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#because the rest of this is totally my aesthetic

statementlou · 2 days

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hi it's just me being nosy and asking a follow up to your vinyl anon--what are some of your non-1DCU favorites? collection tour please 😇

hiiii gosh and look you even put the link on for me to make it easy! The question itself is NOT EASY though I was like BUT WHAT IF I FORGET ONE?? Like what CATEGORY of favorite?! But the timing couldn't be better, I am currently as previously mentioned in the process of moving all of my stuff around, a huge project that 1) is perfect for listening to records while I do things like move books from one shelf to another and 2) means I just today moved my record player to a far better place where I am actually using it again for the first time in ages (for one thing onto an actual properly non wobbly surface) so I listened to records today and picked a few that will do sorry to all the others I forgot and love even more I'm sure

I picked first up Daydream Nation by Sonic Youth not just because it's so good (IT IS THOUGH) but also because it's an album that having it on vinyl feels SO right and it makes me happy just to handle; the pretty Gerhard Richter painting cover, a little crackle and pop with the music, the aesthetic of it all! I mean Sonic Youth probably literally birthed the indie hipster luddite aesthetic, it seems Right™ Second is The Bonny by Gerry Cinnamon, because being able to listen to the songs The Bonny and Ghost specifically on vinyl feeds my soul in deep and important ways. Also the 4th side is blank and etched with lyrics, like the JHO single, very cool. And last the record/album I've almost certainly played the most times in my life, even though the copy I have has skips now (to be loved is to changed and all that yk) and I haven't to date been able to bring myself to buy a reissue or pay $$$ for another original: 24 Hour Revenge Therapy by Jawbreaker. It's just important in like 15 different ways okay? Tip, if anyone is like huh! I will go listen to this album I've never heard it (DO!! also then tweet it at Louis a lot, he would REALLY LIKE IT) I think the best way to do this is to skip the first song the first time, it's a whole different vibe than the rest. Also right now my fave is LTLIVE on vinyl 😭 playing records makes me want to put it on SO BAD :((( also bonus content, one of my favorite things about records for some reason is seeing who goes next to who idk I just find it fun and if I were naming a band it would totally be a big consideration... so for extra tour of the shelf, Gerry Cinnamon is between the Germs and The Gits (listen the Cs are crowded, it's my shelf I can do what I want), Sonic Youth was between The Snuts and Social Distortion- which the astute may notice is not correct, she will be going back other side of Social D- and Jawbreaker nestle cozily between Japandroids and Jerk With A Bomb. Louis, for the record, lives between very twee girl band Tiger Trap and very fast hardcore band Tragatello, lol. A weird bill, that, but they do have one thing in common- all feature queer musicians

#gosh all three of these are so MELLOW🤔#I think even though I also like a lot of very not chill music there's something about the vibe+vinyl for me #I am listenign to the tragatello record now though which is anything but and that's also a great time so hey okay #this is outrageously self indulgent forgive me innocent dash denizens who just want to talk about louis in peace #it's cam's fault for being an enabler!

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sleyu · 9 months

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thinking of perv!bf james who begs you to let him take dirty polaroids of you for when you’re apart. cause how else is he meant to get off without an image of his cum on your pretty tits or you choking on his cock? definitely keeps them in his wallet for easy access too

perfect timing, i just came back from work and all i could think about as i was making people’s drinks was perv ! james…

i am positively going insane at the thought of this. i referenced james asking for photos of you in my james bf headcanons, but i totally forgot to mention all the nudes he would beg for during summer vacation.（；＿；）♡

dating you has gotten him sex addicted and he can only spend so long merely imagining your face and body :( he has such a tough time cumming without you and he hates not having you there or being forced to resort to masturbating because it only further reminds him of his loneliness.

but, the photo-system you guys developed assures him that he’s the only one that gets to have personalized photos of you in his hands that are attached along with every love letter you send him. it also eases his loneliness and makes spending time apart easier for the both of you.

right before school ends, you suggest taking photos of the two of you for when the summer holiday begins and you both are separated by the barrier that is vacations and dependent families.

james practically loses his mind at the thought of this and he makes it his mission to take photos of you from his favourite angles and sights: taking you from behind (he begs you to turn your face to look at him so that it appears in the photo), your cum-covered face and tits, your legs spread with cum dripping out of your abused cunt, you choking on his cock, and your naked, spent body sprawled across his bed, fucked out after a particularly rough session.

some photos are downright filthy (every photo with the cum) which are the ones that he jerks off to the most, whereas others are taken with an artistic eye, aesthetically pleasing enough for him to put in his wallet or on the corner of his bedroom mirror.

the photo of you in his wallet would be something pretty and taken with purpose. it would either be your cum covered, smiling face (so that anyone who takes a glance at his wallet would assume it’s simply an innocent photo of his girlfriend), or, as we know, james loves the risk, a photo of your bruised and bitten tits, littered with hickeys and love bites.

god, when james finally reaches home from hogwarts, he immediately locks himself in his room to pull out the envelope of polaroids he’s taken over the year, eagerly searching through the photos he had taken of you. james is such a little pervert that his cock was already beginning to throb at the mere thought of jerking off to those photos of you.

even though you knew that he had these photos intended for his own personal, depraved purposes, something about pulling out his cock out from his slacks and slowly stroking himself to your pretty, candid, unknowing face—occasionally slapping his cock gently on the laminated paper—was so filthy and lewd to him.

of course, the picture deal has to be mutual and he’s more than happy to send you nude photos of him. one of the photos would be his hard, leaking cock tributing to the cum-covered photo of you smiling. looking at the photo and realizing how creepy and perverted it comes across only made the ache in his cock worse. he’d graze his length against his pillow, groaning to himself, making a silent prayer that all of this is enough to relieve the constant need in him and his craving for your cunt.

‘’m so fuckin’ sick,’ he’d sigh, grinning wolfishly.

i also have a sick feeling that not only james, but the rest of the marauders favourite photos to jerk themselves off to are the innocent ones in which you’re smiling happily into the camera, showing off your pretty sundress. of course, nothing beats the lewd photos of you, but they find themselves cumming harder at the unsuspecting photos, imagining your cute, smiling face in front of them, eagerly waiting to be covered and marked by their cum. something about tainting and subsequently corrupting the innocence and purity that the casual photos reveal drives them mad.

‘gonna fuckin’ ruin you the next time i see you—fuck,’

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queer-geordie-nerd · 4 months

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A concerning trend I've noticed from an admittedly outside perspective is just how many Israeli bloggers on here, who prior to a few months ago, had totally innocuous blogs - fandom blogs, aesthetic blogs, art and writing blogs - in short, blogs with less than nothing to do with their country's internal politics - have now had to become defenders of theirs and their home's right to their very existence.

Their existence as ordinary civilians, ordinary human beings living ordinary lives has suddenly become a political act and they're expected to answer and account for every single crime, real or perceived, that their government and military commits, and if they don't flagellate themselves to a sufficient degree, they're "suspicious" or "untrustworthy."

Would this ever be expected en masse of Russian bloggers? Chinese? Turkish? American ones? Who breathtakingly arrogantly assume that the Western paradigm of oppressed/oppressor works for any situation anywhere in the world? Hell, I'm a Brit and if I was expected to answer for my government's crimes, I'd be doing nothing else for the rest of my damn life.

So, why is it most people have absolutely no problem separating ordinary civilians from their governments and militaries for every other nation on earth but hit a brick wall when it comes to Israel?

That's a rhetorical question, of course, because I'm almost 100% certain I already know the answer.

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sweets4dolls · 3 months

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omg im literally obsessed with ur work !! the aesthetics and dialogue and everything is just so chefs kiss :3 this is my first time requesting something so hooray !! i wondering if u could do a bunny! reader with an over protective! alastor? i think he would be the security guard type of boyfriend like thats so yummylicious :D thank you so much and remember to drink lots of water and eat plenty of food !!!!!!

pairing: protective!possessive!alastor + fem!bunny!reader

content warnings: toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, canon typical violence, not proofread, kinda dark!alastor?

notes: but he totally would be thoooo :0 also I just added on possessive for fun oopsies - also, YAY CONGRATSON UR FIRST REQUEST! :D

its in his nature to be protective for people that he likes, so actually being in a relationship with him makes his possessive nature go into overdrive.

although most sinners know better than to try him, there are the occasional few along with some of vox's people that do come after him.

he doesn't like to kill in front of you, he just thinks that you're too cute n pure to witness those sort of acts:(, but don't get it wrong, he's more than willing to rip sinners apart, ready to destroy anything he deems a threat.

that also includes if anything were to say something bad about you, he'd be dragging them away from you and tearing them in two before coming back all smiles.

although he is a gentleman and doesn't like to kill people who he thinks don't deserve it, he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about annihilating some of your friends that he thinks get too touchy with you - if that is the case, you'll end up wondering where they went until alastor comes in, convincing you that you don't need them because you have him!

being so protective, he'd also coax information out of you if he ever saw that you seemed to be bothered, putting on that charming smile of his before he has you spilling your heart out to him.

definitely likes to be by your side 24/7, and at some point it almost gets invasive so you leave by yourself, which he gets very upset at since you didn't tell him first, so. he waits in your room until you get back.

"I thought that you weren't in the mood to go out, dearest bunny?" he says with a hum as he rests in the armchair in the corner of your room, eyes gazing down at you as you chew on your lip nervously.

"just went for a walk is all," you mumbled, hand shifting to grip your upper arm in a comforting fashion.

"to go and see that friend of yours?"

he's worried for your safety, not wanting his precious bun to be kidnapped or killed by one of his many enemies :(

sometimes it leads to fights between you too, you always claiming that you need space from him

"its like I don't have a life outside of you!" you cry, eyes slightly bloodshot from an abundance of tears falling.

"of course you do," a lie, "I just can't have my little bunny getting hurt, can I?" he says in a sweet tone, trying to get you to calm down.

if his words don't work on you, he would leave you to see how hell really was while he wasn't there, leaking information to his enemies on your whereabouts, letting them run after you before he swoops in like the romantic hero of your story that he is and saves you, this time not sparing your pretty eyes from witnessing the carnage he creates.

he takes you back to the hotel, you a mess, weeping in his arms, all frightened and shaking.

"oh, my sweet, silly bunny, how foolish you were to leave without me," he says, nearly patronizingly as he holds you in his arms.

"I'm so, so sorry alastor, you were right," you shakily let out between chest-heaving sobs as you cling to him, afraid to leave his presence for a mere second.

he's always right, he just needs to make you see that too <3

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

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The main cast of Hazbin hotel on Valentine's day

I know I may be a little late. I had to do some shopping today and hadn't had the motivation or time to get down and write until now! I apologize is some characters are given more writing than others... the truth is that I am bised for some characters or simply have more for them. :C

Regardless I hope you enjoy these, I likely won't do these large posts very often.

CHARLIE:

I hope you can forgive me for being a little short on Charlie's part, I had stated earlier what she would do for the holiday in an alphabet post! But to recap she makes you a mixtape with songs dedicated to you, songs made by her and songs she knows you like! The case is handmade too, covered in hearts as well as having a hand written note inside further expressing her affections for you. She would also give you some of your favorite candies! Expect to go out and do something fun and romantic too!

VAGGIE:

Much lower compared to her canon partner, Vaggie is not much of an enjoyer of the holiday. She keeps her thoughts to it to herself, though sometimes you might find her grumbling about all the pink and the red. She just doesn't enjoy the aesthetic all that much. However despite that she will still participate if she knows it will make her significant other happy! She would get you something small, like a stuffed animal and some flowers.

ANGEL DUST:

Respectfully stealing this idea from my mutual, but he already gets so many gifts and cards from his crazed horny fans. He hardly has the room for any more! Though.. he probably sells a lot of it for some extra cash, only keeping some of the candies. If you get him something, he probably wouldn't sell it. He's actually touched. In terms of what he does for you, he might treat you to a night full of him... in more ways than one if you're open to it. If you don't feel like going out he's fine with staying inside and watching some movies in his rooms... perhaps it's a deserved break after a rough day during the love season.

ALASTOR:

Similar to Vaggie, Alastor wouldn't do much. He understands the purpose of the holiday, but he simply. Does not care for it all that much. However I do rather enjoy the though of Alastor sending letters to his friends (Mimzy, Rosie, Niffty, ect). He even puts them in fancy envelopes and seals them with wax. How nice is that? If he can, he might even send a box of chocolates. Fingers, in Rosie's case. However, he doesn't do much to celebrate outside of that. That's assuming he sends anything at all, anyway.

SIR PENTIOUS:

He would go all out. He might even make a machine dedicated to you and gift it. He makes a mechanical heart that beats and gives it to you. He gives you all of the candy he can get his hands on, not exactly sure what you prefer. He takes you out for the night, to the nicest restaurant he can go to without getting jumped (because let's be honest... his days of trying to pick fights and climb to power has probably landed him with some enemies...). He's a total gentleman on the date, opening the door for you and pushing in your chair for you. Considering he's a little flustered that he is on a date with you, everything goes smoothly.

HUSKER:

He likes to stay in, but you can count that if you manage to get him to go out it's going to be a to a club or bar. Anywhere with alcohol. He'd much rather prefer a bar, since it's usually... lower in energy. He also isn't much of a Valentine's person, and he does show his disdain. He does tone down on talking negatively about the day around you, so there's that at least. A simple night in with an affirmation of love is enough for Husk.

NIFFTY:

She bakes you something and perhaps sews you something. A red throw pillow in the shape of a heart. Though you may have to tell her that's what you want because otherwise she's going to try something akin to the roach crown.... shivers... The baked goods are actually pretty good, and you'll be snacking on them for the rest of the week due to Niffty getting too excited and making too many. She will stab someone with a needle if they try to take one without asking you first.

LUCIFER:

He also goes all out, it might actually be a little overwhelming! He can conjure nearly anything he can think of, if his song was being literal! He wants to make sure you're loved, and that there's no possible way that you would ever think otherwise. Despite this he might rather stay inside, or maybe alter the home to look more fancy to make a mock dinner. Generally very sweet and you will be drowning in gifts from the second you wake up to the minute you go to sleep. He also makes you breakfast in bed.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #niffty x reader #husk x reader #husker x reader #lucifer x reader

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redr0sewrites · 26 days

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Hi! I'd like to make a request if you're still open for then. It's more like two, actually. I got my nails done the other day, and I've been excited to show everyone since it's the first time I've ever done this! I was wondering if I could get one for the hazbin Hotel men and how they would react to them. For the second one I was hoping for the same characters being with a chubby reader?

Specifically, I'm curious about husk, vox and angel dust but I also wouldn't mind the rest like Adam and alastor. Just no Valentino obvi

(Romantic pls! Preferably sfw for both requests)

Thank you so much!!!

