clings to Mama as he sobs. It’s so hard to be him.

Both, though, love musical instruments. Changbin’s favorite purchase (much to your dismay) is the tiny drum set he got them for their first birthday. One is a big fan of that, while Two stays on the toy piano. Their room filled with music all the time.

Has taken them to the studio a few times. Lets them watch as he and Chan work on songs, plays with Jisung when they’re getting a little rowdy. Eventually, they crash on the couch (along with Uncle Ji) before they can even record vocals.

Two is better than one. Whoever said that wasn’t lying.

hwang hyunjin — youngest daughter only

There’s no doubt. She is Hyunjin’s child.

Copy and paste. Down to the freckle under the eye, she literally looks just like him. Put their baby pictures side to side and have fun trying to figure out which is which.

She learned his scowl within the first year, when you tried to get her to try applesauce. The side eye was intense as she pushed the cup off her tray and called “Pup Pup” for Kkami to clean the mess.

Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious. Until you give him the same side eye, then his lips are sealed.

For both children, he got custom made rings. Birth stone pressed into a thin gold band, engraved with their birth flowers. Both children have one just the same, but adjustable, so they don’t grow out of it. He wears hers on his right middle finger — and what mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does.

Once, when she was still small enough to fit perfectly in a body carrier, her daycare was closed for the day. Water leak. Her brother was sick with the flu, and didn’t want you to leave his side. So Hyunjin took the youngest to work with him that day, completely forgetting that it was a dance practice day. Chan told him it was fine to push it a day, but they were already behind. Besides, the carrier is tight. One hand on her tiny body, he keeps her firm against his chest so she doesn’t bounce much.

After that, bringing her to practice became a habit. Especially after she started taking dance lessons.

What mini Hyunjin sees, mini Hyunjin does. Down to the movement of her feet, trying to keep up with even the most intense choreos.

When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she always says Papa.

Bonus: you’re swimming in crafts. The two of them always up to something in Hyunjin’s home studio, painting and crafting the most beautiful art pieces you’ve ever been gifted.

han jisung

Oh. Oh, how do you begin to try to put a love like this into words?

Smothered. Smothered in kisses and snuggles all day long — and not just from him. Not to be biased or anything, but you’re both convinced she’s the best baby in the entire world. Look at those cheeks and try to convince you two otherwise.

Oh, you can’t.

And she’s the happiest little thing. Always giggling, so friendly, chatting up a storm with her babble. That baby doesn’t know a stranger; she’ll smile and wave at everyone.

Out of all the Kids’ kids, she’s at the company the most. Waltzing down the halls with her sippy like she owns the place, right behind her father. Naps on the practice room couch. Steals snacks from the cafeteria. Cut her a check, she’s put in some hard fucking work.

Speaking of naps — when Jisung is home, he’s always napping with her. When the clock strikes 12:45 in the afternoon, they’re both changing into nap time clothes and crawling in the giant bed. Soft music lulling them to sleep until his alarm goes off.

Has almost too many Quokkas. Which is ironic considering her skzoo bias is Leebit (Minho has been working on this since he was made aware of her existence, seeing his hard work pay off is delightful — until his daughter starts to grow a little too fond of her Quokka).

Mirror selfies. So. Many. Mirror selfies. He takes one monthly, saving them on his computer to document growth. Cries as he sorts through them every birthday.

She’s a heavy sleeper. Even as a newborn, she slept through the night with ease. Rarely does she wake up, and if she does, she can typically put herself back to sleep. Which is great, considering the second Bluey is off, so are your pants.

The dilf energy >>> something about becoming a father has made your husband even hotter. More intense in the bedroom, devoting time he doesn’t have to making sure you feel worshipped. Once he spent two hours between your legs — safe to say walking was difficult the next day.

Jisung desperately wants another baby. But that thought is always overpowered when she looks at him — why would you want more when she’s already perfect?

lee felix

House is literally never tidy. Organized chaos at best, but two kids under three make it impossible to keep up with chores. Felix tries — wakes up before you to wash the dishes, gets the majority of the mess cleaned before the little monsters wake up. But in a flash, it’s messy again.

Not that he minds. Or you. As long as the kids are happy and healthy, you can live with papers on the table or toys scattered across the house (except for that morning Felix tripped over one on the way downstairs. He’s doesn’t think that scar will ever fade).

Started prep on a Mother’s Day present MONTHS ago and is incredibly serious about it. The moment he has the kids alone, he’s scrambling. Color this, glue that, just like chill out for 30 second — he knows the paint is cold but the handprints are an essential part of this craft.

He’s had to redo the handprints seven times. But who’s counting?

It’s a recipe book, all the treats thought of by the oldest. Felix helped her write it, the youngest scribbled on some paper, and ta-da! Is it barely holding together? Sure, but you don’t care. Your heart is swelling, tears forming at the care that’s been put into it.

When you mentioned putting the kids in swim lessons, he was almost offended. “We bought this house specifically for the pool. No, I can teach them.” And, true to his word, as soon as the weather is warm, all three are out there daily. Sunscreen from head to toe, new freckles forming on all their faces. Sometimes you join them, but most of the time you just watch them fall deeper in love with each other.

Don’t ask me to explain this — but he SCREAMS airport dad.

Always there way too early, the oldest strapped to his back. Rushes your family through security — “How many times have we done this?” He’s gentle, but the annoyance is obvious to everyone but his daughter, who is grinning up at him. “Shoes off.” — stands in front of the giant screens with arrivals/departures. Hands on his hips, squinting slightly.

“Well it’s a good thing we didn’t book at 9:00 AM, aye, babe?” He shakes his head. “Definitely would have missed that one!”

Tracks the flight on his phone. Knows about delays before the pilots even do

at this point I’m just describing my own father

Is a PRO at soothing the baby on the plane. Standing out of the aisle, tucked in the back as he bounces him. Shushing him as he slides a pacifier in. Soothed and sleeping in under five minutes.

Honestly the most stereotypical dad of the group, and he fucking loves it.

kim seungmin

Last of the group to marry, last to have kids. By the time his son is born, Chan and Changbin already have three. Seungmin doesn’t really see the rush — good things take times.

And oh, is he the best thing.

The most organized nursery you’ve ever seen; all the baby hangers match, clothes sorted by season, then by color. Dresser drawers labeled so everything goes back where it belongs.

Prefers cloth diapers to disposable. Sure, the water bill is high, but do you know how long diapers take to breakdown? No thanks. Cloth works fine.

No, hand sanitizer doesn’t “do the same thing”. If you want to hold the baby, wash your damn hands. If he even lets you hold him. Fucking hand sanitizer, the audacity—

Every time he speaks to his son, he signs what he is saying. Getting him familiar with the hand motions, so when his motor skills develop, he can copy.

Has a good grip in sign language, and Korean, and English by age four.

But honestly, he doesn’t care about any of that. Good skills to have, but Seungmin is endlessly proud of his son. Found a smooth rock and gave it to him? Best gift ever. Messed up a word in Korean because he confused it with the English equivalent? That’s okay, it’s hard sometimes!

Everything his son does deserves to be recognized.

Lets him check his mic. Little fists wrapped around it, the five year old beaming as running over to Jisung’s daughter. Who is doing the exact same thing.

Intentionally involves him in every aspect of his life. Just because he has a time consuming job, doesn’t mean he’ll lose out on time with him.

Thinks you’re the reason the word milf exists. Because damn. Seungmin already found it hard to keep his hands off you, but something about watching you be a mom? Oof.

Literally could be just packing your son’s lunch after he’s gone to bed and he’s standing at the kitchen entrance. Wide eyes and mouth dry.

“What’s that look for?”

And then you’re bent over the counter with your panties stuffed in your mouth.

Kinda has a breeding kink now?

But, fuck, have you seen you? Can you blame him?

Never really thought he wanted more than one kid, but with you? Oh, he wants a million more.

yang jeongin

Goes without saying, but. Matching outfits.

Started with just shoes, but over time, the collection has grown. Sometimes they match on accident even — there’s so much crossover in their closets.

When you feel left out, Jeongin takes his son to pick out an outfit special for the three of you. Wraps it up, has the little boy excitedly wake you up with the present.

Speaking of present, this kid has the most elaborate birthday parties. Jeongin does NOT play around; planning starts about six months out, and even then it’s a rush to get everything ready.

Your son looks forward to it more than any other holiday. And can you blame him? When it seems like the entire world is celebrating him?

Since the party is big, the presents are modest. If he gets too many, they go in a special closet. He’ll get to open one a week, not wanting him to get too entitled when it comes to gifts.

Always, always wants to sleep in bed with the two of you.

He’s a little snuggle bug, getting right in between you and Jeongin, desperate to be close at times. Not that either of you mind, for the most part.

But damn, have you guys become skilled when it comes to quickies. In the shower, in the car before heading to pick up, in an empty practice room while Hyunjin teaches a mini dance camp to the Kids’ kids.

Probably the biggest airplane parent, but only when it comes to safety. He’s so worried about his son getting injured, sometimes he has to remind himself that it’s okay for kids to push boundary.

That doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t drop when he asks if he can sign up for soccer.

dad!skz really is my fucking weakness—

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #dad!skz #stray kids thoughts #skz thoughts #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #minho fluff #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #han jisung fluff #han fluff #jisung fluff #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #kim seungmin fluff #seungmin fluff #i.n fluff #yang jeongin fluff #jeongin fluff #chvnnie soft thoughts

[taylorswiftstyle]

Out and about | New York City, NY | December 13, 2023

Clio Peppiatt 'Lucina Embellished Stretch Mesh Mini Dress' - $2,335.00

For the last few days I’ve thought a lot about how there’s been a certain uptick in the level of ‘glam’ in Taylor’s looks that harkens back to the early days of Midnights promotion. A time period when Taylor’s style was a two-tone mix of a patchouli hazed 70s apartment stuffed to the ceiling with well-loved vinyls over which a veneer of pinned up showgirl was laminated. Short hems, high heels, faux furs, dripping diamonds. I always felt this was an appropriate way to create a visual extension of an album that is positively full of emotions that are nuanced, complex, and that seem to be in direct opposition to one another even over the course of one track to the next. Over a year out from that album, much about Taylor’s life (professionally and personally) has been completely upended.

So to see her here now, effectively bookending Midnights fashion in a look that’s dark and ruminating and moonlit and celestial and mysterious yet sparkly and glam and alluring … it feels all the more appropriate on her birthday of all days. Adding another year of life to your experience tally often creates moments for reflection and to sift through memories - good and bad. Which sounds very much like the ethos of Midnights if you ask me.

On its surface, this is a fun party look (in a new-to-her brand which is an exciting new addition to her designer roster) that’s perfectly coordinated between the silver embellishments scattered like the night sky across her dress, to her bag, and even into the details of her shoes. Plus the extra shine factor of her jewels.

But like with any Taylor look, it’s one that gives me pause and makes me think of the context to what got us here and also to where she may be going.

Worn with: Anine Bing jacket, Messika earrings, Mazin Jewels necklace, Aquazzura bag and heels

Get the look: Topshop, $278.00

Photo by Gotham via Getty Images

#taylor swift #candid #dress #clio peppiatt #december 2023 #get the look

[rafesgoldrings]

Rafe and Topper aren’t really friends in this universe like at all😭 so just keep that in mind. Also warning reader and Rafe have both been drinking before having sex but aren’t drunk

Topper talking to you for months and telling all his friends about it, how you’re perfect and he’s going to ask you to officially be his girlfriend, how you make him so happy and he thinks you’ll say yes But unfortunately for him, Rafe overhears and starts planning something to hurt him. He throws a party and invites all the Kooks, you show up wearing a tight mini dress and beelines his way to you before Top shows up. “You’re looking pretty tonight sweetheart, who’s the lucky guy?” he knows who, but maybe he wants to see if you’ll tell him. See just how much his former friend means to you.

“Oh there is no guy Rafe, I just wanted to look nice for you-your party! I wanted to look nice for your party” you chuckle nervously and he thinks it’s cute. But he also catches your slip up and knows what he’s going to do, he offers you his drink and watches as you down it in one gulp before dragging you inside and offering you another. A few more drinks in and you’re feeling slightly tipsy. He offers you his hand and leads you upstairs, you eagerly follow behind unaware of what exactly was about to happen. You lie on the bed looking up at the ceiling, you don’t notice Rafe pulling out your phone and sending a text to Topper telling him to come upstairs and talk to you. You do notice his lips kissing up your thighs and pushing your dress up to your hips and you like it…a lot.

Your hands tangle into his hair as he reaches your now soaked through panties, his eyes meet yours and ask for consent and you frantically nod. He hooks his fingers inside and pulls them down, discarding them somewhere in his floor, before gliding his fingers up and down your soaked pussy. Then he pulls away, you let out a small whine until you hear him undoing his zipper and the sounds of fabric rustling.

“Do you want this baby?” you nod but he doesn’t like that “I need words baby. Do you want this?”

“Yes yes, I want it Rafe. Please” and fuck did you sound and look so pretty begging for him. It’s risky to fuck without a condom and he knows that, the only thing giving him any peace of mind being the conversation he overheard you have with Sarah in passing once about a new birth control you were on just a few weeks ago. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching causes him to quit thinking and slide his cock into you, groaning at how tight you were and how you clenched around him while letting out the prettiest whimper. He slowly starts to thrust into you, moving you into his lap and harshly pounding into you while kissing your tits, your jaw, your neck, and finally your lips right as the door opened.

Topper stood there in shock, a mix of emotions flooding his head as he watched you moan out Rafe’s name, watch his cock disappear in and out of your pussy, watch Rafe kiss your soft skin and lips, before he decided he’d seen enough and left the room. The slam of the door pulled you from your euphoric headspace and you quickly looked at Rafe who only had a small smirk on his face and assured you it was some guy who got lost. You let out a giggle before his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan and throw your head back. You were close and so was Rafe, the alcohol made it hard to care about the fact he was fucking you raw. It just felt so fucking good and that’s all that mattered to you.

“Fuck princess, this pussy feels so fucking good. It’s just begging to be filled with my cum. You want that baby, huh? You want me to fill this pretty pussy with cum?” he cood and it made your head spin.

“Fuck, please. Want to, oh god, want to fill it d-dripping ou-t” you whimpered out and it seemed to do something to him. His big arms wrapped around you and held you in place as he pinned you on your back against the bed, fucking into you like his life depended on it. You were the first to cum, back arching off the mattress, toes curling, nails digging into his back as your moans came out strangled, tears pricking your eyes, your pussy clenching around his cock as your release soaked the sheets. Rafe quickly came after, spurting thick white ropes inside you and not stopping until it was running out of you and his balls were empty.

He gave you a rough yet gentle kiss before pulling out of you, he pulled your dress back down and moved to put his clothes back on while you calmed down. Once you were finally recovered you looked over to him, he was putting his shirt back on and gave you a big smirk.

“Hey princess?”

“Hm?” you were still too fucked out to get actual words out. Your eyes widened when he picked up your panties and shoved them in his pocket.

“You’re mine now. If I see you talk to Topper, if I see you near Topper, if I see Topper coming anywhere near you? I’ll kill him, you understand?” you nod your head and he smiles, grabbing your jaw and giving you one final kiss before joining the party again. You get up and rejoin the party just a few moments later, Rafe’s cum still dripping down your inner thighs, avoiding Topper at all costs. The flash of your lacy white panties peaking out of Rafe’s pocket serving as a reminder that you belonged to him, you were officially off limits.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe smut #obx smut #obx imagine #obx fanfiction

[schrodinger-swriter]

for the fluff prompt may i request number 14 (soulmate au) with lucifer please??

thank you i hope you have a wonderful day/night :) <3

Prompt 12 with Lucifer

Last request in the inbox, at least currently! I think I may lay down after writing this, I hope you all don't mind the mini lightning round of writing I've just pumped out!

