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luvclerc · 7 months

Note

how bout a charles leclerc x kpop idol reader? where charles and the reader have been dating even before they became famous. theyve been soft-launching each other for years and years, and the fans are trying to figure it out.

ps: i imagine jennie kim as the face claim (i love her sm)

gf reveal please

summary: when fans are manifesting a relationship they don’t know already exists

pairing: charles leclerc & reader

liked by lewishamilton and 5,928,193 others

youruser happiest girl in the worlddd

view all 34,828 comments

rubylove to the person that sends her blue flowers every year for her birthday, thank you <3

heartyn the way she’s always getting the same flowers every year 😭

petrolh lewis what are u doing here 👀

pink1 pretty sure they did a campaign together recently so nothing juicy from them

rosiesyn i just want to know who’s been gifting her flowers every year

liked by carlossainz16, landonorris, pierregasly and 2,928,019 others

charles_leclerc from the camera roll 📸

view all 26,929 comments

lecler16 ahhh not charles in his soft launch the flowers again???!-

scuder1a going to pretend i didn’t see the last slide 🫶🏻

pierregasly 😁

amorcl ???

lestapa33n what does this mean

pinkari i want to say something but i don’t want to get ratioed on here too

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz16, and 4,729,019 others

youruser uk recap (ps. wasn’t exactly the results we wanted but still had a good time!)

view all 34,929 comments

pinkscuderia HELLO YN WAS AT SILVERSTONE AND THERE WAS NO PICTURES OF HER AT THE PADDOCK??!/!/

ynnniviee we were robbed of yn content at the race

char_les PLEASE TELL ME WE HAVE SOME CONTENT OF YN WITH THE DRIVERS scuderiaferrari

scuderiaferrari 🤭

sainzchar DOES THAT MEAN YESS???

scuderiaferrari see you again next race?

pinkari CHARLES IN THE LIKES??? ONE STEP CLOSER TO MY SHIP SAILING

lechairs but charles already has a gf…

liked by landonorris, youruser, and 2,292,019 others

charles_leclerc 9th. not the results we were expecting but thank you for the continuous support. next stop break.

view all 24,425 comments

itsleclerc silverstone + strategist screwed over charles this weekend but the man still has the mood to soft launch..

clmcquen shout to to charles gf for helping him through this tough time

lechairrie one day ferrari will stop fcking up charles

ynmon would have been great if yn got to celebrate a win with ferrari :(

youruser forever proud! comment has been deleted

sainzchair ENOUGH with posting the back of her head gf reveal pls

liked by youruser, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 4,420,324 others

charles_leclerc always nice to spend the holidays with family ❤️

view all 34,028 comments

itslec1erc it’s been 5 holidays gf reveal when 🥹

scuderiaferrari lovely family ❤️

carlossainz55 this a big ass tree

landonorris psa! charles gf makes more money than him

charles_leclerc as she should :)

alex_albon when i borrowed $200 from her and she didn’t ask for it back 💃🏻

ynlnlover is anymore here from yn recent post?!

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, lewishamilton and 4,593,013 others

youruser happy holidays everyone!

view all 43,505 comments

ariyn the dress... the tree... the private jet

sharleclerc waittt is this the girl from charles recent post???

landonorris oop the dots are connecting

georgerussell63 did you get me a christmas gift this year??

youruser uM haha

ynhearrt NOO MOTHER FIRST DATING RUMOR 💔

plsyn f1 driver x kpop idol is the weirdest crossover i’m sorry???

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, pierragasly, youruser and 29,210,425 others

charles_leclerc took her on a trip for our fifth anniversary ❤️

tagged: youruser

view all 98,184 comments

pierregasly damn i wanted to be the one who did the reveal 💔

youruser ilyy 💞

carlossainz55 does this mean i can finally post my pictures 😭

sharlcare STOP THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED

ynmomm THE VISUALS WNSNDNSNW

scuderiaferrari parents 🫶🏻

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 12,244,091 others

youruser me and my man <3

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 80,241 comments

pinkari EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST ME SHALL FALL

leschairs it was you and me against the world :(

charles_leclerc yn only agreed to hard launch cause she didn’t want pierre to reveal it himself 😞

pierregasly you never want to see me win :/

landonorris adopt me 🫶🏻

ynfan THE PRETTIEST COUPLE

charlyn don’t know who i want more, yn or charles 😭

carlossainz55 don’t forget about me 🥹

#charles leclerc au #charles leclerc #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #formula one smau #f1 instagram au #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagine

2K notes · View notes

mrsjellymunson · 4 months

Text

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 for 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 forearms are 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’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, 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 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’ 😊🎄

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

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Robin and Dustin fight for the passenger door as Eddie pops in the back, scoffing and slamming the door.

"Hey, hey!" Steve yells, leaning over the console to open the door himself.

"Steve! Make him stop!" Robin demands, voice shrill as she squishes her grocery bag up against the door so she can't free up her hands to playfully slap-fight Dustin.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie curses.

Steve hears the unmistakable sound of a can opening in the back and he rolls his eyes. Eddie promised he wouldn't buy beer or whatever soda it is he's obsessing over this week.

Robin knocks Dustin's signature hat off and he screeches.

"Stop!" Steve begs, attempting to move over further but his seatbelt yanks him back. "Robin gets shotgun!"

The duo outside pauses. Robin pokes her tongue out and follows up with a childish gaffaw. The pair stand in silence, glaring at each other until Dustin snatches away the grocery bag.

Robin scrambles into the car, clips in her seatbelt and manually locks her door in one fluid motion.

"You do realise you waste time every single day with this?" Eddie says as Dustin hops in the back and slaps his baseball cap back on.

"Robin has been shotgun all week!" Dustin shoots back.

Can no one excerise any volume control in this car!

Steve shoots Robin a disapproving look as he fires up the engine. There's a crinkling of the grocery bag and Steve looks in the rear vision mirror but he can't quite see what Dustin and Eddie are clambering for.

"Starting next week, I'm making a schedule that everyone will follow. No exceptions."

"What if it's an emergency?" Robin asks, tenting her fingers like it's the most obvious follow up question.

"I reeeeefuse to sit in the back with Mike, Lucas and Henderson all stinking up the car after school," Eddie so helpfully adds.

"Hey!" Dustin whines, moving the bag away from Eddie.

There's more rustling and crinkling, followed by loud chewing.

"Yeah," Robin agrees, reaching in the back. "I agree on that one."

"Hey!"

"I'll figure it out!" Steve snaps, waving his hand as of to wave away the endless mitigating factors these idiots will surely conjure up of he doesn't stop them.

He looks over to his best friend, tinkling the foil back on a god damn Easter egg before shoving it into her mouth. She gags.

"Ew! This chocolate is awful, Eddie!"

"No it isn't."

Steve does a double take.

"Wait, did I send you three into the grocery store with a clear and organised list, only for you to buy Easter eggs!"

"I also bought beer," Eddie clarifies, belching.

"I mean, pretty much," Dustin shrugs, opening a packet of crisps.

"A weekend of nothing but junk food then?" Steve asks.

Although he doesn't know why he's bothering. This is what he gets for trying to assign errands.

He looks at Robin, so annoyed that he feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his skull.

"Did you get something for me to make for dinner, at the every least, Robs?"

"I don't do vegetables," Eddie chimes, again not helping.

This is what he gets for expecting his boyfriend to just automatically back him up in the face of Robin and Dustin being the most annoying versions of themselves.

He turns a corner into the main road of Loch Nora and hears the distinct sound of liquid dripping on the floor.

"Oops," Eddie mumbles.

Okay yeah, he's just as annoying as the other two.

"Can't we get pizza?" Dustin asks, jostling Robin's seat enough that she lazily slaps at the brim of his hat, threatening to knock it off again.

"I promised Claudia I wouldn't just feed you junk all weekend."

"But pizza has vegetables!" he argues.

"Technically Henderson is correct, there, Steve-o," Robin adds.

And for the first time this afternoon, the pair agree on something... They both nod.

"I could go for pizza," Eddie wonders aloud. "Pepperoni. No vegetables in sight!"

He leans forward and chomps the last word directly into Steve's ear, retreating with a giggle.

"Trust me," Steve begins, making sure to catch Eddie's eye in the rearview mirror and of course, he's grinning like an idiot. "You get your serving of vegetables."

A silence promptly falls over the Beemer.

Robin stifles a laugh, Eddie blushes scarlet and Dustin leans into the front cabin, eyebrows raised sky-high.

Dear god, that isn't what he meant.

"I sneak vegetables into Eddie's food!" he insists, shrugging.

"What!" Eddie screams so loud Steve almost swerves off the road mere seconds from his driveway.