YESSSSS OFC OFC!!!! i made the pt2 w chubby!reader hcs in a separate post and linked it ♥️

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff

🥀Pairing(s): Husk, Vox, Angel Dust, Lucifer

Husk

husk is 100% a supportive boyfriend and he admires you whenever you get your nails done

while he may not be super up to date on modern technology, he will TOTALLY take super aesthetic nail pics for you and do his best to make sure you and your nails look fabulous

if its your first time getting your nails done and your a bit nervous, husk has no qualms about accompanying you. toxic masculinity be damned, he'll sit beside you the whole time and chat with you and your nail technician about whatever

he gives great advice when it comes to colors and styles, and if you ever came to him for advice on what nails you should wear, be prepared for an entire formal slideshow on what colors he thinks would look best on you

husk loves when your nails tap against hard surfaces, the soft clicking is very soothing to him. his ears always twitch towards the sound of your fingers drumming against the bartop counter when your sitting with him while he works

he loves how your nails feel combing through his fur, and will absolutely PURR when you scratch his ears with them but will deny it to no end if you tease him about it

Vox

vox is pretty perceptive, and notices almost immediately that you changed your nails. he'll ask to see them, and will definitely praise you because of how stylish they look. vox knows you have good taste, your dating him after all!!

vox would probably show off your nails to others, and would offer for velvette to post about them on her sinstagram. or, he'll just post about you on his own account. maybe he'll take a photo of you and him with your nails in view, "casually" mentioning how lovely they look and drawing viewers attention to your lovely nails. he loves it when you both receive attention, and he wants people to know he sees you as a masterpiece

vox knows getting your nails done can take some time, and while he can't always be there in person, he'll make sure to call you or text you to make the wait more bearable. expect a lot of questions about when you'll be home, or how much longer the appointment will take

vox would probably start buffering and short circuit if he saw that your nails matched his color scheme. he LOVES the idea of you both matching through your nails, and might subtly suggest that you get blue and pink nails next time

Angel Dust

angel dust is practically your hype man! the second you tell him you're going to get your nails done he offers to accompany you, and will get a set that matches with yours!!! he loves holding your hand and admiring the way your nails match, and will randomly ask to hold your hand for the entire time you have your new nails

i'd say that angel has definitely gotten his nails done before and is probably pretty used to it, so he'll definitely calm any nerves you have. he looovessss showing off your guys' matching nails and will take a bunch of cute aesthetic nail pics with you!!!!

considering he's a celebrity, he would LOVE it if you got nails inspired by him!!!!

you two would totally have spa dates where you would go out and have full selfcare days, and get your nails done together. imagine just chilling with angel in a nail salon, relaxing as your nail technician works on your hands while your lover rambles aimlessly beside you. its a very affectionate and soft date that the two of you enjoy, and you end up going out with angel to get your nails done quite frequently

Lucifer

lucifer would 100% offer to accompany you if you were getting your nails done!!! he would love just getting to sit with you and chat while he watched you get your nails done, and would probably ask a lot of questions

once your nails are officially done, he showers you in compliments!!! he adores everything from the colors to the design, simply because you chose it

if you got super long nails or acrylics, lucifer would absolutely offer to do simple tasks for you. fumbling with a necklace clasp because your nails are too long? here, let him do it for you! can't pick up a tiny item? he practically teleports to your side! struggling to type?? here, just tell him what to say and he'll type every word for you!!!!

lucifer loves kissing your hands, and he loves doing it even more once you start getting your nails done. he'll press a kiss to each nail, traveling up to kiss your knuckles and then all the way up your arm to kiss your face

IVE NEVER GOTTEN MY NAILS DONE SO I TRIED TO BE AS ACCURATE AS POSSIBLE!!!!! APOLOGIES FOR ANY MISTAKES 😭 this was also my first time writing for husk + angel dust, which is actually shockers considering they're literally two of my favs

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hardly-an-escape · 1 month

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what's in a name? | Dream/Hob | 9300 words | rated E

this is my submission for @designtheendless's 3K commission giveaway: a Dreamling fic based on their fanart above!

tags: alternate universe - human, photographer Hob Gadling, artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, model Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, strangers to lovers, snowed in, only one bed, light dom/sub, oral sex, face fucking, anal fingering, anal sex, anonymous sex, Dream of the Endless is a horny little weasel, and Hob is no less of a horny little weasel, brief Princess Bride references, alcohol consumption, impulsive decision making, callous disregard for the geography of northern California, they go from 0-60 because they’re both nuts, neither of them are in a great place but they do make each other better rather than worse

Hob is on an ill-fated road trip through California. He’s making his way slowly down the coast toward Los Angeles when, trapped by a snowstorm in a small town near Mount Shasta, he meets a mysterious stranger in a diner. They share a night of anonymous passion – but when the sun rises, Hob finds that he can’t just leave the stranger behind…

this story developed partially from Picture Perfect, one of my Fluffbruary 2024 fills. I also incorporated some of designtheendless's other suggested image prompts, so do make sure you check their original post! and thank you so much for extending the deadline, it meant I had time to get my CHBB fic submitted before pivoting to finish this... and even so I'm still barely getting it done in time just because of who I am as a person :D

Hob leans forward over the steering wheel, brows furrowed as he peers through the driving snow at the street ahead. The windshield wipers are going like mad; he’s seen a plow or two out, but they seem to barely be making a dent, so traffic has slowed to a crawl. Which is, frankly, for the best, since the weather is bad enough that only a true nutter would be out in it at all.

Well… nobody’s ever accused Hob of being sane.

His GPS instructs him to take the next right and informs him that his destination will then be on his right. He can just make out the neon sign through the thick flakes: Townhouse Motel. “Vacancy,” it says below the old-timey script, blinking on and off. In the distance, the sun is just beginning to settle behind some mountains that he’s sure would be beautiful if they weren’t hidden behind such inclement weather.

He pulls in the driveway. The lot is nearly empty, so he parks right next to the office door and jams his winter cap on his head before hurrying through the flurries.

The bored teenager behind the front desk barely looks up from the reality show playing on her tablet as she runs Hob’s credit card and gives him his door key – an actual, physical key. Room 1389. He decides it’s not worth it to ask why the room number has four digits when the motel has maybe a dozen rooms total.

He does ask if there’s somewhere nearby to get a bite to eat and a drink.

“There’s a diner across the street and down a block,” the teenager says, “but they don’t serve booze.” Then, finally looking up, perhaps seeing the bags under his eyes and his generally downtrodden demeanor, she relents. “There’s a liquor store about two blocks past that. You can bring stuff back to your room, I guess. It’s not like anybody is going to ask questions around here.”

That, Hob thinks as he heads back outside and moves his rental car a little closer to his door, is obvious. There’s a general air of neglect clinging to the motel, and indeed to the whole street, from what he can see: the buildings are a little more weatherbeaten than can be plausibly explained by a cute vintage aesthetic, and at least one storefront seems to be permanently boarded up. The recession has clearly hit Northern California just as hard as it has the rest of the United States.

What a time to be playing tourist. What a time to be – well, he won’t think about that right now.

His room is clean, at least. Someone, at some point in time, has made a half-hearted attempt to decorate it with a seaside theme. The bedlinens are various shades of blue, rather than your typical beigey-white. There’s an unfortunate painting of a mermaid hanging over the outdated television, and a slightly less unfortunate painting of a lighthouse above the bed. The bathroom wallpaper has little seashells on it.

Hob leaves his camera bag on the desk and his duffel on the end of the bed, grabs his wallet, turns his collar up against the cold, and heads back out into the snowy evening.

The diner is, as promised, only a short walk down the street, but Hob is shivering by the time he gets there. The wind cuts right through him – silly British man that he is, he thought California would be warm, even in winter. He hadn’t really reckoned with unpredictable mountain weather, or with the cold front that was chasing him down through the southern end of the Cascades. The weatherman on the radio had been calling it “freakish.”

A little bell tinkles merrily when he pushes open the door. A waitress calls out a greeting, tells him to sit wherever he likes and she’ll be right with him. There’s only one other person in the diner, a slender man dressed all in black who is hunched over a cup of coffee at the counter. He glances up and immediately back down as Hob stomps the snow off his boots and takes an empty booth far enough away from the front door that he won’t feel the rush of cold air if anyone else comes in.

The waitress bustles over, bringing him a cup of coffee without even asking. Hob wraps his fingers around it gratefully. He doesn’t normally drink coffee this late, but it’s been the kind of day that calls for it: so cold, so uncomfortable and distressing, that the sturdy ceramic mug is exactly what he wants. The bitter note of slightly burnt coffee is tempered by the cheap, artificially flavored vanilla creamer he only ever uses at this kind of greasy spoon diner. He breathes deep and feels something inside him start to thaw.

When the waitress comes back with a menu, he warms up even more. She is middle-aged and comfortable, nice and no-nonsense, the sort of person with an indeterminate American accent who could have come from anywhere: Illinois, or Florida, or five minutes down the road. She recommends the olive burger with fries, and a side of fried pickles, because they’re the best in the county, and then her excitement simply bubbles over.

“I’m just so darn tickled to have two Brits here in the same night!” she enthuses. “Oh gosh, is that okay? Can I call you Brits or is that rude?”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Hob laughs. “Two of us, eh? That is a coincidence.”

“I know, right? Okay hon, lemme just get your order in and I’ll be back to warm up your coffee in a sec.”

She bustles away again, and Hob looks curiously at the man at the counter. He must have heard her comment, but he hasn’t turned around, or indeed acknowledged Hob in any way since he came in. He shrugs mentally and turns away to look out the window at the thickly swirling snow. It’s dark enough now that streetlights have come on, casting cones of light in which the flakes dance like a very slow sodium-tinted tornado.

He wishes he had a book. Or a crossword puzzle, or one of those packets of crayons they give to kids at restaurants. Something to keep his hands occupied and his mind off of everything that was threatening to consume it, off of the last few days, off of her –

Then the man from the counter slides into the booth across from him.

“Hello,” Hob says.

“Hello,” the stranger says. His voice is surprisingly deep and resonant, coming from his slim frame, and he looks to be in his late twenties, perhaps a few years younger than Hob. He is very pale. His dark hair is sticking up rather wildly and his eyes are a cold, clear blue that reminds Hob of the way the sky had looked this morning, before the clouds had descended.

“Who are you, then? Aside from a fellow Brit?” asks Hob.

“No one of consequence.” He’s lugging around a small backpack, which now rests on the bench beside him.

“I must know,” Hob says in a very bad Inigo Montoya accent.

“Get used to disappointment,” the stranger says with a smirk, and Hob laughs.

“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine,” he says, holding his hand out across the table. “My name’s Hob, yes that’s my real name, and yes, it is a long story.”

The stranger shakes his hand briefly. His palm is warm from cupping his coffee cup, but the tips of his fingers are cold. “Pleased to meet you, Hob.”

“And do you have a name, stranger?”

“I do. Several, in fact.”

“Any of them for public consumption?”

The stranger shrugs. “Will you forgive me if I maintain a certain level of mystery?”

Hob shrugs too. “That’s your lookout, mate. No skin off my nose.”

They chat. About the weather, and how odd it is, and how different to England. About books – the stranger appears to be a voracious reader, and Hob had loaded up an old iPod with audiobooks in preparation for a lot of driving, which sparks a lively debate on the merits of printed books vs reading aloud. In the midst of this, Hob’s food arrives, and he is derailed momentarily from the conversation by an overwhelming need to unhinge his jaw and stuff as many chips into his gob as humanly possible. The stranger watches in amusement.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Hob says, muffled by his burger. “Been driving pretty much all day and I didn’t really want to stop, so…”

He’s suddenly self-conscious, very aware that the man sitting across from him is slender and willowy and dressed all in black, and that he himself is very much… not that. Dressed for comfort and warmth in slightly baggy jeans and a flannel shirt and his puffy jacket balled up on the bench beside him. But the stranger seems unbothered, simply smiling slightly and snagging a fried pickle off the plate between them, which Hob had invited him to share moments after it had arrived.

They are good; crispy and salty and uniquely American. Hob is certainly prepared to believe they’re the best in the county.

“So are you staying here in town, or is that shrouded in mystery as well?” he asks, once he’s slowed down a bit.

“I’ve been staying in a cabin up the mountain, a little way out of town. With my family.” He said the word family as though it is faintly dirty. “One of my siblings thought it would be good for us to get away together. But I have found it… trying.”

“Up the mountain, eh? Are you going to be able to get back in this?”

Hob tips his head toward the window. It is very dark now, and the snow is falling more thickly and wildly than ever. A crease appears between the stranger’s eyebrows.

“To be honest, I had not thought that far ahead.”

“Do you have much experience driving in the snow?”

To Hob’s surprise, the stranger actually blushes, just a gentle stain of pink across his cheekbones. “I… walked.”

“You walked?”

The waitress, stopping by the table to warm up their coffees, echos Hob’s surprise.

“Oh, honey,” she says. “In this? How are you fixing to get home?”

“I was planning to walk back,” the stranger says with some asperity. “But I admit I was not anticipating this kind of weather.”

“Let me check on the roads for you,” the waitress says kindly. “Which cabin did you say you’re at? My brother-in-law lives up that way, I’ll give him a call. I’m sure we can find you a ride.”

She goes back behind the counter and picks up the phone.

“I’m happy to give you a ride,” Hob says quietly. “If she thinks it’s safe.”

“You do not have to do that.”

“‘S okay. I want to.”

“Bill? It’s Jan. I have a question for you,” says the waitress.

Hob realizes, suddenly and with some surprise, that it is quite true, that he is not just being polite: he does want to help this mysterious stranger, who talks like a 19th-century Byronic hero and dresses like a college goth. His stomach is doing the tiniest little swoop every time they make eye contact, and he doesn’t want it to stop.

The waitress calls over to him.

“You got four wheel drive, hon?”

Hob thinks about the little Honda Civic in the motel parking lot. Thinks about mountain roads and snow. Shakes his head no.

Scraps of the waitress’s conversation float across the diner and Hob takes another bite of his burger.

“– well they’re foreign, Bill, they don’t –”

He snickers just a little; can’t help himself, really, because the waitress is just so kind and helpful and also clearly more than a little bit befuddled by their presence in her diner. These two Brits, total strangers, so unalike one another – and yet here they are, sharing a booth and a plate of fried pickles, five thousand miles and change away from home. He exchanges a look of camaraderie with the stranger and eats some more chips. They’re good too.

“– and tomorrow? What’s the overnight –”

After another minute or two the waitress thanks her brother-in-law and hangs up the phone. Her face is serious when she comes back to their table.

“Well, boys,” she says, “I don’t think anyone is going anywhere tonight. Bill says it’s pretty bad up there, and only getting worse. The plows aren’t even going out yet on account of the snow’s still coming down so hard, it doesn’t make sense to try and clear anything. You going to be able to find a place to stay?” she asks the stranger.

He looks at Hob. “Did you mention a motel?”

“Yeah, the Townhouse?” Hob says, and the waitress nods along. “I don’t know for sure if there are rooms available, but it didn’t look like the parking was full.”

“Probably not, this time of year,” interjects the waitress. “It’s a fine place, and Paulie can certainly use the business. I’ll bring your checks by in a minute, guys.”

She leaves them again. Her sensible sneakers squeak against the floor tiles as she walks.

“Thank you again for your offer of a ride,” the stranger says quietly. “That was very kind of you.”

“Course. I’m just sorry you won’t be able to get home tonight,” Hob says.

“It is my own fault. I should not have behaved so impulsively. But my siblings…” The man frowns. “As I said, they can be difficult. I would have done something regrettable, had I remained in the house.”

Hob waves a hand. “Ah, it happens to the best of us. Especially around family. You should hear some of the fights I’ve had with my sister, we can scream the paint off the walls when we get going.”

“Indeed,” the man says darkly.

“I’m glad you did come to town, though. It’s been kind of nice,” Hob says tentatively. “Having someone to talk to tonight.”

“Indeed,” his stranger repeats. But this time one corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. “It seems to have worked out in my favor.”

Hob smiles back. “So, are you really not going to tell me your name?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun, eh?” Hob glances down at his own hands, folded on the table, back at the stranger. “Is that what this is?”

The stranger smirks. He leans forward and plucks another fried pickle from the plate. He opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue just a little bit farther than necessary to pop the slice into his mouth. He chews, and smirks some more, and gives Hob an unmistakable up-and-down appraising glance, and underneath the table he presses one ankle against Hob’s instep.

Oh. Hob feels a surprising but not unfamiliar spike of arousal in his gut. So that’s where this is heading – has been heading, since he pushed open the door and the stranger had glanced up at him. Had he blushed, when his eyes met Hob’s? Or is he applying more detail to that brief interaction after the fact, now that he thinks he knows what his stranger is thinking?

And when had the man become his stranger?

“I see,” he says, and presses back against the bony ankle under the table.

Ten minutes later, they’ve settled their bills – his stranger had apparently eaten a club sandwich before Hob had arrived, and he’s weirdly relieved that the man has consumed something more substantial than coffee this evening – and are gearing up to head back into the cold. Hob is zipping up his coat when he realizes the other man appears to have only a thick black hoodie and a knit beanie (also black, of course). He glances out the window, where it’s still snowing pretty hard, and raises an eyebrow.

“You going to be okay in just that?”

“You said it is only a couple of blocks? I will be fine. I tend not to feel the cold. And,” he adds defensively, “when I originally walked down the weather was not quite so… inclement.”

“If you say so,” Hob says as he opens the door. The waitress calls out a good night and he waves to her over his stranger’s shoulder. Wonders, just for a moment, what she thinks of the fact that they’re leaving together, or if she will ever think of them again at all. They step out into the snowy evening. “The girl at the motel said there’s a liquor store down the street. Mind detouring there? I was thinking of picking up some whiskey, or something. Something to keep a man warm.”

The man chuckles and they head down the street. It’s not until they’re away from the diner windows that he takes Hob by the elbow and gently draws him just outside the circle of a street lamp.

“Surely,” he says, voice low, stepping into Hob’s space, “there are many ways for a man to… keep warm.”