I hope you enjoy, Anon! C:

EDIT: We got the numbers mixed up, Anon! Soulmate au is 12, prompt 14 is the break up prompt! Sorry for the mix up, everyone!

SOULMATE AU:

You both share taste. You've been in a long established relationship by this point but sometimes you butt heads over treats. Whatever you eat he can taste, and the reverse is true as well. You are both bound to come across a food the other doesn't much enjoy... but he would sacrifice himself to let you enjoy your treats... just don't do it everyday, please! It does bring in an interesting concept, imagine if the reader is allergic to something but they've always wanted to try the thing... well now you can do it without risk! Lucifer would drop everything to let you experience whatever you'd like.. even if it's as small as eating some peanut butter or something. It's rather sweet, actually. The gestures. It's something so small, so hard to pin point a soulmate through just that alone... in fact you two have probably got together and realized it not long after. Something silly, like your clown ringmaster husband. Who you love, of course.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer x you

[thatgirlstrawberry]

Sick Surprise

Feb. Request-5

Spencer Reid x Single mother!fem!reader

In which Y/N and Spencer’s date gets canceled because she’s sick. He shows up at her apartment in for a big surprise

Warnings: Reader is a single mother, fluff and confusion, the reader’s kid being a smart ass just like her mom, cussing, lmk if I missed anything!

This is part 1 of a series linked on my pinned masterlist!

Y/N and Spencer had only been dating for a few weeks. It was fresh, new, amazing.

Spencer felt lucky to have mixed up coffees at the shop on the corner of his street.

“I got a hot white mocha with three shots of espresso and… a black coffee.” The cashier called out.

A girl about Spencer’s age hurried to the counter and grabbed one of the identical cups, not thinking about the other one there.

Spencer grabbed the other cup and pressed his lips together watching her walk back to her table by the big window. She had a book open on the table and a laptop open in front of her.

He looked down at the cup, his coffee smelling different than it usually did. He looked up just as the girl lifted the cup to her lip and made a face as she sipped.

Her eyes searched the shop until they Spencer’s and she smiled sheepishly, sliding off of her chair and onto her feet. She slowly walked up to him.

“Sorry, I think I accidentally grabbed your coffee.” She spoke, her face getting a bit red. “And I think you have mine.”

Spencer noticed how pretty her smile was. Her eyes sparkled even in the low light of the coffee shop. “Uh- Um it’s okay.” He held the cup out to her.

“We can switch lids, if you’d like.” She told him with a kind smile. “Since… y’know I drank out of it.”

“That’s a great i-idea.”

They switched lids and she inhaled awkwardly when they were staring at each other. “I’m Y/N.” She finally said. She didn’t stick her hand out, she just smiled up at him.

“I’m Spencer.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer smiled as he walked around his apartment as he talked to Y/N on the phone. “So I was thinking we could have dinner at your place tonight.” He told her. He hadn’t been to her apartment yet.

He heard her inhale sharply. “Spence, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” she trailed off. “I’m sick right now.” She explained.

“Oh… well maybe we can do it some other time.” He said.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, okay. Spence, I gotta go.”

Before he could say anything she hung up and Spencer furrowed his eyebrows.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N wasn’t lying when she said she was sick. Eloise brought home a little cold from Daycare and spread it to her.

Nasty ass kids.

Y/N panicked when Spencer suggested that they do dinner at her place and gave him a weird answer. She didn’t want him to come over partially because she was a little sick but the other half of her was afraid that he’d leave her because she had a kid.

“Mommy!” She looked at her daughter who laid next to her on the couch. They were both watching Mickey Mouse because Eloise would scream her head off if they weren’t.

“Yes, baby?”

She giggled and clapped her hands pointing at the TV. “Goofy so funny!”

Y/N nodded. “Yes he is!” She smiled. She wanted to tear her ears off, she had heard Goofy’s stupid ass laugh way too much that day.

A few more moments later, Eloise piped up again. “Mommy.” She said all serious.

Y/N looked over at her daughter, sniffling. “Eloisey.” She said in the same tone.

She crawled up on her stomach. “Want to go play. In mini kitchen.” She stated.

The mother nodded. “Okay baby. Don’t be too loud. Our under neighbor doesn’t like it when you stomp.” She nodded, tickling her sides. “And what do we say about our under neighbor?” She asked.

Eloise giggle. “Under neighbor Molly has no personality and no ass.” She droned like she was reading from a script, her baby lisp making it sound more innocent than it was.

Y/N winked and high fived her daughter. “Good, go play Ellie.” She smiled.

The girl crawled off the couch and scrambled into her room.

The mother sighed and grabbed the remote, turning Mickey Mouse off and going to Netflix. She turned on Love Island UK— the best in her opinion.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. She sighed and paused her show, rolling off of the couch. She heard Eloise’s little feet pattering in from the other room.

She bit her lip as she glanced back at Eloise trailed behind her.

She reached the door and opened it. “Hel— holy fuck, no!” Her eyes widened. Spencer flinched back and furrowed his eyebrows at his girlfriend.

She looked down at his hands seeing cold medicine, a box of cold and flu tea, and container of soup.

“Mommy, who?” Eloise asked from behind her leg, peeking up at Spencer. He looked completely shocked and utterly confused.

The mother sighed and looked down. “Eloisey, why don’t you go play, baby?”

She nodded. “Can have hotdogs an’ cheese for lunch?”

She tore her guilty eyes away from Spencer’s and looked down at Eloise. “Yeah, babe. Just give me one second.”

The girl pattered away, giggling and shouting about her pasta that she was cooking in her mini kitchen.

She looked back up at Spencer. “What are you doing here?” She asked quietly.

Spencer swallowed. “I-I’m sorry— I just wanted to bring you some things since you said you were sick— was she calling you m-mommy?” He rambled.

Y/N bit her lip. “Do you wanna come in?” She asked, stepping out of the way. He sighed and nodded, walking into her apartment.

He looked around at all of the toys and paper and coloring pages. “I’m sorry. My place is a mess and Eloise is sick and the only way I could get her to stop screaming was to let her draw and run around like holy tyrant and-“

He set the things he had brought on the small dining room table. “I like it.” She but her lip and inhaled deeply.

“Thank you. For bringing me that stuff.” She nodded, hesitantly stepping closer to him.

“You’re welcome.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sounds were Eloise’s little voice pretending like she was running a restaurant.

Y/N smiled. “Spencer, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I- I just though that it would s-scare you away and I really didn’t wanna scare you away and-“

“You could never scare me away.” He spoke, getting closer to her.

Her eyes softened. “But you’re still really young. What man wants to date a girl who got knocked up in college?”

“What happened? Is her dad around?” He asked, avoiding the question.

She sighed and looked down at her feet. “This guy I was dating got me pregnant at a party and then like— transferred to a college across the state when I told him.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s terrible, Y/N. I’m sorry. Do you have any support at all? I mean, not that you’re not doing great I just mean—“

“My mom and dad don’t help out much. They still shame me for having a baby anyway.” She told him.

Spencer tilted his head. He was going to say something but Eloise’s voice was getting closer and closer.

“Mommy, play food with me!” She whined. She looked up at the stranger. “You play too!”

“Eloisey, I don’t think he wants—“

“What’s on the menu?” Spencer interrupted her. Eloise smiled and rushed up to him, grabbing his pant leg and dragging him towards her play room.

Y/N smiled warmly at the sight and pressed her lips together, following them.

“Strawbewy soup, pop tarts, chick pie…” She kept going with fake dishes she had made up as Spencer sat down at her little princess table. “Mommy sit!” She stomped her little foot.

She chuckled and sat on the other side of the table, her knees pressing against the edge just as Spencer’s were.

She glanced at him as Eloise brought a piece of paper with a bunch of scribbles on it. “What you want?” She asked rather snappily.

Spencer chuckled. “Uh, what are you getting Y/N?” He asked, smiling at her.

“I’ll take…” She pretended like she was thinking for a while. “Strawberry soup please!”

She hummed and nodded rapidly. She looked up at Spencer. “What want?”

“I want a chicken pie.” He nodded.

“Otay… toming wight up.” She nodded, tearing the paper up from the table after she scribbled words on it.

She walked away humming, going to play with her little mini kitchen. “How old is she?” Spencer asked.

Y/N tore her eyes away from the little girl as she ‘cooked’. “She’s 3 going on 13.”

“Wow.” He smiled.

Y/N giggled. “I’m glad you didn’t meet her during her terrible 2s. She’d have gum in your hair and your shoe laces tied together by now.”

Spencer chuckled but got quiet as he looked at Eloise still dancing and pretending to cook. “You could have told me, Y/N. ”

Y/N bit her lip as tears filled her eyes. “I— i didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to make you stay.” She shook her head. She was quiet. “And I w-was scared that we would get abandoned like we did when I got pregnant. A-and I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for her— I’m so sorry—“

Spencer tilted his head. “Y/N, If I’m with you, that means I’m with her.” He nodded. “It’s a package deal.”

She smiled, trying not to burst into tears again. She wiped her eyes when Eloise came up to the table again. “Mkay, mommy. Here is straw soup!”

She nodded at the girl as she got a bowl of water and a plastic fork. “Mm thank you baby! It looks super good!”

She giggled and turned to Spencer. “Here is chick pie!”

“Thank you, Eloise!” He gasped as she set a paper plate with a piece of bread on. “This looks yummy.”

Y/N chuckled at the use of his word. “Mm looks so yummy I might need a bite of yours.”

The girl was in the middle of babbling incoherent words when she started sneezing and coughing.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Looks like it’s mommy’s turn to play food!” She gasped, getting up from the chair and scooping Eloise up. “It’s time to get some medicineeee and some hotdogsss and some souppppp.” She tickled the baby.

Spencer followed them into the kitchen where she set Eloise down on the counter next to the sink.

Y/N reached up in the cabinet to grab the baby cold medicine out. “What’s your name?” Eloise asked him as Y/N danced around the kitchen grabbing orange juice from the fridge. Spencer walked and leaned on the counter next to the little girl.

“My name’s Spencer. What’s yours?” Of course he already knew what it was but it’s important to ask toddlers questions that they can answer easily.

“Eloise.” She nodded proudly. “You call me Eloisey like mommy.” She smiled and clapped her hand over her mouth, coughing.

Y/N came up to her shaking a shot glass (yes a literal shot glass) that had a mixture of cough syrup and orange juice in it.

“Eloisey’s special drink!” She smiled handing the girl the shot glass. She quickly drank it and handed the glass back to her mother.

“Mmmm!”

Spencer laughed and she looked over at him. “Hey, it’s the only way I can get her to take medicine.” She held her hands up in surrender.

The man shook his head. “No, yeah, I get it! Whatever works, works right?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “Do you wanna stay for lunch? The menu is sparse but I make a pretty good hotdog bites and cheese.” She shrugged. “Also featuring that soup you brought.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, of course!”

.•.•.•.•.

Spencer now understood why Eloise liked to dance so much.

Y/N twirled around the kitchen, dancing around to the ‘Grease’ soundtrack. Eloise giggle in her arms as she screeched the wrong lyrics. Spencer wasn’t even sure that she he was saying real words.

Spencer chuckled and watched the two dance around. Eloise looked just like her mother.

“Okay! Time to eat baby!” She set the girl down in her chair and twirled back over to the stove where she took the hotdogs out of the pan and put it onto her green Mickey plate.

This kid was obsessed with Mickey.

She cut up the hotdog and tore sliced cheese up and put it on top. “Mommy, please! I’m hungry!” Eloise whined.

“I know baby, give me a minute I gotta get your fruit!” She smiled at Spencer. “Kid acts like I starve her.” She rolled her eyes.

He chuckled and walked over to the table sitting in the chair across from Eloise. “What kind of fruit do you like?” He asked her.

“I wike… ummmm bwuberries, appohs an…. oranges!” She listed. “Don’t wike nanas an gwapes.”

Y/N giggled from the kitchen, cutting up some oranges for her.

A few moments later, she set a plate in front of Spencer and plate in front of her daughter. “Where my cup, mommy?”

“In the kitchen.” She nodded, going back in there. “Do you want blue or pink juice?”

Spencer admired how they interacted. She was a really good mother and he could tell.

He watched her fill the small sippy cup halfway with pink juice and the other half with water. “Here you go sweet cheeks.” She smiled, setting the cup down in front of her.

Y/N looked at Spencer. “Would you like a glass of wine? Beer?”

Spencer shook his head. “Water’s fine.” He nodded at the glass she had already set in front of him before.

“Oh w-well do you want ice? Or a flavor packet?” She asked, her face a little worried.

“No I’m okay, Y/N.” He smiled. She sighed and nodded with a small smile on her face.

She sat down next to Eloise and kissed her cheek as she chewed on an orange.

.•.•.•.•.•.

After lunch, it was nap time. Eloise started getting cranky.

“You ass!” She cried when Spencer tried to play with her. “Ass! Ass!” Y/N gasped and scooped her up from the couch.

“No, Eloisey! We don’t say that.”

“You say ass all time, mommy!” She giggled.

Y/N sighed and looked at her boyfriend. “I’m gonna… go put her down. She’s tired.”

She walked into the room and left Spencer sitting on the couch.

20 minutes later, Y/N came back out with her hair a mess and sleepy eyes. She stalked over to the couch where Spencer was waiting patiently and collapsed next to him.

“God, she’s a terror when she’s tired.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

Spencer wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

A few minutes passed and that just sat there in silence. “Spencer?” She spoke quietly.

“Hm?” He hummed.

She looked up at him, a small smile graced her lips.

“Thank you for not leaving me.”

—————————

YUUUHHH DAY 5

Thanks to the amazing requester (chose not to be tagged) If you had something else in mind, I’m happy to rewrite!!

I LOVED WRITING THIS ONE

I was also asked to ask YOU if you’d like me to make this I to a series! I definitely will because I loooove this concept!

Feel free to request any fic!! Love y’all

#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x original female character #spencer x oc #crimimal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

[queenshelby]

MINI SERIES: THE SLAVE

PAIRING: TOMMY SHELBY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL LOSS OF VIRGINITY, CAPTURED READER, SLAVE READER, TOMMY GETTING OFF ON PAIN

NOTE: AGAIN THIS WAS A REQUEST AND I FELT A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE PUBLISHING IT...VERY DARK!

Just as he had promised, later that night and when you were already fast asleep following some serious exhaustion after what had transpired, Tommy entered your room at around one o'clock.

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his figure as he approached the bed where you laid sprawled out.

Without bothering to wake you, he took off his briefs and gave his cock a few strokes, causing it to stand tall and erect, before he gently climbed on to the bed.

He nestled his knees on either side of your waist, positioning himself directly above you. With one arm supporting his weight, he reached down to push your panties to the side, exposing your rather sore and swollen mound. 

The sensation startled you and you woke up with a jolt, gasping at the unexpected sensation of Tommy aligning his member with your torn hole.

"I am tired," you whined, squirming underneath him but your efforts proved futile as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them beside your head.

"Sshh," he hushed you, his warm breath caressing your ear. "You know that you are mine now, Love. And I'm going to use you however I please," Tommy said smugly, his cock throbbing against your sensitive entrance before, with one forceful thrust, he plunged himself into you.

You gasped, your body arching involuntarily in response to the renewed intrusion.

