#smooshing things together to see what happens

[lunastarhawk]

Something in the Water

Part 15 of Julian post-route series Tides of Memories (on AO3)

On and on it goes.

Summary

Julian and Altheia make tentative plans for moving in together, and Julian makes a leap forward in connecting everything they have learnt so far - from sigils to alchemy, to his book of stars and stories - to himself, Altheia, The Star and the Queen of Cups. But meeting Selina, Julian's former apprentice, and still missing Asra, sends Altheia further into emotional turmoil.

Excerpt

“She said it’s a spell,” he said, almost wincing.  “Astromancy.” “The clue’s in the name of the book, I suppose,” Altheia said, amused. “Mm, she said that too,” Julian said, a little sulkily.  “Anyway, it combines the science of astronomy and alchemy, with the magic of astrology.”  He glanced at Altheia.  “You don’t know astrological magic, do you?” She shook her head.  “No, and I don’t know anyone who does.”   But even as she spoke, her mind turned back to her conversation with Aisha and Salim.   “Hm.”  Julian turned back to the book.  “Well, it makes talismans.  These symbols here…” His words faded to background noise as Altheia’s head whirled with what Aisha and Salim had told her, with the symbols on the page in front of her, with Julian’s voice. “Alchemists and astromancers can create powerful elixirs and talismans,” she murmured. Julian paused, blinking at the interruption.  “Pardon?” “That’s what Aisha and Salim told me.”  Altheia leaned forward, looking at the symbols excitedly.  “Yes, these are magic.  I don’t know them, they’re astrological, and I don’t deal with sigils usually.”  She turned her eyes up to him.  “But you did, didn’t you?” “Hmm?  What did I do?” “Use sigils.”  She grinned and bit her lip.  Her stomach flipped with excitement at the implications, but Julian wasn’t ready to hear it yet, she knew.  “Never mind.  What I mean is…  This chart shows the stars aligning a certain way, right?  This circle is alchemical…”  She ran her finger around the outer ring of symbols.  “And these are magic.  Depending on which you use, you could charge an elixir, or a talisman.” Julian sat back, chewing on his lip again and looking down at the book.  “But what kind?  The notes here just tell the origin myths, nothing about what they make, if anything at all.”  He started to flip through the pages.  “Look how many there are!  What do they all do?  And how do you use them?  You’d think there’d be instructions…” Altheia had to bite the insides of her cheek to stop her laugh. “They are the instructions.” “Come again?” Altheia couldn’t resist giving an incorrigible smirk to rival even Julian’s at the innuendo.   “Again ?” Julian blinked at her, then when he caught her meaning he waggled his eyebrows.  They both sniggered, and he bumped her arm with his elbow. “You were saying?” “Think of it like a formula for a medicine,” Altheia continued.  “You’ve had your training, you recognise the name and know what it does.  You don’t need a medical text book, just the ingredients and method.” Julian nodded, still turning pages.  “I see.  Yes, that makes sense.  I think.  But where is the text book?  Is there one?  And why do I care?” Altheia decided not to reveal her theory about that last question.

[genericpuff]

I really enjoyed seeing your last post!!! It reminded me of something else that I noticed when I was younger and not really seeing LO through the eyes I am now- even when I lived LO, I noticed that Minthe’s bust size.. Might’ve changed? (I could be remembering wrong, and I’m sorry if I am!) I didn’t think on it too much back then, but it felt a lot like the “she could never measure up to Persephone”, or the “she’s nothing to worry about when it comes to Persephone”!!

But then, when Minthe was supposed to be more of a “problem,” I noticed she’d get drawn with a larger bust- or at least larger than it had been back in the earliest episodes!

This could all make absolutely no sense, (and I apologize for just rambling in your askbox!), but I watching a character’s “worthiness” be portrayed through something as simple and neutral as their chest size stuck out to me then, and sticks out to me now!! 😓)

Oh don't apologize, you're literally pointing out exactly the things we've even talked about in the ULO community !

Literally here she is in S1:

And we even get a scene of her smooshing her boobs together in Episode 35 in an effort to make them seem bigger because she legit feels like Hades is pursuing the "new hotness" in the office based around their physical appearances:

But then she conveniently goes up like 3 cup sizes when it's time for her to be cemented as the villain and suffer her fate by getting turned into a plant?

I've literally seen fans grasp at straws to explain that maybe she got a boob job but then they don't realize that the story at this point has only been going on for like, 3-4 weeks at most. At best you shouldn't have to make those massive leaps to explain the inconsistent character body types. If Minthe really did get a boob job, don't you think that's something that should have been explained in the comic?

And let's be real, we all know what it's really about because it's just more of Rachel pitting women against women:

What's wild though is that Rachel is vastly misinterpreting a classic image here:

A lot of people look at that image of Jayne Mansfield and Sophia Loren and just immediately assume that Sophia is giving Jayne the stink eye over her outfit. And of course, we see this misinterpretation in Rachel's drawing that swaps Sophia and Jayne with Minthe and Persephone.

When in FACT what was actually going on was that Sophia spotted Jayne getting dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction / nip slip and the camera just happened to catch her making a face that could be misinterpreted as slut-shaming.

"Yes, Paramount had organized a party for me. All of cinema was there, it was incredible. And then comes in Jayne Mansfield, the last one to come. For me, that was when it got amazing. She came right for my table. She knew everyone was watching. She sat down. And now, she was barely… Listen. Look at the picture. Where are my eyes? I'm staring at her nipples because I am afraid they are about to come onto my plate. In my face you can see the fear. I'm so frightened that everything in her dress is going to blow—BOOM!—and spill all over the table."

Ans Sophia has actually stated that she doesn't like those misinterpretations and is trying to actively distance herself from it.

"Actually, many, many times I am given this photo to autograph it. And I never do. I don't want to have anything to do with that. And also out of respect for Jayne Mansfield because she's not with us anymore."

Jayne died in 1967, only living for about 30 years, and Sophia herself is actually still around. I can imagine how disheartening it is to see people still misinterpreting a photo of two friends and colleagues especially when it's through the lens of slut-shaming an accomplished actress who is unfortunately no longer with us.

Sooo yeah all that said, I'm less inclined to believe it was Minthe getting a boob job and more inclined to believe it was more of Rachel's weird internalized misogyny picking and choosing which women are "sluts" and which ones are "victims" for dressing or being built a certain way. It's really gross when you start to notice it.

People have also pointed out how odd it is that every single character who gets into a relationship or is in a relationship by S3 seemingly morphs into copies of Hades and Persephone, which is really just more of a testament to how lazy Rachel is in her character designs. In her head she's just trying Hades and Persephone all the time but different colors, I imagine at this point the H x P relationship is the only thing that she's interested in writing/drawing about (and even that's arguably hanging on by a thread because she couldn't even let their long-awaited wedding scene have real room to breathe) so it's almost like she's defaulting to just zoning out and drawing nothing but H x P and then having her assistants color them differently based on who it's actually supposed to be.

But I digress. The body shaming and slut shaming is definitely hard-baked into LO and how it portrays its characters. Despite Rachel having written an actual comic portraying sexism in the past, she still can't seem to express her ideas around sexism, to the point of, again, saying she "didn't know sexism was that bad" until she worked on LO. Like, girl... you drew a comic about sexism before LO, what are you talking about? Is this more of you not wanting to acknowledge ANY of the work you did prior to LO, or are you telling me you didn't intend for those older works to be interpreted as sexism???

"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time." - Rachel Smythe, Girl Wonder Podcast circa 2022

[mrsjellymunson]

S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab onto when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his arms trapped in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re enjoying seeing him sitting, bound, tied up for you, and imagining what it would be like if he was naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him all tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

if you could by chance, feed my obsession with some graves fluff, anything you want just something fluffy.

my obsession is out of hand, thank youu. <3

Anything for you boo thing <3

Coming Home

It had been a long few months for the both of you. You'd both be sent on missions by Shepard, a man you hated ever so dearly.

The worst part?

You weren't sent on them together.

You both didn't see each other, and when you did you had to act like you didn't know each other. It was nothing short of torture.

But you pushed through. The mission was simple enough. Get info and deliver it safely. It only took four months of sleeping alone in a safe house far too big for just yourself.

When you got home, you wanted nothing more than to see your boyfriend. But the house was eerily silent when you opened the door, and you knew that you had gotten home before he did.

So, ever so carefully, you sat your bag down in your shared bedroom and walked back out to the living room. You plopped down onto the couch, and started mindlessly scrolling through your phone that you had only just gotten back a few hours ago.

It took Phillip two hours to get out of the base and back to your shared home. The whole time he was nervously itching at his pocket, making sure his gift for you was still there.

When he finally got home, the sight of you on the couch made his heart leap into his throat. He missed you so much.

Graves sprinted to the couch, diving onto you and pulling you into the longest hug ever.

"Fucking hell, Phil," you complained, smooshed into his chest.

He just shushed you and placed a kiss onto your forehead. "I missed you," he confessed.

"I missed you too, but you don't see me jumping over the couch onto you."

"I didn't jump over the couch! I jumped from the side of the couch and... oh." It took him a minute to realize that he had, in fact, jumped over the couch. "Oops."

You just sighed and kissed him.

He, regretfully, pulled away and stood up. You went to follow suit, but he just pushed you back down. "No, no. I have something to give you," he explained.

You were curious as to what it was, but he was adamant on getting dinner and then giving it to you. Phillip ordered from your favorite restaurant and had it delivered to the house.

While the two of you waited, you cuddled on the couch and told each other everything that had happened while you were away. Graves got up and got the food from the driver, insisting that you stay sitting, and brought it over to the couch.

He placed the boxes on the coffee table and the two of you kept talking while you ate. Four months is a lot of time to be gone, after all.

When he was sure that you both were done eating, he cleaned everything. When you complained that you wanted to do something, Phil just shook his head and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "You deserve to be treated tonight. I don't want you lifting a finger."

With an eye roll, you let him keep doing whatever he wanted.

When Phil came back, he looked a little more nervous than before. Carefully, ever so carefully, he pulled something out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

"Y/n, I've loved you for a long time. I've known that I wanted to marry you for just as long. I planned on waiting just a little longer for the right moment, but after that mission we just had I couldn't. It was paining me not to have you with me at night. To not hear your laugh, your sarcastic comments. To not see the way you smiled when I told you I loved you or to see you roll your eyes at my jokes. I want you to be my husband so that I can argue when Shepard tries to seperate us. Will you marry me?" Graves asked, his eyes hopeful.

You couldn't help the smile that split your face, and you jumped off the couch and into his arms. "Obviously yes! God, I've been waiting forever for this!"

Phillip smiled and kissed you, tears springing to his eyes.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute before he pulled away and slipped the ring on your finger. It was beautiful, made with all your favorite colors and gems.

Graves picked you up and took you to your shared bedroom and laid you down in bed before getting in himself. He held you close to him, not wanting to let go.

He never wanted to let go if he could help it.