And he kisses him.

His lips are warm and dry, a little chapped. It’s a simple kiss, a chaste one, just their lips touching and the barest pressure of the stranger’s belly and chest pressed against Hob’s, swathed in layers of winter gear. It lasts for a heartbeat, two, and then the man steps back with a hum of satisfaction.

“Oh?” says Hob, giddily. “It’s like that, is it?”

“Obviously,” responds his stranger.

“Well, I don’t know, mate,” says Hob as they make their way down the street. He resists the urge to link their arms together. “Maybe you play footsie with every guy you meet in random diners in Northern California.”

“Perhaps.”

The liquor store is a brief respite from the wind and the snow. Hob selects a mid-range bottle of whiskey and they trudge back to his motel room. The snowflakes and the streetlights and the swirling wind make everything feel more than a little bit surreal, like something out of a dream or a fairy tale. The two of them could be adventurers, explorers, wading through an arctic wasteland in search of shelter. The mountain looms behind them, dark and mysterious, like a great castle or some monstrous beast.

“Do you mind if I take a shower?” asks his stranger, kicking off his boots dropping his backpack by the desk. “I’m afraid I did get rather sweaty, hiking down earlier. I wouldn’t mind cleaning up.” His gaze, beneath his long eyelashes, feels heavy and significant.

“Go right ahead.” Hob gestures toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to nip down to the lobby and get a bit of ice.” He retrieves the ice bucket from the desk, brushing close to his stranger as he does. The brief contact jolts him back to the real world. They’re not in the arctic waste; this handsome, ethereal man is here, in his motel room. He is pulling off his somewhat sodden hoodie and draping it over the back of the chair, and sniffing dubiously at the sweater he wears underneath it. He is real.

Hob waits until he hears the shower turn on to slip out the door.

Although he has his moments of cluelessness, Hob is not a stupid man. He knows where this is going. He recognizes the signs, the coy little dance they’ve been doing around each other for the past two hours, and no, he’s not a stupid man, but if he were a better one he might be able to resist the temptation of falling into bed with a beautiful stranger who won’t even share his name.

But there’s something about this man. Hob wants him. Already can’t resist him. Wants to wrap him up and keep him warm and kiss his collarbones and, yes, wants to fuck him, wants to feel him shudder and moan and wants to watch his cheeks flush and his head fall back in ecstasy. He hasn’t felt like this for a long, long time, and now it’s come out of nowhere to slam into him and hook into his gut, this wanting.

He throws a few scoops of ice from the machine in the motel lobby into the bucket and goes back to the room.

He’s kicked off his boots, unwrapped one of the shitty plastic cups, and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey by the time he hears the shower shut off. There’s the usual shuffling noise of towels, a brief blast of the cheap hair dryer mounted to the wall. Then the door opens and the stranger emerges, and Hob is slammed from the real world right back into a surreal dream.

The man is even more beautiful without his clothes on: Hob would compare him to an elf or a fairy prince, but he’s too busy choking slightly on the spit that’s suddenly flooding his mouth at the sight of long, slim limbs, a narrow waist, and a temptingly well-defined Adonis belt that disappears under the cheap motel towel wound around his hips.

There’s a long moment of silent eye contact. Hob’s leaning up against the desk, cup cradled in one hand. His face heats as he watches his stranger’s eyes travel slowly down the length of his body and back up, pursing his lips slightly. His mouth is very pink, with the kind of full bottom lip that’s made for nibbling on, and the rest of his skin is as pale and smooth as… well, as snow, with just a touch of redness from the heat of the shower spreading across his chest.

Hob downs half of his whiskey without even thinking about it. He can’t look away. He can’t think, can’t even blink. He’s afraid that if he does, this vision will disappear and it’ll just be him, alone, a saddish man alone in a motel room with a bottle of booze and a bag of expensive camera equipment, and then who knows what will happen?

His stranger gives him one of those tiny half-smiles, suggestive, not quite a leer, and stalks across the room toward him.

He widens his legs and his stranger steps in to stand between his feet. He takes Hob’s drink out of his hand and tosses back the last swallow of whiskey before setting the plastic cup aside. Then he hooks one finger into the collar of Hob’s flannel shirt and pulls him into a kiss. His mouth is a study in contrasts: warm from the whiskey and cool from the ice, soft tongue and sharp teeth. They sink briefly, gently, into Hob’s bottom lip, and Hob pulls the man close against his chest and returns the favor.

The kiss is turning wet and messy when the man pulls back far enough to start fumbling with Hob’s shirt buttons. He’s pulled the tails of the shirt out of Hob’s jeans and has it about halfway unbuttoned when a phone starts ringing.

It’s not the room phone – it’s coming from a pocket of the man’s backpack.

“Ignore it,” he mumbles into Hob’s neck. “We are busy.”

The phone rings three times; four times. The stranger has finished with Hob’s shirt and is pulling the tee beneath it out of the waistband of his jeans by the time it finally stops.

His fingers are toying with Hob’s belt buckle and ghosting over the seam of his fly when it rings again.

The stranger groans audibly.

“Do you think,” Hob says with the carefully deliberate cadence of the very turned on, “that your family might be worried about you?”

“I do not care,” his stranger grumbles, and sinks gracefully to his knees.

Eventually the phone stops ringing again.

He’s worked Hob’s belt and fly open and is nuzzling into the opening of his jeans, nosing at the base of Hob’s cock through his underwear and Hob is panting, his stranger’s hot breath so close to where Hob wants him most – when the phone rings a third time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” snarls the stranger, and stands.

He fishes a slightly battered-looking BlackBerry out of an outside pocket of his backpack and stabs at the call answer button.

“What.”

He turns away, so all Hob can see is the furious, stiff line of his stranger’s back. He can’t hear the other half of the conversation, and he doesn’t think he wants to; every fibre of the man’s body radiates anger and discomfort and perhaps a little bit of shame. Hob adjusts himself discreetly, rezips his jeans, and tiptoes over to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Obviously I am alive. I am fine.” A pause. “I took a walk.” Another pause. “Yes. Yes, I know what time it is. No, I am assured that the roads were too bad to make it back to the cabin. I am in a motel room in…” He looks over to Hob. “What is the name of this place?”

Hob supplies the name of the motel, and that of the town as well, just for good measure. The man relays the information into the phone. There is another long pause.

“That is none of your business. Shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you speak to me like that again I will hang up the phone.”

There is another, longer pause, during which the stranger’s face grows progressively redder. He is very deliberately not looking at Hob.

“No. I said no. I will arrange for my own transportation in the morning. I –”

The person on the other end of the phone must say something truly outrageous, because his strangers eyes bug out in a way that looks almost uncomfortable.

“Do the entirety of the known universe a favor and crawl back into whatever slime hole you emerged from and leave me alone,” he hisses. “Goodbye.”

Hob can’t quite muffle a snort at this crowning line. Siblings.

His stranger hangs up the phone with a vicious jab of a button and slams it down on the desk; then seems to reconsider, retrieves it, and shuts it off entirely before throwing it into his backpack. He sighs, a surprisingly tired sound.

“I will have another drink, if you don’t mind,” he says. “And then I would like it very much if you would fuck me. Please.”

Hob’s cock, which had been feeling distinctly neglected, gives a twitch.

“I think that can be arranged,” he says. “Are you –”

The stranger waves a dismissive hand. “I am quite sober enough to have sex with you. And I could easily afford my own room, if that’s a concern. I am here because I want to be.”

“Glad to hear it, but that actually isn’t what I was going to ask,” Hob says mildly.

“Oh,” the man says. A faint blush rises on his cheekbones. He scoops up the whiskey bottle and uncorks it, taking an unceremonious swig. The towel hangs dangerously low around his hips. “What were you going to ask?”

His stranger pauses with the whiskey bottle against his lips. Hob watches the long line of his neck work once, twice, as he swallows, and figures he may as well put his cards on the table.

“I was going to ask if latex condoms are okay. For when I fuck you into the mattress in a minute here.”

The man clears his throat. “Oh,” he says again. “Yes. Latex is fine.”

“Good. Anything you don’t like? Hard boundaries?”

He pauses. “I do not enjoy being choked. Or having my hands restrained in any way. But I like… I like it a little bit rough. It feels good. To be used.”

Hob leans back on one elbow. “Is that what you want me to do? Use you?”

“Yes.”

The word drops into the quiet room like a handful of snow might drop off a tree branch – soft and muffled and sending the same delicious shiver down Hob’s spine.

“I can do that.” Oh, yes. Hob can use this beautiful man, if he is offering himself up to be used. “C’mere, then.”

His stranger walks slowly across the room to where Hob is half-reclining on the bed, feet still planted on the floor. He kneels between Hob’s legs and runs his hands slowly up and down his thighs from knee to hip. “And you?” he asks. “Your boundaries?”

Hob considers. “I’m with you on choking, not a fan,” he says. “I’m not big on pain, generally, but I can give it to other people, if they need it.”

“Alright.” His hands are still rubbing up and down Hob’s thighs, a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. When he speaks again his voice is thick. “Would you consider the preliminary negotiations to be concluded now?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your mouth than spout off like a horny nineteenth century robber baron?” Hob counters.

His stranger smiles, a proper smile that crinkles the corners of his blue eyes, and unzips the fly of Hob’s jeans.

In short order he’s pulled them open and pushed Hob’s boxers down just enough that he can get his cock out. He’s not quite hard, not yet, but he gets there quickly between his stranger’s gentle, surprisingly soft hands and the way he immediately buries his nose in Hob’s pubic hair and breathes deeply as he looks up through his eyelashes.

Then he opens his mouth, and wraps his tongue around the head of Hob’s cock, and Hob’s brain makes a noise like radio static.

Oh, he is good at this. Unfairly good. Supernaturally good. He teases Hob for long, long minutes, working up and down his shaft with light touches of just his lips and tongue, ducking down now and then to mouth gently at his balls, until Hob is twitching and swearing and straining, perched on the edge of the bed. When he finally has mercy and takes Hob’s cock fully into his mouth, it is barely a relief. He is so wet, so hot, and he sinks down on Hob with no resistance, no trace of a gag reflex. Before he can stop himself, Hob’s hips jerk forward that final fraction, and suddenly his stranger’s nose is brushing his pubic bone and his throat is contracting around the head of Hob’s cock.

He’s expecting the man to pull back, to splutter in indignation, but instead he makes an encouraging noise and squeezes Hob’s thigh before folding his hands almost primly in his lap.

“Fuck,” Hob mutters. He makes an experimental shallow thrust into the tight, wet heat of his stranger’s mouth. “Really?”

His stranger can’t nod, not with Hob’s prick in his mouth, but he moans. Hob feels it vibrate all along the length of his shaft and has to stifle a whimper of his own. He sinks one hand into the soft riot of the man’s hair, still a little damp from the shower, and cradles the back of his skull. The bone feels sweet and finely formed in his hand.

“You want me to fuck your pretty face?” he asks, soft and just a tiny bit mean. “Yeah? That’s what your mouth is good for, isn’t it?”

He thrusts again, in and out, and the stranger’s eyes roll back a little in his head, so he does it again, and again. Soon he really is fucking his face, not too hard but deep, fingers tightening in his stranger’s hair as his eyes fall nearly shut, narrowing to crystalline blue crescents.

Hob pulls back briefly to let his stranger breathe. Runs his thumb along his bottom lip, dripping with spit, before he pushes back in. He doesn’t stop until he can feel the first tendrils of orgasm beckoning to him; but as tempting as it is to keep going, to empty himself into this perfect mouth, he’s made a promise. And Hob is a man of his word, so he pulls the man off his cock by the scruff of his neck. He makes an obscene noise as he goes, and another thing string of saliva dribbles from his puffy mouth. His eyes are slightly glassy as he looks up at Hob.

“Get up on the bed, baby,” Hob orders gently.

When the man stands up the towel is just barely clinging to his narrow hips, and his erection is stiff and straining against the terrycloth. He’s so hard, Hob thinks wonderingly, just from having Hob’s cock in his mouth for a few minutes, and his own prick throbs in sympathy.

“Hands and knees,” Hob says, and the man crawls up on the bed. The towel falls away as he goes, languid but obedient, so that he’s entirely naked when Hob positions himself behind him. The contrast between Hob’s clothes and the other man’s nudity is delicious – Hob’s rough denim against the man’s soft thighs, Hob’s hairy wrists poking out from worn flannel as he runs his fingernails along sharply elegant shoulder blades.

He allows himself one long, gentle caress, from the nape of his stranger’s neck down to the shallow dimples in the small of his back, before he grabs at the man’s buttocks and unceremoniously spreads him open.

His hole looks surprisingly loose and relaxed already. Hob runs the pad of one thumb over it.

“Were you prepping yourself in the shower?” he asks, delighted. He presses gently and the furl of muscle gives, just a little, pink and fluttering.

“Hng,” says his stranger, shuddering. “Yes. I thought – I thought about your hands. Oh. I liked the thought that you were just outside the door. While I had my fingers inside myself.”

“Impatient little minx,” Hob says fondly. He kisses one of the lovely knobs of his stranger’s spine and pinches his backside for good measure before pulling away. “Stay here.”

He has to dig down to the bottom of his duffel bag in order to find the box of condoms and the little travel sized bottle of lube. He’d felt a little self-conscious when he’d packed them back in his flat in London – like he was presuming something – but then again he had been preparing for a supposedly romantic road trip with his girlfriend.

He’s glad, now, that he has them.

His stranger has remained on his knees, pitched forward to rest on his elbows, face pressed into a pillow and cock hanging heavy between his legs.

“Good boy,” Hob praises, and runs his hand along the man’s flank. “Beautiful. Oh, darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. And then you’re going to make me feel so good, aren’t you? You already have,” Hob coos, drizzling lube directly onto his arsehole. “And I know you’re going to keep being a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Before the man can answer, Hob slips a finger inside him, right up to the first knuckle. He’s rewarded with a whimper and the feeling of his stranger pushing back against him, silently begging for more.

And then not so silently. “More,” moans the stranger. “Fuck. More, please.”

Hob strokes his finger in and out, petting the velvet inside his stranger.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll get more.”

He tries to spend as much time torturing his stranger with his fingers as his stranger had spent torturing him with his mouth, but by the second finger he finds his resolve dissolving like so many snowflakes on warm skin. The man is making such wanton sounds, and his knees skid wider and wider on the slippery motel bedspread, opening him inexorably to Hob’s hungry eyes and questing hands.

“Oh. Oh,” he says. “Oh, yes, fuck,” he moans. No more well-crafted phrases or erudite words; the only thing dropping from that perfect mouth are noises, guttural and breathy by turns, only half-muffled by the pillow his face is smashed into.

“Please,” he begs, “please, in me, I – please, I need –”

Hob obliges.

He’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life as he shoves his jeans down around his thighs and rolls the condom on. He has to do it one-handed, clumsily, because some frantic corner of his brain is convinced that if he lets go of the stranger’s hip then the man will disappear, between one blink and the next, and this whole night will turn out to have been some snowblind fever dream.

But his stranger stays where Hob has put him, desperate and writhing, begging for Hob’s cock, and when he finally pins the man down to the mattress and pushes into him, that first hard thrust is enough to silence both of them.

The room is utterly still for a heartbeat, and then another, and then one more, until Hob pulls out in order to thrust in again and his stranger wails and then Hob is fucking into him in earnest, fucking him hard, until the sound of their skin slapping together almost drowns out the sounds his stranger is making beneath him.

Almost.

His stranger moans and pants, and Hob answers him, thrust for thrust and moan for moan, Yes and Ah and Christ and Fuck, fuck me, use me, yes. He grips his stranger by the hips, so hard that his fingers leave little white divots behind when he shifts his grip, so hard that he worries he might leave bruises, and still the man pushes back against him and begs for more.

He comes, when he finally comes, untouched, rutting gracelessly against the mattress. Hob stills, grits his teeth, not wanting to overwhelm the other man as he seizes in pleasure, but his stranger continues to move against him, if anything even more desperate, even in the throes of orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, “don’t, oh God, fuck me through it, don’t stop –”

So Hob hauls him up and pushes him down, one hand on his waist and one shoving his chest down into the mattress as the man’s hands scrabble at the sheets and he sobs and Hob pistons into him until he empties himself, until his prick is oversensitive and his stranger is twitching around and beneath him, and the room is finally quiet.