#not a braincell in sight #my follow up to eddie hating celery bc i think he causes so much grief for steve #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderdads #robin buckley #dustin henderson #st: easter edition #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon

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scoopstomyahoy · 8 months

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i’ve seen a couple lavender marriage stobin posts, but what about lavender dating stobin?

they’re both way too young to get married — robin’s parents especially would be shocked, and, well, steve’s parents would just be shocked by his choice. but maybe when robin goes back to school after summer ‘85, all the girls in her grade are asking how she possibly landed steve the hair harrington.

and she’s soooo sick of it. she’s sick of telling someone that they aren’t dating and getting asked the same question by another girl the very next period. she’s sick of the way they treat steve like a prize to be won and not a human being and let’s be honest, a dingus. and she’s sick of the way everyone is scandalized by the thought of him dating HER because at some point, it kind of just hurts her feelings!

and she goes on a rant one day in front of a whole group of people about how basically, none of them ever stood a chance with steve, because they didn’t see who he really was and they didn’t treat him the way he deserved to be treated and she could totally land a hottie like him if she actually wanted to, for the record, and that she’s sick of everyone harassing her over it and making her (and steve) feel like zoo animals behind thick glass.

and everyone is staring at her, and oops, she didn’t say they were dating, but these normies wouldn’t understand the concept of platonic soulmates even if she tried to explain it. so they all think she’s dating steve.

“everyone thinks we’re dating, steve,” she grumbles when he picks her up from school that day. and, well, she wonders what could possibly have given them the impression that they were dating, when he picks her up from school like he does every day, and tosses her a little candy bar, the kind she likes, probably because he saw it at the gas station and thought she’d want it and just. bought it. because he loves her.

steve looks at her. “uh, yeah?”

because this is not actually news. dustin has been convinced they’re dating for months, and she’s been complaining about the kids at school for weeks.

“no, like, they really believe we’re dating now.” she cringes. “uhh. i might have said something that implied we were.”

steve snorts.

“not on purpose!” she cries.

steve snorts again. “doofus.”

“shut up, dingus. it’s a problem! i was, you know, defending your honor—” a third snort “—and i just didn’t deny our relationship like i normally do, and everyone took that as— admission.” her hands fly around her as she talks.

steve is silent. she looks at him. he’s thinking. hard.

“well,” he says, “that wouldn’t be… the worst thing. right?”

“what.”

“i just mean, if we were dating—”

“LESBIAN, steve!” robin points to herself.

“i know! i know, jeez-us. if everyone thought we were dating, like, actually, that could solve some of our problems.”

“explain.”

“like, i keep striking out, but that’s ‘cause i’m not really interested in hooking up with girls who aren’t looking for anything serious anymore. and you said i should try to be single for a while, ‘be comfortable with my own company’ or whatever—”

“it’s healthy!”

“sure! yeah, whatever! so i could be single with you, and you, you could, you know, you’d be a little safer. i could be your… goatee.”

“beard.”

“that.”

“although, i don’t know, maybe for lesbians it is a goatee.”

“rob, we’re getting off topic. my point is, we could… we could be dating.”

robin considers it. “you want to fake date.”

“not like, actually fake date. like, i’m not taking you to the diner and sharing a milkshake with two straws after we see the latest john hughes.”

“steve, we have literally done exactly that.”

“oh. right.”

“wait,” robin says, “wait wait wait. we have literally done exactly that.”

“right,” steve says.

“steve, are we…. are we already fake dating?”

it’s steve’s turn to consider it. “wait, are you the reason i keep striking out?”

“hey!”

“kidding!”

anyway. they talk it out a bit more, and robin warms up to the idea. because steve isn’t wrong, she would be safer if people thought she had a boyfriend. she had never dated a boy before. and dustin might lay off of steve for a little bit if steve admits he was right. (steve groans, loudly, at the idea of ever admitting to the little genius that he’s right.) and they don’t have to make some huge announcement to the world, posting it on the school’s bulletin board for everyone to see.

but maybe robin would stop getting weird looks in the locker room if she had a boyfriend to prove people wrong.

#stobin #stobin qpr #stobin ficlet #stranger things #mine #i imagine this is long before robin develops a crush on vickie because. then the lavender dating would cause a problem.#this miiiiight end up getting continued. as little hijinks. if anyone is interested.

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karingu · 10 months

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can i say something about inukik & inukag lol

For context, I’m a latecomer to this series. I just finished it last month in the year 2023. And “Did Inuyasha love Kikyo more or Kagome more?” is sort of a weird debate for me.

Because it's sort of implying that "love" could be quantified or something. Like it’s something you can point your finger at and count. But from my, ahem seasoned expertise, that’s not how it works.

So I want to look at it in a different way.

Let’s get it straight. Love is not quantifiable. Inuyasha loved both Kikyo and Kagome the best way he knew how. He was genuine about both of them. His feelings were earnest and true.

But you can’t deny his love somehow feels... different between the two of them.

So what is it? What is this difference?...

*deep breath* please bear with me I need to get this out of my system

Inuyasha loved Kikyo. But their love felt transactional.

Kikyo showed him kindness, didn't try to kill him, treated him like a normal person for once. But... she was kind of in a sad place in life. In protecting the jewel, she felt robbed of a normal life. So, she asked him one day, "Will you become human and destroy the jewel? For me?" Kind of a tall ask, but I don’t blame her. She was feeling miserable. And Inuyasha's like, "Yes, of course!"

But then she died. And got resurrected. And Inuyasha's like “well shit, now I REALLY need to do something for her. She DIED because of me.” That's really what's driving his love (is it love anymore? idk) at this point. It feels like he's chasing to pay off his debt.

That's what I mean by “transactional.”

Okay, so Inuyasha loved Kagome too. But their love felt unconditional.

Kagome also showed him kindness, didn't try to kill him, treated him like a normal person etc. just like Kikyo. But she doesn’t really need anything from Inuyasha, right. She’s content with her life and all. So... she didn't ask for anything back. She just gave kindness to him and went on her merry way. Ok ya, sometimes she gets a lil grumpy (she’s human) but she always believes in him, trusts him to do the right thing, supports him when he's weak, yada yada... and like, that's it. Inuyasha even tries to make himself look like the bad guy, steals her shards, freakin’ pushes her into the well to get her to go home (cuz he didn’t want her to get hurt anymore), but Kagome comes back HUGGING him LMAO

Kagome is giving him literally nothing but love and trust and support. Not really expecting anything in return. She just wants to see him be his best and do his best. Encourage him during hard times. Even when she sees him with Kikyo lol… Clearly it hurts her and she realizes she caught feelings (oops), but she accepts that about herself and holds on to her desire to support him through and through.

She kinda says to him, "Hey… I know my place (in relation to Kikyo), but I still want to support you. I want to see you smile and be happy. Will you let me stay by your side?"

DAMN. Inuyasha says, "You’ll stay for me?" (well, in the anime in Japanese that's what he literally says, I replayed that scene like 500 times to make sure I heard it right). And she's like ya! Let's go!

CMONNNN. His brain is probably like “NO STOP! I OWE MY LIFE TO KIKYO!” but his heart is already saying “JFC THIS GIRL. I LOVE HER.” And he wants to do everything for her, not because he's indebted to her. It's not a transaction he needs to pay up. He does it because he really wants to.

So like, people making a ruckus about “Inuyasha Loved Kikyo!!!” vs “NO INUYASHA LOVED KAGOME!!” And I’m just sitting here going, uhh. I mean y'all both right! He... loved them both? Hello? And he loved very adorably for both of them. He’s such an honest lover.

But the circumstances in which he loved each girl are totally different.

With Kikyo, the circumstances were pretty dire. They were both deprived of something important to them. Her, a normal life. Him, just basic love and affection. They weren’t able to love each other with no strings attached bc they both still had stuff internally to deal with (her: the need to be liberated & him: insecurity). But, regardless, they shared a special bond that can’t be replaced. That’s a given.

Kagome... gave him better circumstances to love. Her love made him feel light. It felt so good and positive. She taught him a lot on what it means to trust and love someone unconditionally. He could show her all his ugly and she accepts that about him. She helped him meet lifelong friends too, Miroku, Sango, Shippo... And he really treasures her for that. They also shared a special bond that can’t be replaced, literally no one can replace bc he basically screams out loud (in the Meido) she is his soulmate. :’) suh cute

I think at the end, yeah, Kikyo might’ve got some smooches and our InuKag friends are like D: But… I’m romantic ace so maybe I see it differently, but it’s just a kiss. I never doubted that the only kiss that would truly make his eyes light up, the only kiss that could cause his entire soul to leap out of his own mouth and stun him into silence, is a kiss with Kagome. And Rumiko Takahashi did that without actually providing us a kiss scene (in the manga).

Takahashi made me trust Inuyasha like how he and Kagome trust each other. :((((

That’s... incredible. Standing ovation character building 👏🏼

#that's it #let’s just all love each other okay #i'm done with this fiasco #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #kikyo #inukik #inukag #inuyasha anime #inuyasha manga #my:posts #my:inumeta

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fag4dykestobin · 8 months

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i kind of sat down and thought about steve and robin cooking together, and then i entered a fugue state and came out of it with a little over 1.7k words written about them being domestic besties (domesties?). so um. enjoy :)

Robin has destroyed one of her mom’s pans again, so she’s been banished to Steve’s house.

Well, okay, let’s back up.

Robin, waking up and feeling especially productive, had taken it upon herself to make some scrambled eggs. Nice and simple, right? So she had grabbed the first spatula and pan she could find, and… scrambled those eggs! She even remembered the salt and pepper! Unfortunately, as Robin had remembered after she oh-so-lovingly scraped off the nonstick coating, metal utensils and nonstick pans didn’t really get along. Oops. Panicking, she had scraped her mess into the trash and called Steve to pick her up. So, really, she had banished herself, preemptively.

“How the hell did you even do this much damage?” Steve asks, holding up the pan. The look of befuddlement on his face is picture perfect; you could teach children how to identify emotions with that face. Robin would pinch his cheek if she wasn’t so embarrassed.