"Just relax," he growled, grinding himself against you, his erection burrowing deeper and deeper into your aching hole. "It's just going to be a quick fuck and then you can go back to sleep, eh?" Tommy whispered into your ear, his voice laced with lust.

"You know that my needs come first, don't you?" He said, his tone matter-of-factly, as he adjusted his position above you. The heat of his body radiated onto you, and you could smell the musky scent of his arousal.

"Don't worry, I am almost done," he murmured, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to thrust into you again. 

He thrust harder, his cock driving deeper into you with each movement.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "My beautiful little whore." Tommy's voice was husky, full of lust as he admired the way your body trembled beneath him. 

"You know that I can't resist your sweet little pussy, Love," he rasped, pulling out and thrusting back into you roughly. "All I can think about is getting my cock deeper inside you." he hummed, relishing the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your body until, finally, with a loud groan, he exploded inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You gasped, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him. This was your life now, serving a man who saw you as nothing more than a sex object.

As he climbed off of you, you could feel his cum trickling down your leg and onto the bedsheets. The smell of sex lingered in the air, and all you wanted to do was clean up and fall back asleep.

Despite exhaustion, you listened to his heavy footsteps recede down the hallway, the sound of them fading away until they vanished completely before you made your way to the bathroom. 

Washing yourself off in the shower, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions: shame, disgust, anger, fear, and resignation. Yet, you also discovered a newfound longing for release from this torment, a desperate wish for freedom from him.

"Maybe if I try to escape," you thought to yourself, "maybe if I run far enough away, he won't find me." But deep down, you knew the truth: he had power, influence, and connections. Escaping would be impossible. At least for now.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby au #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction

[larkspurglove]

Holy moly so the Acheron and Black Swan animated short huh-

Well time to analyse the hell out of it.

First two things I noticed was that every time Black Swan tried to initiate affection of some kind (eg. kissing Acheron’s hand) Acheron pulls away, and also that it seems that Black Swan is leading the dance.

(Note: I don’t know anything about dancing to the point where I’m not sure if the dance they were doing in the video was a tango or a flamboyant waltz so take a lot of my observations about the dancing itself with a grain of salt)

Next is the images in the background of them dancing after Black Swan summons some memokeeper domain thing. (1:48 to 2:02 in the video)

All of them frame her as alone in some way, with the exception of the last image which has her standing next to someone with no discernible features. I wonder if we’ll learn who that is in the new update.

Then there’s the flashback to Acheron killing the Annihilation Gang, which seems to draw the attention of the white haired version of Acheron. It’s at this point that Black Swan is like ‘fuck’ and tries to back out but the white and red Acheron keeps her in Acheron’s memories, now leading the dance and quite aggressively too. (I have to say the way the red, white and black take over as well as the predator and prey imagery was cool as hell, as well as the feathers flying off Black Swan like blood splatters mmmmmm)

The flashes of a swan being killed by a snake mixed with the symbolism of predators chasing prey, to me, tells us two things; Acheron is dangerous, and she’s a killer by nature.

I think what was actually happening during all of those sequences with predators and prey was that Black Swan was being forced to witness the memories of Acheron killing people. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that the stunt with the Annihilation Gang wasn’t a one off - she’s probably killed a whole lot more people.

What’s also concerning is that a MEMOKEEPER is terrified of Acheron’s memories. If I remember correctly, yes Black Swan does prefer to collect more pleasant memories, but she’s likely seen her share of darker ones too. What exactly did she see that left her physically exhausted by the end of their dance?

As for the brief appearance of IX/The Nihility, I think it definitely confirms that Acheron is an emanator. Hell, I think I can even pin down what faction she belongs to - she’s a Self Annihilator.

Self-Annihilators are people that accidentally wandered into the shadow of IX and as such become weak to its ideals. Self annihilation comes in many different forms, but the one that stuck out the most to me was memory loss.

Self-Annihilators inadvertently draw from the power of IX, making them emanators. I have a feeling Acheron has more direct permission since she’s so strong, or maybe the powers of the nihility are just that good.

Other details/mini theories

Acheron’s eyes here really remind me of our dear friend Something Unto Death but that might be more of a coincidence if anything

You might’ve already seen that acheron, the word, is connected to the underworld/afterlife, and after seeing that she’s likely killed a lot of people, it’s possible she’s a reaper of some kind. There’s definitely a connection between her name and the amount of people she’s killed

The white haired version of her could be withholding her memories to ensure that she doesn’t stray from the path of Nihility

To me everything lends credit to the ‘Acheron is a Mei who never had a Kiana’ theory I have. Also Acheron pulling away from any more romantic affection makes me think that subconsciously she’s loved before but came away scathed

Something about Remembrance, whose followers preserve all kinds of memories because they believe them to be important, and Nihility, whose followers believe nothing matters, being opposites yet being able to co-exist as long as both parties remain cautious…

Anyway I’m extremely excited to see what 2.1 reveals in a week or so eeeeeeeeee

#honkai star rail #hsr #acheron #acheron hsr #hsr acheron #black swan #black swan hsr #hsr black swan #acheswan #lark rambles #kinda? that short was definitely fruity #but also this post is moreso about analysing the short and not the fruity parts #oh well too bad

[ccycloneblogging]

Idk way but seeing catnap chasing dogday is quite funny.

But idk way but I can see player/angle. Just standing there like it a normal day like there not even trap in the factory

I had a lot of fun drawing that little chase, but you are also so right.

In fact, that inspired me to actually write some fanfiction! All below the cut, but sadly no drawings to go along with it (for now).

"Angel!!!" It was a screech, mixed with a pitiful whining and another plee for help.

Only to be promptly followed by heavy footsteps and the sound of furious hissing.

Angel gave a heavy sigh, leaning against one of the upright picnic tables as they simply watched the scene before them.

DogDay, a small cartoon dog with sunny orange fur and a personality to match, was bouncing around. Desperately, he was trying to avoid the large purple paws of the feline chasing him down. Every clawless swipe had missed so far, but the cat's aim was getting better.

"Angel, Please!!!"

Angel sighed again, raising a hand to rub their temples. Two hours. Two hours ago, Angel had first found this little pup handing in a rotting cell. Two hours ago, they freed him and returned his legs. Two hours ago, their life was quiet.

They had begrudgingly allowed DogDay to follow them, concerned the pup would be helpless. They were pleasantly surprised to see he could handle himself, but his looney behavior leaved much to be desired. Simple tasks became jokes, stealth was no longer an option, and Angel was almost positive they could hear a faint laugh track playing every so often.

The worst part?

Ever since they freed the dog, CatNap became unpredictable. Ollie had warned them that this monstrous cat would hide in the shadows and hunt them, but this? This wasn't something any of them had expected.

CatNap gave a rather loud hiss, lunging forward with a powerful pounce. The orange pup was helpless, unable to dart to the side this time, and was tackled to the ground.

The two toppled over, again and again as they came to a stop on the hard paved floor of PlayCare. Once more, CatNap returned to a smaller size like DogDay, though he had him pinned to the ground.

DogDay wheezed, trying to force air back into his lungs. It wasn't easy, as CatNap firmly sat on his chest.

"Apologize." CatNap's voice was distorted, thanks to his voice box being broken long ago. His white eyes narrowed, his tail thrashing.

"You took my legs."

"You lost our game. You knew the risks."

"But you chained me to a wall! And left me there!"

"I came back for you." The cat huffed, his purple ears flat against his head. "It kept you safe from the minis. Or so... I thought it would."

"Angel!" The dog whined, tilting his head up to spot the human a few feet away. Without hesitation, he shot them the most pitiful looking puppy eyes he could manage.

Two hours of this.

Angel would have theorized that CatNap was simply territorial, but frankly? They didn't need to guess. Yes, CatNap wanted to serve the Prototype. Yes, horrible things occurred and he made efforts to stop Angel from cutting off the red gas.

But CatNap made no attempt to hurt them.

He watched them running around, only providing small obstacles to stop them - which only encouraged DogDay's wackier side to show more. Angel was convinced that this cat, though loyal to the prototype, had his heart set towards something more.

"You two are acting like children." They frowned. They shouldn't be scolding their enemy - if they could even call CatNap one. "If you two are going to do this, can you at least play a little quieter?"

"I thought he had died!" CatNap hissed. "You stole him from me! I thought -!"

"...What?" This got DogDay's attention as he snapped his head back to look up at the cat. "Angel freed me, and we were chased around by the minis for a bit. They saved me."

"I... I saw the human." CatNap's frown deepened as he flexed his claws. "I needed to see if they harmed you, so I went to your cage. I found minis, eating and bloodied orange fur scattered around the cell. I found your belts, torn and cut. I thought..."

"Oh, Moonbeam..." DogDay's voice softened, reaching over to the cat to gently pull him in for a hug.

Angel rolled their eyes again.

At least Huggy had been simple. Hungry beast, shove off catwalks. Miss Delight? Hungry creature who went insane? Smash into a wall.

But CatNap? He seemed to love only two things. The prototype, and this odd dog. Even the severed legs hadn't been an issue. They were in the next cell over, casually walking around on their own. DogDay hadn't experienced any pain reattaching them. The belt on his waist and some torn fur were the only signs that he had been ripped in half to begin with.

It didn't make sense to the human, and it certainly wasn't adding up how this cat needed comforting from the same one he had torn and held captive - or even why the dog was providing such tender moments so easily.

CatNap looked furious, still trying to stare daggers at the human. Though... It was impossible to take him seriously as DogDay nuzzled into him. Even more so when a soft purr escaped the cat.

Whatever.

So long as the cat wouldn't try to kill them, and Angel could escape this hellhole, they wouldn't ask any further questions. All they really wanted was to go back home and sleep in their own bed, preferably away from any sort of cartoon.

...Though deep down? Angel had a feeling that dream would be impossible now.

#thanks for stopping by the inbox! #toon logic au #ccyclone rambles #have some ppt fanfiction from me #maybe I'll post this on AO3 as well

[mint-yooxgi]

{2} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 5,203

Warnings: OC gets called a bitch again. Mention of injuries and vomiting. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Alright! Next chapter!! Hehehe, there’s so much to be revealed as this series progresses, so I really hope you all like this part! I’m so happy with the support I've been receiving already for this series, so I really hope you’ll all enjoy the rest of what I have planned. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Chapter One - Mini Masterlist

The tension that now fills the room is so thick, you can practically see it hanging in the air between all of you. A few of them even look ready to strike you down at a moment’s notice.

“So,” the one on top of your centre counter coughs up some blood, the red liquid beginning to drip down his chin as he grins maniacally, “you’re an overgrown lizard, too.”

“I’d conserve your strength if I were you,” you retort, not bothering to confirm or deny his claim at this time. “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long already.”

“Are you going to heal him or not?” The fiery blond scowls, taking a menacing step towards you.

“No, I don’t think I will.” You reply bluntly, raising your dagger the slightest bit higher as they all growl at you again. “He can die for all I care.”

“I thought you said she was nice.” The one holding the bloodroot in his hands narrows his gaze accusingly at Jongho who currently stands the closest to you out of all of them.

“She usually is,” comes his answer. “I’ve never seen her act like this before.”

“She’s one hell of an actress, then,” the tallest in the corner scoffs. “Fooled even the likes of you despite being a hunter.”

Before any of them can react, you’ve thrown your blade at the male. The pommel now sticks out of the wall directly beside his head, wobbling slightly from the impact.

“Don’t you ever compare me to those monsters again.” You spit, eyes lighting with a newfound fury.

“Still don’t like being called out for what you are, huh?” The male on top of your counter coughs once more, gritting his teeth as the male closest to him begins applying the paste to his open wound.

“Ironic for one of our kind to side with them,” the one with the birthmark huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve found a real winner there, Jongho.”

“Watch your mouth, boy. I have been around a lot longer than you.” Your eyes flash, scowl pulling onto your features.

“Whatever you are,” the one with the long chestnut hair begins, “we need you to heal him. Please.”

“I will do no such thing.” Your voice is stern, a frown on your features.

“And why not?” The bloodroot gets crushed in the one male’s hand, a harsh look being directed your way.

“Only cowards attack their adversary from behind after their life has been spared.” You meet his gaze. “He deserves what’s coming for him.”

Already, you can see the male’s breathing slowing down, each inhale being a painful rise and fall of his chest. Desperately, the one male continues to apply the paste to his side, blood mixing with the impromptu healing aid to no avail.

“Honeysuckle won’t do anything. You’re wasting your time.” Your gaze locks with the male desperately trying to save his friend.

“Then tell me what to do to save him!” The male retorts, his eyes flashing in panic as he straightens back to his full height.

You remain silent, gaze sharp as you stare down the males across from you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jongho reach out to you.

“Don’t touch me.” A warning that he doesn’t seem to heed.

The second he reaches for you again, you’ve grabbed his wrist in your hand, twisting it so that he falls to his knees. You stand behind him, pinning him to the ground with your foot pressing into the back of his calf as you twist his arm at an unnatural angle.

The others react instantly, four immediately taking offensive stances as snarls paint their lips. Again, the fiery headed one takes a threatening step towards you.

“One more step and that one won’t be the only one knocking on death’s door.” Your tone is sharp, and you watch as they all stand down for the time being.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The chestnut haired man says, raising his hands, palms facing upwards in a sign of surrender for the moment.

“You Hala dragons are nothing but trouble.” You reply.

“How do you know we’re the Halas?” The tallest raises his brow, taking a moment to pull your dagger out of the wall beside his head. “You missed, by the way.”

“That one has an overconfidence issue,” your eyes briefly dart to the male barely clinging to life on your centre counter before meeting the tallest’s gaze once more. “And I never miss. It was a warning.”

“And I suppose our eldest here received the same treatment?” The one who had been applying the honeysuckle paste to his side retorts, somewhat sarcastically.

“I warned him. Twice, and then subsequently spared his life before he tried to end mine while my back was turned after showing him mercy.” You blink, straightening your back the slightest as you stand to your full height. “He came at me first.”

A brief silence settles over you all, a tense understanding passing through the room. Dragon custom states that to attack one while their back is turned after any type of mercy is shown to an opponent is folly, and cause for great shame. In some cases, even death.

“He says he thought you were a simple, innocent villager.” The man with the birthmark says.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You reply, incredulously. “Knowing he would have torn out the throat of an innocent villager in seconds?”

The growl that escapes Jongho’s lips surprises even you.

“What are you complaining about, you liar?” You twist his arm further behind his back, feeling as his whole body physically winces in your hold.

“I’m not the only liar in this house,” he pants, attempting to pull his wrist free to no avail. “I didn’t tell you about what I was because I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You think I’m mad about the fact that you kept being a dragon from me?” You nearly scoff, a roll to your eyes. “Please, I could smell it on you the minute you walked through my woods.”

You fail to see the way shock paints Jongho’s features. Not even other dragons are able to tell what he is when he hides his true nature. So, how could you?

“You mean you knew this whole time?” He voices, somewhat incredulously.

“Of course I knew,” you reply. “I didn’t know you were a fucking Hala, though.”

“Watch it.” The flame headed one growls.

“Don’t test me, boy.” Again, your eyes flash.

“What’s so wrong with me being a Hala?” Jongho asks, tone a little softer than before. As if he’s suddenly insecure about what you think about him.

“Name a village that you’ve plundered that has survived an attack by you in your quest for the crown.” You reply bluntly, and you watch as they all suddenly avoid your gaze in what appears to be shame. “That’s what I thought.”

“We’re no worse than those Wolves.” The one holding the now crushed bloodroot in his hands spits.

“Wolves don’t burn every village they ransack to the ground.” You retort.

“Why do you care so much for the humans, anyways?” The flame haired one narrows his eyes at you.