Then Hob takes the condom off, knots it and tosses it towards the wastebasket. He rolls them both away from the wet spot with only middling success, but he’s too tired to care. He shucks the rest of his clothes off. He is boneless and spent, and his stranger is inserting himself relentlessly into Hob’s personal space. They lie there for a long, long moment, sweaty and panting, until their breathing starts to even out and the desperate closeness has receded into normal cuddling. Hob presses a kiss to his stranger’s sweaty temple and marvels at his luck.

“I realize I neglected to ask you why you find yourself in Northern California,” his stranger says, tucked against Hob’s side, voice drowsy and hoarse. “Do you care to share?”

“It’s a long story,” Hob says. “I was – well, I am – on a road trip. With my, ah. With my girlfriend. Well. Ex-girlfriend, now. Actually.”

His stranger tenses slightly, and Hob doesn’t blame him; he knows how it must sound. “It sounds like there is a story there?” the man says, almost tentative.

“Yeah, we… we came over together, about two weeks ago. We flew into Seattle, were planning this whole big trip, right down the coast and all the way to Los Angeles. See the redwoods, do some wine tastings, the whole bit. I’m a photographer, I was thinking I could turn the whole trip into a photo essay, maybe even a book.” He sighs. “Then she heard about this yoga retreat, ashram sort of place. Bit culty, I don’t really go in for all that, but she absolutely had to check it out, so we did. Two days later, out of the blue, she tells me our chakras are misaligned and gives me the boot. Turns out Guru Todd Thingummy, who ran the retreat center, was very aligned with her chakras. As well as other, less… metaphysical things.”

There’s a sound from the vicinity of Hob’s armpit that he realizes with delight is a snort. The snort blossoms into a chuckle, and then his stranger is laughing, a frankly horrible honking sort of laugh, shaking in Hob’s arms with it, and Hob laughs along.

“I’m sorry,” his stranger gasps. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t laugh at you. It’s just… Guru Todd.”

“I know!” Hob snickers. “You can picture him, right? White boy dreadlocks and a fucking… shell necklace. Utter tosser.”

“I feel like I’ve probably met someone almost exactly like him, truly.” Eventually his stranger’s horrible laugh subsides. He shifts against Hob, playing idly with his chest hair, curling it around one finger. “In a way, I am also escaping a recent ex. She was the first person I dated after some… difficult experiences I had about a year ago. But in the end I was far more invested in the relationship than she, and she became. Uncomfortable. With my ardor.”

“She’s a bloody idiot then,” Hob says automatically, and his stranger looks up, startled.

“Do you think so?”

Hob briefly considers backpedaling. Don’t come off like a madman, he thinks to himself. Not when he’s finally talking to you. But there’s no hope for him. “Well, yeah. I mean, I’d say your ardor is my favorite thing about you so far.” He lets one hand drift down and gives his stranger’s arse a cheeky squeeze, and is rewarded with a squeak and another snort.

“You are kind to say so,” the man says, and interrupts himself with a yawn.

“It’s true. I… I’m really glad I met you,” Hob says honestly. Too honestly. He can’t help himself; the man is just so beautiful, mouth kissed red and limbs loose, fucked out and soft everywhere he’d been hard and prickly before.

Hob still doesn’t know his name.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” the man says softly.

Hob snuggles them both down into the lumpy motel pillows and pulls the blanket up firmly around their shoulders. The wind blows outside, he reaches up to switch off the lamp, and they fall asleep.

He wakes in the night and stumbles to the bathroom to take a piss. When he comes back, his stranger has starfished out and is taking up a full two-thirds of the bed, sleeping like a stone. Hob manages to reinsert himself into the remaining third and then simply lies there for a long few minutes, looking at the other man.

The skies must have cleared, at least a little, because there’s a few strips of moonlight filtering through the blinds. The pale light turns his stranger into marble, a work of art; he practically glows against the blue sheets. Hob’s fingers itch for his camera.

“You’re going to fuck me up,” he whispers. “I’m going to wake up next to you and never want to leave, and it’s going to fuck me up so bad.”

The sleeping man does not respond, of course; doesn’t even stir. Hob lies there, and gazes at him, until he slips back into sleep himself.

When he wakes again it’s fully morning. The sun is that peculiar thin shade of blue that you get on very cold mornings, but when Hob peeks out the window, the sky is clear and the snowplows have clearly been out making the rounds. He tries to tamp down a sudden feeling of disappointment.

He gets a drink of water, and when he returns to bed his stranger is stirring. First one blue eye opens, then the other.

“Morning,” Hob says.

The man hums and stretches luxuriously, rolling from his belly to his back. The sheets fall down around his hips, revealing one elegant hipbone and a tempting glimpse of dark curls. His pale skin practically glows against the blue sheets in the morning light.

“Enjoying the view?” his stranger asks, and his voice is rough with sleep and slightly hoarse.

“You could say that,” Hob says. He puts one knee on the bed, reaches out to run a hand lightly down the long, lean line of the man’s thigh. “God, you’re… you are so beautiful.”

“Come here to me,” the man says, beckoning to Hob.

Hob ducks his head and kisses up the ladder of the man’s ribs, takes one pert nipple gently between his teeth.

“Can I take your picture?” he says suddenly. “Not in a creepy way. I can even keep your face out of it if you like, I just… there’s something about you, in this light.”

“I don’t mind,” the man says.

Hob’s heart leaps.

A few minutes later, he’s gotten his camera out and adjusted. The room is so quiet, so still, that each click of the shutter sounds almost sacrilegious. He shoots in black and white. He thinks the sheets will show dark, almost black, and the man’s skin will show light and luminous against them. His stranger poses like a dream, languid and biddable, moving here and there on the bed, wherever Hob arranges him.

“You’ve done this before,” Hob accuses. He’s kneeling above the other man, shooting straight down, and his stranger has one arm thrown over his face so only one eye is visible. “Posed, I mean. You know how to move for a camera.”

“I have,” the stranger admits. “Mostly for life drawing classes, though I imagine the principle is more or less the same.”

“Incredible. Are you an artist, then?”

“I suppose.”

Hob tugs the sheet a little lower, so that it’s just barely covering the stranger’s prick, which has plumped up a little – whether from the attention of Hob himself or of the camera, he’s not sure, but it’s one of the sexiest things Hob’s ever seen. The neat patch of dark hair blending into the dark sheet. The gentle swell beneath it. His mouth waters.

“You suppose?”

“I find it difficult to call myself an artist. To claim that title. But I make art. If that is the same thing.”

“Hmm. I reckon so.”

Hob pulls the sheet another fraction of an inch lower. He can feel himself getting distracted. The itch he’d felt to photograph the beautiful stranger, now mostly satisfied, has transformed into an altogether different kind of impulse. He takes one more shot, barely paying attention to the framing. Catches himself licking his lips.

“Hob.”

“Yeah?”

“Put the camera down.”

He hastens to obey.

He’d pulled his boxers back on at some point last night, but they do little to hide his arousal as he slides under the sheets and slots himself in behind his stranger, rubbing his nose in the riotous bedhead and kissing his neck as the man tilts his head to one side to give him better access.

“I like how you say my name,” Hob murmurs. He grinds against his stranger’s narrow arse and reaches around to make a loose fist around his hardening cock. “You’re really not going to tell me yours, are you?”

“Mine?”

“Your name.”

“I –” The man’s breath hitches as Hob tightens his grip, stroking slowly up and down. “I haven’t – decided yet.”

“Well,” Hob says against the smooth skin between his ear and his shoulder. “Let me know what you decide.”

They writhe together under the sheets for a few minutes, until they’re both fully hard, until Hob’s chest is slightly tacky with sweat where it’s rubbing against the stranger’s sharp shoulder blades. He’s grunting, underwear pulled down, making quick little thrusts in the crease of the other man’s thigh, sticky and warm and so good.

“Fuck me again,” his stranger says. “Please.”

“Don’t be a madman,” Hob chides. “You’ll be so sore.”

But he doesn’t say no. And he slides a finger between the man’s arse cheeks and pets over his hole, still a little loose from the night before.

The stranger twists his neck around to look Hob in the eye. “I don’t care. I want you,” he says. “I want to feel it.”

And Hob tries his best to be a good person, he really does, but when confronted with this bald-faced desire he is only, after all, a man. So he mumbles Fuck, okay, yeah, okay against his stranger’s shoulder, and tears himself away to retrieve the lube and a condom. He fingers him open, as slowly and as carefully as he can bring himself to do it, and rolls the condom on, and he fucks him again. Face to face, this time; one knee hooked over his elbow, and long arms clinging to him like a drowning man, and panting, open-mouthed kisses that are as much simply breathing the other’s breath as they are real kisses.

The stranger comes first, his beautiful face screwed up in ecstasy, and Hob follows him over the edge mere seconds later.

The other man falls back into a doze almost immediately, drifting off as soon as Hob has disposed of the condom and wiped them down with a handful of tissues, but Hob is buzzing with too much energy to lie back down. He cleans himself up, splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth quickly, before dressing quietly and creeping down to the motel lobby to look for breakfast.

There’s a coffee machine, a few muffins – prepackaged, not fresh – and a rather sad fruit bowl with some mealy-looking apples. He assembles what he can and shoves some creamers and sugar packets in his jacket pocket. He asks the bored teenager at the front desk (a different one than the night before, although bearing a distinct family resemblance) about the weather report, and learns that although it’s supposed to stay cold, no more precipitation is in the forecast. Then he goes back to the room.

His stranger stirs again at the rush of cold air when Hob lets himself back into the room.

“I come bearing provisions,” he says, setting the coffees on the bedside table and dropping the rest of his meager bounty in the man’s lap.

“Foraging for our survival?” he asks dryly.

“Something like that. It’s slim pickings out there, I’m afraid. But hey –” he picks up a muffin and wiggles it “– chocolate chip!”

His stranger snorts and mutters something about being spoiled.

Hob is very careful not to say anything about how he’d like to spoil this man very much, actually, for the foreseeable future and possibly beyond that, because Hob has so longed for someone to care for, and because this man so obviously needs it. Hob eats his muffin, and very carefully does not say anything reckless or emotional.

They finish their motel snacks, and drink their coffees (Hob’s with a little creamer and one sugar; the stranger’s with no cream and an absurd amount of sugar). And eventually Hob broaches the subject that’s obviously hovering between them.

“So,” he says. “What do you want to do now? I’m still up to give you a ride to your cabin, if that’s what you want. The roads are supposed to be cleared by now.”

“I suppose I should,” the stranger says, fiddling with his styrofoam cup, not meeting Hob’s eyes. “I did tell my sibling that I would return in the morning.”

“Okay.” Hob clears his throat. “Alright then. Whenever you’re ready.”

It takes them another hour to leave the room. Hob showers, and then his stranger decides he needs to rinse off as well, and then there’s a frustrating search for car keys that turn out to have been kicked or dropped halfway under a bedside table at some point the night before.

Then the stranger stops Hob in the doorway with a hand on his elbow and kisses him, long and slow and wordless, before they step out into the brilliant snowy sparkle of the late morning.

The drive is very quiet. The stranger directs Hob out of town and along a rather steep road that winds up the thickly forested mountainside. It’s certainly not a road that Hob would have wanted to drive in last night’s weather, and even with clear skies and plowed roads he takes it slow, acutely aware of the grip of the rental car’s tires on the snowy highway.

Only one time does the stranger wince and shift uncomfortably when Hob cannot avoid a bump in the road. Hob smiles, and swallows his smile, and deliberately wrenches his mind away from the vivid memories of just why his stranger might be wincing and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

His stranger is silent, except for when he briefly tells Hob when and where to turn. The farther they drive up the mountain, the stiffer he becomes, until he’s gripping the seat with white knuckles and his mouth is one firm line.

Hob doesn’t think it’s the wintry roads that are making him so tense.

They pull over, eventually, at the base of a long driveway. Through the trees Hob can see a large house – not really a cabin by any stretch of the imagination, but built of logs, and with a wisp of woodsmoke floating up from a picturesque brick chimney. They both gaze up at it through the trees. Hob puts the car in park but doesn’t turn it off.

“Well, here we are,” he says.

“Indeed,” his stranger says, and his voice sounds tense and slightly strangled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Hob waits for him to open the door and walk away.

The man does not move.

A minute stretches by, and another, and another, and still his stranger has not opened the car door.

Hob dares to hope.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly.

His stranger looks up, startled.

“I mean it. Come with me. Go get your stuff and we’ll just. Drive away. Go down the coast, find somewhere it’s actually warm. Or don’t even get your stuff,” he adds hurriedly, aware that his voice is sounding increasingly unhinged. “Say the word and I’ll just turn the car around. We’ll go. Anywhere you want, just… come with me.”

The man looks at Hob with an unreadable expression for a long moment. “You know nothing about me,” he says finally.

“I know I like you. A lot,” Hob says. “I know last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, maybe one of the best nights of my whole life. I know I’d regret it if I didn’t at least ask. So, I’m asking. Come with me.”

“I haven’t even told you my name,” says his stranger. “I could be a serial killer.”

“You could be, yeah. But I don’t think you are. I think… I think you just want someone to want you.” Hob reaches across the gear shift and briefly touches his stranger on the cheek. The man’s eyes flutter closed and Hob doesn’t think he’s imagining the way he leans ever-so-slightly into the gentle touch before he looks down. “I want you.”

There’s another long silence, punctuated only by an occasional call from the chickadees flitting through the trees.

“My name is Morpheus,” he says to his hands, clenched in his lap. “But some people call me Dream. People – people close to me. Call me Dream.”

Hob smiles. “Can I call you Dream, then?”

Dream nods. “Let’s go,” he says. Hob’s smile widens.

“Want to get anything from inside?” he asks.

“No. I think not,” Dream says. All of a sudden it’s like the tight strings of his body are loosened: he leans back in his seat, crosses his ankles, looking relaxed for the first time since they’d gotten out of bed. He lolls his head to one side and peeks at Hob and his face looks fey and happy in the afternoon light. “I believe I have everything I need for now.”

Happiness wells up in Hob’s chest, a rushing feeling like a mountain spring swollen by melting snow. He puts the car in gear and reaches over to take Dream’s hand.

“Right then,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Read on AO3 >>>

#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #designtheendless

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 10 months

Text

Sugar and Spice: Part 1

(E.M. x Fem!Reader x S.H.) Part 2 Series Masterlist.

Summary: Steve has massive crush on you, Eddie’s childhood bestfriend who just came home from collage. The only problem is you despised him in highschool and he’s pretty sure Eddie’s in love with you.

Warnings: Eventual smut, pining, love triangle, no upside down, eventual steddie x reader, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, fluff, no use of Y/N so definitely a billion pet names. There’s not really any for this chapter, it’s mostly setting the scene for the rest of the story. Mentions of sex and some swearing. I will add additional warnings each chapter! But still my work is always 18+MNDI

A/N: Okay I found this in my docs and I was reading over it and got inspired to keep writing it. I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time about a Reader who has a kind of like pastel goth type of aesthetic. Like she plays D&D and loves horror but also really loves chick flicks and pink. She listens to Black Sabbath but then will turn around and listen to Blondie in the same 10 minutes. Collects Care Bears but has read every Anne Rice book. I feel like both Eddie and Steve would lose their minds over that. There will be no physical descriptions of reader besides the outfits she wears, which will be things like big chunky goth boots and fuzzy pink sweaters. Ngl it’s kinda self indulgent of me but I hope there’s others who can relate to her.🤭 divider I used is by: @firefly-graphics

Steve wasn’t obsessed with you, at least he tried to convince himself that was the case. He hadn’t seen you since you graduated and moved to the city. But ever since you’ve been back it’s like he sees you everywhere. You come into his work sometimes and rent horror movies, or on rare occasions you rent something totally cute and left-field like The Little Mermaid. You wore outfits that were somehow the hottest and cutest thing he’s ever seen at once, his favorite he’s ever seen you in was this short little black skirt and a pink button up cardigan that you replaced the buttons with little skulls all brought together by the big platform boots you’re usually wearing. That contrast just made him more infatuated with you. You were like sugar and spice wrapped up in one really beautiful girl.