“I don’t know! I just tried to make some eggs!”

“Rob, there’s like, a solid cube of—”

“A cube is a 3D object, dingus.”

“This is a 3D object!”

“Not in that way! It’s not a cube! You mean a square!”

Steve throws up his hands, one of them brandishing the pan and waving it around. “Fine! There’s a solid square…” Steve gives Robin a look. She nods her head at him in acquiescence. “... Of coating rubbed off of this thing. Why were you punishing your eggs like that?”

Robin leans back on the counter she’s been sitting on, legs swinging. Her heel hits the cabinet once, and Steve’s eye twitches, but he says nothing. Because he loves her. But she tries to avoid doing it again, for his sake. “I had to get that yolk distributed! I was working fast, Evie, the burner was on and I wanted it evenly mixed—!”

“So why didn’t you mix it in a bowl before that?!” Steve looks so stressed. It's kind of funny, given how unimportant the subject matter is. Robin suppresses a grin.

“I forgot! I was groggy!”

Steve groans, setting the ruined pan down and rubbing a hand over his face. “... When we move in together,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at Robin, “I am keeping my metal utensils in a locked safe.”

The warm, fuzzy feeling that always appears when Robin is reminded of their future together, their permanence in each other’s lives, it fizzes and pops in her chest like a sparkler. It’s still such a comforting feeling, even after all these months.

It doesn’t stop her from antagonizing him a little. “Like I don’t know what combination you’ll set it to,” she scoffs. “I could just break in. To spite you.”

Steve sits with that for a moment. “You’re breaking my heart, Robbie, you know that? You break my heart.” Not a real comeback. She’s won their battle of the bits, this time around.

“Well, anyway,” Steve continues, “I am really hoping you didn’t eat those eggs after seasoning them with metal filings.”

“It wasn’t— I don’t think the coating is metal. I don’t know what it is, actually, but I don’t think it falls under metal filings.”

Steve hmms. “Well, it’s not, like, plastic, right? Or silicone? That would just melt.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Well, it can’t be metal, because it loses a fight with metal spatulas.”

Steve thinks for a second. “Is… God, I mean, I guess there are other, other uh… what’s the word? For, like, not from plants?” Robin scrunches her brow in thought. “Synthetic? Inorganic?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Yeah, both of those work. There’s probably things that aren’t plastic or metal that can be used to cook with, but it feels weird. That there’s another category out there.”

Robin nods in agreement, and they sit in companionable silence for a moment, contemplating on the nature of cookware.

“Anyway, no, I still haven’t eaten.”

Steve curses, gets up from leaning on his kitchen island, and steps over to the cabinets where he keeps his pots and pans. “Yes, God, okay, let me feed you. Still want eggs?”

“You know it!” Robin says, and Steve gets to cooking, bustling around the kitchen with practiced motions. It’s nice to watch him cook. He gets very focused, in a way that doesn’t usually come naturally to him. Steve doesn’t usually like talking while he’s cooking, but he hums bits of songs, bobs his head to the beat.

In no time at all he has a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of Robin, and she hops off the counter to sit at a stool at the kitchen island. She grabs the plate from Steve and smacks a wet kiss on his cheek, making him roll his eyes with a smile and subtly wipe her spit off.

Steve takes a seat across from her, and she notices that he doesn’t have anything. Did he already eat? “Did you already eat?” Robin asks.

Steve blinks. “Oh. No, I forgot.” He has a tendency to do that; when he cooks for someone, he can get so caught up in it that he forgets to make some for himself, and is left to scramble afterwards. “I’ll make myself some eggs after you’re done.”

An idea comes to mind. An attempt at redemption, maybe. “Let me?” Robin asks.

“And let you ruin my pans? No thanks.”

A flash of genuine hurt passes through Robin, and she lets it show on her face in the form of a pout. The comment isn’t unfounded, but… “No, please! I know what I did wrong, I’ll do better this time. I’m not sleepy anymore, either.” She just wants to take care of Steve like he takes care of her. She wants to feed him eggs, goddamnit! When was the last time anyone fed him eggs? Actually, if she thinks about that one, she’ll get sad, so she stops thinking about it.

Steve can obviously see her earnestness, and he softens. And rolls his eyes. But that’s just him being Steve, so Robin loves it. “Whatever you want, Birdie. Just don’t burn them. Oh, and use garlic powder.”

So Robin practically inhales the rest of her eggs and toast (very tasty, as always) and gets to work. Steve sits at his stool at the island, trying and failing not to watch Robin like a hawk as she bumbles around his kitchen (“That’s not enough garlic powder, Rob, put some more in there, it won’t bite!” and “Use the small pan on the top shelf— no, the other small pan. No, the other—”), but she does eventually get a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. Not as good looking as the one Steve presented her, but it smelled good, and didn’t have weird inorganic pan flecks in them. Steve gives her a sloppy kiss on her cheek this time, over-exaggerating and putting way too much saliva in it, seriously, was he a dog or something? Robin BLECH’d and rubbed at her cheek, but he looked happy at his plate of food, so. Overall success, even if sacrifices had to be made.

Robin leaned on the island on her elbows, face a foot away from Steve’s as he picked up a forkful of egg. He side-eyed her.

“Do you… want some…?”

Robin waved a hand at him. “No, dingus. Eat it! Do you like it?”

“Okay, okay!” Steve rolled his eyes and ate his forkful. Robin stared at him as he chewed, looking out for emotions such as delight and wonder, but also disgust and revulsion.

She found nothing. Steve looked normal. He ate another forkful, eyeing her.

“So?” Robin prods.

“They’re eggs?” Steve says, mouth still half full.

“Swallow!” Steve rolls his eyes and does as she asks. “Nothing else? They’re just eggs?”

Steve nods, shrugging a little. Robin feels a little let-down. The first time Steve had made her eggs, it was life-changing. He put heavy cream in them. Robin doesn’t think her parents had ever bought heavy cream in their lives.

Robin guesses that it makes sense, though. This is just how he makes eggs, duh. Still, it makes her feel kind of bad, that she couldn’t give Steve the same feeling he gave her.

Steve seems to sense her inner turmoil. “They’re— it’s good, though! You did a good job. I do like it.” He seems kind of… embarrassed, but grateful. “You didn’t have to make them for me. Thanks.”

Robin bumps his shoulder with her own, and then retreats to her seat, allowing him a bit more personal space. But not too much! She kicks at his shins, and he kicks back, a smile on his face.

Cleanup is easy as Steve washes the dishes and Robin dries. It’s the small, domestic things, like this, that make her so excited to eventually live together. It’s so easy and companionable, full of chatter about band practice and Dustin’s latest science experiment. She can’t wait to graduate.

After the dishes, though, they’re both at the kitchen island again, silently staring at the pan Robin had ruined at her house earlier.

“... It seems like a waste to throw away,” Robin complains.

“I know, right? But it’s, like, useless now.”

Robin hums. “I mean, no, it’s still like… metal. I feel like we should be melting it down.”

Steve stares at her. “In what world would it be more useful melted down?”

Robin squawks, indignant at her idea being challenged. “You know what I mean!”

“No I don’t! Do you just want a, a… what’s the word? A bar of metal.”

“Ingot.”

“Do you just want an ingot hanging out on our mantelpiece?!”

“Well, I didn’t before, but now I do!”

They look at each other for only a moment before dissolving into simultaneous giggles, shared joy crackling and leaping between them.

Steve settles down first. Still grinning, he turns to put the pan at the very top of a relatively bare cupboard. “Fine, we’ll just… keep this to be melted down later.”

Robin can’t do anything to stop the twin grin on her face, not that she would ever want to. “I love you, Evie.” The words come easy, and the delight and surprise on Steve’s face is as wonderful as always. He pulls her into a hug.

“I love you too, Rob.”

#this is my first time writing them and i think i have a good idea of them but. well. all first times doing anything can end up rough #i am largely happy with this though i just love these two. da besties #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #stranger things #quincy.txt #i will post this to ao3... tomorrow....... i stayed up way too late to write all of this but i was on a roll #oh and yeah i didn't alternate steve's pronouns here and that is mainly becuase i have a Timeline in mind for her gender journey #and he is not here yet. i imagine this to be in like november. a few months after starcourt but before s4 #took so much effort not to alternate the pronouns though sorry stevie i love you bbg you are always bigender don't worry #my fics

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forthechubbies · 1 year

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Barefaced.Big Boys Au ( Mingi Special for Yunho's birthday) 🔞

Warning! Pervert! Mingi.

Whenever big papa Yuyu is out n' about, Minnie is strictly prohibited for being anywhere near you when he's not present.

Initially, Yunho though about keeping a tight leash on him and tie him to one of steel pipes in the basement but that's inhumane.

However, to be fair, Minnie acts more of a horn dog then an actual person when he's amorous. And when is that? All the time..just about!

Yet as of right now, Minnie was content being the only person home at the time- "Achoo! Ugh..Shit" minus the sick part.

Slam!

"Minnieeee." The abruptness of your sudden arrival quickly made Minnie break into a sweat fit and you throwing yourself into his space on the couch. Isn't helping. "Yuyu told me you were sick so I rushed home immediately, My poor baby." You cooed at him, stroking his inky ebony locks...just pause-

His face is nude. He has acne..."I've never seen you make up-free." You adjust yourself to settle on his lap. "Wow, Your so pretty."