[rosaline-black]

well! in the spirit of being hungover, how about a fluffy hotch and reader where they're nursing their respective hangovers together after a night out with the team? i could see a debate occurring on whether or not pickle juice is an effective hangover cure.

Warnings: mentions of drinking!! Bau!reader since it’s my fave. Mentions of hangovers so maybe don’t read this if you are, I wrote this hungover and trust me it didn’t help. Also I reference rage against the machine since they’re my go to karaoke band. What can I say I love chaos.

The pounding in his head was almost as distracting as the foot digging into his… well somewhere he would rather it not be digging. Last night was impromptu to say the least. He’d been getting into more impromptu situations since he met you, and usually he loved it. Hotch had been more spontaneous over the last few years then he had been his whole life. But sometimes spontaneity feels great in the moment, but not the day after.

This was a prime example.

“Honey… your foot…”

Hotch attempted to reason but if there was one thing he didn’t want to do it was piss you off. Rossi had once made a joke about your messy hair the morning after a pretty wild night out with the team. You didn’t speak to Dave for two weeks after that. It took flowers and a $50 bottle of wine to win you back over and honestly, Hotch didn’t like the idea of not hearing your voice for two weeks (and forking out $50).

“What…”

Your head was still very much smooshed into the pillow so your speech had been rendered into more of a groan then anything considered English. Aaron loved when you were like this. Pouty and a little bit scary.

“Your foot it’s… you’re kind of kicking me…”

At any other moment you’d giggle at how unsure the usually authoritative guy beside you sounded, but the ache in almost every part of your body was overshadowing any joy you may of felt. Moving your foot away from Aaron’s uh crotch area… you turned to open your eyes and face him.

To your surprise he looked just as bad as you felt. Lipstick marks all over his cheeks, dark under eye circles and you could still smell the aroma of lingering tequila which instantaneously made your stomach flip. And not in the head over heels way you usually felt when looking at your partner. It was more like ‘if I smell u any longer I’m gonna throw up the entire bar I drank last night’.

“Please brush your teeth…”

Aarons eyes visibly widened at your blunt frankly kind of rude statement. But who was he to tell you no. And well, you were probably on to something since the inside of his mouth tasted like hand sanitiser.

“Good morning to you too dear…”

Once standing, the full effects of his hangover kicked in. The trademark nausea and dizziness washed over him like a tsunami. Ignoring the overwhelming inclination to empty the contents of his stomach, Aaron successfully brushed his teeth and clambered back into his bed, grabbing a hold of you like you were his life raft.

For about fifteen minutes the pair of you laid in each others arms, cringing at the moments that led to your current predicament. Hotch remembered singing god only knows by the beach boys to you and unfortunately he also remembered Emily’s phone filming the entire thing.

“Did I sing rage against the machine at karaoke last night?”

Hotch snorts at the memory of you screaming ‘fuck you I won’t do what you tell me’ to the tune of killing in the name. Instead of telling you that yes in fact that did happen, he simply kisses your forehead.

Your phone screen catches Hotch’s attention next. You’re typing away furiously, like whatever you were searching for was of utmost importance. In fact Hotch had seen you put less effort into catching serial killers, which is saying a lot since he’s convinced nobody throws themselves into their job like you do.

“Honey you’ll smash your screen if you tap it that hard…”

“Do you think pickle juice will fix this?”

Now Hotch has two options. He can laugh and hope you’re kidding… which seems less and less viable the more he senses the seriousness of your statement. He lands on a neutral statement.

“…fix what?”

Your eyes roll and you tap at your head and then gesture to your face. He’s sure you’re trying to say you look bad but honestly, Hotch can’t imagine a lifetime where you don’t look perfect.

“This pounding in my head… this ache that’s making me want to lay down and die…” You shove your phone in his face and hotch attempts to not flinch at the brightness of whatever click bait wellness page you’ve stumbled across “… it said pickle juice cures hangovers… something about the acidity…”

Aaron’s arm circles around your waist and pulls you to lay on top of his chest, carefully taking your phone in the process.

“Here’s a hangover cure idea… you order some fast food… I’ll go fetch us some litre bottles of water and we’ll spend the day in bed… deal?”

Hotch hopes you give up on the pickle juice idea. He’s pretty sure there’s none downstairs and the thought of going to any kind of grocery store feeling the way he does sounds similar to walking the gates of hell. He hears your answer in the restful sigh you exhale.

“Deal…”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Can you do charlie walker fluff alphabet? I love ur work :)

Thank you for the sweet request and kind words. It was really a cute time to write this one. Hope you like it ;)

Fluff Alphabet - Charlie Walker

warning : big fluff, one dark theme, angst, lots of cuddling&kissing, it's getting sweet and fluffy under the cut

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A = Worship (How does they bed you?)

°Charlie worships the ground you walk on. No really he worships you every day of the year. To him you are the most precious and best thing in his life. The best thing that ever happened to him. He loves everything about you and his heart beats only for you.

°,,I-I love you...so much".

══════════════════════

B = Best friends (What would they be like as best friends? How would the friendship start?)

°I think the friendship between you two would start at a film club meeting. Maybe you are new to the school and joined the club to make new friends. I think you have a wand charm on your backpack and Charlie sees it before you start talking.

°As best friends you not only join his group and get to know Robbie, Kirby and Jill but you also get to know the fun and the movie nights. It would be one of the most fun and exciting times together. But maybe he feels more about a random touch as you both reach for the popcorn...maybe love?

══════════════════════

C = Cuddling (do they like cuddling?How do they cuddle?)

°Charlie likes to cuddle to be more precise he loves it when he can just pull you into his arms. He can put his hands on you and just feel the peace and love between you. He especially loves it when you are watching a movie and he has his head leaning against you. Whether it's on your shoulder or on your lap. Bonus point, when you play with his hair, you smoosh.

°,,That's it...thank you very much"

══════════════════════

D = Domestic (how would they settle? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

°If your relationship lasts through high school and you both have part-time jobs or apprenticeships, I think you could get a small flat together near your work.

°As for cleaning, Charlie is surprisingly good. Believe me, he has everything planned out, not just his merch and camera equipment. He knows where things have to go and is meticulous if something is not in its place. I think you would do the cooking together and learn from each other.

°,,Who wants to try something new?"

══════════════════════

E = Ending (how would you break up with your partner if you had to?)

°It would hit him harder than hard. I think he would mourn you for a very, very, very long time. Crying and thinking about you every day. Especially if your relationship is separated by maybe a move and you just don't have time anymore. He would try to break it to you gently that he simply has to leave with his family. He would still try to call you every day but the guilt would hit him even harder.

°,,I-I'm so...sorry."

══════════════════════

F = Fiance(e) (how do you feel about agreement? How soon would they want to marry?

°Marry if you want to, definitely yes. It is for him the ultimate promise of faithfulness and love. Because for him it would finally prove that you have each other forever. A big wedding or a small one, he doesn't care as long as he has you with him.

══════════════════════

G = Gentle (how gentle are they mentally and physically?)

°Charlie is actually quite calm emotionally, although he can sometimes overreact when, for example, a new Stab film comes out. But emotionally in a relationship he would be calm and sweet he would listen to you and talk about everything.

°,,So what's new?"

°Physically he loves to be close to you. Whether it's cuddling, kissing, sleeping or just holding hands. He loves to just know you are there with him. When his hands join yours and he just listens to you while you both practically hold each other.

°,,A little more?"

══════════════════════

H = Hugs (do you like their hugs? How are your hugs?)

°Charlie loves hugs, whether it's a quick one in the hallway or in the morning before school. Or a long one when going out, before going to bed or whatever. He loves it whether he's holding you or you're holding him.

°His hugs are always loving and he will always hold your hand and whisper sweet words.

°So soft and sweet...I love you so much".

══════════════════════

I = I love you (how quickly would they say it?)

°He would take a long time to tell you. Not maybe on the first date, he would be too nervous and shy. But once he says it stuttering and with red cheeks, he will say it to you every day. In every spare second he will make you understand. That he loves you.

══════════════════════

J = Jealousy (how quickly are they jealous? What do they do when they are jealous)

°Charlie is not really jealous when you are among friends. He knows you love him and you know he loves you. Which is why he doesn't worry at all there. However, if you are out and about and you are attacked, he will intervene with a few warning words and glances and if that is not enough. A knife in his drawer and a mask will do the trick...only in an emergency of course.

°,,Don't worry, he won't bother you anymore".

══════════════════════

K = Kisses (how are their kisses? where do they love to kiss you?)

°His kisses are gentle he can't be rough with you. He will always kiss you gently and carefully even shyly. Note he loves it when you kiss him harder though, he melts away.

°He loves to kiss you all over your body. Just caressing every part with his kisses is the best thing for him. He can show you that you are beautiful and that he will always love you.

══════════════════════

L = Little ones (how are they with kids?)

°I don't think he's too good with kids. Don't get me wrong he likes kids especially if they are interested in comics he tries to find some he can recommend to them. But when they are younger, crying or screaming he is very quickly overwhelmed and doesn't know what to do.

°,,So who wants a new comic?"

══════════════════════

M = Morning (How do you spend your morning?)

°Mornings are slow and quiet sometimes he will get up and do something. Sometimes you will get up and do something. But most of the time you both just lie in bed together cuddling before you immediately fall asleep again. Before you jump into the car together in a panic and drive off to school.

°,,Oh fuck at the holy first staff film overslept again!"

══════════════════════

N = Night (how are nights spent with them?)

°If you're awake at night because of too many energy drinks or movies, you'll either spend it with more movies, a trip to fast food shops or playing a video game before falling into bed together, exhausted.

══════════════════════

O = Open (how quickly would they open)

°Charlie would open up to you relatively quickly. Especially if you have been together for a while, he would look for a quiet moment. If you are together and maybe cuddling, he would slowly start to tell you everything.

°,,I wanted to tell you something."

══════════════════════

P = Patience (how quickly do they get angry?)

°It takes something to get him angry, otherwise he is quite calm. However, the thing that would upset him is if you treated him the way Kirby treated him. Meaning you would only play with him and otherwise ignore him. Then he would be scared and get loud when he doesn't know what to do.

°,,Tell me what's wrong with you!"

══════════════════════

Q = Quizzes (how much would they know or remember about you?)

°Charlie remembers surprisingly much and not so much about you. When it comes to your personal things, he knows what you need to know. But when it comes to your interests, believe me, he remembers everything you told him about them.

°,,Oh, believe me, I remember everything."

══════════════════════

R = Remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

°The moment he would remember most would be if you surprised him with a trip to Comic Con over a long weekend. Because besides a successful day at the convention, you had another surprise. There was a beach next to the fairgrounds. At first he seemed surprised, but when the clouds cleared in the evening sky and the moon came out. He saw you slowly going into the sea. You looked beautiful between the sea and how the moon lit you up. It was the most beautiful thing to swim to you and just pull you into a kiss. It was the perfect day.

══════════════════════

S = safety (how protective are they? How would they protect you?)