But there were TWO major problems, one being that you hated him In highschool. He was an arrogant asshole who thought he was better than everyone, could do whatever he wanted and looked down on the kind of people you hung around. You were pretty quiet but outspoken and opinionated when you wanted to be, kept close to the few friends you had and always had your head in some kind of horror or vampire book that Steve would definitely not understand but would’ve totally listened to you talk about all day just to hear you talk about something you loved. He always thought you were pretty, even in highschool when you used to dress a lot more reserved. Mostly ripped jeans, the occasional Care Bears tee, and shirts of bands he didn’t know. He even asked you out once Junior year before he got with Nancy and you laughed in his face and said “yeah fucking right Harrington, good one” But now? You’re always wearing those little mini skirts, low cut tank tops, and ripped up fishnets. Steve literally feels like he can’t think around you.

Which brings him to problem number two…Eddie. You and Eddie are bestfriends and have been since middle school, he’s part of the reason you never liked Steve because of the way he and his friends treated Eddie. Even though Steve was never directly mean to YOU, his friends were and that was enough. But Steve and Eddie had a recently developed… acquaintanceship due to their mutual friendship with Dustin. It took some time and convincing but once they got past their preconceived notions of each other they were able to be civil. Eddie being in the group meant when you came back naturally you were integrated in as well. Which means Steve has seen you in an actual social setting multiple times now.

You think that would be great, right? Wrong. Eddie was constantly touching you. Holding your hand, putting his arms around your waist, you sitting IN HIS LAP. It drove Steve fucking crazy, especially because he knows that Eddie loves you and he feels just a little bad about it because he had actually started to really like Eddie and maybe even began to see him as a friend. But seeing him all over you drove him insane and made him have a bad taste in his mouth every time he heard his name. He was pretty sure you loved Eddie. The way you looked at him and the gentle way you handled him and spoke to him like he wasn’t the resident metalhead drug dealer but a giant teddy bear that needed to be hugged and cared for.

Steve would’ve given up in an instant if you said you were Eddie’s girl, but you always said you guys were bestfriends despite the fact that Eddie definitely called you his girl on multiple occasions to the entire group. You definitely had feelings for him. He could see it but there was also something keeping you from making it official and that gave Steve hope. Especially once you warmed up to him and started sitting on HIS lap sometimes. You would just come and plop down across his knees looking at him all sweet like it was the most casual thing and you didn’t just make his brain short circuit. You started calling him cute little pet names and kissing his cheek every time you saw him.

Again, these things would all be fantastic IF you didn’t do all the same things and more with Eddie. Every time you sat on Eddie’s lap he literally wanted to rip you off of him and kiss you right in front of Eddie’s smug face. He was always smirking at Steve over your shoulder because he knew Steve liked you. He confronted him about it last week when they were at the arcade with Dustin and Mike.

“So. You like her don’t you?” Eddie just asked him out of the blue. Steve looked at him with a confused look on his face not really registering what he meant at first “Huh? Like who?”

“Don’t play dumb man, you know who I’m talking about” Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes

“Why would you think she would ever like you back? You treated us like shit in highschool and just because she’s more confident and can stand to be in the same room as you, now you want her? Fuck that. She deserves better than that, she is so much more than how she looks.”

Steve was kind of taken back at first, knowing he wasn’t exactly wrong “You don’t think I know that Munson? I don’t just like her because she’s hot. She also has this confidence and energy about her that’s just really attractive. She’s fucking funny and not afraid to be herself. She’s got that whole sugar and spice thing going on where she’s so sweet and gentle one second and the next she’s cussing like a sailor going off on these cute little tangents. I thought we established I’m not the guy I was in highschool anymore. I’m not some player trying to go through women. I like her.” he kind of didn’t mean to say ALL of that but it just kept coming out once he started talking about you he couldn’t help it.

“Okay I get it, you actually like her. Either way she’s never going to go for you, you aren’t even her type.” He grabbed the sleeve of Steve’s bright blue crew neck “I’ve never seen her be into a pretty boy like you, she likes dudes who look like they’re part of the lost boys clan or the dudes she sees on MTV.”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes “Sooo, you then? If you love her so much then why aren’t you with her?” Eddie flushed and his face fell slightly “because man, she’s the most important person in my life. Imagine if we got together for real and then we broke up? Things wouldn’t be the same between us, I might lose her entirely”

“When you say ‘for real’ what does that mean?” Steve asked him, hoping it didn’t mean what he thought it meant.

“I mean we do a lot of couple things, we go on bestfriend dates, we are super affectionate with each other, we fuck sometimes, but both of us are scared if we decided to be together for real it would ruin it” Eddie shrugged like he didn’t just metaphorically punch Steve in the chest with that information.

“So what? Are you guys exclusive or what? Because if you’re not, I’m going to ask her out.” Steve just shrugged trying to play it off.

“Dude. Are you seriously going to ask out my girl after what I just said!?”

“Yeah, DUDE. You just said she wasn’t yours so is she or isn’t she?”

“Now that I finally have you around without Eddie I can ask the question I’ve been dying to ask, what’s the deal with you two? Are you like, together?” Robin suddenly asked you out of the blue.

Her and Nancy finally convinced you to have a girls day with them. You went and got mani pedis and picked up lunch so you could eat it back at Nancy and Jonathan’s apartment while you watched some movies Robin got from work.

“I mean… Technically? No. You could say we are like bestfriends with benefits I guess? We have kind of been fooling around off and on since sophomore year of highschool when we lost our virginity to each other.”

“And you’re… okay with that?”

“Yeah Robin, I’m okay with it. We decided a long time ago that us being together for real wasn't really an option. Imagine if we broke up? I couldn’t handle losing him.” You bit your lip, just the thought of losing Eddie made you anxious.

Now you had Nancy curious “So have you ever been with anyone else? Or are you guys like exclusive friends with benefits? Because if you’ve only ever been with him I’d say you’re pretty much together anyways.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve had hookups and flings, so has Eddie. I had a few guys I went on a couple dates with when I was gone at school but I’ve never had an actual relationship really. Neither has he.”

“So you’re telling us, you’ve been fucking on and off and on for almost EIGHT YEARS, never had a real relationship, and yet you guys still aren’t actually together? Don’t you think that’s maybe the reason neither of you have ever had a relationship? You’re stuck on each other?” Nancy, always the voice of reason.

“I absolutely know that’s why, I compare every guy to Eddie and no one has measured up. He treats me like a princess, why would I want a boyfriend who treats me anything less than that?” You shrugged and took another bite of your egg roll.

“Okay but what about when you do find that person? Or he does? What then? Things will change either way.” Robin questioned. She had her own reasons for bringing this all up in the first place. She knew Steve liked you, and he made her promise not to mettle but just asking if you were single isn’t meddling, right?

“I don’t know Robin, we’ve never talked about it. We will cross that bridge when the time comes.” You hoped they would let it go after that. It’s not that you necessarily didn’t want to talk about your relationship with Eddie, it’s just whenever anyone brings up that it probably has an eventual expiration date you feel like your whole world is crashing down.

“So there’s really no one you’ve ever thought you really really liked?” Okay, maybe she was reaching meddling territory now.

“Nope. Never. Can we just watch dirty dancing now?”

You didn’t feel like elaborating more than that, especially since recently there was someone you’d started to like. It was confusing and very much against your will but you had started to develop a small crush on Steve. You tried really hard to give him the cold shoulder when you first got back, you spent years with feelings of animosity towards him but if even Eddie could give him another chance you figured you could too. Then of course he had to be just so sweet, and such a gentleman, always telling you that you looked pretty and he smelled so good. It honestly made you want to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. Or both.

Robin narrowed her eyes at you but decided to drop it for now, even though she could tell there was definitely something you weren’t telling them with how quickly you decided to change the subject.

“Yeah okay, let’s watch the movie. But I’m not letting this go forever.”

“I didn’t even think for a second that you would.” You laughed and pressed play on the VHS.

Your love life wasn’t brought up anymore after that but that didn’t keep you from thinking about it. What would happen if Eddie got a girlfriend? You and him were never exclusive but the thought of him actually loving someone made you feel sick. Did he feel the same way? You hoped he did. Does that mean you want things with him to be exclusive? You’d never really allowed yourself to have those thoughts but now you were starting to wonder.

Then there was Steve, who just added to your confusion. Something about him just drew you to him, even back in highschool when you felt nothing but negative feelings toward him it was like he was everywhere you looked. Maybe you always had a small crush on him but would’ve never in a million years admitted it to yourself back then. It’s not like you would’ve ever had a chance, he treated everyone like you like dirt under his shoe. He never bullied you directly but him picking on your friends was enough to tell you how he probably felt about you too. Then you remember that one time Junior year when he asked you out, did he actually mean it? The thought that he might like you made your insides heat up and you felt like one of those girls you used to make fun of in highschool for swooning over him.

Robin could practically see the gears turning in your head, it was very obvious you weren’t watching the movie at all and she knew she told Steve she wouldn’t involve herself but she just had this feeling…

“You like Steve don’t you?” Robin’s voice snapped you out of your cycle of spiraling thoughts and you whipped your head around to look at her.

“What!?”

#eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #steddie x fem!reader

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bratzforchris · 2 months

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the piercer!johnnie fic made me think about a tattoo artist!reader x johnnie

Hello Kitty Tattoo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which you give Johnnie a surprise tattoo for a video<3

Pairing: Johnnie x tattoo artist!feminine reader

Warnings: Tattooing (?is that a warning?)

Word Count: 776

A/N: Thank you for the request!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

“Hey guys!” Johnnie smiled, waving to the camera. “So, today I’m gonna get a new tattoo. Shocker,” he fake gasped. “Only this one is going to come from my lovely girlfriend.”

You smiled and waved to the camera as Johnnie kissed your cheek. You were rather shy, seeing as how this was the first ever video you were filming with Johnnie. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m Johnnie’s girlfriend…and I’m also a tattoo artist.” You whispered quietly, but with a smile.

You weren’t used to talking to a camera, which made your voice shake a bit and your cheeks flush. Johnnie kissed your cheek again, whispering words of encouragement. He knew whatever he didn’t want in the video, he could edit out. All that mattered to him right now was that you were comfortable. After all, this was his video and his career, despite your protests that you were okay with everything.

“So before I get my tattoo, you guys are probably wondering how Y/N and I met since it’s her big reveal!” Johnnie became more animated as he talked about you. “Jake dared me to try a new tattoo shop while we were in Santa Monica and Y/N was the best in the area.”

You blushed over his words, but made finger guns back at your boyfriend. “You know it.”

“The rest is history,” he chuckled, doing jazz hands. “But now, let’s get into the actual point of today’s video. Y/N is going to give me a tattoo of her choice. I don’t know if I should be excited or afraid.” Johnnie laughed.

He panned his vlogging camera around your private room in the tattoo studio you owned with your best friend. It was the complete opposite of a typical tattoo parlor’s aesthetic, decorated with pink, Hello Kitty, and Marie from the Aristocats.

“Johnnie,” You smiled, a devious look on your face as you waved to the camera. “I think you need a Hello Kitty tattoo.”

Your boyfriend panned the camera back to his face, making a loud squeal. “I’m being tortured by the Hello Kitty girl.” he said in one of his silly voices.

“Sit down.” You playfully groaned, rolling your eyes.

Johnnie sat on the tattoo bench, patiently waiting for you to design and decide where his tattoo should go. It didn’t take you long to write up a beautiful sketch; you’d been thinking about this tattoo idea for Johnnie for weeks, simply because it was a perfect combination of you both. You hadn’t known how to bring it up, though, until Johnnie proposed you tattooing him for a video.

“Done!” You cheered. “Lift your shirt.” You instructed, smirking at the camera.

“I’m scared, guys.” Johnnie told his vlog.

You expertly placed the stencil on Johnnie’s hip, instructing him to close his eyes so he couldn’t peek. You prepared all the supplies you would need, planning on giving your boyfriend a fine line tattoo, which was much different than his usual style.

“Alright, I’m putting the camera on the tripod now so Johnnie can’t peek and I’m going to blindfold him.” You were slowly getting more comfortable talking to the camera, which Johnnie would make for a chaotic video now and even more in the future.

You set everything up, blindfolding Johnnie and making sure to clean the space and put on fresh latex gloves before speaking. “Are you ready?” You asked your boyfriend, firing up your machine.

He nodded quietly and giggled, mentioning something about ‘don’t draw a Barbie on me’. You began to work on the tattoo, speaking every now and then between you two, but mostly staying quiet so you could concentrate. It didn’t take you as long as you thought it would; only about two and a half hours in total with water and bathroom breaks.

“Alright guys,” You panned the camera to the tattoo bed where Johnnie was still blindfolded and giggling. “Are you guys ready to see Johnnie’s new tattoo?”

“Yes!” Johnnie groaned. “Show me!”

You quickly wiped the new ink off, before removing Johnnie’s blindfold and smiling proudly as he glanced at your work. It was a Hello Kitty tattoo, but she was holding an electric guitar, mid head bang with dark eyeliner rimming her eyes and a skull bow.

“I love it,” Johnnie laughed, kissing you deeply. “It’s perfect. The perfect combination of us.”

“I’ve wanted you to get that tattoo for weeks. I was just waiting for the right time.” You smirked.

And as you and Johnnie said goodbye to the video, you couldn’t help but to ask one of your artist friends to do the same design on your own hip.

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melodymunson · 8 days

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Eddie Munson x fem goth cheerleader reader

ao3 link

2 part story Eddie x reader friends to lovers, slow burn

You were dating the hottest jock in school until one day you met Eddie and your life changed forever. (Reader is 19 Eddie is 20).

7.2K words

read part 2 here

Being a cheerleader at Hawkins High School was your claim to instant popularity. You were dating Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend, Jason Carver's best friend, Sam. He was a typical jock, brunette, all-star basketball player, muscular, with brown eyes and the total package. Girls wanted him and guys wanted to be him. Chrissy was your friend and made being a cheerleader bearable. You were a former loner and secretly loved horror movies, goth aesthetic, dungeons & dragons, and metal like Ozzy, Judas Priest, Dio, and even Corroded Coffin. Guys like Eddie were living the type of life you wanted and thought was ideal, but somehow, being popular wasn't all it was cut out to be. You knew your boyfriend was probably cheating, and you thought going to see Eddie make a drug deal would be the perfect escape for you. Eddie's hatred for jocks was endearing. The week had dragged on and now that it was Thursday and close to the weekend; you were trying to look on the brighter side of things. Every afternoon after lunch, he was in the boiler room, skipping class and making drug deals. The nickname they had for him, Eddie 'the freak' Munson, was a title he didn't seem to mind. He embraced it. He was always so cool, calm, collected, and polite when you passed him in the halls. He was rumored to sell some of the best drugs, so after lunch on Thursday, you stopped by the boiler room. It was darkly lit in the boiler room, but once you saw Eddie, you didn't hesitate or waver as you walked toward him.

"Hey um… Y/N.. right?" He asked with his curious wide and brown button eyes. He crossed his arms, unsure at first about how to react to a cheerleader here seeing him about buying drugs, and he secretly wondered if you were a narc. Either way, he thought you looked great in your green and white uniform complete with leather jacket and rockstar patches/pins.

Although he was skeptical, you planned on making the deal rather than getting out of there. Being alone with a guy who wasn't your boyfriend was probably not the right thing to be doing. Just seeing him and getting the weed would be good enough… for now. He had a metal lunchbox next to him with his drug inventory.

"I'm here to buy some weed," you told him firmly, trying your best to maintain eye contact.

"Oh, uh, well, that will be fifteen bucks for half an ounce."

His tattoos were visible under the dim lights and you couldn't help but stare at them a little. He soon caught on and noticed your lingering eyes and stare. You looked for your wallet and then noticed it wasn't there. You left it in your locker.

"Guess I left it in my locker," you told him, sounding bummed.

"Well, let's just do this deal tomorrow, then. I will save some for you."

You had a basketball game to cheer at the next afternoon, but you could make it work before the game and make it your priority to make the deal.

"Okay, sure. Maybe we can even smoke like a joint together?" You asked curiously.

"Why not? I'd like that," he told you with a smirk. He uncrossed his arms and then put his hand out to shake, which you did.

"Deal. See you tomorrow then."

Eddie nodded and checked you out as you left, his eyes lingering on your body. He wasn't normally the type to go for cheerleaders but you were gorgeous and he was pleasantly surprised you were talking to him, yet grateful and not just because you would be a new customer for him. The rest of the school day passed with extreme boredom. You couldn't wait for the party that night.