Minnie gulped, tilting his face up to hide his flush cheeks. "Your prettier." He sheepishly chuckled, ghosting his large hand over your hip but not touching you.

You gasped. "You spoke to me! I mean you usually do but not to me at least not often!" You squeaked, bouncing in place.

"Nonono!" Minnie lifts you up into his arms, hovering you over the forming tent below. "My legs started hurting..Um-" Oops. Touching.

"Oh!" Why don't you remember him having super strength? You immediately attempted to get up. "I'll just get up-ah!"

"Sit." Mingi squeezed your curves, You squeaked out of shock this time. "Sorry...You're okay, here." There's not many chances he gets to hold you like this...smell you like this...touch-"Oh god." He let out a small sinful deep groan as you watch his eyes darken tracing your legs. "Fuck, Yu is gonna be pissed....I'll just be gentle..very very gentle-" He was mumbling like a maniac.

"Minnie?" You're cute voice chimes in at the wrong time. Mingi looked down into your big innocent eyes and purred against your earlobe. " I always wanted to do this." He announced before shoving his face into your peeking cleavage. "Mmmm."

You screamed faintly in result before being slammed on the fluff couch cushions. "Mingi! What's gotten into mmmm!"

.......

The look on your face when his tongue dominate yours is photo -worthy yet his favorite camera was far out of reach...In the bedroom- It took Mingi seconds to load you up over his shoulder; you clawed at his shirt fearing the height difference.

"Mingi! What are you doing?!" Your cute confused pleads only added fuel to Mingi semi-twisted kink. You're fear only hyped when you realize he was heading for the stairs...but you were afraid for the wrong reason.

Your nails dug into his t-shirt. "Don't drop me! Don't drop me! Minnie, this isn't funny anymore! Put me down!" You began to act out (Kicking your chubby legs) surprising you're frustrated hubby almost causing to drop you.

"Yah!" Slap! "I could havbe drop you!" Slap! Mingi chuckled at your reaction to him manhandling your body.

"I'm home!....I was thinking about going out for din-NER!" Yunho loosed his tie at the mother of all messes, the once spotless living room turned into the end result of a mini hurricane and what was his first thought? We were robbed!

But a pair of familiar chubby leg hanging oddly in the air drew Yunho closer... and his discovery...well-

Mingi's large body was settled comfortably inbetween your chubby thighs as he kept you pinned with one hand while the other caressed your ripped stockings.

"Jeong Mingi!" His voice roar woke the sleeping neighborhood.

Mingi hunched his shoulders. "Shit." He groaned, looking up at his pissed lover. "Welcome home, Yuyu." Mingi chuckled as the beads of sweat start forming. "It's not..what it-"

Yunho opened his mouth but froze at your teary eyed, dizzy love drunk expression underneath Minnie. "MINGI!"

#ateez smut #ateez x chubby reader #chubby reader #yungi x chubby reader #yungi smut #yunho x chubby reader #mingi x chubby reader #mingi x reader

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charlotte-official · 6 months

Text

THE STEAMBIRD - 10/17 to 11/7

Note from Charlotte!

Ah!!! Hiya everybody! I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry I’m late. Waaay too late, in fact! It’s been three whole weeks!! I’m so sorry for procrastinating even though this was supposed to be out last week!! There just wasn’t a lot of material for me to work with-

(and irl stuff got in the way, oops)

-and so I ended up just writing these small blurbs instead.

I swear that next week I’ll get back on track to writing the regular issues!! But for now, I’m going to count this as a Steambird ‘special…’

Again I’m super sorry!!

The Duke of Meropide, Wriothesley, reluctantly allowed Charlotte to pay a visit to the Fortress of Meropide to interview a certain Fatui Harbinger (Tartaglia) on the pot brownie scandal. All thanks to the Head Nurse of the Fortress, Sigewinne. Regrettably enough, the Harbinger was not even present at the Fortress, so the interview was thus cancelled.

Clone of Harbinger, Dottore, (clone in question is Webttore), complains about alleged “loudness' ' coming from Il Dottore and another fellow harbinger, Pantalone- the Regrator and 9th Fatui Harbinger. Which yes, indeed implies that the two were being intimate if you catch my drift.

Sandrone, 7th Fatui Harbinger, backs up the claim and Dottore retorts back saying that Sandrone was loud during the night with Arlecchino, founder of the House of the Hearth and 4th Fatui Harbinger, as well.

Does this mean Fatui Harbingers are essentially hooking up with each other?

Maybe.

It depends if Webttore, Dottore, and Sandrone are reliable sources.

Light of Ksharewar’s anon- scary, in particular- was exposed to have a bad sleep schedule despite consistently reprimanding Kaveh for having a bad sleep schedule himself. Kaveh was upset since this was naturally a display of hypocrisy, and Kaveh, alongside his other anon, ᓚᘏᗢ (cat) anon- now more commonly known as “adi cat anon”- chided scary anon.

Scary anon then attempted to flee and hide in Diluc Ragvindr- owner of the Dawn Winery-’s blog, but upon learning about what had happened- via cat anon- also chided the anon, who then left again to try and hide out in the Duke of Meropide’s blog!

Rinse and repeat because cat anon followed after scary anon and informed the Duke, who told them not to hide in general. Thus ending the blog hopping scandal.

Later, scary and Kaveh squabble about sleeping habits (after Kaveh shrugs off the incident, saying it was really all in good fun), and cat anon tells them to BOTH fix their sleeping habits, Kaveh gains two more anons, yellow heart anon- the second parent- and wine anon- the menace. Kaveh also tries to send wine anon to the Fortress of Meropide.

Diluc and UTA are still not beating the allegations.

Pantalone offers a 500k bounty of mora for whoever helps solve his rat infestation(literally all of the rats in question are just Dottore’s clones) regarding his office. When a young girl solves the issue, the bounty ends up being worth triple the original amount.

Webtorre tries to sell a.. Really weird looking skull. 3 rats in a trench coat are down to buy it. ..and also 3 rats in a trench coat tries to give Collei the plague

The Regrator gets robbed. With a lack of a solution or person to blame, naturally everyone just begins to blame each other frantically.

Kaveh confesses to actually being three fungi in a trench coat.

Head Nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, Sigewinne, pastes stickers all over the Fortress of Meropide. Especially in the Duke of Meropide’s office.

Kaeya makes it down Dragonspine safely, or has he? No. No he hasn’t. He lost his vision on the mountain, so now, while Diluc is now taking his brother to the Dawn Winery, Lisa is trying to gather a team to go back up the mountain to look for it.

(Ignoring the Dragonspine RP canon and following Albedo and Diona going to Sumeru.)

Albedo wakes up from a nightmare, and Diona tries to comfort the alchemist.

Dottore(Prime) releases a poll on the crowd’s favorite Dottore. Ask-Dottore ended up winning, but the close second was UTA. Most notably, Madame Faruzan’s bias was UTA, while Diluc said none were likable altogether.

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Lady of the Night Chapter One: Its all Jake's Fault

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Mitchell!Reader

TW: allusions to sex, swearing, none really

Series Summary: A drunken one night stand turns into his worst nightmare when Rooster realizes he crossed a boundary he didn’t know exists. But what happens when you realize there’s more between you than just sex? Will you figure it out or will it go up in flames?

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: this was supposed to be something silly and then it took on a life of its own. oops.

Bradley wakes up and groans when he feels the pounding in his head. The sheets under his body are unfamiliar and he props up on his elbows to take in his surroundings. His eyebrows raise when he sees you asleep next to him, naked and wrapped up in a comforter.

Suddenly everything comes rushing back. Jake dragging him out to a new bar, meeting you and hitting it off, coming back to your apartment. His head is filled with images of you wrapped around him last night, the sweet sounds you made for him reverberating around his skull.

He watches you sleep and debates his next move. On one hand, he could just up and leave like a normal one-night stand. But on the other hand, he really clicked with you and he’s interested to see if the chemistry is still there sober.

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when his eyes land on your nightstand. There are wads of cash and thigh-high leather boots set neatly on the ground. He frowns and starts wracking his brain for why you would possibly have at least a thousand dollars cash just laying out.

He climbs out of the bed as quietly as he can and tiptoes around your apartment trying to find the bathroom. There’s a book about sex sitting on your coffee table and he suddenly recalls you telling him your favorite movie is ‘Pretty Woman’.

His eyes widen as the pieces fall into place and he scrambles quietly back to your room to find his phone. He breathes a sigh of relief when you’re still asleep and quickly collects his clothes. He stumbles around your living room trying to put his legs into his pants with his phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Come on, come on, pick up!” He mutters to himself and he nearly jumps for joy when he hears Jake's voice.

“It's 7 in the morning on a Saturday, dude. What do you want?” He grumbles and Bradley runs his hand through his hair before answering.

“You know that girl I met last night?” He asks and Jake whistles on the other end of the line.

“Hell yeah, how could I forget that piece of ass?” He responds and Bradley's face crinkles in disgust at his friend's crassness.

“I ended up going home with her and-“ He’s cut off by Jake's voice.

“Dude, no way. She was hot. How was it? I can’t believe she slept with you.” He laughs and Bradley rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, man. I think she’s a lady of the night.” He whispers while checking to make sure you haven’t woken up.