°Charlie would be very protective over you. It would still depend a little on your confidence. If you are a little less confident (which is not bad) then he would come out from behind his camera and stand up for you. He would always stand up for you anyway. If you can stand up for yourself and be more confident, he would stay behind you and know that he doesn't have to worry much.

°However, if the situation escalates too quickly, he will make his threats.

°,,See, all good...I'm here"

══════════════════════

T = Try (how much would you invest in dates, anniversaries, gifts etc?)

°Charlie is the kind of guy who would probably give you something every day, every minute and every second. A kiss? Here we go, a kiss. A new bracelet? Boom, he's got three. Charlie would always get you something.

°If it was a special day, I think he'd throw you a little party. Just the two of you, a romantic movie night, pizza and a homemade video of the two of you would be one of the highlights.

══════════════════════

U = Ugly (what would be a bad habit of yours?)

°His obsession with horror movies and his film club. Leaves him alone on the couch or in bed more than once. Then he either sits with Robie and edits his live teams or watches the latest news about horror movies. He's totally focused on his interests and sometimes he just forgets about you.

°,,Sorry I have to go to Robbie again"

══════════════════════

V = Vanity (how much do they care about their appearance?)

°Not too much. Don't get me wrong in his shirts, jumpers, jumpers under shirts and t-shirts under shirts he looks perfect. However, he's not trying a new style either, so why should he care too much about it.

°What is important to him is his hair. Not only is it always nice and long, but also the slight waves need care. He knows how much you like it and he also likes his hair. So not a day goes by that he doesn't spend at least an hour in the bathroom keeping his hair fluffy.

══════════════════════

W = Whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

°Yes, Charlie would feel incomplete without you. Especially once you're together, it would hit him hard if you weren't there. Because you didn't just give him the confidence to be worth something. No, he really trusted you and didn't feel used like he did with Kirby.

°,,Please-Please stay with me"

══════════════════════

X = Xtra (a random headcanon for them)

°Charlie would never admit it, but if you were watching a rather children's and youth series and beckoned him to join you, he would refuse to watch it with you. But more and more often you would find him leaning against the couch, leaning against the door frame or sitting right next to you.

°,,What no? I don't like it at all....but when is the new season coming?"

══════════════════════

Y = Yuck (what is something he wouldn't like about his partner?)

°Charlie actually loves everything about you. I mean you are the love of his life he would love you forever. The only thing he wouldn't like that I think he'd dislike is disaster movies. It's always the same, America is the only zone that gets attacked and the main character always survives. The worst thing for him would be if you loved them and indirectly winked at him to watch with him. Believe me, he'll be on his knees begging you before you even get the DVD in.

══════════════════════

Z = Zzz (what is a sleeping habit of yours?)

°When Charlie's not having a horror movie marathon, he loves it when you hold him. Lightly playing with his hair and whispering sweet words until he falls asleep.

══════════════════════

[denim-mixtapes]

My Brother's Best Friend - (Steve Harrington/Reader

I had 2 drabble requests for a Henderson!Reader, so I decided to smoosh them together to make one longer fic! Hope neither of these anons mind!

Word Count: 1.3k Pairing: Steve Harrington/F!Henderson!Reader Tags: Fluff, secret relationship, Dustin being the ultimate little brother Summary: You're headed out for a date with your boyfriend, who also just happens to be your younger brothers older best friend. He decides its time for them to find out.

“What are you even doing with him?” Dustin asks, leaning his cheek on the bathroom door jamb, hunched over, his arms dangling freely below him. He’s been bugging you from this position for far longer than you can imagine is comfortable while watching you curl your hair. “He’s my friend.” 

You whine his statement back at him, mocking, and try to close the door, but his foot stops it. “Yeah, well, he’s my age, so I don’t think I need to explain why it makes more sense for us to hang out than you two.” Ignoring your attempt to shoo him away, your brother pushes all the way into the bathroom and takes a seat on the lip of the tub. You drop your defensive tone when you continue, “And ignoring the sarcasm in your first question, we’re going to the movies. Nothing weird about that. I’m sure Robin and Nance will be there too.” A blatant lie, you know they’re not. Unplugging the curling iron, you lean into the mirror, fluff your hair, and wipe absently at a dried fleck of mascara under your eye. Dustin groans and makes a face of disgust when you do, mumbling something under his breath about why you want to look so nice to sit in a dark theater with Steve Harrington anyway, but you don’t quite catch it. 

The truth is, you’ve been dating Steve for quite some time now. At first, you didn’t tell Dustin because you weren’t so sure it would go further than a curious date and an awkward night at Lover’s Lake…but it did, and you’ve been going steady for over two months. Your friends all know, and it’s not like you’re keeping it a secret, but you also haven’t made much of an effort to tell your brother because he’s been known to have a pretty dramatic flair, and Steve does mean a lot to him. The last thing you want to do is set him off and be the reason he loses that relationship or any part of it. 

There’s a knock at the front door, and some muffled conversation as your mom answers it. Then, she calls up the stairs. “Dusty! Your fully grown man friend is here!” 

Another groan, and an exaggerated “HA-HA.” 

You take the opportunity to shove him lightly in the center of the chest, laughing as he falls back into the bathtub, and rush downstairs before he can retaliate. 

“He’s actually here for me for once, Ma,” you laugh, brushing past her in the doorway and kissing her briefly on the cheek on your way through. “I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.” She smiles and nods, and you pull the door closed behind you, grabbing Steve’s hand to pull him swiftly toward his car, no greeting to be heard. 

“Whoa whoa, hey, hey,” Steve laughs, digging his heels into the sidewalk and squeezing your hand. “Where are you goin’? What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.” When you allow him to drag you to a stop and turn to him, he flashes you his signature charming smile and brushes your already blushing cheek with his knuckles. 

“Maybe I just want you all to myself already,” you admit, squinting against the sun. Steve’s smile softens as he runs a finger down the slope of your wrinkled nose. “I…may not have told Dustin about us yet. He thinks we’re meeting the girls at the theater.” 

Steve stares off behind you, mischief sparkling in his eyes as a smirk pulls at his lips. “No better time than the present,” he insists. You follow his gaze over your shoulder to see Dustin not-so-subtly watching you from his bedroom window though a squint. “Come on, you haven’t even given me a proper hello yet.” His brows raise persuasively, his other hand grabbing yours and his thumbs stroke the back of your knuckles. 

You can’t help but shake your head, rolling your eyes at your brother before turning back to your boyfriend. “Can’t you wait till we get in the car?” 

He crinkles his own nose, mirroring your expression from before. “Don’t think so.” His hands are tugging you forward and his eyes are fixated on your bottom lip caught between your teeth. 

“You’re a freak for wanting Dustin to see this, you know that right?” Despite your teasing, you allow him to continue pulling you forward, leaning up onto your tiptoes to close the distance even further. 

A soft mumble of, “don’t care,” tumbles from his lips before he closes the gap entirely, meeting your lips eagerly. 

You drop his hands to wind your arms over his shoulders, holding yourself steady in his embrace, while his own snake around your waist to tuck affectionately in your back pockets. You giggle as you pull away to look pointedly over your shoulder to his hands resting on your behind, letting out an exasperated, “really?” 

His only response is a fond squeeze of your cheeks and a quick, tight nod that sends tufts of his hair falling into his face. 

In the background you can hear Dustin in the house, yelling, voice squeaking, a distinct “Mom,” and your name, and "STEVE," then more unintelligible words. Both you and Steve laugh, and you reach up to sweep back the hairs that fell into his forehead, tucking them into place. 

Yards away, the front door wrenches open and your brother leans out, shielding his eyes and yelling nonsense at you, speaking so quickly you can’t make out his words. Your mother, bless her, is trying to coax him back inside. She wraps an arm around his shoulders to slap a hand over his mouth, taking advantage of his silence to call out her own. “Now how long has this been going on?” 

You shy away from their attention, your hands falling to rest on Steve’s chest and your cheeks warming as you turn in his arms to face your family. He brings one hand to stroke your forearm comfortingly. 

“Officially? ‘Bout two months.” You say back, then beam up at the man holding you with a flutter in your chest and shaky breath. “But it’s a sure thing, Dustin. I really like him.”

Steve’s grip on you tightens protectively. He knows your brother just about as well as you do and he’s prepared for just about anything to come out of his mouth. Adding to your promise, he nods. “Yeah dude. We wouldn’t be telling you if we both weren’t in it for the long haul.” Turning his attention to you, he still speaks loud so Dustin can hear, but the warmth in his eyes and faint redness in his cheeks tells you this next part is directed at you, and you alone. “I’m not going anywhere on either of you.” 

You melt at his words, leaning your head on his chest as your mom says, “well, honey, I’d say welcome to the family, but you know you were welcomed when you started treating Dustin like a brother.” When it seems like Dustin has finished putting up a fight, she releases her hold on his jaw, but keeps her arms wrapped firmly around him just in case. Nodding toward Steve’s car in the drive, she urges you to go. “Go on and have fun now, you don’t want to miss your movie time!” 

You both nod, mumble your respective thanks, and Steve takes your hand to walk you to the car at a much slower pace than you first started toward it. You wave to your family, eyeing Dustin warily to gauge his reaction. He seems annoyed, but not angry, like he just got a lot of new information but doesn’t know how to process it, which makes sense. You only hope once the shock wears off that he will come around. Steve holds your door open for you like the gentleman he’s always been, and just before he closes it, you hear Dustin yell his final word from the porch. 

“You better have her back to this house by 11, Harrington!”

[hellfiremunsonn]

Honesty. Steddie x Reader.

Honesty.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: You lash out at your two boyfriends instead of being honest, they let you know you're always safe with them, and don’t need to feel afraid or embarrassed to use your safe word. 

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, steddiexreader, throuple relationship, dom!Steve, dom!Eddie, submissive!reader, babygirl!reader, allusions to subspace/littlespace, daddy kink, established sub and dom relationship, use of safe word, talk of safe word/rules. (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

Wordcount: 1775

AN: This is my first steddie fic so please be kind! Suggestions are welcome but don’t be a dick about it please... I left the ending kind of open, to give space for a part two of this situation/scenario so if you have any ideas for a part two or what you’d like to see Id be more than happy to discuss it! So feel free to send an ask my way about it if you’d like :) 

You're laying on the couch with your head in Eddies lap. Your forehead is resting against his stomach, one hand wrapped around him behind his back, smooshed between him and the couch while he plays with your hair, absentmindedly watching whatever movie had been left in the VHS. You had one of your feet lounging across Steves lap from where he sits at the other end of the couch, one of his hands touching your ankle while the other held a worn paperback.

Steve had made this a household rule that Sundays were for the three of you to spend time together, even if you all did separate things in the same room. Steve wanted you all to make the effort for each other, and for most of your relationship it really worked. Sometimes you all would go out to dinner, or have a movie night, and sometimes you all would just be in each others presence and it made you all that more fond of each other.