“Because, believe it or not, I actually befriend most of them.” Again, you hear a low growl escape Jongho beneath you. “I know you think them so far beneath you.”

“You don’t know us.” The chestnut haired male frowns.

“You don’t know me.” You counter, a minor quirk to your brow.

“Clearly not,” Jongho grumbles.

“Look,” the tallest male sighs, “just heal out brother, and you’ll never have to see us again.”

You tilt your head at him slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Don’t make promises I can’t keep, Yunho.” Jongho voices lowly, the hint of a threat to his words.

“Swear to me that you’ll leave this village alone and never come back, and I might save his life.” Your head shifts the slightest bit upwards as you stare down your nose at all of them.

“What so special about this damn village anyways?” The sharp eyed male with the birthmark huffs, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’d hurry up if I were you,” you finally release your hold on Jongho, shoving him to the ground as you step away from him for the moment before motioning to the one on your counter with your chin. “He’s lucky to have two minutes more of life at most.”

They all share a look briefly around the room at one another as Jongho stands back to his feet, rubbing at his wrist the whole time.

“We’ll do it.” The chestnut haired male turns to meet your gaze.

“Hongjoong-“

“You have a deal.” The male, Hongjoong, cuts Jongho off with a sharp look.

A single nod of your head is all they receive before you’re moving around your kitchen. Pulling open a cupboard, you begin taking out small jars of ground herbs.

“Apply this to the wound,” you toss a small jar behind you, perfectly aimed at the male who had desperately been applying a paste of honeysuckle to the other’s injury. You turn around to see him staring at you in what appears to be slight awe as you hadn’t even been looking towards him when you threw him the item. “Do you want him to bleed out?”

Immediately, the male twists the lid off of the jar. Using two fingers, he gathers some of the salve onto his skin, applying the balm over the gash on the injured male’s side.

The wound starts to close almost instantly, some colour returning to his skin.

“Which one of you can use flames?” You ask, already blending some herbs with a mortar and pestle as you turn your back to them once more.

“I can.” The one with the vibrant hair steps towards you, and you nearly puff out a dry laugh at the irony of his flaming locks.

“Light this,” you toss a bundle of sage at him. “Then give it to someone else while you go boil me a cup of water.”

Again, as soon as the scent of burning sage fills the air, more colour begins to return to the dragon’s features as he rests upon your counter. His breathing doesn’t seem as laboured, either.

“This sure is an intricate poison,” the one who had been applying the salve remarks, capping the jar once he’s done.

“Of course it is,” you reply, pouring some lukewarm water and honey into the mixture you have in the mortar to create a sort of paste. “I made it myself.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice the tallest male studying your blade.

“Don’t get any ideas. Every poison I make, I ensure I’m immune to.” Your sharp gaze catches his own, watching as he gently sets down your dagger on top of the counter in the next moment.

“Here’s the boiled water.” The second tallest male places the cup beside you on the counter, only receiving a nod from you in response.

Softly, you sprinkle some herbs into the water, letting it sit for the moment as they steep.

“Can any of you manipulate liquids?” You inquire, turning back around with your mortar in hand as you approach the injured male in the centre of your kitchen.

“I can.” The chestnut haired male steps towards you.

“Have you ever separated poison from blood before?” You turn to him.

“Once or twice.” He replies.

You place the mixture beside the injured dragon’s head, shaking your own. “Not good enough.”

A crash of thunder is heard overhead, followed by four figures rushing into your cabin.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Chenle’s frantic voice reaches your ears.

Lifting your head, you see him, Renjun, Taeyong, and Jaehyun all standing there, gazes locked on the seven figures standing around your kitchen.

“Why are you guys all standing in the doorway- oh.” Mark enters next, voice dying in his throat as he senses the tension in the room. His eyes narrow. “I told you there was a storm coming.”

Johnny and Yuta are the next two to enter, and as soon as they do, growls are escaping their lips. Immediately, they tense, stances switching to the offensive as they lock eyes with the males standing around the room.

“What’s going on?” Johnny cannot hide the hint of concern for you in his voice as he prepares to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Alright, everybody out.” You command, noticing how protests begin to form on nearly all of their lips. “It’s too overcrowded, I need space to work. Besides, I don’t need you tearing a hole in my house like the last time.”

The pointed look you shoot both Mark and Chenle has them both shrinking sheepishly beneath your gaze.

Again, Jongho growls lowly.

“I fucking knew it.” Renjun exhales a long sigh through his nose, closing his eyes while shaking his head.

“You take issue with us, but you have no problem associating yourself with the Neos?” The one holding the crushed bloodroot in his hand seethes.

“I’ve know these boys far longer than I’ve known of you.” You snap.

“I really wish you’d stop calling us boys, Pretty One,” Yuta sighs, a slight pout tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” Chenle puffs out his chest slightly, along with Mark. “We’re men.”

“You are still my little cub, Lele,” your expression softens, even if only the slightest bit as your lips twitch upwards at the corners.

“Cub?” Jongho nearly seethes, eyes flashing as he turns to glare at Chenle now.

“As long as I’m still your favourite,” he shoots a smug grin at Jongho in response.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you brush him off. “Now, all of you except Junnie and Yong, out.”

“We are not leaving you alone with our brother when you’re the reason he’s in this mess in the first place.” The flame headed male snaps, arms crossing in front of his chest. “Especially not with them.”

“Oh, did you get him with your dagger?” Renjun hums, stepping towards the counter only for his path to be blocked by both the male with the birthmark and Hongjoong.

“I would step aside if I were you.” Taeyong sighs, moving forward with Renjun in the next second.

Four low growls echo around the room.

“Look,” Taeyong’s eyes flash. “We’ve dealt with this before, and if she’s already helping you, let us help her.”

“Honestly, we should have killed you the minute you attempted to threaten my wife.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing at the males across from him.

The snarl that tears from Jongho’s lips is nothing short of feral. “Your wife?”

“Not your wife.” You remind him casually.

You hear Jaehyun chuckle lowly, beginning to usher a few of the other males outside. Johnny pouts all the while, muttering about eventually making you his wife someday.

“Yeah, yeah, you and everyone else,” Yuta grumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he sends one final fleeting glance in your direction.

At least it sounds as if the rain has stopped. For now.

“Listen,” you spare a glance at the seven other males standing around your kitchen, “do you want me to help him or not?”

“Please,” Hongjoong takes an eager step towards you.

“Then you need to all go wait outside.” You reply bluntly.

“We don’t take orders from you.” The one with the birthmark snarks.

“You will if you want him to live.” You slam your palm down onto the counter right beside the injured male’s head, eyes flashing in annoyance. “Every second you waste prolongs his pain.”

As if on cue, the male on the table groans.

You take a step back, grabbing that cup with the now lukewarm herbal tea and taking a casual sip.

“This was for him, but it does work wonders for my complexion.” You hum, leaning back against the counter behind you.

“You bitch.” The one holding the bloodroot throws it onto the ground in anger.

“Watch it, Woo.” Jongho threatens, much to both Renjun’s and Taeyong’s surprise.

“Wow, two for eight.” You remark. “You six want to cuss me out tonight, too?”

“We just want you to help our brother.” The one who applied the balm almost pleads with you.

“Then wait outside.” Comes your blunt response, taking another sip of the tea. Only, you hold the cup to your mouth, subtly puncturing your upper lip and adding a drop of your blood to the mixture. It’s the only way the tonic will work properly, anyways.

“I thought you needed me for the poison removal?” Hongjoong turns to look at you.

“Not with Renjun here,” you motion to the male across the room. “At least I know he’s done this before, and that he knows what he’s doing.”

“Then what is he for?” Jongho narrows his eyes at Taeyong. “Moral support?”

“No, you dimwit,” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “There are multiple steps to this antidote, and I know all of them. I’m here to help.”

“Why do you know the antidote?” The tallest male quirks a brow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you want to stand around asking questions all night, or do you want us to heal your brother?” You snap, patience wearing thin.

A look is shared between the seven of them.

“We’ll be outside.” Hongjoong nods once in your direction as they all finally step back out through the threshold of your door.

Jongho lingers, hesitant to leave the house. Though, with one final sharp look from you, he at least steps outside, even if he remains just passed the now broken door.

“So, why are we saving the eldest of the Hala’s after you’ve already ensured his death?” Taeyong asks casually, grabbing the discarded burning sage from the side counter and placing it beside the injured male’s head.

“The chestnut haired one swore they would leave this village alone and never return if I did.” You reply, noticing how Renjun already moves to begin the separation process of the poison from the blood.

“You and your obsession with protecting this village will end up getting you killed one day,” Renjun sighs.

“Then why did you bring the others to come check on me?” You quirk a brow, somewhat knowingly. “You always care more than you want to admit, Junnie.”

“You’re one of our oldest and closest friends,” Taeyong answers when the younger male continues to remain silent. “Of course we would be worried.”

“I barely made it home before Chenle was running out the door,” Renjun states. “They all wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

“They’re your cubs, alright.” Taeyong chuckles, grabbing a wooden spoon from one of your drawers and mixing the paste within the mortar slightly.

A low growl is heard once more just outside your smashed doorway, and the three of you share a look.

You roll your eyes, moving to add a drop of honey to the tea. “I damn well near raised them, of course they’re my cubs.”

“Have you heard from-“

“No.” You cut Renjun off in an instant. “They’ve kept to their promise every year since then. They know what would happen if they crossed the fjord.”

“I know it pains you not to see him.” Taeyong adds softly, a worried look being sent your way. “He was your cub, too.”

“He made his choice.” You swallow thickly, steeling your emotions for the moment as memories threaten to resurface. “He chose to go with him and his clan.”

“Do you blame him for it?” Renjun pauses his movements over the injured male’s chest for a moment to meet your gaze.

You blink. “I could never blame him for it. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

“We know.” Taeyong acknowledges with a nod of his head. “At least they’ve kept those hunters off of our side of the river.”

You let out a deep sigh through your nose. “At least.”

A silence settles over the three of you as Renjun finally finishes separating the poison from his bloodstream, leaching it out through the remainder of the open gash in his side.

Slowly, the wound continues to close.

“I know you’re still conscious,” you direct it to the male on the counter. “Can you sit?”

A weak movement of his arms as he attempts to push himself upwards to no avail.

“I’m surprised you can even move your arms,” you hum, walking over to the doorway to see Jongho eagerly step into your field of vision. “You and honeysuckle boy, come with me.”

“Honeysuckle boy?” Jongho’s brow furrows, yet the male that had applied the paste to his brother’s wound understands almost immediately.

“My name is San,” he offers, pushing Jongho back inside and following right afterwards.

You spare him a disinterested glance as you turn your back to him once more, leading the two males over to their brother on the counter.

“You both need to support him while he drinks half of this. Can you do that?” You turn to face them once more, holding the cup of tea in your hands.

“You can’t do it yourself?” A voice from the open doorway catches your attention and you see the flame headed one standing there with his arms crossed.

You ignore him.

“Where do you want me to dump this?” Renjun holds the liquid poison in the air, the bubble swirling with the faint green toxin.

“Regular spot,” you reply. “I’ll dilute and separate the contents later.”

A nod is all you receive as Renjun walks out the backdoor, many pairs of eyes following him all the while.

“In order for me to answer your question, canary man, let me ask you one of my own.” Your voice draws the tall male’s attention to you from the open doorway as you motion for Jongho and San to support the injured male in a sitting position. “Have you ever ingested a frost berry before?”

A moment’s pause.

“Once.” Comes his answer. “When I was small.”

“Do you remember what happened as soon as the fruit touched your tongue?” Your eyes flash, meeting his gaze briefly as you bring the tea up to the injured male’s lips, helping him to drink half the contents before pulling away.

“No.” He replies, somewhat gruffly.

“That’s what I thought.” You huff, noticing Renjun pushing passed him and reentering your house with a wooden bucket in his hands. “Well, if you’re lucky, your body will immediately reject the fruit, expelling it in any way it can. This usually occurs in the form of vomiting. In certain cases, it can cause you to pass out for hours, with an added effect of memory loss to boot. Sometimes, it causes muscle spasms, and in severe cases, death. Too much of it can be poisonous to dragons, but the leaves have many medicinal properties if prepared correctly.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San listening quite intently to your every word.

“It still induces vomiting, but it dilutes any toxins from the system that remain.” You continue. “It’s better if people familiar are supporting him in case he has one of the more severe reactions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him any further than he already is. If your friend here is lucky, he’ll only need one spoonful. That mixture tastes awful.”

Taking a step back, Taeyong moves in closer to take your place. Renjun stands on the opposite side, bucket at the ready as the elder of the two raises the wooden spoon to the injured male’s lips.

“This won’t be pretty,” you warn.

The moment the paste reaches the injured male’s lips, he gags, nearly spitting the substance back out. Only, Taeyong slaps a hand beneath his chin, forcing his mouth closed for the moment.

“You need to swallow the mixture for it to work.” You comment, arms crossed as you watch the events unfolding in front of your eyes.

Stubbornly, the dragon shakes his head.

“Stop acting like a child. My cubs are better mannered than you.” You sigh, noticing how Jongho’s gaze darts over to you momentarily. “The longer you hold it in your mouth, the worst it will taste.”

Slowly, reluctantly, the male swallows the mixture.

Comfortingly, San begins to rub the male’s back as he begins to dry heave. Renjun practically shoves the wooden bucket into his arms, the male having enough strength to cling to it for dear life.

“Give him another,” you nod to Taeyong.

The male shakes his head, attempting to turn away from the incoming wooden spoon.

“Come on Hwa, don’t make us force feed you,” San mutters. “It’ll be over soon.”

With nothing but disgust on his features, the male accepts another spoonful of the mixture. Only this time, as soon as he swallows, his head becomes buried in the bucket, emptying the contents of his stomach immediately.

Renjun steps away, nothing but revulsion clear on his features. Taeyong, on the other hand, places the mortar with the rest of the paste onto a side counter, moving to grab the male a fresh glass of water.

Once Hwa has finally finished, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, Taeyong hands him the glass.

“Here,” his voice is rough. “Rinse out your mouth.”

The dragon does as he’s told, somewhat hesitantly. After spitting the water into the bucket, you’re beside him once more.

“Drink the rest of this, and you’ll be fine.” You say, practically shoving the remainder of the tea into his hand. “Then, I never want to see your faces here again.”

The man blinks at you, a slight scowl to his features as he swipes the cup from your hand. Reluctantly, he brings it to his lips.

“I promise it tastes better than the first time,” you sigh, already moving to clean up your supplies.

Luckily, Renjun helps you, using his powers to clear the blood that has soaked into your countertop and dripped onto the floor from the male now sitting on top of your counter. Taeyong even begins to help you clean up, washing out the few items that had been used.

Your dagger still sits, glinting on the side of your counter from the light of the oil lamp.

The sound of a cup clattering to the floor draws your attention.

“Hwa, don’t push yourself,” San voices worriedly as the male swings his legs over the side of the counter to stand back to his feet.

He wobbles slightly, using his hands to support himself on the counter as he absolutely glares at you.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” His voice is low, rough from the strain of what he’s just been through.

The room goes so silent, you can hear the subtle drip of the water from the roof onto the ground coming from outside.

“Is that any way to thank the person who just saved your pathetic excuse of a life?” You turn to him, drying your hands on a cloth nonchalantly.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been close to death in the first place!” He shouts, drawing the attention of all the males outside your cabin instantly.

“Watch your tongue, boy. You have no idea who you’re speaking to.” Taeyong is quick to step partially in front of you for protection, his eyes flashing in the light.