The line is silent for a second and he almost thinks Jake hung up. "What?" he asks and Bradley rubs his eyes. "A hooker, Jake."

There's another beat before Jake talks again. “That’s a new low.” He taunts and Bradley groans.

“This isn’t funny, Hangman! What do I do?” He pleads and he hears rustling coming from Jake as he gets out of bed.

“Okay, okay. What makes you think she’s a hooker?” He inquires and Bradley rubs his neck.

“She has a wad of cash on her nightstand, thigh-high boots, a book about sex, and her favorite movie is Pretty Woman, man!”

Jake blows out dramatically and chuckles. “Yeah, that’s pretty incriminating.”

“I know!” Bradley snaps and he finally finds your bathroom and locks the door. “What the fuck do I do?” He asks again and he can almost hear Jake's frown.

“What do you mean? Leave.” He retorts and Bradley huffs.

“I can’t just leave! Isn’t that like the equivalent of robbing her?” He ponders aloud and Jake scoffs.

“Not your problem. She should have woken up first or better yet, not let you stay. That’s just bad business.” He mumbles and Bradley can tell he’s eating now.

He nods his head to himself and mulls over the idea. “Yea, it's not my fault she’s shitty at being a hooker. I mean don’t get me wrong it was great, but she should really nail down the payment part.”

“Exactly!” Jake exclaims. “If anything it's a good lesson. Now sneak out and come over. We only have today and tomorrow before the mission briefing and we’re back to working seven days a week.”

Bradley sighs and slips his shoes on. “Yeah, okay man. I'll be there soon.”

You roll over in bed and squint one eye open when you feel that the other side is empty. You sit up lazily and frown as you look around. The man is nowhere to be found and all of his clothes are gone. You climb out of bed and pad down the hallway to the kitchen, checking rooms along the way.

You shouldn’t be surprised but part of you thought maybe he’d stick around and offer to take you for coffee and breakfast. Instead, he left without so much as a “thanks for a good time” jotted down on a piece of paper. What an asshole.

You end up meeting your best friend for breakfast, indulging her in all the nitty gritty details. “The sex was amazing, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t know, Phe. He was so sweet and funny, I could see myself actually dating him. I just thought we had a connection, but clearly, I was wrong.” You mope and she gives you a gentle smile.

“Guys are dicks, babe. Don’t get too caught up on it. We’re in San Diego, there’ll be plenty of men to get under. Hell, maybe you can have a little friends with benefits with one of the pilots we'll meet tomorrow.” She suggests while wagging her eyebrows.

“It's perfect. We’ll only be here a few weeks and then you can move on, no strings.” She shrugs and you sip on your drink. “Yeah, maybe.”

You zip up your flight suit and check your hair one last time before making your way into the hangar. You take a seat next to Phoenix and the two of you start chatting about who you think got called back.

Your eyes go wide when you see Bradley and you nudge the dark-haired woman to get her attention. She follows your line of sight and her brows pinch in confusion. You roll your eyes and lean in toward her.

“That’s the asshole that ran out!” You whisper and her mouth drops open. She’s known Bradley for a long time, one night stands were never really his thing.

When Jake walks in right after, you groan. “And that’s the wingman that was with him at the bar.” Well, that explains it. Of course Jake would have something to do with Bradley having a one-night stand at the worst possible time.

You stare straight ahead and praise the high heavens that neither of them seems to notice you. Your dad walks into the room and you smile brightly up at him.

You were largely raised by your mom since your dad was always getting sent off somewhere top secret. You would see him occasionally but the two of you didn't really re-connect until the past few years.

Despite his close relationship with Mav, you and Bradley never met or saw pictures. You knew about each other, but against all odds, neither of you had ever laid eyes on the other.

You’re on your way to the tarmac when you hear your name called out and slow down. “Y/N?” The voice asks and you inwardly groan when you recognize it.

You turn around with a quirked eyebrow and prop your helmet between your arm and hip. “What?” You ask and his eyes widen when he realizes it's really you. He stares shocked for a few moments and you roll your eyes.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be weird. I thought we got along great, but clearly, you didn't feel the same. No harm no foul.” You offer an escape route and he shakes his head while moving closer.

“No!” He exclaims. “It's not that I didn't feel it too, I just thought…” He stops and you huff impatiently.

“You thought what?” You pry and his response is the last thing you expect. You don’t know whether to laugh or to smack him.

“I thought you were a hooker.” He answers sheepishly and your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

“What?! Why the hell would you think that!? Am I that good in bed?” You shoot off rapid-fire questions and Bradley looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“You had wads of cash and hooker boots. You said your favorite movie is ‘Pretty Woman’!” He tries to defend himself and you shake your head.

“I had money because my truck was in the shop and I pay my mechanic with cash! And hooker boots? What is this 1950? I can wear whatever I want it doesn’t make me a whore!” You snap. “How drunk were you anyway? I said my favorite movie is ‘Wonder Woman’ not ‘Pretty Woman’.”

His face turns red with embarrassment and you can see the regret in his eyes. "What was I supposed to do?" He asks exasperated and you throw your hand up. "Maybe not assume?!"

Before he can respond, Phoenix walks up. “You picked a bad time to start having one-night stands, Bradshaw.” She teases and your expression softens a bit.

“It probably wouldn’t have been if he wasn't such a dumbass.” You snort and Bradley figures he deserves that. Your turn to look at your best friend and explain. “He thought I was a hooker.”

Coyote is passing by and stops when he overhears. “You thought Captain Mitchell's daughter was a hooker? Man, that’s rough.” He chuckles before continuing on. Bradley's eyebrows furrow and he glances down at your uniform. Sure enough, Mitchell is right there on your name patch.

“You’re Mavericks daughter?” He asks and you nod your head skeptically. He takes a step closer and drops his voice so only you and Phoenix can hear him. “Does he know we slept together?”

You scrunch up your nose, repulsed by the idea. “Ew, no. Why?” You question and Bradley rubs his hand down his face. He never should've left his couch. He'll be sure to tell Jake later that this is all his fault.

Suddenly it hits you. You vaguely remember your dad telling you about the falling out with Goose's son, and that he joined anyway, later earning the callsign Rooster.

Your eyes dart to his flight suit and then back up to his face. “No way. There’s no fucking way.” You say in complete denial.

“Your dad is going to kill me.” He states and you can’t even try to comfort him because he’s right.

“Not if we don’t tell him.” You whisper and Bradley frowns. “I was hoping to get to know you better. I really did have a good time.”

You look at him like he’s lost his mind and shake your head profusely. “No, absolutely not. It doesn’t matter what we thought there was between us. This can’t happen.” You argue and before he can try to reason with you, your dad calls for you.

You turn on your heel without another word and head off in the direction his voice came from. Bradley sighs deeply and continues on to the tarmac, leaving Phoenix alone in the hallway. “This is not going to end well.” She mutters to herself before heading off in the same direction as the male pilot.

Taglist:

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @gspenc @chair-things @benhardysdrumstick

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw topgun #top gun imagine #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw top gun

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orchardsinsnow · 6 months

Text

I see a lot of posts gleefully repeating Rob Wilkins’ comment that Aziraphale’s expression means “do that again” but leaving out the second part of his comment which was “…and trying to understand what is happening”

So, hello - it’s great but also terrible that he wants Crowley to do it again because he has been TEMPTED. For all their playful banter about temptation over the years, it’s serious business to him in this moment. An attack on his angelhood. And this is what, in his little angel view of the multiverse, he finally decides what must be happening (and why he says “I forgive you.”)

Demons tempt. Angels forgive.

This is not a cute “oops” miscommunication moment. This is the beginning of a war, in Aziraphale’s view. And if he’s going to treat Crowley as a combatant then Crowley will answer.

(I for one am looking forward to a season’s worth of them being on opposite sides. Maybe 5/6ths of a seasons worth.)

#good omens #david tennant #good omens spoiler #michael sheen #crowley #aziraphale #Crowley was indeed a demon for a very long time #innocence is boring

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niceboyeds · 2 years

Text

shared trauma (e.m.)

summary: reader has been having trouble sleeping ever since their first time experiencing the upside-down. after finding out Eddie is having the same issue, they try to work through it together.

word count: 3K

a/n: i couldn’t sleep so i thought i’d try this one out. hope you like it xx

nav

——————

it’s been over two months since you’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep. over two months since you were able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, even the naps still trap you in a familiar nightmare. non-coincidentally, it’s been roughly two months since the latest encounter with the upside-down.

you’re exhausted and craving any form of sleep, but you aren’t sure how you’d be able to. every time you closed your eyes it’s like you’re transported back into the upside-down, terrified and approaching death.

you were at family video, talking with the other young adults about some fun night they had planned to do with the teens. while Robin is talking, confirming the plans of the evening, you zone out and only come to when a hand is placed on your back and startles you.

“sorry doll, didn’t mean to spook ya.” Eddie whispers and you give him a small smile and nod before trying to catch up on the missed conversation.

“sounds great. everyone remembers who they’re picking up?” Nancy says while turning to you. oops.

“if i’m being honest, I lost track of what’s happening a while ago..” you sigh and they chuckle, somewhat familiar with your ability to space out, but thankfully they don’t ever seem to get annoyed.