Today you were clingy, in a bit of a mood, but it didn't start to really affect you until later in the day. The boys had edged you for the past three days, and usually it was something you liked, and they never really made you wait too long until you could cum. They'd give you everything else to make you feel good in the meantime, but for some reason today it really bothered you. You felt gross, almost sick, and the ache between your legs made you restless, squirmy, and a bit bitter, but you tried to be good and keep it all together because you wanted to be good for your boys.

Eddie shifts under you. "Babes I gotta pee" he says leaning forward, assuming you're going to let him up, but you only hold onto him tighter.

"Baby c'mon" he laughs lightly.

"No" You whine, words muffled over your thumb that in your mouth, and in an instant Eddie then realized what kind of 'you' they'd be dealing with today when he noticed. It was something you didn't do often, but enough for Steve and Eddie to know how you were feeling when it happened.

Eddie looks up at Steve, giving him a look of confusion which Steve returns, sliding his thumb between the pages of his book to keep his place while he watches the interaction between the two of you.

"You wanna lay on daddy's lap while I get up?" he offers.

"No" Your voice is sad, laced with emotions you haven't let out yet and Eddie is a little unsure what he should do, especially because he really does need to pee.

"Baby, I love you, but you gotta get up" Eddie says sweetly, pulling you up from his lap with more strength than he anticipated needing.

"NO" You say loudly, holding on to him greedily. Cheeks already wet with tears, lips glossy with spit from where you held your thumb. You cling to him for as long as you can until he peels your limbs from him which only makes you more upset.

So you push his lingering hands away from you angrily once he's stood up in front of you, smacking at his chest in frustration before turning to face the couch, tucking yourself up into the corner where Eddie just was with your knees up to your chin.

Eddie looks at Steve again who just nods his head towards the direction of the bathroom.

Eddie mouths a "thank you" before kissing the top of Steves head and rushing towards the bathroom.

"Look at me princess" Steve says, and although his voice is quiet, you can still hear how domineering it is.

"No" you mumble deeper into the cushion. The couch shifts next to you and you know Steve has moved closer. "I don't remember asking you a question" His hand grabs at your chin, pulling it away from the couch, but you still fight back. Pulling your chin out of his grasp roughly.

"What's your issue?" he asks, his tone a little bitter and it only fuels the fire inside of you.

You huff, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks and when Steve leans forward to swipe at them you turn away from him.

"Look at me" he says again, and his voice this time makes you shiver. You turn your head slightly, peaking at him with one eye through your hair.

"On your knees" He says shifting back into the couch, man spreading widely and chucking his book onto the floor next to him.

You know better now than to ignore his instruction so you reluctantly slide off of the couch and onto your knees between his legs, hands on your thighs and your head down. You can hear Eddie return to the living room, stopping in the doorway to watch whatever is about to happen unfold.

"Do good girls hit their daddies?" Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest. If it weren't for your sour mood your mouth would have watered at the sight of his biceps bulging in that stupid tight polo shirt he was always so partial with. You peek up at him through your lashes.

"You can talk" he confirms with a nod.

"No" you said quietly.

"What was that?" Steve said leaning forward, one hand cupping behind his ear.

"No, good girls don't hit-" you take a shaky breath. "Don't hit their daddies"

"No they don't- Eds come over" he said with the wave of his hand.

Eddie sat down next to Steve, arm instinctively going around the back of the couch behind Steves shoulders.

"Apologize" Steve orders.

"M'sorry for hitting you Eds" your voice has gone small. Smaller than before, it's high pitch and quiet while it wobbles with emotion.

"Thank you for apologizing baby" Eddie says with a soft smile.

"Now are you going to tell us what's going on in that little head of yours? Because I really don't think its a punishment you're after, but if you keep acting out like this it's exactly what you'll be getting"

You pout and look down, playing with your hands. "idontfeelgood" you say in a rush, lips barely moving to allow the words to slip past them.

"No mumbling baby" Eddie says.

You whine, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder. "I don't feel good" you finally say, eyes quickly shifting between the two boys before looking away from them again.

Steve leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "What kind of not good baby?" He's gone into full parental mode now, all fun and games out the window now that he knows his baby girl isn't feeling well.

You shrug and look down.

"Is it your tummy?" Eddie asks, sitting up so hes closer to you and Steve.

"A little bit" you say with a nod.

"Okay that's good" he encourages "What else baby?"

You're embarrassed, feeling overly shy, the words somehow unable to come out, so instead you just point between your legs before shoving your hands between the plush of your thighs, trapping them there.

"Oh" Steve says, and you can hear the slight smile in his tone but don't look up. "You usually like when we play like that right? What's different about it this time?" he asks, genuinely curious, no teasing or taunting behind his words.

"Made me feel yucky"

"Made you feel yucky" Steve repeats with a nod. He slides off the couch and onto the floor in front of you, tilting your chin up so he can see your face. "Baby you know you can always safe word, or tell us when something isn't fun anymore"

Your eyes well up with tears and you try your hardest not to let the sob out that's bubbled in your chest, but fail, bottom lip wobbling and a small whimper slipping through.

"Baby" Eddie coos, sliding down onto the floor with the two of you.

"I'm sorrrrryyyy" you cry. "I j-just want-ted to be good" you shudder when you inhale and Steve can't stand to not be touching you any longer so he pulls you forward and into his lap. You immediately bury your face into the middle of his chest, his arms wrapped tight around you.

"Baby you've been so good" Steve he says reassuringly. "Would cumming make you feel better?" he asks, rubbing a hand up and down your back while Eddie pushes away your hair from your face, so he can catch a glimpse at you from where your cheek is pressed against Steves middle.

"I d-don't know" you whine, more tears falling down your cheeks. "Everything feels wr-oonnngg"

"Shhhh it's okay baby, you're okay" He pulls you up a little closer to him, rocking side to side while rubbing your back. "Do you want to call red on this?" he asks and you whine into him. You really don't want to disappoint them, but you also really don't like the way it's been making you feel.

"But what about you and daddy?" you say quietly, just barely leaning back from him to look between the two of them.

"It's only fun if we're all having fun princess" he reassures, peeling away pieces of hair that cling to your wet face. "S'always okay to safe word baby"

You look at him for a moment longer, glancing at Eddie who's hand rubs soothing circles on your thigh with his thumb.

"O-okay" you say with a nod.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice light and full with adoration. "You gotta say the word though baby"

You pout and whine, fresh tears forming but you still take a deep stuttering breath. "Red" you finally say while a new wave of sobs hit you.

"Good job baby" Eddie coos, hand coming up to rub your back while you shove your face back into Steves chest.

"Did so good baby, were so proud of you" Steve says while kissing your hairline. "What can we do to make you feel better?" he asks softly, watching Eddie with curious eyes as he gets up and runs up stairs.

You shrug, shamelessly wiping your nose against the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady your own breathing.

"You wiping your boogers on me sweet girl?" Steve teases, and it makes you giggle.

"Little bit" you admit, rubbing your nose into him more aggressively to tease him back.

"Dirty little girl, what are we going to do with you!" he squeezes at your waist and you squeal, finally feeling some sense of normality come back to you. The two of you jump at the sound of the tub turning on upstairs .

"I guess Eddie has an idea" you say with a smile, knowing already that the bath will be filled with bubbles, and your favourite scented candle will be lit on the countertop.

[smolweeblets]

Taters

Karlach x Reader/Tav

A/n: I live temporarily. Back with another fandom. Small ramble note at the bottom.

Winter was just around the corner, causing the night air to chill as of late. You used to hate the cold, it reminded you of… less fortunate times. However, these days you've found yourself slowly being able to see the beauty of it, reason being your beautiful girlfriend, who’s kept you perfectly warm every night, safe and protected against any unsavory memories.

The amazing tiefling who's stolen your heart has kept you company for countless evenings, with each one feeling as special as the last. But this time you find yoursef pondering, a memory—or rather a word—that you couldnt quite shake off.

Taters.

It was just such a bittersweet moment for you both. You thought her family using words just for them was such a cute thing to do, it seemed to make Karlach so happy. It kicked some gears in your brain into motion, so much so that you happened to mindlessly utter it out.

“Pardon, love?” Karlach craned her head to look at you atop her chest.

“Oh– nothing, was just lost in thought–”

“Ah, well taters, either way” She grinned from below you.

Your heart melts a little inside of you. How was anyone allowed to be this cute? Yhe universe is unbelievable.

“Yeah… listen Karlach, ive been thinking about something” You trail off slightly, not quite sure on what you actually want to say.

Karlach tilts her head slightly to the side. A worried frown painting her features. “Something wrong?”

“No, I just… happened to think about your family… The language you had together, you said you were the last remaining speaker. I want to change that.” You held her hand as you talked, both for her reassurance and yours. You mindlessly toyed with it as you spoke.

Karlachs eyes widened.

“You want to kill me!?” She gasped incredulously. “I knew it was only a matter of time… I wouldnt mind if it was you though, make it quick” She stuck her bottom lip out and wiped a fake tear from her eye, while the other hand held yours to her chest.

You snatched your hand from where she held it and lightly bopped her on the forehead, looking only mildly amused.

“As if.” You scoffed lightheartedly.

Karlach grinned. “Of course, so what about my parents?” There was a faraway look in her eyes. Shes told you that she loves talking about her parents, but being a little sentimental about it was unavoidable.

“The uh… the language you had together, what other words did you guys have?”

“You want to know about the gibberish we spoke?” Karlach smiled, unsure.

“Yeah, it was a big part of your childhood, I want to make more good memories with those words… maybe with a family of our own.” You sunk your face into the firm muscle of her shoulder, partly because it was comfy, but partly to avoid looking at her, in case she didnt agree.

“I cant believe you just brought up the idea of a family before I could. How dare you.” The pitch of her voice raised towards the end. She narrowed her eyes at you.

“Oops” You giggle, face still smooshed against her skin.

“Hmph.” She scoffed. “Give me a moment to remember, im sure I can dig up some of them.” Karlach gazed at the ceiling, mind drifting back to her childhood.

“Lets see… chess… chess meant a kiss… Yeah, I think I remember being grossed out because I saw my parents giving each other ‘chesses’.” Karlach chuckles softly at the memory.

“Chesses? Thats… oddly fitting for a kiss.” You smiled. “What else?”

“Sheesh just give me a moment” Karlach pouts. “Cant let a woman think for shit in here” She huffs.

“So dramatic. Just take your time.” You rolled your eyes.

Karlach scoffs, but otherwise stays silent for a moment, collecting little anecdotes from her childhood.

“Hmm… Blankets were called ‘warmers’ I think”

“Simple and straightforward, I like it.” You grin

“Right?” Karlach laughs, a beautiful sound. You cant help but snuggle up impossibly closer into her. And she holds you just a little bit tighter.

“Then…” Karlach trails off slowly, hand unconsciously starting to pet your head. “Hm. Sorry soldier, cant remember any more right now.” Karlach sheepishly smiled.