You had a lot of homework, and weren't sure you could make it by the time the party started, which you told Sam earlier that day. Eventually, you finished and decided to still go to the party. It was a bit late by the time you got there and no one else knew you were going, but you saw Chrissy and exchanged pleasant hellos. You knew Sam would be around here somewhere and asked around about him. No one knew for sure where he had gone off once he finished beer Pong. You passed Steve on the way up the stairs and he stopped you.

"Hey. We didn't think you were going to show up," Steve said nonchalantly.

"Just looking for Sam."

"Yeah, you probably don't want to go into the third bedroom down the hall," he warned.

"Why? What do you mean?" You asked looking confused.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

You went to the bedroom in question and went inside, turning the doorknob, and saw Sam heavily making out with a half-naked cheerleader on the bed as she was giving him a handjob through the tent hole in his boxers. You slammed the door and ran through the hall and down the stairs until you reached the door. Now, more than ever, you wanted to be as far away from those jocks and popular kids as possible. Chrissy ran after you, knowing you were crying, but you were far gone before she could confront you. As soon as you got home, you blasted some metal music and drowned your sorrows with the musical styling of Motorhead until you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up after a fever dream of you hooking up with Eddie after he told off your soon-to-be ex. It would be a good day as long as you could see Eddie and stick it to that lying cheater's face. Unfortunately, you had to wear your Hawkins High cheer uniform today, but hopefully, Eddie wouldn't mind it too much.

At school, you ignored your boyfriend, and carried on the day doing your best to practice patience, til you saw Eddie again. It was easy to ignore Sam when you didn't even have the same classes. During lunch, you skipped and went to eat outside. Eddie noticed you sitting alone and came over to you.

"Are you okay? Why are you eating alone?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Munson."

"It's none of my business, but is something wrong? Usually, you were surrounded by all your friends and the popular kids, especially during lunch on a game day."

"Well, not today. I found out last night at a party my boyfriend was cheating on me," you confessed looking down sheepishly.

He sat down next to you and put his arm around you. His touch was so comforting, and he smelled nice.

"That guy is a loser. You don't need him. Look, I'll give you a deal on the weed. We can smoke a joint together at no extra cost, and I'll let you have a dime bag for ten dollars. Now, how does that sound?"

"Great actually. Thank you. You know what, Eddie, you are pretty great."

"Thanks. I thought you'd be sort of scary, but you aren't. Look, do you want to find somewhere off campus and smoke?"

"Wouldn't your girlfriend be upset about that, though?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," he told you plainly with a shrug of his shoulders.

You smiled at him, hoping this drive would be a good thing.

"Okay, let's go then. Anywhere you want to go. I'm down."

He got up, took your hand, and then led you to his van. Once you got into the passenger seat and he got into the driver's side, he started up his van and pulled away from the parking lot. It was nice to be getting away from Hawkins. As he drove closer to the woods, you wondered if this was where he was planning to take you. Being far away from civilization and people, though, was what you needed, so you happily went along with him. He soon stopped at a residential park and turned off the engine. He got out and helped you from the van by opening your door. You walked with him to a picnic table and sat down.

You didn't think this could be you. Sitting here at a picnic table in the park all alone with Eddie 'the freak.' If only the kids at school could see you now. All you knew was that you never wanted to be with Sam again. Eddie could hopefully take away the thoughts you still had of your soon-to-be ex. The breakup, even informal, would be what you needed to do soon. You watched as he lit up a joint and took a deep drag before handing it to you. Deeply you inhaled, then blew out the smoke and passed it back to him.

"I'm glad you came here with me. It's kinda of tedious to come out here alone. I'm trying to skip classes more at least. It's nice to have some company," he told you before taking another inhale and passing the joint.

"I agree. I needed this escape. Anything to get away from the school crowd. Sometimes I wish I could just quit everything, especially the popular lifestyle. I thought I wanted it at some point, but not anymore."

"I know we don't run with the same crowd at all, but you are a good person. I can see it in your eyes."

You gazed into his chocolate eyes as you took another drag and passed it with a smile.

"Thanks, Eddie. I think you are too. I'm so not looking forward to Monday's auction of the cheerleaders and jocks. It's all for charity and a good cause, but I can't possibly go out with Sam. He always pledges the most money for these things, just like his stupid friends," you told him glumly, not wanting to bore him with the auction details or your problems.

"You know what? I have been saving up for a while now and I have a good bit of money. Why don't I buy you at the auction? It is for charity, right? I think it would be nice to take you out to cheer you up." He played with some strands of his curly brown hair as he inhaled the joint and exhaled.

His rings were stunning and you couldn't help but look at them as he talked. He was so eloquent with his words. You would give anything at that moment to be touched by him. Just to have the chance to hang out with him more like this would be the best.

"Good. That would be the best thing. I'll let you do that if you want to. I'll break up with him soon."

"You deserve someone much better. For our date from the auction, I was thinking we could do a nice night out or you could pick where we go."

"How about camping? Next weekend? I would like that haven't been camping in a long time," you replied with a shrug of your shoulders as he handed the joint back to you.

You didn't know if it was the weed talking or not, but you wanted to kiss him at that moment so much. Who cared about Sam or Hawkins High or anything? You wanted him and hoped he wanted you, too. You licked your lips casually and tried to be as nonchalant as possible as you bit them. Eddie was paying attention from his side eye though and noticed.

"Camping would be great. I know a good place. What's on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about kissing you," you admitted after a gulp, feeling slightly nervous.

Eddie glanced at you with a smirk on his face. He didn't know if this was a rebound, but he didn't care. He had been thinking about kissing you since the moment he saw you.

"I'd be more than okay with that."

You passed the joint back after taking a hit and he took one more before stomping it out.

You moved closer to him and he ran his fingers through your hair as he stared longingly into your eyes and moved in closer to you. You were so close- closer than ever. Your lips grazed his as he ran his fingers through your hair. He kissed you slowly with a fiery passion as your lips collided and you tasted him, parting his lips with your tongue. As you explore each other's mouths, he pulls you in closer to him by grabbing your waist. The way he kissed you was incredible and no one else came even close to being as good of a kisser. His hands roamed up towards your chest, before he stopped himself. Just as you realized what he was doing, you grabbed his hands and put them over your breasts, cupping them and he moved his mouth to your neck, sucking and licking you there. The kisses he gave you were so hot and it made you feel so turned on, but you didn't want to move things too fast and things with Sam weren't exactly over yet.

"Maybe we could save this for our weekend of camping. Pick up where we left off."

"That's fine. I've rushed things before and regretted it, but you have a good point. Let's rest and chill in the back of my van for a bit."

You walked with him hand in hand to his van and got into the back. He had pillows, blankets, a comforter, and sheets all setup. He held you as you relaxed and pulled you in close to him. It was so comforting for him to have you there and he already considered you a friend and even wanted things to be more, but he would wait for you until the time was right. Minutes passed, then a half hour, and before you knew it, you were both napping. Eddie's soft breathing was soothing, and you felt safe in his arms. Two hours passed, and you stirred awake slowly in his arms. He woke up soon after that and gave you a forehead kiss.

"I'll take you home if you want me to."

"Thanks, Eddie. Call me this weekend, though."

As you both woke up fully and got ready to go to your place, you wrote your number down and put it on his dashboard. As soon as you got home, you planned on calling Sam to break the news about it being over.

Once you got back to your place, he got out and opened your door for you, then walked you to the front door.

"You're the perfect gentleman. Thanks for everything."

"No need to thank me."

He waved goodbye, then walked to his van and pulled away after he made sure you were safely inside. No one else was home, and you were focused on breaking up with that cheating jerk of a so-called boyfriend. After three rings, he answered.

"Look it's over. I saw you at that party on Thursday. You cheated on me."

"Babe, I can explain."

You huffed angrily before replying in a furious tone of voice.

"Explain what? That you were kissing a half-naked girl with her hand inside your boxers?"

"I was drunk and fucked up. Didn't know you would even show up. I'm sorry OK? It was the biggest mistake and I regret it. I plan on buying a date at the charity auction and making it up to you."

"Too late for that. I'm done and I could not care less about seeing your stupid face again."

You hung up quickly in haste, wanting to put that idiot to rest. You spent the night in the bathtub soaking and thinking about Eddie. Imagining what it would be like to have him taste you and to taste him. You had never had a partner who was good at oral, but he seemed like he would be perfect at it.

Eddie thought of you when he was in the shower, and touching himself. He imagined you down on your knees in front of him and all he could think about was your mouth and lips.

Saturday came and went, but on Sunday night, Eddie called.

"Hey, it's me. I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I know we didn't make a deal on the weed Friday, but if you still want to buy some, I'll give you that discount."

"Thanks, Eddie. I broke up with Sam on Friday night, but he's still pathetic enough to think he'll win me at the auction."

"Not a chance, babe. I will outbid him."

"Good. I need that. Please do. A date with him would be the worst. I'm glad we met even under the circumstances."

Eddie cracked a smile at this feeling happy to have you in his life.

"See you tomorrow?" He asked as he relaxed on his bed.

"Yeah, but how about we stay on the phone? It would be comforting. To know you were on the other line would be great."

"I agree. Sweet dreams. Don't worry, I won't hang up."

"Sweet dreams Eddie."

You placed the phone near your head, soon drifting off to sleep. The night passed and early morning came, then went and it was finally time to wake up. Your alarm clock went off, and you quickly turned it off.

"I hope you slept well, Eddie."

"I did. Hope you did too beautiful," he told you in a sleepy tone.

"See you soon."

"You too."

You hung up and got ready, dressed in your cheerleader uniform, and ate breakfast. Once you got to school, you looked for Eddie soon, finding him near your locker.

"I guess the auction is soon isn't it? Ready to win Mr. Munson?"

"I sure am."

He looked at you longingly and held your hand and not long after, the bell rang. After lunch, the auction would take place. You and Eddie said your goodbyes and then went to class. By lunchtime, you were feeling overwhelmed, but glad the auction would be over soon. You ate with the squad, tossing Eddie occasional glances from across the room. He looked right back at you and smiled each time you looked at his table.

The auction started promptly at 1 p.m. and everyone went to the gym. You weren't sure of the outcome or what to expect, but it would be good if Sam at least lost.

To no one's surprise, all the jocks won a lot of money for the charity auction. The cheerleaders were up next and you were first.

"For this lady, who would like to start the bidding wars at $10?"

Eddie shouted Me and Sam soon followed with $20. He wondered what the hell he was doing here probably, but you were so glad he was there to outbid Sam. Eddie replied with $40, then Sam $80.

Things were getting heated, and it could be anyone's win. You looked out at the crowd and Sam seemed pissed. He didn't want to lose to the freak, and he was determined to win you back. Not under any circumstance would that happen.

Eddie bet $100 and Sam bet $120. Eddie bid $140 after and Sam betted even more at $160. Eddie's final bet was $180 and by then, Sam gave up, defeated. To your relief, Eddie won the date with you, and Sam stormed off in a huff. Once the pep rally ended, you met Eddie in the hallway, rushing into his arms as he twirled you around.

"I'm glad it worked out. I knew it would," you told him excitedly.

"I knew it would too. Sam is crazy. I'm just glad I got you."

"You knew I wouldn't go out with him either way, right? I was going to be with you, regardless."

He kissed you and hugged you, making you feel happier than ever.

"I knew that. I can't wait for Friday. It can't come fast enough."

"I know what you mean. Call me sometime soon."

He nodded in agreement. Then you both went to your last classes of the day. Unfortunately, Sam was in this class. Once it was over, he came up to you angrily.

"I could've won you easily and I would've, but you know what? You are just a cheap little slut," he told you with a raised voice.

"Get away from me. I hate you. Eddie will treat me right."

"Good luck with that. He's a loser."

"I have nothing left to say to you."

You walked away feeling relief and like a big weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. You had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time you would see or at least hear from Sam. He was the last person you ever wanted to see again, and you just hoped graduation would hurry and arrive. There were 3 months left until you took that stage and hopefully, Eddie would be there to graduate with you. He would help make these last several months bearable. It wasn't like you to rush into relationships right after a breakup and in this case even before a breakup, but he was special to you already. Prom seemed like a cliche, but when the time was right, you would ask him to be your date.

The rest of the week passed slowly, but when it was finally Friday night, you were ecstatic. He called you every day of the week and you talked to him about everything, including horror movies, metal music, concerts, dreams, food, TV shows, books, dungeons & dragons, and what you planned to do after graduation. At 6, he would come over to start the weekend. Thankfully, with camping, it was safe because it wasn't somewhere where Sam would think to look for you, and of course, you wanted to have Eddie all to yourself. He was all packed with his sleeping bag, blankets, a big tent, sheets, camping gear, an extra change of clothes, snacks, a canteen, and booze. You had a bunch of homemade snacks to bring and you wanted to make sure it was a great trip by even throwing in a cassette player with some of your best heavy metal cassettes just in case either of you wanted to play some music. You got all the camping necessities together, and he arrived on time. No one else was home and once you let him in and led him to your room, he couldn't help but notice your huge metal collection of vinyl and cassettes.

"Wow, this is so great you have Slayer, Ozzy, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, WASP, Motley Crue, KISS, Dio, and more. I'm quite impressed. It's just that most girls wouldn't love music like this. You know, real music?"

"Yeah, well, I love it all. I'm into any rock, especially female-fronted. The Runaways are probably one of the best rock bands I have in my collection, and I love punk rock like the Sex Pistols and The Ramones."

"Good choices. So I think you are like my musical soulmate or something, y'know?" He said as he flashed the devil's horns sign with his fingers and a huge grimace his tongue sticking out.

"It's great we have that in common. I think it's going to be nice to go camping and don't worry, I didn't forget to bring along some music for us," you told him as you held up the boombox and bag of cassettes.

"Let's get going soon, though. I was thinking we could grill some burgers and hot dogs. I have a cooler in my van. Also, some booze. Weed and cigs too, if you'd like to smoke some," he told you with a slight shrug.

You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him. He knew you so well and what you liked already.

"That's perfect. I'm all ready to go just need to feed my puppy."

Eddie looked at you, amused, as you went to feed your little dog, Ozzy, a black lab. As soon as Eddie saw your precious little puppy, he reached his hand out for him to sniff which Ozzy did and he pounced at Eddie, jumping, wanting to be held. He obliged, holding the little guy as you got his food and water, and handed him a special treat.

"He's so cute. What's his name?"

"Ozzy. I've had him now for over 2 months. He's going to get pretty big, but I love him, anyway." You gave his head little pats and rubs, which he always loved. After Eddie placed him down, he went to his bowl and began eating.

"What a good little pup. I hope you won't miss him too much. I know I would if he was my dog."

"I will. He's my little guy. I am glad you got to meet him. I just knew that he would love you."

You led Eddie out of your house and he helped you with your stuff, soon loading it into the back of his van. It would be a great trip and you couldn't wait to be under the stars in the fresh air. As soon as everything was ready, you got into his van and drove off to the camping spot just as a beautiful red and orange sunset with yellow hues formed in the sky.

"Mind if I play some metal?" He asked.

"I would love that."

He turned on the cassette player and the familiar sound of Ozzy Osbourne's voice on the track War Pigs by Black Sabbath began blasting from the speakers. He tapped in rhythm and time to the beat of the music on his steering wheel as he drove to a familiar campsite and you got into the music as well, head-banging and flashing the devil horns. It was more secluded, but still a relatively safe place. Few other cars were on the road and thankfully by the time you got to the camping area, you didn't notice many vehicles in the parking lot. It was getting dark fast, but with Eddie; you weren't worried or scared about anything. Soon you arrived and took in your surroundings, finding the camping spot quite cozy.

You moved into the back to unload the camping gear and bags. He was eager to get the tent pitched and to unpack, then look for wood and start a nice bonfire for the night. It was still very early spring and chilly, but you bundled up enough for the weather. He opened the back doors to his van and unloaded onto the pavement and nearby grass.

"See any good place to set up camp? Just let me know."

"Sure, Eddie. I can't wait to get everything ready and enjoy tonight."

As you helped him get out all the camping gear and your boombox, he reached into his van to get out the two shirts he wanted you to have. One was for Hellfire Club and the other shirt was a new print of a Corroded Coffin official shirt. You took them from him with a bit of surprise and a wide grin formed on your face.

"These are amazing. Thanks. I'll be wearing them to school."

"You're welcome, beautiful."

You kissed him, and he blushed. It was so great to be called beautiful by him. You pretended not to notice and then folded the shirts nicely, putting them back in the van for now.

"I'll wear one of the shirts tomorrow."