“it’s okay, most of it was pointless.” Robin glares at Steve while he talks, but she smiles anyway because it’s not like she can deny her known rambling habits. “Eddie is gonna bring you and Max, Nance and Jonathan are grabbing the other kids and you’ll all meet me and Rob at my house at 7. pack an overnight bag.”

“okay, sounds good.” you smile approvingly, but you’d go along with anything. “i’m gonna go get ready.”

“do you need a ride home?” Eddie asks before you begin walking away.

“no, no it’s okay. see you at..?”

“oh um, I guess about 6:45?”

“6:45,” you confirm, “sounds great.”

it’s a quick walk to the house. your single dad works hard to provide for you, to keep the money coming in and the roof over your head secure. but his lack of parenting and presence in general has led to a distant relationship. regardless of how close you and your father are, you’re still grateful he continues to pay for your needs on top of your local community college tuition.

“dad?” walking into the simple one-story house, you’re greeted with the all-too-familiar nothingness. sometimes you wonder why you call out to him, knowing your father isn’t there, but it’s routine.

sometimes though, he is actually there and will welcome you back with an awkward hug. you know this isn't one of those times, the note on the refrigerator confirms it.

“business in Cali, returning next Wednesday. -Dad”

you leave the note on the fridge, along with the countless others, rolling your eyes as you walk off to your bedroom. it’s a little before 6 o’clock, roughly an hour before Eddie is coming to pick you up. you figure it’s as good a time as any to attempt a quick nap.

abruptly woken up, you find yourself somewhat sweaty from the dreams you can’t get rid of, but it always seems to be the same one.

you’re stuck in the upside down, the bats circling you and your friends, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. they spiral around you like a tornado. one by one they pick everyone off, you watch as each of your friends are essentially swallowed into the black sea of the demo-bats. then it’s your turn, they swarm you and rip you apart, sometimes it seems so real you think you can feel it.

a knock outside brings you back, peering over to the alarm clock it reads 6:40pm. Eddie wasn’t exactly known to be a punctual person, let alone someone who arrives early. you open the front door with a yawn, seeing him smiling down at you.

“you’re early. no Max?” noting the lack of a red-head while moving to the side to invite him in.

“she went home with Lucas after school, she’s gonna ride with the others.” another yawn escapes and you cover your mouth as you nod to his response.

“I just need like two minutes.”

“no problem hun, take your time. you okay?” he looks over you while walking inside, closing the door behind him.

“yeah, i’m fine. why the sudden interest?” you tease, walking back to your room and leaving him in the living room.

“you just look a little extra tired lately. been busy?”

“I just have a hard time sleeping, ya know? since the upside-down shit.” you call out from your room, running a brush through your hair and pinning half of it up with a clip. you quickly throw a pair of pajamas into an old backpack along with some toiletries.

walking back out to the living room, you don’t see Eddie anywhere. you wander through the dining room and into the kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter, starring at the refrigerator.

“see anything interesting?” he seems startled by your appearance in the kitchen.

“he leaves you alone a lot.”

“yep…”

“when was the last time you saw him?”

“eh, probably like a week ago? he travels a lot for work.” he nods and follows as you move towards the door and slip on your shoes.

you hop into his van and sit comfortably with the familiar music playing. the volume is turned down to a tolerable level, something you noticed he does when he picks you or the kids up. you ride in silence but that’s not something unusual.

“wanna know a secret?” he speaks up, finally having something to talk about.

“do you even have to ask? yes, tell me!”

“I have trouble sleeping too. usually when the house is empty, which is unfortunate since Wayne works nights.”

“we’re pretty fucked up, aren’t we?” your voice is soft, picking at your fingers to distract yourself.

“I think that’s putting it lightly.”

“how do you think the others do it? I feel like— like i’m weak. these kids are still so young, but they brush it off like it’s normal. but here I am, unable to sleep because i’m terrorized by nightmares.” he shakes his head, disagreeing with what you said.

“you’re not weak, none of us are. that’s something i’ve had to come to terms with lately. everyone processes trauma differently. and the others… well they’ve just had more time to learn how to cope.”

“seems like we experience it the same.” you say as he wraps his hand around yours and squeezes it reassuringly.

the rest of the drive to Steve’s is quick, Eddie being a known speeder. and despite the few tickets he’s gotten over the years he doesn’t care to slow down. the two of you pull into the Harrington’s driveway and spot the Wheeler’s familiar station wagon already unloaded of children.

“ready to entertain 6 high schoolers?” you tease and he gives a weary nod, preparing for the chaos that will follow.

the night turned out to be a lot of fun, playing games and letting the kids swim out back. while everyone was settling down to watch a movie, you had made sure to clean up the kitchen a little bit with help from Nancy.

after things seemed to be clean, you joined the others in the living room, already in your pajamas. Robin patted the empty space next to her on the couch and lifted up the blanket so you could share it, immediately getting cozy and feeling relaxed.

looking over the room, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself when you saw everyone looking so happy and content. everyone enjoying themselves, being able to feel young again. like you’re not in charge of saving the world.

one by one, you watched their heads droop until they all fell asleep on the floor or couches. then it was just you, left with your inability to fall asleep, regardless of how safe and secure you felt in this moment.

you left Robin on the couch, opting for the reclining chair next to it to give her more room. you tossed and turned for a little while, trying to get comfortable until you found sleep.

but sleep didn’t last long, maybe an hour or two, before you jolted awake with fear prodding at you. browsing the sea of people in the living room, you counted to make sure everyone was still there. you watched the younger one’s chests rise and fall with each breath they took. you were all safe. you could physically see them and hear their breaths and snores. but why could you not get past the crippling fear that you had lost them?

your chest begins to tighten as the nightmare still lingers in your mind, tears start pricking your eyes and no matter how many deep breaths you take it doesn’t seem to help.

not wanting to wake the others, you pull yourself out of the chair and walk to the back door still wrapped in the blanket you were using. slipping outside as quietly as possible you walk quickly away from the door until you find yourself sitting on the ground.

you pull your legs up to your chest, laying your head on your knees as you let the tears slip out and try to regain your composure. there was something different in this dream you had tonight.

it was set up the same as always, but when the swarm of bats began to pluck your friends off, you heard their yells, whereas in pervious dreams all you could hear was the flapping of wings. They were crying out for you to help them. calling your name over and over with the most blood curdling screams you've ever heard. but you couldn’t get to them in time, you couldn’t save them. and right when it was your turn to get attacked, the bats disappeared, leaving you alone and having lost every single person who mattered to you. everyone you loved.

your sniffles continued but your tears have stopped, perhaps you’ve run out. you feel a cool breeze that brings goosebumps to your legs, wrapping the blanket around you tighter and you use it to dry your face.

“you okay?” the voice makes you jump, but after looking to see Eddie walking over to you, your shoulders relax a little.

“yeah. yeah I’m fine.” your voice is still shaky and you curse at yourself for sounding so weak. “did I wake you?”

“no not at all. I got up to get some water. noticed a body was missing and got nervous.”

“sorry, I just… needed some air I guess.” with a sigh you loosen the grip you have on your legs, still holding them.

“was it a nightmare?” you simply reply with a small nod, hearing him shuffle a little more on the pool deck before taking a seat next to you.

“you can go back inside, i'm sure you’re tired. i’ll head back in soon.” you attempt to persuade him.

“i’d like to sit out here with you, if that’s okay.” another nod of your head, your chest filling with guilt. you don’t think you can talk him into going back to bed and leaving you alone outside. instead you find yourself maneuvering the blanket to go around his shoulders, trying to at least keep him warm.

“do— do you want to talk about it?” he whispers, trying to get you to open up. his hand reaches for yours and you let him hold it, feeling a sense of security while he gently rubs his thumb in a pattern.

you tell him about the nightmares you typically have, he listens intensely, sympathetically holding your gaze. but the look on his face after you tell him the one you had tonight was genuinely painful. he wipes the few tears off your face, bringing you into a hug. he doesn’t talk, doesn’t tell you that your dream won’t happen, he just holds you.

“it always feels so real...” you whisper in his arms, your head leaning on his shoulder and his head on yours.

“you know how I told you I can’t sleep when the house is empty? well, sometimes I can’t sleep unless someone else is in the bed with me. the amount of times Wayne has found me next to him is countless. he’s never questioned it though.”

“he sounds like a great guy.”

“yeah, he’s amazing. i’m really lucky to have him.” you smile at that, happy to know someone is always looking out for him.

“even if my dad was home, I don’t think we’d have that kind of relationship.” you say truthfully, knowing after your mom died your family withered away with her.

the two of you sit outside for a while in silence, only noticing it’s likely been hours when the bird start chirping and the sky around you starts to gain a faded orange hue.

“you know… if you ever need someone to come over and keep you company, you can call me. even if it’s the middle of the night.” his voice is still so gentle, as if trying to prove he really means it.

“you can always call me too, lord knows i’ll be awake.” you say with a small laugh, trying to lighten mood. “I mean it, though. please call me. you can come sleep over at my place anytime.” Eddie smiles through a yawn, making you realize he stayed up all night with you just to help you feel better.

you stand, holding out your hand to help him up, and make your way back into the house full of sleeping teens. the look of them sprawled across the floor, laying in each other and sharing blankets makes you smile, but the thought of your dream still lingers in your mind.