“Thats okay, we can try again tomorrow. I think let's just sleep, i'm tuckered out”

“Sounds great.” She presses a kiss to your forehead.

~~~~~

The conversation is mostly forgotten by her, whose been busy with choosing only the best produce for you both at the market. She left before you woke up, hoping to surprise you, but it seems she got too caught up with haggling with the shop ladies, so that plan was out the window.

As soon as she enters your shared cabin, youre immediately clung onto her.

“Chess.” You peel yourself away from the hug momentarily to face her with a kissy face at her while pointing at your face.

Her brows furrows before they relax and melt into an expression of surprise and awe. She leans down to give you a small peck then envelops you in a large bear hug.

“Gods, have no clue how happy that made me” She grins widely.

“Yeah? Prepare to be happy a lot more then.” You preen at the feeling of being able to make her feel like this.

“Thats going to be difficult considering im already always happy when im with you.” Karlach looks at you adoringly. To an almost painful degree.

The emotions rushing into you felt a little overbearing. Your eyes narrow and your muscles stiffen. “Im getting cuteness aggression.”

“Im honored.” She smirks.

“Stop or else I will actually fall to the floor.”

“I cant, youre too amazing. But don't worry if you fall, ill make sure to nurse you better myself.” Her voice was teasing, but held affection all the same.

“Just stop talking to me.” You bat at her shoulder stiffly as your face sits in a lighthearted scowl.

“Alright, ill lay off from the sweet talk for a little bit. Just for now.” She relents.

“Somehow that makes it even worse. Im going to feed the pets. Bye.” You move robotically, movements restrained from the rush of the pure emotions.

Karlach chuckles to herself, used to your mannerisms. Youll be back, and in the meanwhile, she supposes she’ll be cooking breakfast for the both of you.

“Alright love, taters!” She waves. She takes the produce from the bags and prepares them to be cooked.

Not long after, she hears a loud crash swiftly followed by your voice.

“Im fine!” You hurriedly shout. God forbid she saw the mess you made from recoiling when she called you.

Karlach shakes her head as she continues washing the vegetables. You were one hell of a person, and she couldnt see herself with anyone else.

A/n#2: AGHHH I FINISHED ITTT. Listen I had an idea but I dont know how to actually write it. I guess its still cute but it has strayed from what i have envisioned. Started with the original prompt then turned into a sort of domestic bliss/banter thing? I dont know. Anyway, this became a shameless self insert but its okay because its my fic. also dont ask about the made up words im uncreative.

Sorry for the ADHD rant this is how I am when im supposed to be sleeping, till next time guys <33

[exit-path]

Hey, remember this video? This is how tumblr made the Undertale “Stronger than You” parody.

Hi guys! Before we start, some of you on tumblr may have been in the Undertale fandom in 2015 when this was taking place, but I wasn't. So if you were at the devil's sacrament, then reblog with what you remember! I'd love to hear primary source perspectives of events.

(EDIT, 5/6/23: SO @galxie JUST PROPOSED TO ADAPT THIS POST INTO A YOUTUBE VIDEO. I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING)

(SO IF YOU'RE GOING TO SHARE YOUR STORIES THEN GET IT IN NOW)

But without further ado, let's begin, and watch as ordinary people made Internet history. (under the cut)

Part 1: gymleadercheren

It all started when @gymleadercheren drew a snippet of the Sans fight, with some Steven Universe lyrics underneath. This post caught the eye of @thepinkestpug, who had an idea.

Part 2: thepinkestpug

Later that same day—Oct 10, 2015—thepinkestpug sang a parody. Now, her Soundcloud link… how do I say it… doesn't sound very good? (He calls it "poor quality" herself.) But because he was in both the UT and SU fandoms, she was uniquely qualified to come up with these lyrics.

Upon seeing the "Stronger Than You" parody, gymleadercheren was ECSTATIC that she inspired someone with her post. The next day, she asked thepinkestpug for "permission to smoosh our lyrics together and make a comic?” If you've seen djsmell's video, you may recognize what she made next…

Part 3: The Comic

It took 3 weeks, but on Oct 29, 2015, gymleadercheren finally finished her comic. With 38 PANELS in total, the post was an instant success. She credits thepinkestpug for her lyrics, and links to an 8-bit "Stronger Than You" instrumental. Today, the post has over 20k notes.

Part 4: djsmell

Two days later, on Oct 31, 2015, @djsmell made a song cover of the comic. He NAILED the voice of Sans, and used the 8-bit song cover from gymleadercheren's post. He posted about it on his blog, while his YouTube video now has 11M views.

Part 5: alfa995

It wasn't until nearly 2 months later that on Dec 21, 2015, @alfa995 finally finished his animation. It used djsmell's audio, and filled in the gaps where the comic made you use your imagination. Today, the YouTube video has been viewed nearly 80 MILLION times.

These were alfa995's words about everything that had happened so far: "So basically someone… made lyrics for an Undertale version of [a song from Steven Universe] and a comic based off it, then someone else sung it, and now I animated it. I love the Internet."

Part 6: Reflections

And that’s the history of this video! This singular video has grown in popularity to such immense heights, it's a well-known piece of trivia that more people recognize the Undertale “Stronger Than You” parody than the actual Steven Universe song it’s based off of.

What I find interesting is how each person involved in this process had a tumblr blog. They saw each other’s posts and made more posts based off of them. By fandom standards this happened LIGHTNING FAST, the idea took 2 and a half months from conception to completion. It’s this connectivity that created the 4th most-viewed Undertale video.

The Undertale scene on tumblr spawned many more memorable fan creations, such as the “Underpants” series by SrPelo, which became the entry point for many into the wonder that is his animations.

It is this fandom that made Undertale a goliath of Internet culture. It is this fandom that made it so that Toby Fox will always have a loyal, rabid audience. Say what you want about it, whether you love it or hate it, the Undertale scene on tumblr may never happen again.

Thank you for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed!

This was my first time thinking about the Undertale fandom in a LONG time, and it was a nice trip down memory lane. Also, here’s a few things I found while researching that I couldn’t list above:

First, what's with all these "Stronger Than You" versions? I had no idea until I started researching that there were so many spinoffs of this singular video. Like, there's a CHARA response? There's a FRISK RESPONSE? THERE'S A TRIO VERSION?

And speaking of spinoffs, I want to shout out the video "Richer Than You"—absolutely phenomenal YTPMV that had a lot of effort put into it.

Finally, I want to shout out Super Eyepatch Wolf’s video, as it was my inspiration while writing this, and explains: “why did these videos get so popular?”

[kteezy997]

The Other Man-Part Ten (the end) //t.c.

Warnings: cursing, mention of past trauma, therapy, smut, oral sex female receiving, brief doggy style, mention of cum

After that night, you and Timmy spent every second together. You didn’t go out, you didn’t work, nothing. The two of you just migrated back and forth between your house and his.

You went to therapy together and separately, trying to heal from everything that happened. You didn’t talk about it with each other very often, but you found out from Timmy how he was ambushed and attacked by Billy. You cried for hours as Timmy lovingly held you.

You were glad to know what he went through, but you didn’t want to dwell too much on the horror that transpired because of Billy, neither did he, you only wanted to move forward. Your divorce was finalized. Billy had been charged with abduction, assault, and unlawfully discharging a deadly weapon, but that was only the beginning. You were told there would be more charges brought against him, and you were relieved to know that he'd be going to prison for a very long time.

About a month after everything happened, Timmy came up with the idea for you two to go away for a while, for as long as you needed. He didn’t want to have a timeline. He wanted the two of you to have time together and not have to worry about anything else.

“Where do you wanna go? Wanna…go somewhere we can lay naked on the beach with no one else around?” he had a sly little smirk on his face.

You giggled, “No, I don’t really like the beach. It’s hot and there’s sand everywhere.”

“Okay,” he brushed your hair back off your shoulder, “where should we go, my love?” he smiled softly at you, waiting for your answer.

“Hmm,” you pondered, “somewhere…isolated, like you said, but also cozy. Maybe somewhere snowy. And we could rent a cabin, but not like a run-down cabin, a nice cabin, boujee almost.”

Timmy laughed, “Okay, a fancy cabin in the mountains it is."

.......

You were laying on the couch snuggled up under a fuzzy blanket, watching the fireplace crackle and the snowfall outside. It was absolutely gorgeous. Timmy joined you, laying half on you and half on the couch. The feeling of him so near was so warm and comforting. You wanted to stay there just like that forever.

Timmy kissed you on the cheek, and he tucked his arm under your head snuggly.

You put your hand delicately on his cheek. His bruises had faded. Now there was only some faint red marks. You gently grazed your thumb over a small cut that had scabbed over. "They don't hurt anymore?" you asked him.

He shook his head, "Nope. I'm all better now." he kissed your lips.

"I despise him. I hope they beat his ass in prison. Attack him from behind so he can't see it coming, like he did to you. I hope he can't defend himself, it’s what he deserves."

"He deserves worse than that, just for the way he's treated you. I know he was upset by the cheating, I can't believe that he wanted to actually…kill us. That is not the Billy I became friends with." he pet your hair affectionately as he spoke.

You sighed, "I've been thinking that we should just forget about him, ya know? If he's in our thoughts at all, that means he wins. He's taken so much from us, let's not give him anymore."

"I agree, baby. Fuck him. He's nothing to us anymore."

You ran your fingers through his curls, "So, how are you doing after the whole Ameila thing?"

"I mean, I don't hate her. That takes too much energy. I just hope she's working on herself. What she did was pretty fucked up. I mean, she had me believing that I was going to be a father."

You hummed, "Well, you will be one day. But on your terms, and not in a situation based on lies."

"I know." he bopped you on the nose with his finger, "Because you'll be the mommy. Which is the way I want it."

"Awe, you wanna have babies with me?" you cooed, putting your arms around him.

"Of course, ya dummy. You're the love of my life. I'm gonna marry you and give you lots of babies." he said, gently smooshing his nose into yours, giving you a playful Eskimo kiss.

You smiled gleefully, "Ugh, that makes me so happy. I love you, Timothee, make love to me, like right now." You pulled him into a hungry, heated kiss.

He groaned against your mouth in surprise, "I love you too." he said, but his words were muffled by your lips.

“Mm, take my clothes off please.” you requested, raising your arms up.

“Yes ma’am.” Timmy responded, pulling your shirt off, leaving your chest bare, as you weren’t wearing a bra. Then he moved down to pull your pants and undies down in one swoop before dropping them onto the floor.

“Now you!” you said, taking ahold of his shirt and pulling it up.

Timmy threw his shirt over his head, and his curls went wild like usual before he shook them back into place. He then rid himself of his sweats, and his naked form was highlighted by the orangey glow of the fireplace. He looked like an Angel, but with a devilish look in his eyes. He sunk down between your legs. His mouth neared your heat, and he held onto your thighs.

As he started lapping at your clit, you threw your hands on his hair. You whined as he suckled your sensitive nub between his lips. You cursed under your breath as pleasure took over your being.

Timmy sucked and licked your pussy like a savage. He had to tighten his grip on your legs to keep you still.

You arched you back and bucked your hips onto his mouth. He was making you wild. “Oh, fuck, Timmy!”

He wouldn’t let up. He quickly spat between your folds, making sinful eye contact with you as he did so, before continuing to assault your clitoris in the best way. He slid his hand up to palm your tits.

You found yourself clawing at his arms. You felt absolutely feral. You wanted him to ram you from behind, so you switched your positioning. "Fuck me like this, Daddy. Is it okay that I call you that?" you asked, panting in between breaths.

Timmy snaked his arm around you, pulling you close, he spoke into your ear, "Yes, I'd love it. We'll be Daddy and Peaches." he then nibbled on your earlobe and held you tight as he entered you and fucked you hard. He spanked you, and you cried for more.