"If you want to. C'mon, let's go gorgeous."

As you picked up the bags, he grabbed the boombox and got the cooler and you got the liquor and your bag. As you walked further into the campsite, you found a good place under a big tree to settle down.

"Wish I would've brought my guitar. Could've played for you. Maybe next time, though."

"Sure, that sounds great."

Few other people were around, at least not nearby, and you were glad. As soon as the tent was set up, you helped him bring the stuff to the campsite and set everything up. With clear skies and a no-rain broadcast, you were pretty certain it would be a nice night weather-wise. Now all that was left to do was find some twigs, rocks, and tree branches to make the fire.

"I can go get the branches. You can get the rocks," he suggested.

Following Eddie into the woods, you soon collected a nice bunch of rocks and he found a good bundle of firewood. Once it was all brought back to the campsite, he started the fire as you turned on the boombox and Slayer came through the speakers. As the orange and yellow flames flickered, he sat back relaxing on the grass so you took the opportunity to sit down on his lap and he wrapped his arms around you tenderly.

"Well, this is rather cozy and you have excellent taste in music," he whispered into your ear. His whispering gave you goosebumps. It was nice relaxing by the fireplace with him and listening to the best music.

You turned towards him and gave him a kiss, which he deepened kissing you even harder.

"How about we get some drinks going and grill the food?"

"Sure, that's a great idea. I'm practically starved," you told him as you held him close to you.

He reached over for the cooler pulled it closer, and took out the burger patties, hot dogs, the buns, and set the liquor bottle to the side for the time being.

As the food was cooking and the music was playing, you felt you were truly enjoying yourself on a date for the first time in a while. Being with him just felt natural and nice. He was so easygoing and a guy who cared genuinely about you and your feelings. Having him there on a camping trip was the perfect date night. Your ex thought a good date night was watching a basketball game with some beers or going to a pointless and stupid game. One of the best things about Eddie was that he loved metal music, DND, and horror movies, and thought a game where tossing balls into laundry baskets was dumb because it was one of the stupidest things ever to be created.

"I brought s'mores stuff for us later. I even made some chocolate chip cookies for us for dessert."

"That's perfect. You think of everything. Thanks, beautiful."

You wondered what Eddie thought of cheerleaders and why he liked you because you didn't think you were his type or stood a chance with him. You wanted to make this time with him last as long as you could and hoped he wouldn't get tired of you because you couldn't possibly get tired of him saying you were beautiful. Any name of endearment he wanted to call you was something you embraced. It was just great to have him to talk to. Most people wouldn't listen to you and care they would pretend to. With him, things were different, and you were just so content with even sitting there next to him in silence.

"I am having the best time with you. I didn't think you would have a date night this weekend with a cheerleader, though, did you?"

"Not really, but I'm pleasantly surprised. Nice to have a new friend who I can talk to so easily. It's a great thing though. I'd like to make it more though. It's just that we haven't known each other that long yet.."

His words were honest and true, but in a way, they made you yearn for it to be more. Taking things slow could make it better. As long as you had him in your life, you would be just fine. Trust wasn't easy to come by, and you were hoping you could gain his and that he would grow to trust you with time.

"I understand. Let's just spend more time together. Play some dnd, hang out with our friends and each other. I can even teach you how to cook."

"Definitely yes to all of that and of course I want you to come and see my band Corroded Coffin play live. We play every other weekend at the hideout on Saturday. So the next show is next Saturday night."

"I'll be there."

You finished cooking the food, and you both loaded yours onto paper plates. He drank the tequila straight from the bottle before offering it to you. You took a generous swig from the bottle and swallowed it, letting it relax you as it slightly made your throat tingle, but only in the best way possible. After adding ketchup and BBQ sauce to your food, you passed the bottle between each other taking sips of it, not wanting to get too drunk too fast if you could help it. As you sat there eating with him, you looked up at the stars and the full moon. It was so nice to be star-gazing with him just enjoying his company as you continued to sit on his lap and have him hold you. Once the main course of the meal was finished, you reached over into your knapsack to get out the Tupperware of cookies and other stuff to make s'mores. As you roasted the marshmallows, you both tried the cookies.

"Amazing. I need you to bake for me like this. Whenever you want to, though. No pressure, of course. I just love these cookies."

"Thanks, Eddie. I am an excellent baker, but just wait until you get to try my cooking. It's even better."

He looked at you, quite impressed, and grimaced.

"They are delicious, and I bet your cooking is even more wonderful."

Soon your marshmallows melted to your liking, and you added the chocolate and the graham crackers. It was the perfect treat for such a windy night with clear skies like these. After you finished your s'more and another cookie, you drank a bit more of the tequila, deciding it would be the rest you wanted for the night and felt drunk. He soon finished his dessert and gazed at the stars and moon, feeling so content with life and just being there. Back home, he had problems of his own, but didn't everyone? The cassette soon ended, and you turned off the player.

"How about we just stargaze for now and talk? Lay on our sleeping bags and when we get sleepy enough, we can just go back into the tent?" He offered, as his gaze never wavered from the stars.

"Sure, just gotta brush my teeth first and change into my nightgown."

You got up, and he did too. After you both brushed your teeth and changed, you brought the sleeping bags and a few pillows and set them up near the fireplace. You had one sleeping bag laid out and used the other sleeping bag as a blanket. Eddie pulled you in close and wrapped his arms around you because he needed to feel your touch and skin. The feeling of his soft curly waves of hair against your neck and his touch was so tender and affectionate. He had strong arms, of course, and just having him next to you like that was amazing and made you feel safe.

As you talked into the night with him about friends, hobbies, past job experiences, literature, and concerts, You discovered you both loved the same video games, had the same interests in art, and loved JRR Tolkien and Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit. Most of the concerts you had been to were like Eddies. If only you had known him sooner, you could've gone to concerts together. You secretly wanted to see his band play, but were always too shy and awkward about going alone. Chrissy had been to a Corroded Coffin show once, but she hadn't been back since, mainly because of her social status and her stupid boyfriend Jason not wanting to go to a rock concert. Eddie got up during the night to retrieve his leather-worn paperback copy of The Hobbit and you took turns reading some of the chapters to each other from the light of the fire. No other guy you had met seemed to love quality books, unlike Eddie, which made you want him to be in your life more. He had awesome taste in everything and was the coolest guy you had ever met. Little did you know, but he felt the same way about you. It was nearing 1 in the morning and Eddie checked his watch for the first time all night, noticing just how late it was getting.

"Maybe we should go to bed? Get up whenever tomorrow."

"Sure. I can put out the fire for us," he offered.

You got up, and he folded the blankets and sleeping bags as you doused the flames of the fire so it would go out. Once he was with you back in the tent with flashlights being your only source of light now, you listened to the owls in the nearby distance overhead and the surrounding trees. You were facing him and holding hands as his other hand rested against his head with his elbow propped up on his pillows.

"It's been so amazing spending this time with you. Just wanted to tell you I think you are beautiful. If you think I'm being a little slow with us and apprehensive, well, it's just because the last time I was seriously dating, she broke my heart and cheated on me," he admitted, looking just a little forlorn.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to rush into things. Sometimes it's better that way. I've been cheated on, too. I have a question though. Would you like to go to the prom with me? Doesn't seem like your scene or whatever, but it would be nice to go with someone I care about who likes the same things. Even if it's just as friends."

He answered you by leaning in close and meeting your lips in a kiss.

"Yes, of course, I'll go to the prom with you. I couldn't imagine going with anyone else. I was planning on going with some friends or just stag, but with you, it would be perfect."

You felt so relieved he felt that way and glad he was going to go with you to the stupid prom. You planned on wearing something vintage and all-black, of course, to show off your true style to the entire school. What mattered, though, was going together and what he thought of you.

"I'm so glad. I heard we can request songs from the DJ. I will ask for a metal song."

"Me too. Well, goodnight." He gave you a forehead kiss and then laid back down, fully relaxing into the pillows and blankets now.

Eddie and you fell asleep pretty quickly after that and slept peacefully throughout the night.

Sometime later he stirred awake in the middle of the night, not exactly sure himself what time it was, but he felt so turned on, feeling his straining erection pushing through his pants. He was having a dream about you- that he was devouring you and making you cum for him- orgasm after orgasm it was seemingly endless. There was no way he could fall back asleep unless he took care of it. Taking his time and being as quiet as he could, he took his hardened cock out of his boxers and began to lick and spit on his hand, then stroke himself with his back turned towards you. Some moments passed as he was getting off. You stirred awake slightly because you heard soft gasps and pants as he was getting himself closer and closer to his release and thinking about making love to you with you on top. Your cheeks blushed in the dark and you stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb him but knowing perfectly well what he was doing. It felt good to know that he was edging himself, no doubt because of you, and hearing the sounds he was making was so sexy. Quietly and slowly you reached down towards your pants and slipped your hand inside and with two fingers slid them over your already wet, slick heat. His panting noises were so hot and you tried your best to resist the urge to make any noise so as not to make him aware of the ways you were pleasuring yourself. Soft and low moans escaped your lips eventually though as you fingered yourself and he heard you smirking widely but not making you aware he knew what you were doing. Now he was closer than ever to reach climax and you wanted to be there with him. You bit your lips, doing your best to quiet yourself, and soon a wave of orgasm rushed over your body. Moments later, Eddie was right there with you groaning as he came down from his high. You both lay there in the darkness for who knows how long, but it was so nice to secretly or not so secretly get off with him. A little later on, he reached for some tissues and cleaned himself up before going back to dreaming about you. Soon after that, sleep overtook you too, and with it came dreams of your own. Dreams about dominating him and making him do whatever you wanted him to do. When you did finally have sex with Eddie, it would be worth the wait.

Morning came sometime later and, to your pleasant surprise, you opened your eyes to find Eddie with his arms wrapped around you, and holding you close to him. It felt so nice to be there with him sleeping in and having a nice morning with him just to yourself. No friends, no family, no stupid people from school around you. He was all yours and things felt like they should be.

You woke him up with a good morning kiss and straddled his lap. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at you with amusement.

"Good morning to you too, beautiful." He kissed you on your mouth, cheek, and neck.

"I think this is the best way to wake up."

"Oh yeah? Me too. Don't forget about next Saturday and the hideout."

"Don't worry, I won't."

You got up and got dressed for the day and Eddie soon did the same and brushed his teeth. Once you were both done getting ready, and packing up and taking down the tent, you got out the chocolate and glazed doughnuts from the cooler and handed him a big plastic bag with two donuts, and a carton of juice and took yours as well.

"Should get on the road we can eat in my van."

The rest of the camping site had cleared out, and it was already late morning. Sleeping in was so nice and you were grateful for that. Once you were on the road again, you drank your OJ and he drove. Soon you arrived back at your place and kissed him goodbye.

"I guess I'll see you at school, Ed's."

"I can't wait. Maybe we can have lunch together sometime."

You nodded in agreement and he walked you to your door and gave you one final goodbye kiss after he brought your stuff into your room. Once he was gone, you did your best to enjoy the rest of your Sunday with him on your mind often. Eddie himself thought about you nearly constantly and spent some time with his friends, like Garrett and Dustin. He wanted so badly to tell him about this super amazing girl he had met but wanted to wait for them to meet you themselves first.

soundtrack headspin- Butcher Babies I wanna be your boyfriend- Ramones Bad Romance- Gaga Buzz- Halestorm Scarlet- In This Moment I'm gonna be your Dog- Joan Jett Fever- BFMV Kiss the Girl- William Control For your love- Maneskin Anarchy- Lilith Czar Cinnamon Girl- Type-negative Love- Lana to be alone- Hozier funeral of hearts- HIM waiting for a girl like you by Foreigner Monstrance clock- Ghost Come undone- Bad Omens I won't forget you & talk dirty to me- Poison bad medicine- Bon Jovi a girl like you- def Leppard no one like you- scorpions dangerous- depeche mode

tag list: @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @jadeylovesmarvelxo @unholy-church01 @ali-r3n @somethingvicked @mrprettywhenhecries @daisy-is-a-writer @lovemesomeeddiemunson @stevesxyellowxsweater @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @rowanswriting @loritate7311 @edsbug @bimbobaggins69 @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @steveslittlesunflower @harringtonfan4 @emsgoodthinkin @dananahenderson @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @ofhawkinsandvecna @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @xxbimbobunnyxx @brinasdead @bunnsandroses @thescoopstroopers @undead-supernova @haceleyes @aleisashortcake @gravedigginbbydoll @zestychili @veemoon @thepurplelovewitch @spenciesprincess @ellharrington @caityboosworld @stolen-in-moonlight @hellv1ra @littlenymphfables @voyeurmunson @kelseyaparker19 @prettyboyeddiemunson @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunsonfuxks

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x goth reader #eddie munson x cheerleader reader #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson series #stranger things fic seres

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crow-stars · 4 months

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❝LET'S GO ICE SKATING❞

❦summary; ice skating can be such a fun time, though that may depend on whether you're new to the rink or have a bit of experience under your belt. ♪the characters in this story; ignihyde, idia shroud, ortho shroud, gn!reader ✎word count; ~494 words ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous idia, school trip to an ice skating rink, falling chatacters, first times on ice, mentions of climates in respective twst characters homeland, fun times ☛the author's notes; continuing my failboy loser idia agenda. also not me totally forgetting about ortho's athletic gear until i was half done ☪look at the catalogue?

❛IDIA SHROUD❜

❀ Fail boy loser

❀ Look at him getting sunlight as he falls on his ass

❀ I will never not make fun of him

❀ We all know that Idia definitely didn’t want to be out in the cold, no less an ice rink

❀ He’s going to be complaining the whole time and refusing to get onto the ice because he knows he’s going to fall

❀ And he does

❀ Oh does Idia fall

❀ And it isn’t a swift death for him, oh no

❀ When Idia gets onto the ice (through Ortho’s urging), his legs are shaking and he’s desperately clinging onto the sides of the rink and whoever allows him to

❀ Well would you look at that!

❀ Idia got onto the ice!

❀ Maybe there’s hope for Idia to actually be able to ice skate—

❀ He slipped and fell on his back

❀ Oh dear.

❀ Okay, so Idia tried to get momentum and he fell and now he is refusing to get back onto the ice

❀ This boy has no balance, he is a shrimp. And now that he’s fallen and embarrassed himself, Idia is going to retreat back to the safety of his room

❀ Please comfort him or he’ll never leave his room again

❀ Idia will be rambling and raving about how otakus like him aren’t meant to be outside

❀ He’s going to probably sitting inside for the rest of the holiday season

❀ You should probably bring Idia some hot chocolate, that might make him feel better :)

❛ORTHO SHROUD❜

❀ Don’t let him on the ice

❀ He’s a safety hazard

❀ Also I’m pretty sure that you just shouldn’t let him out into the snow

❀ And Ortho’s not happy about that. Until he remembers that he has his athletic gear

❀ And when he remembers, ohohoho

❀ Ortho is absolutely excited. And, even though he doesn’t want to go out, Idia is definitely making Ortho a custom pair of skating (because in no way is Ortho getting borrowed ice skates that don’t fit the rest of the aesthetic)

❀ When the day comes, Ortho is practically as excited as a golden retriever puppy, talking about how he was excited to go ice skating

❀ I’d like to think that Ortho tried refraining from scanning any material related to ice skating so that he could get the full experience of being on ice for the first time

❀ And when Ortho gets on the ice, he stumbles a bit, but pleasantly surprised as well.

❀ He’ll definitely have to cling onto someone for a bit (not Idia), mostly like you until Ortho can really get a hold of it

❀ Ortho looks like a gleeful child, if the bright flickering flames of his mouthpiece say anything

❀ Honestly, the whole time, Ortho is just a little bundle of joy

❀ Like, he’s doing that little thing where Ortho is like “look at me!” and then he does a small little thing

❀ I just wanna think that this is the time where Ortho gets to act like a genuine kid

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serafilms · 5 months

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song 99! up all night (stray kids) + tim drake (spotify wrapped event)

i don't want to go to sleep now, i’ll be making a masterpiece now, i look for caffeine without even realizing, start with a cup

If there was one thing you loved about your job, it was the all the attractive people who came in for their daily dose of coffee. Not that everyone who drinks coffee is attractive, but you worked at a coffee shop near the local university. A pretty nice, aesthetic but not overly themed coffee shop, with actually good coffee.