—————

a week has passed since the sleepover and at this point you’re desperate for sleep. you’ve tried sleeping pills but all they do is make you groggy, never aiding in helping you sleep.

it’s midnight, at least it was the last time you checked the clock. laying on your bed, you follow the fan on the ceiling as the blades circle around. contemplating taking Eddie up on his offer, maybe if you called him he would come over. maybe you could lay next to him, so he could sleep, and he could hold you after you wake from a nightmare.

with a sigh, you roll yourself out of bed and walk towards the phone in the kitchen. you go to dial his number, praying you won’t wake him, but your line rings instead. it startles you, an unexpected call in the middle of the night. you still pick it up immediately.

“hello?”

“hi. did I wake you?” Eddie?

“no. actually I... I was about to call you.” you smile into the phone, happy that you both seem to need some comforting tonight. “you okay? wanna come over?”

“I really do.” did he just sniffle? is he crying??

“come over, i’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“be there in 5.” he says before you end the call.

five minutes feels like a lifetime while you wait for him to show up. but the light knock on the front door before it opens makes you perk up, walking to the entryway to meet him.

“hey.” you smile at him, glad he came over. glad he wanted to come over.

“hi. um, thanks for letting me come over.”

“of course.” you lead him to your bedroom, looking over his frame and notice somethings off. “you okay?”

seeing him in the lowly lit room, it’s obvious he was crying. sure, you recognize his pair of bloodshot eyes from smoking, but these eyes are slightly puffy and sad.

“yeah, it’s kind of embarrassing.” you sit with him on the bed, reaching out your hand to hold his.

“what? that nightmares can scare you?” you ask, he nods immediately. you know that feeling so well.

“this one was different than the others. usually I can wake myself up from them, telling myself it’s not real. but this time... it was like I was stuck.” he shivers as he talks, looking into your eyes. “I was screaming at myself to wake up, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t until the monster got you. all of you.”

you wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly as he returns the gesture. hugging for who knows how long, but not caring because there’s something so comforting about his embrace. you both understand exactly what the other is experiencing.

“you wanna try to sleep again?” he nods his head as the two of you lay on the pillows. you pull the blankets up to share, seeing him lean over to switch the lamp off.

“could you— sorry, can you leave it on? I can't sleep in the dark anymore.” you speak quietly.

“of course.” he lays down, his arm pressing against yours on your full-size bed. “goodnight.”

“goodnight, Ed’s.”

you wake up wrapped up in a pair of arms, hair tickling your neck as you open your eyes. you stretch a little, nuzzling into the warm body, wondering if he’s awake yet.

“mornin.” guess that answers your question.

“good morning. sorry, did I lay on you all night?” you ask, moving yourself off of him.

“i’m honestly not sure, just woke up like that.” he chuckles and you sit up a little disoriented. “what’s wrong?” now he looks nervous.

“that was the first night in months that i’ve slept without having a nightmare.” a smile forming on both of your faces.

“I have to admit, I haven’t slept that well in a long time too.”

nearly every night since then, Eddie comes over to sleep. you two may be dependent on each other, but if it means no longer having nightmares or sleepless nights then there’s nothing to complain about. a little co-dependence never hurts, and you certainly didn’t have any desire to stop.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fanfic #platonic eddie munson

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prettysymbiosis · 11 months

Text

I’ve been trying to get these thoughts out for days but basically I feel like the unifying theory of s16 (as I see it) is a conscious exploration of the dichotomy between sunny as a classically bold and brash pee pee poo poo comedy and sunny as a thoughtful, nuanced and subtle show about flawed people and also about itself, at times (by that I mean the meta isn’t always about macdennis or the other characters but about sunny itself - win an award, clip show, big mo, etc). the trailer actually captures this dichotomy well through the dialogue clips and animations, as well as the pinned comment which said “get ready for a whole lot of subtlety.” it’s still so baffling to me that sunny can simultaneously read as one of the most loud, obnoxious, unsubtle shows ever on television, OR it can be so subtle and allegorical in the writing of later seasons that most viewers would think people like us are crazy for reading so much into it even though we’re really not. this kind of self-reflective flavor is another product of the rewatch/podcast project which has been almost universally agreed to have had a very positive effect on the writing.

anyway having said that, I want to just share my notes on the first two episodes without trying to edit them too much. I’m bolding the points that I personally haven’t seen anyone else mention yet and putting a 😎 next to ones that evoke a Classic Sunny VibeTM because that’s important to the experiment of this season.

the gang inflates

macden fun/domestic/DUMB again 😎

something something never committing to the couch when it was absurd not to and it ended up costing them so much macdennis blah blah

dennis hanging up on dee was so funny to me oops 😎

and the WHOLE dee (as a character and specifically the female character) thing about being minimized to an absurd degree. I like to think the bog was a turning point for dee and the show is gonna do better by her now hopefully by recognizing her plight in a more serious way, like the way the guys have been doing?

are mac and dennis…… you know…… like for real??? as many have said, it could totally be revealed kind of retroactively to undercut the shock and be like “honestly we’re surprised you didn’t notice sooner” I feel like that is something rcg would do. suggestive clues:

“I don’t wanna talk to you about–” “a TON”

or is dennis like well that’s news to me jealous vibes??

“I figured you were man” ??

“I’m getting a little concerned about our nut”

“you truly have no reason to be sleeping with frank”

they specifically put a lil reaction shot of dennis after mac says “that’s a lotta blowin” a la the lil grin in gets romantic and, well, I just think that’s a choice that was made

“it’s not homophobic” is that so?????

when mac is like “you think we got rid of our furniture too soon/that the business plan won’t work” it’s kinda like no it’s not the committing to what they have, it’s that mac still has big denial problems and dennis can’t work with that… maybe? but so does dennis tbh

in a show-meta sense it’s like, we should be less worried about whether the gay gay-ass love story will alienate people and more worried about how these characters are too ridiculous to even let the love story play out effectively. they need mental health days if we are ever to have nice things

it’s possible mac denying his reaction to the allergy has to do with his body dysmorphia?

also it occurred to me that maybe part of why rob is clean-shaven this season is so they could do those prosthetics more easily?

those handprints though…. I hate everything

oh also just the bed scene. its existence

the zoomed in neck touch of course

“I’m not going to do it!” “..okay” dennis keepin his cool :)

mac’s shirt! COOLER HEADS PREVAIL

just the sheer silliness of inflatable furniture - is there some metaphor here lol?

in a general sense could inflates be taken to mean flanderizes? also maybe it’s just implied but I noticed I hadn’t actually seen anyone mention inflation as a sexual kink and like, that was part of the intention right? if so, 😎

charlie “uhhhhhhhh… yep.” poor charlie :( he doesn’t want to live in a maze (like a rat)

“well then you’re just like being a predator” :( so here for charlie calling out bullshit with frank and mrs. mac and even his own mom so far in these first two eps

charlie just giving up and yelling in frustration which is kinda what bonnie does in ep2 (and ep3 based on trailer)

the gross horny male objectifying thing 😎

rob put his whole pussy into this episode

charlie saying “I don’t get why he doesn’t take me seriously” and dee saying “that’s gotta be maddening” 🙃

cats in the alley my loves 😎

gluing dee a pillow on the wall <3

“consider it an offering” “of war??” this says so much. must everything be a conflict?

charlie’s hair looks so crazy and good in the sleepover scene and also he’s so smart

charlie asks frank to “return everything to the status quo” by the end of the episode, sitcom style. full reset, no progression. except charlie is asking that frank not endlessly take advantage of the fact that mac and den can’t figure their shit out, not totally push dee out just because it’s easy, not make light of the trauma charlie has from what happened to him. all that stuff IS the status quo! so what is he really asking for? this is one of the bits of writing that I think is also about the show as a show, and how they’ve approached these dynamics forever.

it’s funny that people are saying this season is such a return to form because it is, but it’s also so much more self-aware of what that form is/was and how deeper elements can coexist within it. they’re really walking with a foot in both worlds here and they’re doing it well. love this for them and for us, the people who know what it’s always sunny in philadelphia is REALLY about

“we’ll take you to the hospital, and they’ll have nuts. and you can– you can die there.” hahahah

#sunny #iasip #it's always sunny in philadelphia #S16 #sunny meta #s16 meta #s16 e1 #the gang inflates #macdennis #charlie #dee #I hate this show bc every time I'm like whoa this writing is so complex and then I immediately feel ridiculous for thinking that #even though I KNOW I'm right and you guys get it too..... I still feel like a tinhat :( I blame misogyny #well I'm exhausted goodnight

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t-tomuras · 1 month

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darling you made the mistake of mentioning atla au with taaro and now i come here DEMANDING (politely) for crumbs of the lore your new art is based on pls and thx 💋xoxo💋

AJISJF Kail you are so sweet to me this is mostly a BIIIG mess because I took me forever to iron out what I even wanted because Gyuutaro struck me as both a fire bender AND a water bender (for blood bending as well as for backstory’s sake but I wanted something ✨new✨for us hehe)

I rambled oop kiss ily < 3333

Under the cut because I am shy pft

So I chose being a ‘runaway’ princess of the water tribe, discarded because a prophet / fortune teller told me parents their next child would be blessed by the water spirit and they’d heard of it once before. Hair as white as snow for the babe but when I was born it was black; their disappointment evident so they continued to try and fulfill their prophecy until they had another child that had the stark white hair they figured their child would have and ultimately disregarded and ignored me because they had not only the foretold child but a son at that.