“Oh, I think I do,” he hums, snarl tugging onto his features.

“Seonghwa.” The voice of Hongjoong warns from the open doorway, stern expression locked on the elder male.

The male completely ignores the other.

“You’re nothing but a pretentious bitch, going around and pretending you’re someone you’re not. You don’t have a shred of kindness in you.” Seonghwa spits. “Stop acting like you’re some ancient, and make it easier on all of us and go die on a hunt like the useless huntress you are.”

A snarl nearly tears from your throat, but both Renjun and Taeyong beat you to it. Both males stand in front of you protectively, the others of their clan preparing to attack at a moment’s notice.

Gently, you place a hand onto Renjun’s shoulder, looking passed the males in front of you and to Hongjoong near the door.

“I want all of you Halas gone in thirty seconds. We had a deal.” Your voice is firm, eyes sharp as you meet his gaze.

A nod is all your receive as he motions for them all to leave with a jerk of his head.

However, just as you go to move passed Seonghwa, the male reaches out to you one last time before the others can even react.

The moment you sense the claws near the centre of your back, you round on the male. A snarl tears from your lips as your eyes flash a deep amber as a loud crack is heard throughout the room.

A cry of pain leaves Seonghwa’s lips as he’s forced to his knees. Tears line the corners of his vision as you continue to crush his hand beneath your grip, claws digging into his skin.

Immediately, Taeyong, Johnny, Renjun, and Chenle surround your back, guarding you with a newfound fury shining in their eyes as the others snarl their discontent.

“Never try to touch me again.” You shove the male away from you, chest heaving as you attempt to reign in your anger. “The next time you reach for my back will be your last.”

“I think it best if you leave now.” Taeyong states, rather pointedly as his eyes shift around at each male still standing inside your house that he can see.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome.” Hongjoong is quick to nod, motioning quite firmly this time with his head for them to leave.

“I don’t think we were ever welcome in the first place.” The one with the birthmark mutters as he exits your home.

A soft call of your name from Jongho catches your attention and you turn your furious gaze onto him.

“Please,” his expression falls. “Don’t do this.”

“Get out of my house,” your voice is low, threatening as you stand to your full height. “I never want to see you again.”

The look he wears is akin to a wounded animal as he follows behind his brothers almost sluggishly. A few of them begin to grumble beneath their breath, shoulders tense as the few Neos around them watch their every move with an intense precision that would have anyone trembling in their skin.

Slowly, the dragons begin to disappear into the tree line, the forest concealing their figures with each step they take. Only, Jongho pauses one final time, turning to look at you from over his shoulder with tears lining his eyes.

“Leave.” You scowl, the word a mere hiss on your lips. “And never come back.”

What you fail to see as Jongho turns back around is the first of his tears beginning to trail down the sides of his cheeks as he vanishes into the night.

#yandere ateez #yandere kpop #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #yandere au #kpop scenario #yandere jongho #yandere san #yandere seonghwa #yandere hongjoong #yandere wooyoung #yandere mingi #yandere yeosang #yandere yunho #yunho scenario #hongjoong scenario #wooyoung scenario #jongho scenario #yeosang scenarios #san scenario #seonghwa scenario #mingi scenario #kpop au #dragon au #fantasy au

[dollsinvogue]

Scarlet Rose redesign!

Explanations + mini rant under the cut (I wrote a lot this time sorry!!!)

Scarlet is such an interesting doll because she’s so beautiful to me, but when you look at the individual pieces it’s just sad (hashtag it’s just sad)

A hoodie and sweatpants/jeans (I’m not too sure what they are, if anyone has the doll please tell me!) are not exactly the kind of fashion we as consumers want to see on these dolls, I think they are cute pieces for mixing and matching but as an outfit and as the ONLY outfit it’s boring… (also I didn’t realize until making this post, she doesn’t even have a shirt underneath her sweater:/)

I have spoken about this before; with one outfit it’s difficult to get a grasp on the character and their style, and mixed with the fact that there is minimal thought put into this character (why is she writing storywood, a supposed fairytale story, but her profile says she writes science fiction? It just doesn’t make the most sense to me? Maybe she’s just a fan and she has merch idk? But also her whole aesthetic seems weird to me)

Enough ranting about silly design choices, now time to explain the pieces I chose for her!

For her sweater I wanted to keep her in something still comfy, but make it more edgy and fashionable, I feel like certain elements of her outfit have an edge to them, her earrings and hair pins, and some of them don’t…she feels like an alternative fashion girl who came home and got changed into a comfy hoodie and sweats

I thought the design was a bit red heavy for the shoes that I knew I needed to include, so I needed something black to balance it out and I thought a corset might be interesting so I chose this one from Alexander McQueen spring/summer 2011. I feel that the leaves give it a fairytale vibe which I tried to give hints of to tie into Storywood! Obviously I would rather have silver rather than gold hardware but it is what it is 🤷‍♀️

I originally was choosing between this skirt and a Chapova Lowena skirt but I thought it would be too similar to Luna, so I went with this Blumarine skirt, I liked the buckles and wanted to include some kind of hardware on it to match with her earrings and hair clips.

These shoes were a must!!! There was no question I knew she needed these shoes. Something about them with the old wax stamp gives off old princess-y fairytale vibes (also I just think Vivienne Westwood is neat <3)

#rainbow high redesign #<- idk what to call this #dollblr #doll fashion #doll collector #fashion dolls #rainbow high #shadow high #scarlet rose

[meet-me-backstage]

🜸

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 🎸 Virgin!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🎸 You play at the Hideout with your band, Stake For My Valentine, every night - you’re considered the metal queen of the bar and your band are the rulers of the roost, famously loved by the Hideout’s local drunks. However, when a band named Corroded Coffin land their first gig there the sparse crowd warm quickly to the unique and awkward charm of the leading metal head, Eddie Munson.

However, you don’t warm to him so easily - in fact, you don’t warm to him at all. Eddie, on the other hand, worships the ground you walk on and doesn’t hesitate to make it known and leads to a cold rejection from you.

Band rivalry occurs - you vs. Eddie, Stake For My Valentine vs Corroded Coffin.

You hate each other… but one night everything changes when a plan is created and executed by yours and Eddie’s bandmates with the intention of bring you two together and harmony between your bands.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊-𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 🎸 bad language, angst, mention and consumption of drugs, mention and consumption of alcohol, some perv!eddie, blood, mention of blood, sexual innuendos, Eddie wearing eyeliner bcuz damn😍, some typical bar fight drunkard violence and SMUT so you must be 18+ to read this mini series‼️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 🎸 10.4K words 🫢

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 🎸 bad language, mention of and consumption of alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of smut, Eddie being a perv teehee and finally some smut between Eddie and reader guys (they kinda give exhibitionist vibes in this part) 👀🤭🤯

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 • 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 • 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓

Daggers, pins, needles - the painful sensation of their sharp, pointed edges is exactly what you feel right now.

Small stabbing and repeated pokes is what wakes you up from your deep and dreamless slumber.

Your nose twitches at an unfamiliar smell. The smell of your favorite rose scented perfume mixed with the polish that you use to clean your electric guitar is absent from your nostrils. What you could smell was an overwhelming odour of sweat and dirty laundry. Your eyes flicker open and for a few seconds your vision is blurry, blinded by the light shining through a window.

Rocket curtains?

This isn’t my room.

Where am I?

What happened last night?

Your eyes continue to wander the room. Drum sticks and manuscript papers are scattered around and there is a ridiculous amount of drum kit paraphernalia on the walls, on top of the closet, on a desk. Piles of clothes were spread across the black carpeted floor… that explains the smell.

‘Löded Diper’ is messily written in black paint on a mirror that is hung up on the wall opposite the bed you’re laying in. You also recognise the rocket patterned wallpaper and realise that there is only one person that this room could belong to.

You groan at the realisation that you’re in the armpit that is Rodrick’s bedroom… again.

A loud snore takes you aback and you abruptly turn to face the noise.

Rodrick. His mouth is hung open, bottom lip drooping down to the slide closest to his pillow and his head is leaning backwards slightly, emphasising his Adam’s apple.

You quickly lift up the duvet and let out a dramatic, relieved sigh because - whew, thank god I’m not naked. But you’re only wearing an oversized black shirt that you do not recognise and definitely does not belong to you, and your underwear. The shirt has ‘Löded Diper’ roughly written on it, Rodrick’s band name, with what looks like white chalk that Rodrick probably took from the dart scoreboard beside the bar downstairs.

“Whuh a-re - you doooing?” You hear Rodrick mumble into his pillow, he yawns immediately after and opens his eyes once before scrunching them shut again because he hasn’t quite adjusted to the light just yet.

“What am I wearing?” You ask bluntly, pushing the duvet off of your top half completely.

Rodrick’s eyes blink open, still strained, they wander down your face, to your neck and then to your chest, “The hottest shirt in Hawkins,” A smug smile tugs at his lips while he speaks in a morning grumble.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

“What?” He mumbles, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face back into his pillow.

“I think I’d remember if I was wearing this piece of crap last night,” you state with sarcasm, knowing that your criticism of his handmade band merchandise would wake him up in an instant.

He shoots you a playful glare now, though it is half as effective as yours because one of his eyes is hidden into his pillow, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this mornin-.”

“Afternoon,” you cross your arms, nodding at the alarm clock on his bedside table.

His slants his neck upwards, revealing his other eye and some small stains on his pillow from the smudged remnants of his eyeliner. He takes a sheepish glance at the same alarm clock, “Afternoon,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes.

You cross your arms, raising your brows while looking down on him, “How did I get here? How did this-,” you pinch some of the fabric of the shirt between your fingers, “get on me? And where are my clothes?”

Rodrick audaciously responds with a ballsy and tired grin. He takes another look at his shirt that you donned, “I can’t believe you’ve reached your age and don’t know how a shirt works, Vamp. ‘S pretty easy, you lift your arms and put them through the two holes on the side, then you put your head through the bigger hol-.”

“Say one more word, Rodrick - I double fuckin’ dare you,” you state sassily, leaning yourself downward and over his top half, your face is aligned with his.

His eyes gleam up at you, “So you don’t want to know what happened last night?” He bites his lips together.

You grunt, rolling your eyes at his question, “I do, but I want a clear explanation - cut the fuckin’ riddles and avoiding my questions with lousy comebacks. What - happened - after - my - gig?”

“You really wanna know?” He asks, amused, but with an undertone of wariness that makes you even more intrigued… and your brows to sweat because- what the hell did I do?

You gulp, “Y-yes.”

Rodrick brings a hand up to his forehead, pinching his skin between his fingers while in deep thought. He bites his lips together to hold in a laugh before taking a deep breath and revealing his tired face to you, “Let’s just say that it was - bad for you, good for the Battle of The Bands competition.” You glare at him. “Okay, okay. You kinda jumped off of the stage after your gig, I got you a couple‘a drinks and you spent the entire evening telling everyone how you ‘need’ Eddie Munson.”

You look at him questioningly, “What?”

Rodrick chuckles nervously. You tilt your head to the side in response to him. “You got on the bar and declared your title of ‘Queen Vamp of the Hideout’ to everyone. Everything was ‘bullshit’, ‘bullshit’, ‘bullshit’. Corroded Coffin - ‘bullshit’, Eddie Munson - ‘bullshit’. You called your fans assholes if they even think about going to Corroded Coffin’s gig tonight and then a minute later you just broke down - ‘I need Eddie Munson’ - ‘I need him’!” Rodrick mimics your voice.

You grind your teeth together while also furrowing you’re brows, desperately trying to recall any of what Rodrick had just told you, but all you could remember was swinging your Pink Special over your shoulder, hugging a few of your fans, stumbling towards the booth that Rodrick was sat in and then… blank.

“I don’t remember any of that.” He raises his brows at you while you ramble passionately. He has an amused expression on his face that makes you stop and question your entire existence. You bring your hands to your face and try to cover every one of your features while you writhe with embarrassment. There’s a few moments of silence before you bring your fingers down, uncovering your eyes, “What happened after that?”

Rodrick continues to stare at you with a questioning look in his dark under-circled eyes, “Er - well - they looked pretty shocked - and then they sorta-,” he scratches his forehead, “laughed.”

Your face falls with astonishment, “They - laughed - at me?” You can’t believe it. To hear that the dedicated followers of your music, people that had been so loyal to you since the very first step you took on the stage downstairs, had betrayed you - it hurt like stabs to the back.

“Pfft, not like that, Vamp - it’s just - I think they were shocked because you’re always so cool around them, y’know?” He reasons with you in an unusually high pitched voice, “If anything I think they appreciated seeing you let your guard down for once.”

You shake your head with a sigh, bringing a hand to your forehead and rubbing at your skin with force, “This is all your fault - now Corroded Coffin really are just gonna get the Halloween gig without any scheme or competition because I called all my fans assholes!”

“Er - I’m not the one that went batshit last night, Vamp - that was all you.”

Your glare at Rodrick gets harder and harsher, “Oh yeah? How much drink did you give me?”

“I can’t remember - quite a lot, but you seemed sorta pissed off about something so I thought that it might… help.”

“Help? Help me what? Make a damn fool of myself?” You scoff, chuckling sarcastically.

“No, no - I thought it might - I dunno - calm you down or - unleash - you looked so tense after the gig - so I let you drink? So what? We smoke weed at every soundcheck so what’s the big deal?”

“You think shoving a swimming pool’s worth of vodka down my throat until I black out is the answer to all my problems, huh?” You spit with attitude while he stares back at you with big eyes because he’d never seen you this angry. Yes, he’d pissed you off before, but you often brushed him off or sent him a playful glare because nothing he’d done previously had damaged your reputation or caused you to lose control like he had let happen last night.

“You wouldn’t even talk to me,” he mutters lowly with frustration clear in his voice.

“Boo-fuckin’-hoo, Rodrick - what has that got anything to do with you?”

Rodrick shrugs, seemingly unable to speak for himself or his lack of action last night to save you from public humiliation. “It worked, didn’t it?” he mutters under his breath, shrugging after and pursing his lips as if you meant nothing to him.

Your mouth falls open at his words, the selfishness of them, “So you actually think that - what? Just because you’re fucking me you have a free pass to all my thoughts and feelings? You have an automatic right to see everything going on in my head? I’m fine, Rodrick - see? You could’ve just asked.”

“You clearly weren’t fine last night, Vamp,” Rodrick states with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but his stare on you gets more intense with each word.

You stare back at him, matching his intensity, “Welllllll, if you were so worried about me, what exactly did you do to stop any of this from happening?”

A few seconds of silence pass while you both glare at each other harshly, “I figured that if anyone should be helping you, it should be your other boyfriend, Eddie - y’know, since you need him so much.”

You struggle to hold in the groan that was aching to leave your mouth. Instead, you bring your hands up to your face, your fingers pressing just slightly into your eyes to relieve the urge to punch him, “You’re not my boyfriend, Rodrick - and Eddie sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend either,” your hands drop down to your lap with a pillowy thud, “I hate him.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Rodrick responds with doubt and sarcasm towards you.

You roll your eyes while letting out a frustrated exhale before opening your mouth to defend yourself, but the sound of a cymbal crashing downstairs interrupts you.

The sound is close to deafening and lasts for five seconds before you are met with silence, which you take as an opportunity to try getting your words, but again, you are silenced by a loud drum roll.

“What’s going on?!” You do your best to shout over the noise.

Rodrick shrugs before shouting lazily, “I dunno - practicing probably!”

You grunt loudly before abruptly jumping off of the bed. You spot your clothes from last night laid messily on a random chair opposite the bed and grab them, followed by leaving Rodrick’s room with heavy stomping sounds each time your bare feet collide with the floor.