…….

Later, the love session ended with you squirting all over him, and he came inside of you. He filled you to the brim with his warm, gooey cum.

After giving you a lazy, but much needed back rub, Timmy carried you closer to the fireplace. Gently, he placed you there on the floor with a blanket, and he laid down to cuddle you from behind.

You watched the pretty flames as you settled against his body. You always fit so snuggly together like two puzzle pieces just destined for one another. You were toasty warm and unbelievably cozy, both from the fire and the man that had you wrapped up in his arms. It was like a dream, more like a fantasy, really.

The touch of his lips reminded you that he was real, and he pressed lingering kisses on your neck that trailed over your shoulder. He whispered in your ear how much he loved you before nuzzling into your neck to fall asleep. His hair was silky soft as it caressed your skin in a tide of chocolate curls.

If there ever was one thing that your absolute bastard of a former husband did in his lifetime, it would be introducing you to Timothée Chalamet, the love of your life.

The way your story with Timmy started was wrong, but damn was it so right now.

A/N: I have had the most fun writing this story! Thank you to all that have followed it(: and a special thank you to @gatoenlaciudad for her constant encouragement, reviews, and inspiration<3

@thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

[delightfulcollectivetyphoon]

Predator/prey pt 3!

warnings: smut, bondage, this man is massive and you can't convince me otherwise, edging, hair pulling, consensual stalking, spanking, makeshift gag, praise, grinding if you squint, forest at night, fingering, i think that's it.

do i belong in horny jail? yes, yes i do

is he one of the h o t t e s t men there is? yes, yes he is.

sooooo can you blame me? no, no you cannot.

Part 4 (im sorry i just have a limited amount of time and i want you guys to get what you can thats why theres so many parts to this fic) will be out shortly!!! <333 p in v WILL be in the next part :) knifeplay too for all you kinky bastards (its me im kinky bastards you guys too)

Shit shit shit shit shit shit

You started to panic before remembering that there was no way he let something happen to you out here outside of his control. The thought of his protection made you feel secure, almost like you could feel his warmth surrounding you. It was an odd feeling, being protected by the very thing that threatened you the most. You carried that feeling off the porch and past the carport, until you were looking the woods dead on. The trees swayed in the breeze, and you could hear critters wandering through the bushes. It felt....peaceful. You found an opening in the trees and began your walk. You could feel eyes on you. You were trying to keep your composure, lest the animals sense your fear. You let the symphony of the forest guide you until you felt you could walk no farther. You had lost track of time, and you didn't know which way to go. The trail you were following had ebbed away, so you were now walking on fresh, lush forest floor. The crunch and smoosh of the leaves and moss cushioned you; the ground almost felt spongy. The wind whistled through the greenery, and the moon cast an eerie glow on the ground. The shadows from the tree branches almost looked like cracks in the Earth. It went silent, so silent that you could hear your heat beat.

All of a sudden, a wolf began its song, a melody joined by several others. The sound made your skin prickle, your hair stand up. You got a chill from your goosebumps and hugged yourself to keep warm. You had almost forgotten why you were out here, when a snapping noise came from the brush. You froze, your heart barely daring to beat. A drop of sweat ran down your temple, despite the cold. Was it James? Was it an animal? The line had blurred on the porch, and you were sure that they were one and the same. You took off running through the thicket, not turning back. You tripped over vines, roots, probably some animals, but you always caught yourself. You feared what was behind you, whether it was James or a wolf, and you didn't want to find out. You ran for God knows how long; you could run no more. Your surroundings were blurring together as you surveilled your area. You could see little eyes peeking out from the shrubbery all around.

"Didja miss me?"

You spun around, hoping to find the source of the voice. There was no one there. Your breathing became heavier, you were sure someone had said it. You didn't want to think that you imagined it, you wanted James to be here, you wanted him to protect you from the cold and the eyes and the wolves.

Two hands grabbed your hips, and you were flung around so your front was pressed into a tree. The hands kept their grip as you struggled against them.

"What did I say about getting asked questions? Where's my answer?"

Your mouth went dry, you could think of no words to say.

"You can answer me, or I'll tear the answer outta you myself. So, I'll ask again, did you miss me?" His right hand came down on your ass, you flinched as he watched the skin ripple.

"I missed you!"

"That's my good girl." You moaned at his praise, your ass still sore from the porch spankings. You could feel him harden as you arched your back, pushing your ass onto his erection.

"So, you're just forgetting all the rules, huh? I'll make you remember."

He flipped you around so you were face to face.

Holy. Shit.

He had a manic glint in his eyes, his teeth were bared. You could see his jaw muscle clench and unclench. His top and jeans were lightly torn at the sides, and the lower halves of his jeans were mud streaked, as if he had gone on a day-long trek through the forest. His hair, nearly glowing silver in the moonlight, looked as if he had just mussed it up, no longer slicked straight back, but instead hanging by his ears, sticking straight up in some places. You gasped as he gathered your hands in one fist and held them over your head, against the rough bark. He went straight for your neck, raking his teeth over it, sucking it, licking the bruises, and repeating the process over and over again. It seemed like almost every other new spot on your neck, he set his teeth just a little bit further into your skin, drawing a loud moan deep from within your throat. He pressed harder into you, and you could feel his hard length against your lower stomach, pulsing, nearly leaking through the denim. You wanted to grind against him to get any amount of friction, but you knew what would happen if you did. Once he was satisfied with your neck, he drew his hand away from your cheek and tugged the collar of your shirt so aggressively it tore at the seams. He used what was the front of your shirt to gag you, crumbling it into a ball and stuffing it just behind your teeth. You could taste the sweat from your panic-induced sprint; it made your mouth water even more. He trailed his hand back down to your chest which was covered with a black lace bra with seams of red.

"Such a pretty little thing to ruin," he whispered.

You moaned at his remark, your pleasure muffled by the spit-soaked fabric. You knew he was talking about you and not the lingerie. He traced the seams along the top of the garment. When he got to the side, he traced his finger up the strap and onto your shoulder. His finger continued towards your cheek, wiping away the single tear that had fallen during your capture.

He leaned forward into your hair, taking a fistful and inhaling your scent. Sweat, him, and the forest air intermingled in your tresses. He moved away from your hair, now to your ear. He licked the shell before nibbling roughly on the lobe. You whimpered as he dug his teeth into the pillowy skin. He moved on to your face, finally. His features had softened a fair amount; he had you subdued, there was no need to hunt anymore.

You couldn't handle it anymore. Your heart was about to shatter your ribcage, and your thighs were soaked with your arousal. You tilted your hips upwards to get some friction against his jeans, and you got it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his hand rocketed towards your cheek. The impact stung worse than when you were spanked; he was really pissed off. He immediately pinched your cheeks together in his hand as he glared into your eyes.

"What the fuck did I say by the car? Did I not make it clear to you that you are under my command? Did I not make it clear that you will be punished?"

You whined around the fabric as he let go of your face and forced you down to your knees. He undid his belt and took your hands in his. Your head hung as he bound them, your breath wavering and your lungs heavy.

"Hey."

You came out of your daze as he squatted down to your level and gently lifted your chin with his pointer and middle finger.

"If it's too much, I want you to set your knee on my boot. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded as he examined your features. He could tell that you were sure to let him know immediately if you were pushed too far.

"That's my good girl," he muttered as he stood.

"Now, you only get to use your mouth if you behave with your hands. Do I make myself clear?"

You nodded yet again.

He began to unbutton his jeans before you reached your hands towards his and took them in yours. He understood as he set his hands back by his sides, lifting one to stroke your hair encouragingly. You dragged your fingers over the outline, looking up to gauge his reaction. He tilted his head back slightly as he bared his teeth. You took that as a good sign before moving on to the zipper. He sighed as you nearly tore the tab off the track, relieving him of the insane pressure. You felt a string of spit hit your thigh as you stared at him.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Was this dude like a science experiment or something? How horny were the scientists?

The fabric was nearly see-through due to the sheer stretch. You could see a line of precum running down his leg. You couldn't wait any longer, so you grabbed the hem with one hand as you purposefully dragged the fabric all the way down to his upper thigh. He inhaled through bared teeth as you wrapped one hand around him, the other hung there, still deciding what to do. You stroked him slowly at first, but when you became comfortable, you used your other hand to knead his sack, again, slowly, just to watch him squirm. He grasped your hair by the very root, causing you to moan loudly, despite your gag. He let out a tiny whimper at the sound of your pleasure. It felt like only a few minutes before he tilted your head back, and slowly removed the gag. He watched as a connecting string of spit slowly sank onto your thigh, and he dropped the soaked shirt onto the forest floor.

"You ready to use your mouth, pretty girl?"

"Yes"

"What will you do if it's too much?"

"Set a knee on your boot," you said, grinning slightly.

"Good girl"

He watched as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, he almost pitied you. Almost. He slowly guided your head to his throbbing length. The head somehow looked even more swollen; the underside veins pulsed angrily. You slowly took him into your mouth, you almost feared breaking your damn jaw. Before you were even halfway down his cock, you choked, causing you to pull back. His hand kept you there.

"Breathe through your nose, baby. I know, I know," he said as you shook your head.

"I know you can do it. I know because you were fuckin' made for me."

He continued to stroke your hair, encouraging you to keep going. He gathered your tresses to the back of our head, holding them there, making it easier to focus. Your throat burned around him, the stretch almost too much. Your nose finally met his silvery bush. He gasped as you swallowed around him, making room for his girth. You slowly pulled away, the back of your throat lonely now. When you got to the end, you licked all the way from the base to the tip, earning you what sounded almost like a whimper. Your clit only pulsed harder as you continued your process. In all honesty, he was just so beautiful when he was about to cum. His chest rose and sunk in a beautiful rhythm, sweat gathered in his hair and almost dripped from his nose despite the temperature. He had become so desperate to cum in your mouth that every once in a while, he would grind against your face when you got to the very base. When you had finally reached what seemed like his climax, you pulled away, just in time.

"Fuuckk, what the hell was that for?"

You just shrugged and stated, "You just look so good when you're on the edge. I wanted to enjoy it a little more."

He smirked and stroked the side of your cheek. "I bet you look even better."

You stood, leaning forward to kiss him. He moaned, tasting his precum on your tongue. His hands roamed from your hips to your ribcage and back again, digging his fingertips farther than the rest of his hand. He finally broke the kiss and kept his hands on the gentle curve of your waist.