Despite how I was blessed by the ocean spirit and therefore a powerful bender in my own respect.

So I abandon my ‘home’ and opt to travel the world as conflicts are growing and the fire nations influence is being forced upon the great nations. Avoiding fire nation colonies and settlements for the most part before ultimately settling around the earth kingdoms city of Omashu.

Opening a little flower shop for myself and selling to lovebirds that want to visit the Cave of Two Lovers. A nice little quiet life for myself that I enjoy.

Before the peace is disturbed by the fire nations conquest. Meeting Gyuutaro after they’ve taken over the city and he’s coming to ‘shake down’ business owners calling it a tax. Working his way from the upper areas of the city downward until he reaches me. Coming in the middle of the night because he doesn’t care, plus aren’t you more likely to fork over what he wants when your sleep is disturbed?

And girl he shakes me down to fucking COPPER PIECES. Tipping my chin after he’s gotten all of his money with a mean spirited cackle and a once over of me and liking what he sees he adds a, “I’ll be back at the end of the month.”

Naturally tired of taking the shit that’s given to me I decide to take back. Practicing blood bending when the moon rises while I steal shit BACK from the firebenders, all of them reporting not being able to control their bodies for a a short period while I rob them blind. Making them ‘willingly’ give back all the money they stole to a figure cloaked in black wearing a mask with only a stark white crescent moon painted onto the forehead.

Catching Gyuutaros interest OBVIOUSLY and he goes out at night in the hopes of finding me. And for the selfship art I think I just have that centered as the random encounter at a festival the locals hold despite the fire nation making life less fun in the area

#➛ asks #➛ kail #if you see these details in a fic later no you don’t!!!#also Ume is an utter princess in this #taro has her sittin PRETTY #vixtaro

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harinishivaa · 11 months

Text

To mark the beginning of a list of collabs with @yehsahihai, here’s a snippet of the first one shot coming to you guys. Please check her blog too, so that you can read TWO different snippets from the same fic.

*****

It was mid-afternoon as Arulmozhi paced his akka’s rooms, with Samudra Kumari and akka watching him with a growing mixture of concern and amusement.

I mean, I just don’t understand. Why is she doing this? What is she trying to do?”

“Thambi even I don’t know and I almost always know what is in her heart.”

“Illavarase, maybe the Kodumbalur Illavarasi has been in the sun too much. That is why she is acting like this.”

“Samudra Kumari, this is no time for humor” came his akka’s sharp rebuke, making Poonguzhali raise her hands in surrender.

“Akka?” came the sweet voice of the maddening princess who had robbed him of all his sleep.

“Kanne? What is it?”

“Nothing akka. I couldn’t find you anywhere so I was wondering where you were.”

Kundavai suddenly had an idea, as she addressed Vanathi, asking her, “Kanne, just one question. If the one you love is in love with another, what would you do?”

Vanathi froze for a second before looking towards Arulmozhi who had not let his eyes wander away from her since she stepped in.

“Why akka, then I would do my best to ensure he won over the one he loves”

Arulmozhi physically felt the need to sit down, as she turned to leave, worrying that he would faint after hearing that. Really he had to stop picking up his kanmani’s habits. Holding his head in his hands, he bemoaned, “Akka, why is my wife like this?”

“You’re not married to her yet thambi!”

“AKKA IN MY HEAD I AM ALREADY MARRIED TO HER!”

****

Oops-

Sorry not sorry.

@vibishalakshman @thelekhikawrites @thegleamingmoon @nspwriteups @dr-scribbler @thirst4light @celestesinsight @kovaipaavai @lemmekno @chiyaanvikram @willkatfanfromasia sorry for those I forgot to tag.

#ponniyin selvan #arulmozhi #vanathi #kundavai #vanathiarulmozhi #vanthiyathevan #ponniyin selvan 2

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toonilumi · 2 months

Note

saw them on the toyhouse and i'm genuinely curious whats going on with your cog ocs/pos

cracks knuckles.

I've been meaning to say something about them, but I know people tend to get... overzealous around my characters. I know those people mean well but remember I'm just some guy showing off my toys to the class. So please to all those who are reading this: be nice, be respectful, peace and love ok?

to those who are reading that and going "what happened here?" Don't worry about it! Let's talk about OCs!

guess who was added on last minute

This is The Gang™️. Their lores kind of intertwine but I can't share all of it because some of it involves other people. But I will say what I can! From left to right we got:

THE LIABILITY

(AKA: Libellule LaCroix)

- my favorite. This guy is wanted by C.O.G.S Inc. for trying to expose their toxic business practices. Don't get it twisted though, the toons hate him for crashing their karts and robbing their stores. She doesn't like talking to people.

- Muse moves playgrounds almost daily. He prefers toon clothes so whenever he can, libellule will steal some. She's paranoid all the time which isn't great but it makes quick getaways easier. They're pretty easy to agitate, but not necessarily mean. Not anymore.

- Didn't have a lot of friends besides muse's twin, but has since befriended a certain manager in acorn acres. Yeah. Befriended. No don't look at my discord PFP focus on this. That aside muse has a lot of enemies... like a LOT of them. To the point that Libellule automatically assumes everyone doesn't like them.

- A liability is "a thing for which someone is responsible, especially a debt or financial obligation."

THE RECORDHOLDER

(AKA: Sauterelle LaCroix)

- So his ACTUAL job is keeping track of their department's finances but they really wanna be a singer. Sauterelle totally thinks he'd rock the Sellbot department, but was placed in Cashbot territory for their past in finances.

- An overall nice guy but definitely has an "I'm-better-than-you" aura. Loves attention and gets extremely upset when that isn't given. When it comes to toons that reaches levels of (cartoonish) violence. He's actually kinda stupid though, they get manipulated very easily.

- Was easily clocked as a northerner by the L.A.A so they had tension for a bit but they're friends now. Sauterelle hates both the Major Player and the Pacesetter, mainly due to jealousy and possibly insecurity. Can put it aside for the Major Player, not for the Pacesetter.

- A recordholder is "a professional who manages, maintains, and keeps track of records or information." it is more commonly known as "a person or thing that has achieved something no other person or thing has achieved."

THE BLATHERSKITE

(AKA: Fres Nell)

- Once a stagehand, now works maintenance and occasional advertising for the Sellbot department. Don't worry though he still does plenty of stagehand stuff for his good friend in the Bossbot department. He's a borderline theater kid. Maybe even a full one.

- Possibly the nicest person you will meet in C.O.G.S Inc. He's friendly, selfless, and oh man is he talkative. This man never ever shuts up. Fres is always finding ways to help people, and he doesn't even care if they're toons! What a nice guy. Except for when he's making excuses for his less-than-stellar colleagues. That's not cool.

- Considers himself friends with everyone, but has gotten along with the Mouthpiece since he recently joined her club. He's only mediocre at the craft, but loooooves to chat! It probably drives the Case Manager and the Featherbedder up the wall. Oops.

- A blatherskite is "a person who talks at great length without making much sense."

THE AUTEUR

(AKA: Ciel Apper)

- Sadness, despair, melancholy, all of those emotions are what inspire Ciel. They are a director who works from the heart... turns out their heart is merely a shell of what it once was. Having gone solo for years, Ciel is now looking for a company who can understand and possibly foster new visions for cinema.

- A direct suit, Ciel is usually deadpan and quiet. If they say anything more than a sentence to you, it probably means they like you. They are infamous for their vague directions, which makes working with them as an actor a nightmare. Even more so since they're so stuck in their head.... they can't see the suffering of their actors. Or maybe they can, and just don't care.

- Ciel mostly locks themselves up in their studio. In order to get them to go ANYWHERE you either have to drag them out or threaten them. It's not like anyone tolerates their airheadedness besides Fres though. Despite Ciel being somewhat passive, they do have a restraining order on the Pacesetter.

- An auteur is "a filmmaker whose personal influence and artistic control over a movie are so great that the filmmaker is regarded as the author of the movie."

THE TOP DOG

(AKA: Lukah Updohg)

- You'd think someone with that title would be pretty important, but that's not quite true. Lukah is the sole member of the "Toon-Cog Relations Committee" which works to try and settle the Toon-Cog conflict peacefully. It's not working at all, so the higher-ups just send her paperwork that nobody else wants to do.

- Lukah is reserved, but by no means quiet. She'll fight vehemently for what's right, more than what many would expect out of a pacifist like her. The mediation tactics she uses work wonders on smaller conflicts, but Lukah would rather go for the bigger picture. Her job is not done without the conflict being over for good.

- Many are suspicious of her. After all, why would any cog care about things like "pollution" or "preserving toon humor?" She knows lots of people try to look into her, so she stays far far away from most employees. If she got along with any other suit it would either be the Deep Diver or the C.O.O due to their respect for the environment.

- A top dog is "a person who is successful or dominant in their field."

Anywho! Thank you for expressing interest in them! I hope to eventually have more art of them but most of it is just doodles.... and the occasional self indulgence. Don't worry about it.

#should i maintag this #yeah im gonna lol hi world #ttcc #toontown corporate clash #lumi art #lumi doodle #lumi toontown #lumi oc #libellule lacroix #sauterelle lacroix #fres nell #ciel apper #sniffles. im nervous so if some information disappears suddenly assume my demons won #lukah updohg #< realized i mispelled her name

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