“Where are you going, V? We need to talk!” Rodrick calls after you, desperation clear in his voice.

“Later!” You shout back nonchalantly before soldiering on through your mission to put a stop to Corroded Coffin’s band practice, completely disregarding the fact that the shirt you’re wearing barely covers your underwear.

You mutter angrily under your breath as you sprint down the stairs, missing a few steps on your way which makes you slam into the wall a few times, but the frustration completely overrides the pain that you feel, especially after learning about what had apparently happened last night.

Maybe I do need the competition… but I certainly never intended to tell anybody, let alone an entire bar of people who worship me and my music, people who I have to keep up a reputation for… I’m supposed to be their queen of metal and I let them all down last night, and it all started when Eddie Munson and his band of nobodies decided to wander into the Hideout on a random, cold Friday night.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate hi-

Eddie’s voice is clear once you reach the door leading to the bar at the bottom of the staircase so you hastily decide to hide behind it and listen.

“Let’s start from the chorus,” Gareth suggests.

“Sure thing!” Eddie chirps eagerly in response, his enthusiasm briefly reminding you of when you first formed Stake For My Valentine.

You peek between the door and doorframe, seeing Eddie excitedly fiddling with some wires and his guitar. His tongue is tensed and gently rested on his bottom lip and his eyes are extremely focused, zeroed in on his microphone - he looks kinda sweet, you think, but that thought is quickly shaken away with a small shake of your head.

“You ready, Eddie?” Jeff asks.

“Yup, ready - ready,” Eddie nods for a few seconds before throwing his head forward and strumming an angelic sounding E major chord, which you assume is a signal for Gareth because he starts to count by hitting his drum sticks together before hitting a rhythm on the snare and crashing both sticks onto the cymbals. Eddie throws his head back up, making his long hair flow elegantly in the air and his bangs to fall over his forehead and eyes messily, “I fuckin’ hate that bitch!”

Your face falls and your jaw drops as he sings into the microphone, holding it gently between both his hands.

“Cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in - and they love and they love but - I - I-,” the lyrics are sung by Eddie in a sort of slurred and smooth way, rolling off of his tongue almost seductively… almost. He shakes his head as he plucks the wrong string, “This is so - stupid - I can’t do it. She’ll kill me if she hears this tonight, can we just scratch it from the setlist completely?”

What makes him so sure that I’ll be at his gig tonight?

Gareth let’s his hands fall with the drumsticks still grasping them in defeat, the tips of the sticks hit the snare and ride cymbal on their way down, “‘He’s just a loser with a guitar’… do you really think that that’s not about you?”

Eddie shakes his head, his face scrunching up in confusion, “I know, I know it is-,” he turns himself around to face away from you to be face to face with the rest of his band.

“And she didn’t give a shit that you heard her lyrics about you,” Gareth argues.

Eddie lifts the hand that had been wrapped around the neck of his guitar and raises his pointy finger by his face, “But it was Rodrick who read them out for everyone to hear, not Vamp.”

“So what?” Gareth asks with furrowed brows and a shrug of his shoulders.

Eddie mirrors Gareth’s actions by shrugging his shoulders too, “I dunno, man-.”

Gareth rolls his eyes at the conflict that Eddie was fighting in his head about whether or not to add the song he’d written about you to Corroded Coffin’s setlist to play in front of an entire audience to hear, “Oh c’mon, Eddie - you have to agree that she needs to be taken down a peg or twenty-five… she walks all over you like you’re a dirty rug or somethin’ and you’ve gotta do something about it.”

You squint your eyes at Gareth through the crack that you’ve been peeking through and quietly scoff at his harsh words.

Eddie stays silent, he’s clearly still fighting himself, judging by his fidgeting, but you still can’t see his face.

“I say we take a vote,” Gareth suggests, now looking between Jeff and Travis, who look just as bewildered as you imagine Eddie is looking right now. They eventually nod, apart from Eddie, who stays frozen on the spot, “Okay, hands up for Bitch in Boots and Fishnets to not be played at the show tonight,” Gareth speaks, keeping his hands firmly glued to his lap.

Eddie thrusts his arm up in the air enthusiastically, but the rest of his body is slouched in defeat.

Jeff and Travis exchange nervous looks at each other, like they are debating through eye contact, or urging the other to make the first move.

Jeff slowly raises his hand, only for Gareth to shoot him a glare, “Sorry, G. I’m all for knocking Vamp down a peg, but this just feels a little too harsh.”

Gareth avoids eye contact with Jeff, “Whatever, dude.”

“Sorry,” Jeff apologises again in a mumble, lowering his head for a moment of thought before lifting it again, “I just have a feeling that it’ll cause more harm than good when I only want for all members of Corroded Coffin and Stake For My Valentine to get along - surely there’s another way to get Vamp on board with us without adding fuel to the fire.”

Eddie slides his hand behind his neck, scratching it, which causes his head to turn so that you can momentarily see his face. He looks entirely skeptical and so does Gareth, who chooses to completely ignore Jeff’s advice.

“We’ve tried to be nice - Eddie has tried to be nice… I think it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine - see how she likes being messed with… it’ll also give us an advantage in this Battle of The Bands thing,” Gareth states matter of factly with a hint of excitement in his voice before sighing, then nodding, “Those in favor of playing Bitch in Boots and Fishnets tonight, raise a hand,” Gareth has his arm raised while he speaks, and, like a puppy, Travis follows and lifts his arm too. Gareth then looks between Jeff and Eddie, hoping that they’d changed their minds, only for them to keep their hands at their sides.

Eddie looks entirely relieved, his body visibly relaxes. “I guess we’re even then, which is probably for the best because the song isn’t even finished yet and - I - I don’t think I can do it… especially if Vamp is here tonight,” he rambles, avoiding eye contact with all of his band-mates and staring down at his guitar instead.

A dumbfounded Gareth blinks at Eddie, “Bullshit. We all saw your lyric book this morning - we only saw the title but you always fold the pages of songs that are finished.”

Eddie brings a hand to his face, caressing his cheekbones with his thumb and index finger, “I know I know I know - Jesus H. Christ - I was writing all night and I must’ve just mistakenly left it out… and yeah - I was - angry - yesterday-.”

“You don’t say,” Gareth interjects.

“I was angry-,” Eddie repeats, looking at Gareth over his hand that stretched across his face above his nose, “after finding out that Vamp had written shitty things about me, and maybe I started writing it because I wanted to get back at her for that and for practically fucking Rodrick in my face, but then I - I started-bringing-other-sorta-resurfaced-feelings-into-it-that-I-don’t-want-her-knowing-about, m’kay?” Eddie stares intensely between the three boys stood with him, he spoke the words so fast that they practically had no gap between them and you could hardly pick up on what he had said.

Whatever Eddie had said, Jeff, Gareth and Travis’ mouths had fallen agape in response.

“You still- after the way that she’s treated you in the last week?” Gareth asks in disbelief with a hushed voice so that all you can hear are mumbles.

Eddie lifts his shoulders up, making his neck completely disappear, “I know I shouldn’t, but I guess crushes as big as the one I had on her don’t just go away - even after she calls you a loser,” he mutters loud enough for his friends to hear, but not you.

All of his friends are silent around Eddie, digesting more incoherent words from where you are hidden.

Jeff, Gareth and Travis exchange looks between each other, it’s hard to tell what they are thinking, but it visibly puts Eddie on edge, because he shakes his head and nervous laughter leaves his lips.

Your hand starts to ache from holding your body weight up against the door, your eyes are hurting from having to squint so hard to catch a glimpse of the band on the other side of the door and, quite frankly, you are getting bored of not being able to hear what they are talking about… you can only guess that they are talking about Rodrick because they don’t know that you’re only a few metres away, let alone that you’re in the building.

“We’re not, I repeat, we’re not playing my song tonight and nothing - nothing you do or say will change my mind about it,” Eddie, very seriously declares, his voice returning to the volume it had been before he started whispering, enabling you to hear.

You take a deep breath, straighten your back and grip onto the door handle before putting on your best smirk.

The latch of the door clicks as you press downward onto the handle and swiftly open the creaky door, immediately gaining the attention of all four of the Corroded Coffin boys. You fight the urge not to hysterically laugh because all of their faces are priceless at your very sudden, very unexpected reveal.

You walk in, still smugly smirking with your hand raised and your eyes honed in on Eddie, whose jaw has dropped so much that, if he wasn’t careful, could catch a bunch of flies. His chocolaty brown eyes are almost as wide as his mouth is open and, just like his entire body that is facing you now, they are completely focused on you.

You’re so focused on him that you notice the way his pupils dilate when he breaks eye contact and trail down to your red panties that peek a little from underneath Rodrick’s shirt while you walk towards him. Eddie’s gaze is so intense, almost predatory, that you can’t help but feel vulnerable under it, especially as his eyes trail further down to your bare thighs - you’d never been so scrutinised before, it causes goosebumps to form all over you and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

Not even Rodrick has looked at you the way Eddie is looking at you now - and Rodrick has seen you naked… but something tells you that you wouldn’t have been as affected anyway if it had been Rodrick stood in Eddie’s place right now.

It takes you a few moments to regain your composure, though your legs still feel like jelly because he continues to ravenously gaze at you like you’re his last meal.

It’s not until you clear your throat that he seems to snap out of the trance he’s under, his eyes travel back up your body and land on the ‘Löded Diper’ logo written across your chest - you notice him exhale through his nose at the sight of it.

The excitement in his eyes leaves in the moment that he realises exactly where you’d been the entire night… and doing god knows what with Rodrick. He pictures all of the positions that he could only dream of having you in and feels his hands start to get so clammy with sweat that he wipes his palms aggressively on the thighs of his black ripped jeans.

You keep your hand raised as you come to a stop about a metre away from the raised platform that all four of the Corroded Coffin boys are stood on. The smug smirk is still evident on your lips, “Doesn’t my vote count? Y’know, since the song is about me.”

Eddie freezes, his hands glued to his thighs. The only part of him that moves are his eyes, which look down at you through his long and dark lashes, “N-no?” He stutters questioningly, it’s as if he can’t believe that you’re here, like you’re a ghost or a figment of his imagination. He suddenly stands up straight, wipes his forehead with his wrist and undoes his blue denim jacket, which you can tell has seen better days, and chucks it to the side.

You drag your eyes away from his, looking him up and down before catching a glimpse of the ‘Black Sabbath’ t-shirt he had been hiding under the jacket.

Fine - maybe he really was the boy that approached me at the lockers back in 7th grade… just with way more hair and a lot taller. Maybe he was being nice that day and maybe he was really just looking for a friend and happened to see the magazine cut out of Black Sabbath in my locker… but so what? It doesn’t mean that I have an obligation to like him now.

We’ve changed.

If we couldn’t see eye to eye then, then we most definitely cannot see eye to eye now… right? Right. I mean, for the love of Ozzy Osbourne, we’ve written songs about how much we hate each other… we can’t undo that… but I might as well hear it and maybe… just maybe - really listen to his words… perhaps I could - I dunno - take on board a few of ‘em… if he makes any good points that is.

You pout, blinking up at him, trying to ignore the fact that he’s towering over you by a foot because of the platform he’s stood on and you are face to face with his crotch. You notice the slight tent in his jeans by the fly - lucky me, you think sarcastically, but you can’t help but look for a second longer than you should because - hey, it’s right there. “That’s such a shame, Munson - I was so hoping to hear it tonight,” the hand that you had raised drops with a thud to your side and you stare up into his eyes again.

Eddie squints his very round eyes at you, his head tilting slightly in confusion while the other boys also exchange perplexed looks behind him… they all can’t seem to tell if you are being nice, or whether you’re tricking them into thinking you are.

“R-really?” Eddie stutters doubtfully, though there is still hope evident in his voice.

A small, genuine giggle leaves your lips, “Really.”

“R-right.” Eddie’s brows furrow while he continues to look at you with a mix of horror and confusion, “How long were you listening in on us exactly?”

“Oh - just the entire time,” you lie, well - half lie, but you aren’t going to tell him that you missed a tiny snippet of their discussion because of their whispering.

A staring contest between you and Eddie commences after that, you take a small step closer to him so that you’re just a foot away from him and he exhales shakily at your close proximity. You win very quickly because he shakes his head, scrunching up his nose and squinting his eyes shut, “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?” You ask, confused. Eddie continues to scrutinise you with his eyes, you tilt your head and furrow your brows at him, “What exactly do you think I’m doing?”

“I dunno, Vamp - but I have no doubt that you’ve probably got a little trick up your sleeve to try and humiliate me tonight - and I’m not gonna fall for it only to be shot down by you again.” Eddie’s voice exudes sarcasm and frustration and he has a strained smile on his lips while he speaks, his arms flail about everywhere until he stops suddenly and grips tightly onto his guitar with both his hands.

You start to feel warm with bubbling anger from being so confused, you try to mask it with self-defence, “That’s not true, I really want to hear what you have to say-.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Eddie snorts, as do the boys behind him.

You place both your hands on your hips, your clothes still tucked between your left arm and your side, “Is it really that hard to believe?”

Eddie gulps, sheepishly looking you up and down before sternly and deeply staring into your eyes, “Yeah, it is actually.”

Your features harden just as his seem to soften when he realises how harsh he’d just sounded.

I can’t believe I even tried to give him a chance to impress me. “Oh yeah?” you retort with sarcasm.

Eddie hums while giving you one nod of his head.

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins now in response to his nonchalance towards you - he cares so little that I can’t even get one word out of him? “Well in that case…” you drop your skirt and t-shirt that you had been wearing last night, then you pick up your skirt and step into it one leg at a time before shimmying it all the way up your legs, letting out small grunts as you pull the garment over your hips, “Fuck your gig-,” you lift Rodrick’s shirt up and over your head, revealing your black lace bra underneath, chucking it onto the floor beside you, “fuck your song-,” your lips tug up into a side smirk at Eddie, who is not so discreetly staring at your bra-clad breasts with wide eyes. You pick up your shirt, very quickly realising that you had been wearing your favorite Ozzy Osbourne shirt last night, and close your eyes as you swiftly pull it over your face, “and fuck - you.” Eddie is still looking at you with blown out, lusting eyes even when your shirt is completely covering you - you ignore the warmth that you feel in the pit of your stomach, but you try to ignore it by chuckling it away… and insulting him on your way out of the Hideout… “Perv!”

“Get Rodrick down here - his vote counts!” You hear Gareth’s voice a few seconds after your exit before you proceed to walk home, “What? You can play it now if she’s not coming!”

⎈ 🎸⎈

You spend the rest of the day with conflicting thoughts about whether you should show your face at Corroded Coffin’s gig tonight.

One moment you’re laying on your back in your bed, muttering ‘fuck ‘em - fuck it - why should I go? I can’t go - I can’t face that asshole again’ to yourself, then a minute later you’ve rolled onto your stomach and are telling yourself that you ‘have to go - I have to be there just in case they do play his goddamn song - I can’t miss it - I’m not scared of Eddie Munson - I’m going.’

Then suddenly you find yourself stood outside of the Hideout in your trusty fishnets and boots at 11:55pm, staring at the building in anticipation. It’s the first time your heart is beating so fast because you have no idea what is to come, usually every time you walk into the bar it’s the same, like deja vu, your fans running to greet you, Rodrick shamelessly flirting with you, your band sat in your designated booth already with a drink in hand, the local man sitting at the bar drinking away after a long day at work and maybe even a bar fight between two men who’d had one drink too many.