"You've been such a good girl for me, and now I'm wondering if you deserve a little more than being fucked against a tree, in the cold. We're going back to the house, but first..." He trailed off as he walked around you, stopping at your back. He slipped his hands around to your front, squeezing your breasts through the bra. You sighed as his fingertips grazed over the delicate skin, and he pulled you towards him. His cock dug into your thigh, and he groaned as you collided against him. His left hand abandoned your chest and snaked its way down your abdomen, stopping only at the waistband of your skirt.

"You ok with this?"

"Fuck yes."

He chuckled lightly and continued past the waistband, bunching the fabric between his forearm and your stomach. His hand skated lightly over your labia, and he dug his middle finger the tiniest bit into the folds, causing you to gasp as you felt him ghost over your clit. You reached both arms around his head and he moved in for another kiss. Your tongue collided with his, making you moan. He slowly dipped his whole finger under your folds, rubbing your clit gently. You jolted as you felt the first contact, breaking the kiss. You whimpered as he slowly increased his speed. You were shaky both from the cold and the stimulation, so he wrapped his arm around your ribcage, which to be perfectly honest, was the only thing keeping you upright. You gripped his thigh with all your might, trying desperately not to cum so early. You threw your head back as he grazed over your hole, giving him the opportunity to kiss and bruise what hadn't already been. He teased you by dipping his finger in, just a little deeper every time. When you could feel him enter you, you would try to grind against his hand, and he would go back to your clit. You knew he was playing a game with you, and he was good at it. You decided to remain as still as possible so that he would continue. The next time he teased your entrance, you began to squeeze your legs shut, but thought better of it and forced them apart, prompting him to insert himself farther.

"Fuck," he whispered against your ear. "My girl's so fuckin' tight."

You whimpered at the comment. You could feel his cock press into your thigh even more. You could feel it pulsing and begging for release, dripping more precum down your leg. As you squirmed in his clutch, you rubbed against him, making him let out the prettiest noises into your ear. Once he could go no deeper, he began thrusting, slowly at first, as to not hurt you too bad. He groaned in your ear as your arousal gathered on his hand, knowing it would soon be his cock drenched in your fluids. He picked up the pace before adding another finger. Your hole burned at the second intrusion. The only penetration you've had was your fingers, much smaller than his, less calloused. His rough fingerpads scratched against the spongy walls, especially the one on top, which he found immediately and began paying special attention to. Soon, you had his bicep in an iron grip and his lips locked with yours. You were thrashing in his arms, pained from the overwhelming sensations. You were so close, so close when his palm stroked your clit, and you lost it. You screamed into him, your legs squeezing so hard you were concerned you might break his hand. He carried you through your orgasm, softly rubbing your clit. Once the euphoria had passed, he brought his hand up to your mouth and you took his fingers, closing your lips over them, running your tongue over the joints, licking his fingers clean. He watched you, his eyes never leaving your mouth. When you were done, you nudged your tongue against his fingertips and he pulled away. He tucked himself back in his pants, and slung you over his shoulder, much to your surprise. You gasped as your stomach hit his shoulder, but laughed when he began his journey back to the house. You beat your fists on his back in false aggression, but stopped when he began to speak.

"You keep actin' like that, I might just leave you here," he joked. You could tell he was smiling by his voice. He craned his neck to reach your thigh. When he did, he laid a soft kiss against the pillowy skin, earning him a gasp and a chuckle from you. Before you knew it, you were on his back porch, standing beside him as he unlocked the door. It creaked open, revealing the lights of the kitchen.

"Won't everyone else hear us?" you asked nervously.

"Ah no, they're all gettin' shitfaced at some bar probably."

You grinned at his remark and let him lead you to his room.

[phantoms-autistic-hands]

HERE'S THE OUTLINE ABOUT THIS BRAINWORM

i haven't rly thought of a name for my OC so i'm just gonna use the placeholder name jean for now [after Jean Vic. don't @ me on this]. he might not even end up french tho we'll see…… anyway he was a sailor (don't ask me for further details, it's blurry. it's Real blurry) and he just got back from a voyage but he was discharged from the navy.

what happened during the voyage was he got into a relationship with a higher ranking officer and they were close but was pursuing their relationship knowing that when they get to land they won't be able to continue it (not if the officer wanted to stay in his social circles) buuut it was kind of an open secret on the ship. then there was an Accident, in which the higher ranking officer died (yes i'm going down the dead lover cliche pathway--shhh it's for the plot later). so when the higher ups were looking into the death, they found out about their relationship, which is why the discharge from the navy [[listen. i think at this point france has decriminalized homosexuality but i have no clue what it's like in the navy. so i'm assuming it's the don't ask don't tell thing. so don't @ me on this. or do, i would Love to know if anyone knows]]

so heartbroken and out of a job jean found a job vacancy of being a stagehand at the opera house. his job would be way down below the stage or way up above stage, and the job requirements reminds him of finding his way on a ship, so he's doing just fine with this. he does his job well enough, keeps his head down, tries to be friendly when he can.

after a while of doing bits and pieces here and there and he's established himself, the new chief stagehand gives him the main job of maintaining the area on the mezzanine floor where joseph buquet was killed (i'm smooshing leroux canon and alw canon together here btw. canon is toy blocks for me to pick and choose) since a lot of stagehands avoid that place like a plague. it's not out of malice, it's just that they all realize that jean doesn't rly believe in superstitions or ghosts so they're all like why not? he's knows about the stories but since he doesn't believe in ghosts (and thinks that anything about phantom as an actual dude is an exaggeration of events to attract patrons) he's like eh, alright.

all this happens while jean suspects that he's definitely traumatized by the events that happened during his voyage, obviously. he knows of stories of what happens to people who's traumatized enough. at this point in time he's given in to talking out loud to his dead lover when he's alone, so this is how one day erik heard him through that trapdoor into his home (/torture chamber). when erik tries to scare him off by speaking to him in a disembodied voice, jean Naturally thought that his trauma has given him auditory hallucinations. he at first breaks down about this because he thought he was doing better mentally, but this is a sure sign he isn't doing that great actually.

erik, absolutely confused about this reaction, decides to show himself physically after some time, just to prove to jean that he's not Actually having auditory hallucinations. but jean first mistook him for a lost patron, and is like sir u can't be here without supervision?? and jean's worried he'd lose his job if someone catches a patron wandering down here with only jean watching him bc he sure as hell ain't qualified to give patrons a tour below stage. but erik would mysteriously disappear any time anyone comes close to them. cue a whole bunch of meetings like this bc erik's lonely and this man new to the opera thinks he's a patron and treats him like a normal man and he's been starved of company ever since christine left and the mob hunted him done and he stopped bothering the opera

so they get closer. jean's half worried that erik's a hallucination, since he disappears a lot and is never seen by anybody else but jean, but he seems so real……

they get to a point where erik tells jean of christine and they bond over having lost someone they loved. erik speaks longingly of his dreams of being married and having a wife to go on sunday walks with

at this time jean is a little (a Lot) in love with him and gets his heart shattered into pieces bc god damn it he wants a wife Of Course he'd want a Wife...........

and then somehow erik finds out that jean is in love with Someone and he asks about it (somehow feeling something like Rage and Something Else because jean? in love? WHO WOULD CAPTURE THIS MAN'S ATTENTION? WHO DARES? WHO DESERVES IT?) and jean is like its of no matter (because he thinks erik wouldn't reciprocate. he's not the exactly right gender)

then jean spends a long time thinking it over and realizes that even if erik doesn't return his feelings, erik seems like someone who would benefit from being told that in this world Someone does loves him, even if he [erik] doesn't love jean back. so he tells him and it takes a while to convince erik of it but then erik remembers that jean said his love for erik is "no matter" and goes batshit about it bc does this mean he doesn't matter to jean????

and jean tells erik that it does matter. it matters to him a lot. erik matters to him a lot. but he can't give erik what he wants, their relationship would not exactly be an open one. it would be some secret thing, at the very least half hidden from society. he won't impose that on erik when he knows erik wants his little walks in the park with his lover........ erik's showing the 404 error code.

anyways idk how it goes from here but they'll get together. i swear

[aeferkssr]

your yamhead arc?

its getting late now, do you think we should hang up?"

“aww but i want to spend more time with you" you whine

he chuckles, "you're so cute, [ name ]. but i can hear you yawn, and your voice is getting calmer that earlier. its clear as day that youre sleepy"

you try to make another excuse, to try and stay on the three hour call for a little longer.

"what if we played another game? im pretty sure we can find something else to-" he cuts you off:

"[ name ]." his voice stern, but held no ill intent.

"fine..." you say before sinking deeper into your bed and covering yourself more with your blanket.

"if it makes you feel better," he starts to speak "we call call again tomorrow, i love hearing your voice"your heart jumped at the compliment as you quickly agreed.

"okay! then i'll see you tomorrow. sweet dreams, love"

"good... night"

as the sound went off to show that you hung up, you held your phone to your chest and starting rolling around your bed. the plushies that sat under you either getting kicked off or smooshed under you. you smiled from ear to ear as you recall all of the pet names he called you, and internally cringed at all the cringe-worthy pick up lines you used on him. in response, he either laughed and called you adorable or flirted back with a equally cringy pick-up line. no matter the response, your face never fails to heat up.

every single little aspect of him makes you go insane: his fluffy hair that appears to have been woven by god’s tapestry, his eyes that hold so much love in them despite the situation, and his voice — oh stars, his voice — could be compared to choirs sang by angels. but none of these compared to his laugh. whether it be small chuckles or full on boisterous laugh, a toothy grin will always find a way on your face. most of these giggles being followed by a small yet impactful compliment: “you’re so cute” or a “i love you” never failed to make your heart fall to the bottom of your stomach.

oh how you longed to call him yours, to do all the things that lovers typically do. holding hands, cuddling, acts of service, and kissing. walking together under the moonlight while your enclosed hands sway, briefly making eye contact and the mutual embarrassment that comes with it, before the both of you move closer to meet with a chaste, yet passionate kiss. such scenarios that took over every rational thought in your head made your hands shake. your entire being not used to being so infatuated with someone.

this has never happened before, not even your one-time crushes felt this powerful, this unbearable. your thoughts filled with him and him alone leaving you estatic and longful, and nervous and concious. what if he didn’t feel the same way? what if you kept on bothering him with your frequent calls and texts? what if he was just being nice to you?you go through your day with thoughts such as these, fluctuating from a lovesick puppy to a kicked puppy.

love is a wonderful feeling, you could get high off of it, but that doesn’t stop the possibility of your love not being requited still haunted you. but these negative thoughts were always overpowered by the sheer giddiness he made you feel. as you drifted off to sleep with pleasant memories and well wishes by the one whom you wished the best for.

KAZUHA. HEIZOU. childe. KAEYA. thoma. wanderer (delulu). ayato. al haitham. cyno. albedo.

© aeferkssr