Which meant all the students from the university and some other cooler looking adults often populated it. There was always a new beautiful face every day for you to admire. And you loved it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” You heard your coworker say. You looked up and did a double take. Not because the customer in front of the counter was super hot, or anything (but he probably was, when he didn’t look like total shit). The circles under his eyes weren’t dark, because that implies that they could have been darker, but there was absolutely no way they could’ve been. This guy literally looked like the undead.

“Biggest iced americano you’ve got, no water and eight extra shots.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped alongside yours, and you watched her splutter for a moment before gathering her composure. Props to her, because your jaw was still on the floor.

“Are you sure? That’s like 600 milligrams of caffeine.”

“More, actually,” you interjected, feeling both eyes turn to you instantly. You tried not to shrink under the customer’s pseudo-vampire-zombie stare. “Our espresso shots have like 75 milligrams each.”

Your coworker nodded fervently and turned to the customer again.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and you started feeling hopeful that he would cancel the order and go with a simple iced caramel macchiato until he said, “Actually, make it two. But no ice in the second one. I’ll save it for later.”

You both deflated and your coworker rang up the order as you grabbed two large cups and a pen. “Name?”

“Tim.”

“Alright, ‘Tim.’” You wrote the name on the cups and then went to make his drinks. You sick freak.

‘Tim’ plopped himself over at a table in the corner of the store by the window, and took out a very large laptop.

He looked so focused on his work that it scared you a little bit, so you took your time making the drinks to delay the inevitable handover.

“Why are you going so slow?” The voice of your coworker startled you as she appeared at your side.

“I’m really scared of him,” you whispered.

She surveyed the guy. “Yeah, he might not even hear if you call his name. I think you’re gonna have to go up and give them to him.”

“What?”

“Sorry, babes.”

“You’re the worst.”

She responded by shoving you out from behind the counter.

You felt yourself shaking a little as you walked up to the scary, workaholic, caffeinated man, but you managed to steel yourself enough to place the two cups in front of him, and stammer out a, “Here are your drinks.”

He glanced up at you and managed a polite smile that looked surprisingly human, which made something flurry up in your stomach. Wow, my standards must have really dropped, you thought. Still, if you ignored how terrible he looked, you supposed he wasn’t bad looking at all. His hair only looked slightly unwashed, but it was nicely cut and dark, and his eyes were a nice shade of blue.

“Thanks, uh,” Tim squinted at your name badge and you wondered if his vision was blurry from sleep deprivation, “Y/N.”

You kind of liked the way he said your name, you couldn’t lie, but you had dignity to uphold, and crushing on a walking health hazard didn’t seem like the way to do that. So instead, you nodded and made your way back to the counter.

Tim stayed all throughout the rest of the morning rush, then finished his first coffee around midday and immediately dug into his second. He stayed until your coworker clocked out, giving you an incredulous look as she left, and your next coworker clocked in. Then around the afternoon, he stood up suddenly and went to the counter.

You rushed to be the one to greet him (having failed to explain his story to your other coworker for fear of Tim hearing).

“Hi,” you said, feeling a little silly as the words left your mouth, “what can I get you?”

He looked a little amused and a little more awake (thanks to the establishment’s primo coffee beans, not paid promotion), and you felt the tips of your ears heat up as he took some time to look you up and down. You felt a little self conscious under his gaze as he scanned over your face, and you tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear. You were seriously into this guy now, oh my god.

That was one downside of working in this job, you got flustered very easily by the attractive people.

“I’m running a little low on coffee,” Tim said, and your eyes flicked towards his table to see two empty cups, “and I was hoping to order another.”

“Another 10 shot death drink?” You felt a little panicky as you soon as you said the words, wondering if you’d overstepped a line and the strangely attractive caffeine addict might attack you. You weren’t supposed to judge customer’s drinks.

Thankfully, he grinned. “Death drink?”

“I mean, it’s almost double the recommended intake of caffeine. And you’ve drank two.”

“Point taken. What do you drink?”

“Oh,” your face turned warm again, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Tim blinked. “You’re a barista.”

“Yeah. I like hot chocolate,” you offered helpfully.

He let out a surprised laugh, then said, “How about this? I’ll order a hot chocolate to go instead, if you write your number on the cup.”

Your eyes widened. The tips of your ears felt hot again and your stomach did another little flutter. He was flirting with you. Oh goodness.

“Okay,” you squeaked. “Deal.”

Tim grinned at you. “Thanks Y/N.”

You rang him up, blushing furiously and hoping he couldn’t tell and rushed to make the drink. It was pretty quick this time around, but you took extra care to add a little extra chocolate powder the way you liked it, and when you were done, you wrote your number on the cup and added a little heart for good measure.

Tim was all packed up and ready to go when you were finished, waiting for you at the pickup area.

“Thanks,” he said again when you handed the cup over, and for once he looked a little bashful. You liked that. “I’ll call you. Or text you.”

“Either is good,” you smiled, face still impossibly hot.

He gave you one last smile as he exited the shop, and you immediately collapsed against the counter when he was gone.

“What was that all about?” Your coworker asked.

You waved him off. “Nothing.”

Oh my god.

some of y’all have got third eyes or something bc there’s no way this song + character match up happened

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starlitangels · 6 months

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Redacted Boi Social Media Headcanons

Vincent only really uses Instagram, but is required by the Department to have it private because his human name is legally missing-presumed-dead and his face has a risk of being recognized if someone from his human life stumbled upon his Instagram. That said, he doesn't really screen people who request to follow him

Darlin' and Sam don't use any social medias. Darlin' has a Facebook from teenage years, but they deactivated it. But not fully deleted, so they can still be tagged in all the group photos posted to the pack page. In high school, Darlin' was the person who got a lot of unsolicited DMs because they were hot but they hate attention so they blocked everyone but their pack and deactivated. Darlin' reluctantly keeps their Discord for the pack server

David hates social media. He maintains the pack's private Facebook group and Discord server (though the latter is really more Asher's job, David's just in charge) but will not touch anything else. David's favorite social media is YouTube because he can lookup tutorials for anything and not have to ask anyone for help

Milo's a borderline Instagram influencer. He's got a gazillion followers (who all think he's hot, and he is). His Instagram is directly linked to his Facebook, so every picture and caption he puts on IG gets automatically posted to FB too

Marie comments only on Milo's Facebook (she has and kinda uses IG, but doesn't comment). She's the one that will leave the heartfelt comments with "Call me" at the end. She knows that's a meme among younger people that their older relatives leave "what a beautiful couple. Call me" comments, but she does it anyway. And guess what? She does it because it works. Milo👏 is👏a👏Mama's👏Boy👏 and he will call her when she leaves those comments

Asher doesn't use social media much, but is perpetually on Discord. He mods the pack's server, and like 6 others just for fun. He does post lots of pictures of Babe and selfies of the two of them together on the pack's Facebook though

Damien used to get into arguments on Twitter with randos. Huxley thinks it's funny to pull them up from when Damien was a teenager

Huxley was never much into most social medias but I like to think he'd be like that one TikTok dude who pops up on my Tumblr dash occasionally who explains how to do calisthenics and other workout stuff in a really simple, easy, modified way for people who are just getting started. People started following him because he's hot, and then realized he's actually like the nicest dude and doesn't know he's popular

Lasko's a Tumblr boy. I'm not taking constructive criticism on this

Gavin refuses to get an Instagram because he knows he'd get too addicted to it. He knows he's ridiculously good-looking and would amass a following supernaturally fast, and that's why he won't. But he has his old Facebook from when it first started to be popular. He got rid of all his old friends list and now just has Freelancer, Huxley, Lasko, Damien, and a handful of d(a)emon friends who also have Facebooks like Crux

Avior doesn't have any social media at all

Neither does Caelum and Gavin and Freelancer have decided not to expose him to the negativity of the internet

Vega refuses

Cam keeps a few things for professional purposes, but doesn't use them much

Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is

Aaron's favorite is LinkedIn. This is a joke.

Elliott uses Pinterest a lot for aesthetic inspiration for dreams. He doesn't use much else

Blake is on like every social media all the time. Mostly for CloseKnit. But he also stalked Bestie from afar for a long time

James had to get rid of all of his when his job started getting more secretive and he had to have limited contact with the rest of the world

Morgan doesn't have any social media just as a way to keep himself and his magic safe. The Department protections didn't require it, but he thought it was for the best

Porter totally isn't jealous that Vincent has a higher IG follower count than him and his account isn't even private. He's always trailing like 20 behind

#I know I'm missing some boys but meh I don't care #Redacted ASMR #Redacted Audio #Redacted Headcanons #Redacted Vincent #Redacted David #Redacted Sam #Redacted Asher #Redacted Milo #Redacted Gavin #Redacted Avior #Redacted Elliott #Redacted Porter #Redacted Morgan #Redacted Huxley #Redacted Damien #Redacted Lasko

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teddie-bear420 · 2 months

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CHARLIE AND VIVA

The princess of hell and her trusty knight are on a mission to save sinners souls!

Doodles and rambles under the cut, and I mean like walls of text

be aware I make shit up a lot, I was very high on drugs and gay sex

Welcome to the show I’ve made in my head, ok where to begin? I guess with how boring I find Charlie nd vaggie in the show proper, I like them, they just don’t have any real spice to them. Charlie is a just a girl, she has no real friends and just surrounds herself with others problems. Check out the beginning of episode four, husk just says that out loud, we saw it once with angel dust and then they totally drop it for the rest of the show. I wanted to see Charlie fail and get back up again, but we don’t see that! Idk maybe I want more out of the text but I hated to see Charlie act like a baby, not a young woman, I makes me so mad that she isn’t really friends with anyone, no fun dynamics, Charlie kinda just looks at her guests and ‘employees’ but she never sees them. I mean like give me some bff moments with Charlie, she has no friends, she a loser baby!

Vaggie is the best better at making friends, and enemies honestly she is the second protagonist. I hated her until I saw her fuck ass bob. I fell in love

Ok so I made a prequel hazbin design that I just fell in love with, here she is. Ok so girls is bugs, vaggie is a moth and lute is a mantis, they grew up together in heaven. Being raised to be an exorcist was pretty sweet except for the military indoctrination!

Wonderful lute convo here

So vaggie is now in hell and is saved by Charlie, who believes that vag is a sinner. Eventually they get together romantically and start working on the happy hotel project, then they get angle dust as a guest. You know the deal, but how did vag get with Charlie? Who asked who out? I love how loyal vaggie is to Charlie but WHY is she so loyal? I think because Charlie wanted to ask about vaggies life and she took the opportunity to become a new person !

I think having char be the ray of sunshine in such a violent place attracts the lost and broken to her is cool. Vaggie tells ridiculous lies about her human life like being ran over by a horse. And being a pirate captain. Vaggies colors go from green to purple, aesthetic goes from Joan of arc lesbian to a captain Ching Shih lesbian yknow what I mean?

Charlie is taken in with this eccentric woman and befriends her. And also when Charlie and vaggie start to get closer char gifts her the red ribbon that vaggie wears all the time. The pink red is Charlies color and it sticks to all of her friends! Like when angel and Charlie get really close she gifts him the hot pink gloves and he wears them for the duration of the show. (I’ll write about that in another post lol)

MY CHARLIE loves to feed people food she’s made, so she just keeps feeding vaggie and the she starts to beef up, buff 5’4 vaggie lets gooooo. They cook food together and help sinners together. I forgot to mention that Charlie in my perfect world does actual charity work, she works down at the soup kitchen and cleans up the parks and gives people work, Charlie is just constantly busy and never gives herself a day off. Vaggie does her best to help while constantly working on her prodigious.

These girls also work at the local theater! They do a lot of dress up! And i really liked the idea that Charlie is astanged from her dad and is no contact with him. So she isn’t some princess that’s throwing money at the poor. She builds her own motel for the happy hotel project so that when it is destroyed they can build the hotel proper and have an actual emotional impact.

A little comic I sketched of out, Charlie was calling her dad for help with the hotel but he completely shuts her down and calls her idea dumb, I liked when Lucifer was a shitty dad that called Charlie a failure, instead of some sad loser who forgets to call his daughter, like I have a shitty dad and he tore down lots of my ideas and then is confused when I don’t talk to him.

Like idk how there are so many characters with daddy issues but they all are poorly written…

What else is there? Ermmm, I suppose I like Charlie as a demon that looks the most human out of the cast, like sure she has clown makeup as skin but giving her round ears and a demon tail looks super cute. And in the first few episodes Charlie hides her tail and uses it as a belt, and as a show of faith she reveals her tail to the hazbin gang!

#teddz stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #chaggie #charlie x vaggie #vaggie x lute #hazbin hotel redesign

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bambisnc · 2 months

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OK! [or, group projects w riize]

pairing : ot7 x reader! genre : fluff with crack delicately lined in cw/tw : food mention + use of caps wc : idk ,,

shotaro ,. ! - the mood maker!! - is the person who Socializes, helps to coordinate between the members, makes the gc, arranges meet-ups; just overall supportive and cheerful even if your team is doing literally nothing and is very likely about to get an F (D:) - shows up w like cut fruits for everyone, goes on coffee runs + writes encouraging lil messages on sticky notes and leaves them around/in notebooks etc etc - also x2 i see him as someone who like,... doodles on your people’s hands :( draws a smol star and writes something adorably cringe like “ur my star ^-^”

eunseok ,. ! - he’s the type of guy who’d take charge and delegate work to everyone; to put it simply : BOSSY AF. dare i say dictator coded even, but hey, he just wants this to get over with yk?? - bit scary to work w at first but when if he warms up to you he might would definitely indulge in a lot of partiality; assign you the easier tasks/the tasks that you prefer + if someone pisses him off he would, w the nicest sweetest smile ever, assign them the worst possible task.. - can be bribed if you offer to help w his work though sooo :) do w that what you will :)

sungchan ,. ! - trust on me this, he’d be the one who’s always “busy” except in his case he probably fr is bc my guy is just into That Many extra curriculars - you call him up like hey where are you we’re supposed to meet at *insert name* coffee shop rn?? and he’d answer w all seriousness that his “rap music club members have a mandatory team exercise for which they’ve gone fishing and after he needs to prepare an ad for the video game club because he kinda insulted the ad making team and now they’re all on strike . oh and he has football coaching (as in he needs to coach like a bunch of tiny kindergarteners as a favor to some aunt) right in between!” - he’ll send all his work at like 4am tho dw ^^ sleep is for the weak.

wonbin ,. ! -perfectionist!!! he would be The aesthetic stationery + supplies guy with like pouches and pouches of pretty washi tapes, metallic coloured calligraphy pens, stickers and much more - would definitely call out people if their handwriting was bad.. - also he would totally use the project as an excuse to get to know whoever he’s interested in~ might offer to split the work into like duos and immediately choose you as his partner~ - prepare yourself for a lot of really obvious and goofy flirting..

seunghan ,. ! - ah yes the wise guy (genuine) (no why does he fr know everything about Everything) - puts out the most thought provoking, viewpoint shaking, world stopping arguments then half-slumps over the table and or rests his entire weight to lean on you and mumbles something about wanting to watch shin-chan >< he’s versatile (read : cute) like that - also would quite honestly go along w any idea no matter how bad it is <3 + seems super calm and composed but watch him be the most excited when taro suggests some team bonding at an arcade/festival :( <3

sohee ,. ! - he gives me manages stuff best under high pressure situations - if you’re freaking out about one of your teammates cough cough you can guess who it was having fumbled up and accidentally written down the wrong date and oh no your project is due tomorrow?! don’t worry! he’s got this :D - procrastinator at heart but for the right persuasion tactics done by ahem a certain someone (it’s you) he’d probably give it his all <;3 - also he’s an enabler at heart.. supports the ideas which he knows are going to be a trainwreck just for funsies

anton ,. ! - :(( he is Doing His Best okay - gets a bit overwhelmed due to the rising panic and chaos + leads to people being very partial to him but honestly yk he deserves it <3 - also a rich guy tm, would definitely ahem ahem pull some strings to get some extra fine quality materials~ - feel like he’d be good at research work + another 4am worker would definitely pester you to join zoom calls or ft you and be like hey!! look at this!! i did this!! is it good!! - as an excuse to show off to yuo splurges a lot for an end of the project celebration for sure

notes : inspired by very very real life events (wrote this in a zoom meet w my current group proj members ehe)! if you know me irl and feel like these are based off of you.. they're not!! you're simply hallucinating!!!! <333 + [m.list]

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