You try to ignore the voice in your head telling you to ‘turn back and go home… it’s not too late to get outta this… what am I even doing here? They’re probably on their last song anyway’ You give in, turning around and doing exactly what your thoughts tell you to, you walk away.

“How about we end tonight’s gig with a new one?” You hear muffled cheers and ‘hell yeahs’ in response.

“How many times do I have to love you, baby? Touch the ground when you’re feeling down-,” you stop walking at the sound of Eddie’s muffled voice from inside the bar.

You recognise the tune of the first verse to be the first part of the supposed revenge song that Eddie had written for you… but didn’t he just sing - love - in what is supposed to be a hate song about me? You’re too curious to walk away any further. Instead, you resume your way towards the door leading into the Hideout.

“You walk around like you own this town” - huh, he’s not entirely wrong about that.

“Vamp, is that you?” You hear a familiar voice behind you, making you jump before looking over your shoulder, “What are you doing lurking out here in the rain?”

Alyssa…

You hadn’t even noticed the rain until she mentioned it, “Oh nothin’, just hangin’ around,” you say overly casually with a shrug of your shoulders, which Alyssa responds with an amused look and a giggle, “What?”

Alyssa looks at you with a playful, knowing look, “You’re here to see Rodrick, amiriiiggght?”

So she didn’t see your drunk commotion last night - she must’ve left early with Elektra.

You decide to play dumb because you don’t want her knowing that you’re actually here for Eddie. Your face contorts into one of over-the-top confusion, “What? Noooooo,” you giggle shyly.

“C’monnnn, Vamp - don’t think we didn’t see you cosying up with him in our booth last night,” she playfully nudges your shoulder and winks at you with her tongue cheekily sneaking past her teeth.

“Is that why you left early - because me and Rodrick were in the Vampire’s lair?” You ask, referring to the booth that you’d had many after-show discussions, weed and drinks in, and had given it a name because you, Alyssa, Elektra and Cherie used it so much.

Alyssa shakes her head, “We all just figured that you and Rodrick would want some - privacy - so we all-just-went-home - anyway-,” she tiptoes closer to you with excitement clear on her face, “Is it official now - you and Rodrick?” She whispers.

Fuck no! “Toootally,” you drag it out with a forced, swooning smile on your face. I can’t dig myself any deeper than this… you have to stop yourself from facepalming your forehead. “And what about you and Gareth?” You ask purely to change the subject, your tone overly normal as if you hadn’t been scowling at the pair whenever you caught them together.

Alyssa’s cheeks go red and she tries to hide it by looking down, her infamous cowboy hat helps hide her blushing, “We - er - we’re just frien- I mean - I totally hate him - fuck Corroded Coffin!” She states way too enthusiastically before her ears perk up like a dog towards the sound of Corroded Coffin playing inside, “Huh - I’ve not heard this one before! C’mon - let’s go let’s go!” She shakes your shoulders excitedly, guiding you with nudges towards the door and inside the bar.

You catch yourself grinning at Alyssa’s excitement because it is contagious, it always has been.

The first thing that catches your eye, to your surprise, is Eddie, whose face is scrunched up from singing so passionately. You don’t even notice the crowd of familiar faces dancing and singing in front of you, but you do notice Alyssa squeezing your shoulders - it’s the only thing that you do notice that isn’t Eddie related right now.

“Do you think of me as I’m thinking of you?”

A similar warmth that you felt before comes back at his words and you don’t expect it. Your mouth drops open as you focus on a stray strand of hair that has elegantly and messily fallen over his right eye and then a droplet of sweat that is running down his cheek.

“Have you lost your mind? ‘Cause I’ve lost mine.”

I sure feel like I have. You can’t help but think that you have lost your mind when thoughts of how pretty Eddie Munson looks when he’s singing about you, wielding his guitar with sweat all over him linger in your head.

“This is the most romantic song I’ve ever heard in my entire life!” Alyssa shouts in your ear with a massive grin on her face.

Just you wait until you hear the part where he screams about how much he hates me-

“She says that I’m a loser - I fuckin’ hate that bitch!”

There it is… right on cue.

Your eyes are wide as you continue to watch Eddie, but they are not wide with hate… more - in wonder at the way he sings his lyrics. Though they are words of hate, he delivers them in such a vulnerable and heartbroken way that causes you to be filled with admiration for him… especially after you’d deemed him to be a weak novice at most during his first gig here.

A genuine smile slowly starts to spread from your lips, to your rosy cheeks, to your bright eyes and to the lines between your brows when you realise that this is the most romantic thing that anybody has ever done for you… and of all people, it’s Eddie Munson who has swooned you into a frozen, wordless statue.

“‘Cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in -,” Eddie’s eyelashes flutter as he sings. He looks so angelic that you don’t notice the stares from your fans who had witnessed the ruckus you’d caused last night, “And they love and they love but I don’t fit in!”

Eddie is completely focused on his guitar and the solo that he shreds from the instrument, like he’s making love to it… it’s intimate, watching his fingers pluck the strings like it’s just him and his guitar in the foggy room, you’re almost jealous (highlight on almost), but you’re the one he’s singing about so you guess it’s a win-win for both you and the guitar…

That is until you feel a tap on your shoulder that breaks your gaze from Corroded Coffin’s frontman. “Why is everybody glaring at you?!” Alyssa whisper-shouts in your ear.

You avoid looking at all of your glaring fans because you can already feel them on you, “I don’t know!” You lie… they’ll come around when they see me back on stage on Monday - it’s just a temporary glitch, you convince yourself, “- But it’s nothing I can’t handle, Al - trust me!”

“She says that I’m a loser - I fuckin’ hate that bitch - ‘cause she takes and she takes - she won’t give in - and they love and they love but I don’t fit in!”

You feel Alyssa squeeze your shoulder in response, her way of saying ‘I trust you’ through physical touch.

The sound of Eddie’s guitar sounds again, drawing you in like it’s calling for you. Eddie then moves closer to the microphone again, his pink and plump lips brushing up against the metal of it, breathing into it before starts to vocalise with the melody he is playing on his guitar. His voice and guitar harmonise together beautifully, especially inside the Hideout where it creates an echoey effect - it sounds like a siren calling to put a spell on everyone in the room… and it’s working.

Then Gareth’s drums then take over Eddie’s guitar and vocals, causing Alyssa to blurt out an excited scream, but you’re still longingly staring at Eddie with a dreamy smile plastered on your lips.

“And they love and they love but I don’t fit in - I’ve lost my mind - but-,” Eddie’s eyes open, not completely as his lids still are half covering his blown-out pupils, and they happen to land dead on you, “m-my - queen will be kind,” he stutters, but quickly gains control over his vocals when he further examines your face, the small smile on it… like you’re actually enjoying yourself… and your eyes… you’re looking at him the way he’s been dreaming for you to look at him for years… it fills him with so much confidence that he doesn’t dare tear his dark eyes away from you.

You ignore Alyssa’s desperate taps on your shoulder and her looming over your shoulder to try and grab your attention, which is showing no sign of budging away from Corroded Coffin’s frontman.

“I’ve lost my mind - I know my queen will be kind,” he doesn’t even blink away from you at the back of the small crowd before him, not even once. “My queen will be kind,” he slurs out the last verse with a smug smile on his face, like the cat who got the cream, and sweat continuously dripping down his face from the exhaustion of his entire set… it only makes you feel more turned on - infatuated, confused, horny - can I be all three of those things at once? I don’t know - I’ve never felt all three so intensely before.

“Why’re you looking at Eddie like that?!” You feel another tap on the shoulder from Alyssa. “Was it about you - the song?!” Yet another tap.

“Maybe it was - who cares?!” You respond, trying to sound as detached as your words, but your eyes still don’t leave Eddie’s while he starts to play the song’s gradual end.

Alyssa looms over your shoulder, no longer staring at you or the stage. Her taps on your shoulder falter, “And if you and Rodrick are official, why is he shoving his tongue down another girl’s throat?!” Her words certainly do grab your attention now, they make your blood run cold after it had been so warm, and cause your head to whip in the direction that Alyssa is looking.

And sure enough, Alyssa hadn’t mistaken Rodrick for somebody else. He is stood at the bar, pulling on another girl’s locks like his life depended on it, his leg tucked between her thighs and the kissing is so messy that you can even see saliva shining around their mouths from where you are.

Your nose twitches, your lips tremble and your entire body temperature is frozen to the point that it feels like a horrible burning sensation when you move even an inch.

I can’t believe him.

It’s not like you are, or ever had been in love with Rodrick - but you assumed that he had enough respect for you not to be doing what he is doing right now… in front of you, your fans, your friends, people that you love - and in the place that you love so dearly.

You become hyper sensitive and aware of your surroundings, unlike before, where you had been focused on none other than Eddie. You are met with glares upon glares while there’s mumbling and whispering all around you now that Corroded Coffin have stopped playing - you no longer feel welcome in a place you call home more than your actual home that you eat and sleep in.

Your heart is pounding twice as fast as when you were stood outside, and your eyes are threatening to spill tears.

This is not how I planned for tonight to go… sneak into the Hideout undetected, listen to Eddie’s song and leave just as undetected as I came… not get caught by Alyssa, develop a crush on Eddie, be detected, see Rodrick making out with another girl, cry on the dance floor.

You can no longer stall the tears, they start to fall in gallons upon gallons and you can’t do anything to hide them, no matter how much you try to wipe them all away with your wrist that is now covered with eyeliner and mascara.

As you furiously keep wiping your tears away, you unintentionally catch a glimpse of Eddie, who is looking back at you with an extremely concerned expression on his face. He’s no longer smiling sweetly, his eyes are no longer bright or full of want, no, need for you, but there’s still yearning in them that is still tempting you.

No, you shake your head, looking down. Tonight was important for him and I want my smiling face, enjoying his song, to be how he remembers tonight… and how his face lit up when he saw me to be how I remember tonight. You stare straight at the exit of the Hideout - I need to get out of here fast - and make a beeline for it, wiggling yourself out of Alyssa’s embrace and pushing past people, hearing them booing you and saying things like: ‘I can’t believe I ever was a fan - Corroded Coffin are where it’s at!’

When you reach the door you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the bliss of fresh, cold air and silence.

It’s still raining outside, maybe even more heavily than before you set foot in the Hideout, but you don’t care. You face the sky, scrunching you’re eyes shut and let the rain fall onto your skin and drench your clothes. The loud sounds of rain droplets continuously falling around you and the sensation of water on your skin nearly makes you forget about what just happened.

That’s the second commotion you’ve caused in two nights, Vamp - I don’t know whether to congratulate you or pity you. You force out a laugh that comes out in small chokes.

The door to the Hideout opens and shuts, the creak that it makes is quieter than you expect, but the rain is just that loud.

“Vamp?” Eddie. You refuse to look at him directly, but you can make out his frame in the corner of your eye, “Vamp - hey,” he jogs towards you and stops when he’s stood right in front of you, you stare at his sneaker-clad feet.

“Hey, Eddie,” you pause before saying his name in a small voice that makes him visibly deflate, you suppose he was expecting a sassy response like ‘what the hell are you looking at, Munson?’, but you don’t give him that - you don’t give him anything.

Eddie roughly pulls his bandana off of his head, “If it’s about the song, ‘m sorry… but I didn’t think you’d be here after the whole ‘fuck you, fuck this, fuck that’ ordeal earlier,” he rambles, which makes you giggle through a few more tears.

You suck in all of your pride and drag your eyes from his sneakers to meet his own eyes, that are full of concern for you, “I’m - not upset because of t-the song,” you mumble softly, but loud enough for him to hear. Your eyes flicker between both of his eyes and you notice small droplets of water gathering on his eyelashes, “I - I loved it, Eddie.”

He blinks, “Y-you - did?”

A weak giggle leaves your lips, “I really - really did. I know - I’m shocked too.” You wipe your eyes again, but with your other wrist now, “You should go - back inside, Eddie - you’ll catch a cold - I’m fine,” you state, surprising concern for him showing in your voice.

“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Eddie shakes his head firmly, his hair now clinging to his shoulders from how soaked its getting due to the rain, he’d stay outside and happily drown in the rain if he got to hear you say his name once more - it sounds angelic coming from your lips.

“But-.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere-,” he boldly states before his eyes soften under your gaze, “M-kay?”

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes… it’s kinda funny how the person who cares the most is the person who I’ve spent so much time hating. “Okay,” you whisper with a little, shy smile on your face.

Eddie’s lips tug up into a smug smile that you would’ve punched off if he hadn’t have written such a beautiful song for you, or cared for you more than anyone else you know. He slowly brings his bandana towards your face, cautiously dabbing and wiping away your smudged and runny make-up from your eyes. His tongue is peeking past his lips and his eyes are furrowed in pure concentration, but his hands are shaking from nerves - he’s never seen you this close-up before and he doesn’t know what to say, or think, so he decides to just enjoy this moment.

You examine each other’s features so closely that you become dizzy. Eddie brings his spare hand up to your shoulder, steadying you gently when he realises that you’re leaning closer - you forget that Rodrick even exists until you find yourself gazing at Eddie’s lips.

Fuck it - if he can move on that quickly then so can I.

“Did you mean them?” You find yourself asking timidly while he’s still carefully wiping your make-up away.

He pauses his small movements around your eyes to focus on your question, “Mean them - as innn? My totally metal moves on that stage tonight?” He jokes nervously, making his dimples stand out.

You giggle with a roll of your eyes before punching his chest gently with your fist, “N-no, dummy,” you cringe at yourself for being so soft, but you can’t help it because he’s being so soft and gentle with you. He’s chuckling at being called a ‘dummy’ by you, resuming cleaning your face with his bandana, which you take the opportunity to calm your nerves by deeply exhaling and closing your eyes, “I meant your words - about me,” your words come out so softly that for a moment you wonder if he has heard you, but him halting his movements again and hearing him taking a deep breath confirms to you that he has - you open your eyes.

I must look like a complete mess right now, you realise, with your hair soaked and your eyes heavy and dark with patches of eyeshadow that Eddie hadn’t wiped away yet… but he is looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he nods shyly, his eyes wavering from yours for a brief second, “Y-yeah, every word.”

There’s a hint of fear and guilt in his eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to be angry at him for essentially calling you an egotistical ‘bitch’ right now when you are feeling so many other intense feelings that are urging you to just bite the bullet and kiss him… before you think too hard about it, you reach for his shoulders and quickly close the distance between you, capturing his plump pink lips with your own.

He falls backward slightly at your momentum and the way that you practically throw your body at his. He’s completely frozen against you with his eyes wide open while you eagerly move your lips on his… shit - did I just make a massive mista- to your surprise, the moment that you start to think about pulling away to apologise, he kisses you back.

His lips taste like the beer he probably downed before his show, and with every second that you kiss them, you’re hungry for more of him so you satisfy your need for him by sliding your hands from his shoulders to behind his neck for more skin to skin contact. You press your fingers into the back of his neck, which makes him grunt against you and the kiss becomes even more desperate.

His technique is kinda sloppy, literally, but you’re already so wet from the rain that a little more isn’t going to hurt.

As you slip your tongue into his mouth his hands dive for your soaked hair and pull, making you moan into the kiss and he takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue now.

Your nose bumps against his larger one as you fight for dominance, which isn’t hard because when you slide your hands into his damp curly hair he is putty in your arms. He falls backward slightly as you press him against the exterior wall of the front of the Hideout, making him hold onto you even tighter, pulling your entire body against him so that there is not a single gap between your bodies… you can feel his erection through his jeans, pressing against your stomach, which causes him to whine, and you to smirk into the kiss… already? I know I’m good but I didn’t know I was that good.