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro!!! I saw this, and it remind me that nomad stev and reader...

just thinkabout when you and Steve both take a day off, and they start playing

maybe some size difference, size kinks, manhandled and nomad eat you out...(*cough)

fluffy, sweet and smut... I just...🤤🤤🤤

Hehe,loaf ya(*/ω＼*)

sweet googlymoogly, this one hit me like a ton of bricks which is what I imagine it feels like to have Nomad Steve on top of you lol

The Game

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, pet names ('little one' and 'kitten'), several positions including doggy style 😉, hint o'size kink, vurray strong Steve but like explicitly cute, if that's a thing, zero attempted editing

You’re trying to read the paper to get an idea of where in the world the group is needed most. The quinjet is parked outside, charging in the sunlight since you all haven’t had the resources to stock jet fuel for months. The delay used to irritate Steve, but he’s remarkably comfortable with downtime now. Why might that be?

It’s hot in the Australian outback, go figure, and a while ago Nat discovered these two cottages on an abandoned ranch. The first time you stayed, you and Sam and Steve and Nat all patched up the structures, spreading out into a ‘girls’ house’ and ‘guys’ house’ for some days of R&R.

That was then; this is now.

Wilson and Romanoff have taken the bikes on a supply run, leaving you and Steve lazing around on two twin mattresses smooshed together on the floor. It’s still fancier than most places you lay your head these days. In naught but underwear and a tank top due to the heat, you’ve opened the newspaper from the other side of the world to see what’s happening out there, spread out on your stomach with arms crossed under your chin.

Steve, completely naked—though you joke that he has enough body hair grown out all over to cover him—makes a show out of sighing heavily before poking at your hip.

“No,” you gripe, swatting at his hand.

He whimpers and tries to tickle you, fingers sliding underneath the hem of your tank.

“I said give me ten minutes.”

“That was nine and a half minutes ago,” he whines.

You push Steve’s broad and heated palm away from you. “Have you been counting?”

“Yes.” He so matter-of-fact about it. It’s infuriating.

You turn to put your back to him. “Then I have thirty more seconds, don’t I?”

Steve growls playfully behind you, the mattress dipping with his weight and you nearly roll over.

“How about a game,” he asks, hot breath on your shoulder as he opens his jaw and lightly bites the curve of you. He keeps his mouth there as his eyes shift to meet yours.

“It’s too hot, Steve.”

“You’re hot.” He releases you and wiggles his eyebrows.

“No—“ you knock his body back with yours “—you are legitimately too hot.”

“Thank you?” He mutters something, and you can’t make it out until you hear, “three, two, one.” Steve runs his hand over your ass, tucking it between your thighs. “So you wanna play a game?”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?”

“If you win, I’ll leave you alone and I’ll cook dinner tonight.”

He knows you well; that’s a fucking challenge to succeed.

“Fine. What’s the game?”

“You have to get away from me.”

“Well, I was trying to do—“ You suck in a gasp when his hand slides across your panties and up your belly beneath your shirt, pushing you flush with his chest.

“Yes, but I wasn’t trying to hold you yet.” Steve nips at your ribcage while his giant paw presses you closer.

He is very hot, the radiating warmth of his skin broken only by the thick cushion of his beard and the bristle of the trimmed hair all down his body. The smooth skin of his dick swells at your ass while he not-quite bites his way up your neck, sealing his hold with a lick along your ear.

“Play with me, little one.”

In such a low voice, his request is indistinguishable from your captain’s command. God, that voice does things to you.

“You want me—“ you roll back toward him, noticing how he relaxes his grip to smooth down over your mound and pull the fabric off “—to get away from you?”

That’s when his other hand, the one you didn’t notice before now, grips at the back of your neck. It’s just a pulse of pressure, a hint of control. “I want you to try.”

Faster than you can exhale a shiver of excitement, your panties are gone, and Steve’s got you on your back, head lolling off the side of the mattress while he pins your hips down. He buries his face in you. It’s not fast or aggressive. He’s not a man starved. He has time, all the time in the world because you can’t get away.

Through pants and rutting groans of pleasure pushed from your lungs, you do try to shift away. That’s the game. Each time you move, even just an inch, Steve tightens around your hips and his teeth graze your inner thigh, a threat, challenge, and tease all in one little motion.

Because little motions are all you’re getting; they’re all you can manage with his strength bearing down and all he’s giving across your clit, but little motions are enough when Steve’s focused. They are more than enough with that fucking beard of his.

When he knows you’re close, he hauls you back onto the mattress, ruining all your progress (that merely got your shoulder blades to the edge). The pull and the burn and the friction and the wet of everything inside and outside of you implodes as your grab Steve’s long hair hard. You’re not even sure whether you’re pushing him into you or pulling him off of you. You’ll never know because, fuck, why would you care? He’s not budging until your screams die down.

Then he drops you, and you weakly scramble to perch yourself on your elbows, anything to show some fight left in your ravaged body.

Game’s not over. Steve’s not done.

By your ankles, he flips you. It’s not that difficult, not for Steve, and you’re not that big, certainly not compared to him.

His palms press and slide up the back of your thighs, over your ass. One stops at your hip. The other settles between those treacherous shoulder blades, riding the tanktop up to just beneath your breasts. The hand at your hip lifts your lower half, presenting everything you have as an offer to Steve. His groan and your whine harmonize and mingle in the red dust blown through the open windows.

Two fingers sink in while he chuckles. “Could have sworn you had claws, kitten,” but it’s too late. He can hold your hip, your arms, your neck, he can drape his weight overtop you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You still fight for every inch, but each rush forward ends with another inch of him sinking into you. By the time your palms are back on the floor, Steve’s buried to the hilt, and all you’ve managed to do is give him a better—no, the best angle to fuck you.

This is a stupid game, and it feels un-win-able. You get away? Well then he’s not inside you anymore, and that’s a travesty. You stop fighting? He might go easy on you, and that’s just plain unacceptable when his dick feels this good. Hell, he sounds so good, grunting and babbling about how tight you are around him, how much he loves watching your ass from ‘way up here,’ how you’re so wet his balls are dripping as they slap against your sensitive nerves. It’s an impossible situation.

But…

Captain said to play the game, and Captain Rogers must be obeyed.

You press against your hands like a stretching cat, shoving Steve back onto his heels. He huffs, his rhythm broken until you attempt to stand and jump off the bed.

Mid-air, he catches you, swatting you back down onto the springy cushion, face up and giggling. You can’t help it. You’re so not sad that your ploy ‘didn’t’ work. Your reward—the thinnest veiled punishment of it all—is Steve’s near-feral attack on your breasts, top ripped over your head, nipples caressed, sucked, and bitten to within an inch of your life, or so it feels to your lung. The now dire ache grows between your legs.

As if on cue, he lines himself back up, a glorious sigh rolling off his shiny pink lips. Steve pushes that giant paw of his into your stomach again, this time using the other to prop your leg over his chest and shoulder. He clutches your thigh to his straining abs.

Sweet mercy, he knows. He goddamn knows that’s the spot. He can feel himself thrust inside you. He savors the slow drag of his head beneath his own fingers through your skin, but he can only handle that so long.

You coming around him is his downfall. His eyebrows synch together crudely, and his movements falter. Steve’s moans cut off in higher and higher whines.

This is your moment; he’s useless when he comes.

You seize onto his broad shoulders for leverage, using the slick of your arousal and his sweat to launch out of his grasp and off the bed. Though the victory feels empty without Steve filling you, you’re granted the glorious sight of the beast that is Nomad frantically stroking himself to completion. His desperate, small cry at having to shoot his load on the sheets beneath him instead of deep in your heat may as well be music.

That treat alone could be enough of a prize, and it is…until those blue eyes turn up toward you through long lashes, a grin breaking through the coarse hair all around it.

“Best two outta three?”

Ope, feeling myself gettin' frisky, gang. Good thing I've got two series that all have smut next...

Hope you enjoyed reading! Reblogs and feedback are always welcome!

[hongluboobs]

given that it looks like the family's been 'smooshed' to be closer together (Jia Huan going from half-brother to just a brother) my current theory is that Daiyu and Baochai are the younger sister and sibling mentioned (though I'm not sure which is which, ie. who was made NB).

I think Jia Huan remains a half-brother in Limbus!

He only has one line in this game, which I'll put here:

It makes sense to assume they're full brothers because Hong Lu calls Jia Huan "brother" but in the book Bao-yu still refers to Jia Huan as brother at some point. (I would go find this in the text but as you can imagine it is a PAIN to find the word brother in a 5 volume 2000+ page text)

Jia Huan's use of "your family" instead of "our family" is another clue! Because Book Jia Huan is a half-sibling via a concubine he isn't considered as much of a part of the family as a child by marriage like Bao-yu would be.

There's still some wacky stuff going on with Hong Lu's family, though! Limbus Jia Huan is an older brother, which is Interesting because he's a younger brother in the book.

(The clarification of age is only in the korean/japanese text, but it does exist!)

I'm going to bring up all the mentions of Hong Lu's sibling now, because there are a few (I may have missed some in the IDs, I don't have an easy way of checking them)

These tell us... Pretty much nothing that I can really go off of. The interesting thing is the first quote seems to reference a moment in the book where Jia Huan cheats at cards, but because he's an older brother now who knows.

Bao-yu does have both younger and older sisters in the text, and then his younger brother is Jia Huan but we've established he's the older sibling in limbus. Sister and younger sibling are both plural in the third example so there could be some compression of the family here but I don't have a lot to go off of.

I have NO idea what they are going to do with Bao-chai and Dai-yu because there's that awkward classic lit adaptation problem of "these characters are related, but at the same time their romantic entanglement is very important to the story. We are adapting this through a modern lens where it is not the 1700s and being engaged to your cousin is bad, actually!" and honestly? I don't want to make any calls until we for sure know more about their relationship. They could be going the full family angle for Hong Lu and retcon the marriage, or have it take place in a different part of the story where it hasn't happened, or similar.

In the text, Bao-chai and Dai-yu are Bao-yu's cousins, not siblings, and with the wedding being one of the most important scenes in the book I really have no idea what will happen. Hong Lu is described as a bachelor/unmarried in Limbus but honestly, I don't know if I believe him on that one. If they do retcon/not mention or adapt the marriage they could very well collapse parts of the family tree, I'm just relatively wary of if they Do Not do that.

A pet theory I've had is that the younger sibling could be Hong Lu's way of coping with his childhood through detachment. (as in: the younger sibling is Hong Lu, but the past Hong Lu who had to deal with Everything growing up). I don't really have proof for this aside from some small things in the book and thinking it'd be an interesting way for things to be adapted in Limbus. Bao-yu's childhood is already rough for a variety of reasons in the book, but putting him in the city would make everything much worse so I could see it happening. The use of "sibling" is so interesting because it's a deliberate choice to not gender it and so it could be anything!

Apologies for the wait on this one! I have school and work again and I haven't been as Hong Lu brained because I've been making my way through ruina again but it was fun to drop some stuff like this! I'm really curious to how they will adapt his family and honestly Red Chamber as a whole because it is so thematically rich and there's a lot of stuff you can tie to the themes of Project Moon's games!