“Vamp-,” he mumbles dreamily, breathlessly before taking a millisecond to gather some more breath. “I- my pants-,” his face is completely pink, except for his cheeks which are cherry red, “it - it hurts.”

You pull away from the kiss for a brief moment, leaning your upper half back to look down at where your hips meet, “You mean your cock?” You whisper with an amused look on your face.

He looks down too at where you both are connected, nodding after, “Y-yeah, my - my cock.”

You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling, “Jeez, Eddie - we’ve been making out for three minutes tops.”

Eddie keeps his head low, sliding one of his hands down from your hair to your cheek, using his fingertips to drag along your skin, “I know I know, it’s not like I’ve been dreaming about this for years or anything like some freak.” He finally decides to look up at you, and as if he is checking that you are real, he swipes his thumb over your cheekbone, “Besides, it’s not like I’m a Casanova or anything. This-,” he gestures between the two of you with his other hand, “happens to me… never,” he admits.

“Never?” You ask in a hushed, high pitched voice, gazing at him so intensely while you wait for an answer.

You know that he knows what you’re asking exactly because his face gets even redder, embarrassed. He shakes his head, “Never.” His eyes try to read your facial expression in response to him revealing that he is, in fact, a virgin - he wonders if he has scared you away for a second, but you stay firmly in his arms, which is good enough of an answer for him.

The thought of nobody else having touched him actually turns you on even more… if he had told you a few days ago you might’ve called him ‘lame’ just to get a rise out of him, but it wouldn’t have been the truth - you admire him for waiting.

“Can I - touch you?” You ask cautiously, resting your hand on his shoulder while your other one stays tangled in his wet hair, “It’s totally okay if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, “Fuck - yes, of course I want you to touch me, Vamp - it’s just-,” he examines your surroundings, suspiciously staring at some drunk people who stagger out of the Hideout without noticing either of you just metres away from the door. “Out here?” He asks in a small voice, locking eyes with you again. His pupils are blown out with excitement, adrenaline and nerves that you can tell he’s trying to fight off… because the thought of being jacked off by you with the risk of getting caught is intriguing him - and making him even more hard, which he didn’t think could be possible considering his cock is already straining his jeans.

“You - think I’m being crazy right?” Your lips tug up to the side before you let out a small giggle.

Eddie giggles with you, “Crazy hot.”

You shake your head, giggling even more, “you dork.”

I can’t believe I’m flirting with Eddie Munson right now.

You can tell that everything you’re doing is turning him on even more, even calling him a dork, “D-do it - touch me, Vamp,” he whispers with a scrunched up face.

You hum in response, staring at him for a few seconds before capturing his lips into a second kiss that is so full of anticipation and heavy breathing. You slide your hand down the outfit that he had been wearing all day, over his Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans - once your fingertips touch the small area of his belly that is peeking between the hem of his shirt and jeans his breath hitches.

“F-fuck - I - can’t believe - we’re doing this,” he admits breathlessly with a little chuckle into the kiss while your hand dares to go even lower.

Your hand gently cups his erection over his jeans, “Y-you - mean - out here?” You say between more kisses.

“Well - yeah - that too, but I meant - you and me,” he mumbles against your mouth dreamily while you give him a light squeeze, which makes him moan into your mouth, “We - hated - each other this - morning- ah!” He whines when you give him a harder squeeze to stop him from rambling desperately against your mouth.

You smile against his lips, thinking about how cute it is that he can’t keep his mouth shut, but he has to keep quiet if he doesn’t want any of the drunk staggerers coming out of the Hideout to notice the both of you together. “Shut - up and let me - help you,” you mumble into more kisses, to which he responds with a hum and a gyrate of his hips.

He keeps rolling his hips into yours while your hand keeps palming him, making himself whimper and hungry for you to actually stick your hand down his pants and touch him.

You fiddle with the hem of his jeans while you kiss messily, the rest of your arms all over each other, and just as you’re about to stick your hand down his pants you hear your name being called… but it’s not Eddie’s voice - it’s Rodrick’s.

Hearing his voice makes your blood bubble with anger again, and your heart to sink down to your feet upon realisation that another moment had been ruined for you tonight by Rodrick.

You push Eddie away, which makes him ricochet back off of the wall and towards you, but you’re already facing Rodrick with a scowl on your face, “Rodrick.”

His face looks heartbroken, disappointed, angry, but you don’t feel a thing or a morsel of regret for kissing Eddie, “One minute you guys hate the shit outta each other and now you’re gettin’ it on outside my home… the fuck have I just walked into, Vamp?”

You open your mouth to speak, but Alyssa appears behind Rodrick, looking between you and Eddie with confusion written all over her face, “I can explain, Al,” you tell her with a pleading look.

Rodrick let’s out a sarcastic chuckle, “So she gets an explanation but I don’t?” He points at Alyssa with a thumb over his shoulder and speaks in a tone of disbelief.

“You think you deserve one?” You ask, your voice laced with distrust. Rodrick raises a brow, trying his hardest to look confused. “I saw you in there, Rodrick - playing tonsil tennis with that girl.”

Rodrick shakes his head before bringing a hand up to his chin, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger, “What was it that you said earlier? Oh yeah - ‘you’re not my boyfriend, Rodrick’ - and what was the other bit?” He thinks again for a second before a lightbulb switches on inside his head, “‘Eddie sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend either.’”

You can feel Eddie’s piercing stare on you at the mention of his name, the rest of his face is sort of dumbfounded, blank, and he visibly deflates with a long exhale, letting himself fall back against the wall.

“Oh fuck you, Rodrick!” You burst, feeling your eyes tear up from the anger boiling so hot inside you.

Rodrick smirks, pouting his bottom lip, “You won’t be, but she will,” he nods in the direction of the Hideout before turning himself back to the entrance, “See you Monday,” he mumbles before letting himself back into the bar, where muffled music can be heard from the stereo on the bar inside.

Your breathing is rapid and hot as you watch him, but your eyes sadden when they avert to Alyssa, who looks so downtrodden and disappointed in you, and you can’t be angry at her after you’d mocked and teased her for wanting to date Gareth, practically forbidding her from going anywhere near him… and here you are, kissing his best friend after swearing to her and the rest of your band that you loathed him.

Alyssa looks down at her fiddling fingers, “I - need to go home and - think about - stuff,” she mumbles, starting to turn away from you.

“Alyssa,” you call softly, watching her stop at the sound of your voice.

“I won’t tell Elektra and Cherie if that’s what you’re worried about,” she tells you softly, looking over her shoulder to give you a sad, closed mouth smile before taking her cowboy hat off and walking in the direction of her home.

A few minutes of silence pass and Eddie is still stood against the wall, watching you, but you’re too angry at yourself to speak… what was I even thinking? Making out with Eddie Munson out here - no, scratch that, making out with Eddie Munson full stop. It felt good to be in his arms - too good.

“Vamp,” you hear him mumble, causing you to catch a glance of him, his eyes still express deep concern and care for you which confuses your anger even more.

“I’m gonna go,” you say under your breath, glimpsing at his lips and turning yourself away before you attempt to kiss him again and fall in love even more.

“Vamp-,” he repeats as he takes a step towards you, ignoring the pain in his pants when he moves his legs.

You abruptly turn yourself around to face Eddie again and though you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t kiss him again a second ago… you find yourself leaning into him, crashing your lips against his roughly for a few seconds before pushing him away from you - no no no, what am I doing? “Leave me alone, Eddie,” you turn yourself away from him and start walking again.

“No - wait,” He catches your hand in his and gently tugs at it, his touch sending shivers through you, making you spin to face him once more. He’s looking down at your hand that is barely visible in his larger, veinier one that has little doodles on it that he probably drew during class yesterday. His eyes flicker up at your face, watching you react to the exact same tingles that he felt where your skin is touching his, “You - you feel that too, right? The electricity?”

Yes, everywhere - and I’m scared because I’ve never felt it before other than when I’m with you… and maybe that’s why I hated you, because I’m just a stupid scaredy cat about anything more than just a quick fuck before and after a gig with Rodrick… is what you want to say, but are too scared to actually voice it… maybe I can show it, that I do feel it too. You look at his lips for what feels like the thousandth time today, yet you aren’t tired of the sight of them, then you pull him towards you with your connected hands, kissing him. He loses himself in your kiss for a few seconds before his eyes open and he nudges you away, cutting the kiss short.

Eddie shakes his head, flustered, “No - no, I want to hear you say it,” he pleads breathlessly, watching your face contort into one of bewilderment at his sudden rejection for your kiss, “Please.”

You bite your lips together, thinking about it, but your brain can hardly come to any kind of conclusion because too much has happened… my mind is a mess, I just can’t think - I need some time alone to try and fix the mess that I’ve made over the last few days… my band, Alyssa - poor Alyssa.

Eddie looks up at the sky as if he’s praying for help from above before looking down at you and squeezing your hand that’s still encased by his, “C’mon, Vamp - you’re killing me here-.”

You scoff, “Me? Killing you?”

“Uh huh-.”

“You say that as if you haven’t destroyed my reputation at the Hideout, as if you haven’t taken away what was supposed to be Stake’s Halloween gig, as if I didn’t just lose a friend and - potentially my band just for kissing you,” you ramble, not realising that you’re squeezing Eddie’s hand for reassurance, like it’s a stress ball.

Eddie, however, does notice your lethal grip and looks down at your hands, choking out a little chuckle, “And yet you’re still holding my hand like a vice - gee, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you have feelings for me.”

Your face drops as you reach boiling point at yourself for giving your feelings away so easily. You snatch your hand out of Eddie’s immediately, dropping it back to your side with brute force, “Now I hate you,” you grumble. You both try to give each other hard eyes to try and express hate, but you both land up giving each other a soft, smouldering look that you just can’t fall for again, so you groan and turn on your heel, “Don’t you dare follow me this time, Munson - because I won’t be kissing you again!” You yell as you cross the quiet road to get to the woods.

“Good!” He yells back, watching your frame longingly as you walk away.

“Fantastic!” You shout, now letting your tears of want for him fall down your cheeks and onto the mud and leaves that crunch under your feet. You half expect him to shout back another word like ‘brilliant’ or ‘great’ that you’re sure will send another jab to your heart, but there’s only silence after that and you don’t know what’s worse - him giving up, or hearing another word that expresses how happy he is to know that you won’t be kissing him again.

This is the first and last time that Eddie Munson makes me cry.

⇝ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ’𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒’ 𝐨𝐫 ’𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

@big-ope-vibes @majesticjellyfishzombie @b-ritney @joyfulcandyrunaway @sidthedollface2 @aysheashea @spookycreepycookie @bookobsessedfreak @lefdepard @rottinglexi @aol19 @loki-loves-cats @eddieslooneymoonie @sillypurplemurple @hllfrclb @weirdkidfromtheupsidedown

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

@introvertedmouse @munsonology @fastnights @kathieycarrerarosshley @marjoriea13 @goldengunspinkrosses-blog @lolalanaie @neteyamsluvts @sadbitchfangirl

🜸

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #immie writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fem!reader #stranger things #eddie munson writing #corroded coffin #battle of the bands #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson ff #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson enemies to lovers #eddie munson stranger things #rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader #rockstar!eddie smut #eddie munson slow burn #eddie stranger things #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson fandom

[nat-20s]

mini-fic time!!!

(all of these r also posted on ao3 lol)

Donna and The Doctor share a discussion about Christmas

~*~

It’s during one of their many little late night chats that the subject comes up. It even happens organically, Donna noting the soft glow of the fairy lights pinned about that were, technically speaking, Christmas lights, and how the entire family had apparently conceded to this being a year round fixture. Of course, instead of focusing on the noble-temple-mott-doctor clan’s terrible consistency with interior decorating, the Doctor throws on a downright cheeky grin and asks, “So. You still hate Christmas?”

She knows the answer he’s expecting. After all, this year’s event was, perhaps, ‘lovely” and ‘joyful’ and ‘bringing tears to her eyes a few times, don’t mention it’. But. Still. Eh?She grimaces and sucks in a breath through her teeth, which is enough for The Doctor to throw the non-mug holding arm in the air and ask slightly too loud, “Seriously?”

Donna shrugs and hides her face behind her mug. “I mean…”

The Doctor blinks at her a few times, and as she has no desire to provide further details, he replies, “Huh. Really? Ialways sort of assumed that, well. You didn’t like Christmas because you had mostly bad ones?”

“What, no.I had loadsof happy Christmases. Hell, there was a good ten years where it was the only day me and mum were actually nice to each other. I just don’t really care for it. I mean, sure, there’s...parts I like, I guess. I like the lights, some of the songs are okayish, and don’t get me wrong, I have loads of fun getting to spoil Rose rotten each year but. I dunno, it’s all a bit, ugh,you know?”

When she gets a downright agog expression in exchange for her statement, she can’t help but snort. “Why the hell do you even care? I can’t imagine that Time Lords are all that arsed about Christianity, and, by the way, if you tell me that you were Christ, I’m gonna tell you fuck off, no you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“Was one of the disciples though.”

“Fuck off, no you weren’t.”

The Doctor stares at her very, very intensely, giving away nothing. For all of about 3 seconds, when his nose wrinkles up in amusement and he waves a hand. “No, I wasn’t. I’m not sure I even know all their names. Think I have some reindeer mixed up with them. On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donny, on Simon, or something like that.”

Donna manages to just roll her eyes rather than enjoy the goof, because he is derailing the conversation, again. “So my point stands. What’s your big thing about Christmas?”

After a hum and a shrug, The Doctor replies, “Oh, it’s not just Christmas. Purim, Holi, Lunar New Year, hell, I adore a good Arbor Day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s..”

The Doctor looks to the side for a second, in that non-targeted way that Donna knows means he’s trying to remember something. She takes a sip from her cocoa and practices some of her hard won patience.

With a soft hum, The Doctor finally comes back to the present and tells her, “It’s not that Gallifrey never had holidays, of sorts. But they were all very traditional and very serious and very dour. It was all ceremony and diligence and respect, not,” he nods towards the Christmas tree, “fairy lights and colored powders and silly costumes.”

Grinning now, he continues, “You know, in all the lifetimes I’ve lived and all the species I’ve met, humans are utterly unparalleled in their ability to have fun. For all your lots’ faults, of which there are many-”

“-yes, thank you-”

“-nobody celebrates like a human. Any excuse, even the basic, or, ah, often not so basic, act of survival, and you’ll start singing and eating and dancing. You have such a capacity for joy it will leak from you. Happy crying, who the hell does that?”

“Hold on, I’ve seen you do that. Three times in as many days when you first got here.”

Tilting his head in acknowledgment, he counters, “Ah, but that’s only because of the company I keep. Your laughter is infectious, literally, in the year 16,000 it gets classified as a dangerous contagion.I mean, honestly, you lot could make a Dalek snicker. It’s...it’s incredible. There’s genuinely like nothing else in the universe, and, well, I can’t help but be charmed by Christmas as a small sliver of all that relentless joy.”

After a half second pause, he adds, “Plus, yes, the lights are quite pretty.”

Donna can’t quite contain a smile, replying, “I suppose I could see the appeal of it. Through that lens.”

The Doctor grins back at her, and they let themselves sit in a companionable silence. After a minute of simply letting themselves be, and polishing off the last dregs of their cocoa, Donna tells him, “Still can’t fucking stand ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ though.”

Hearing the burst of laughter that comes from The Doctor, Donna can’t help but silently agree with him. She thinks it’s not so bad being infectious, when that infection is joy.

#doctor who #tennant doctor #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #my fic #EHEHEHEHE #this isn't a christmas fic it's just. talking about it lmao