#grinch book tag

[funtimeisparty]

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Beauty and the Grinch 

Just a cute idea, I try to give it the book style.

Also, a remake of my old art. ⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

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[txrully]

BLLK BOYS' CHRISTMAS GIFTS!

chars: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma, mikage reo, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness x fem! reader (all seperate)

a/n: whew that's a lot of characters.. ;-;

isagi yoichi

he’s overthinking. like, seriously overthinking. this man has researched “best gifts for girlfriends” on google at least five times. a candle? too basic. jewelry? what if you don’t like it? a heartfelt handwritten letter? too corny.

it takes bachira dragging him to a mall (where he immediately gets overwhelmed by the crowds) to finally decide. he ends up picking out a cute sweater that’s totally your style and pairs it with a charm bracelet he thinks would look adorable on you. bonus: he spends an extra half hour wrapping it perfectly. there’s no way he’s messing this up.

... except he accidentally forgets the tag and panics, scribbling a little sticky note with “to the best girlfriend ever :)” right before handing it to you.

bachira meguru

bachira’s gift? chaotic perfection. this man goes all out, no second-guessing. he decides on a custom plushie that looks like you and him as little cartoon characters (it’s both adorable and mildly terrifying, let’s be real).

but that’s not all. he also makes a scrapbook filled with random polaroids of the two of you – some cute, some extremely cursed – and decorates every page with colorful doodles and washi tape.

he doesn’t bother with wrapping paper, though. he hands it to you in a giant gift bag covered in glitter with the words “BEST GIRLFRIEND IN THE WORLD!” written in permanent marker.

rin itoshi

rin claims he doesn’t “do christmas.” yeah, okay, mr. grinch. except he totally does, because he’s secretly been working on his gift for weeks. he gets you something practical but meaningful, like a sleek pair of headphones in your favorite color, engraved with your initials.

oh, and he throws in a tiny sanrio keychain because he noticed you staring at one in a store once. (yes, he remembers these things. don’t ask how.)

he doesn’t say much when he gives it to you, just a quiet “merry christmas” while awkwardly avoiding your gaze. but you catch the little smile when you say you love it, and it’s the best present of all.

nagi seishiro

nagi... completely forgot it was christmas until reo reminded him. but don’t worry, he’s got this! (or so he claims.)

his idea of a “perfect” gift is something chill and cozy – like a weighted blanket and a pair of fluffy socks, because he knows you love staying warm. he wraps them in the most halfhearted way possible, with tape sticking out everywhere and zero attempt at folding the edges.

“it’s what’s inside that counts,” he mumbles when you laugh at the wrapping job. you love it anyway, because it’s so him. and when you catch him napping under that same blanket with you later, you know he secretly loves it too.

chigiri hyoma

chigiri’s gift is effortlessly elegant, just like him. he spends weeks planning it out because he wants everything to be perfect. he gets you a delicate necklace with a tiny charm that reminds him of you – maybe a snowflake or a flower.

but that’s not all. he also bakes you cookies (yes, chigiri bakes, fight me on this) and arranges them in a cute little tin with a handwritten card. the card? it’s filled with heartfelt words that make you tear up just a little.

when you thank him, he gives you one of those soft smiles that makes your heart race. “only the best for you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

mikage reo

reo spoils you. like, you tried to tell him to keep it small this year, but does reo listen? absolutely not.

his gift is an entire experience – dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by a private ice-skating session (because, of course, he booked the whole rink). then he hands you a perfectly wrapped box containing the most beautiful dress (or outfit) he picked out just for you.

“i saw it and thought it’d look amazing on you,” he says casually, like he didn’t spend hours agonizing over it. you try to scold him for going overboard, but he just grins. “your happiness is worth it.”

hiori yo

hiori is the thoughtful gift-giver. he listens to every little thing you say and somehow remembers it all.

so when you open his gift, you’re stunned to find it’s exactly what you mentioned months ago – whether it’s a book you wanted to read, a cozy hoodie you loved, or even that random stuffed animal you gushed about once in passing.

he also includes a playlist he made just for you, filled with songs that remind him of you and your time together. when you tell him how much it means to you, he gives you a shy smile and says, “i just wanted to make sure you felt special.”

shidou ryusei

shidou’s gift? utterly unhinged but somehow sweet in the weirdest way possible. he buys you a gigantic stuffed animal—like, it barely fits through the door. why? because he “wants you to think of him when you’re hugging it.” (as if you could forget him even if you tried.)

but wait, there’s more. he also gives you a pair of matching pajamas. yes, matching. one side is obnoxiously pink with sparkly hearts (yours), and the other is black with a neon skull print (his).

when you ask him why, he just smirks and goes, “so everyone knows we’re the ultimate power couple, babe.” obnoxious? yes. thoughtful in his own shidou way? absolutely.

itoshi sae

sae doesn’t do christmas gifts. or so he says. but then he shows up at your place with a sleek little bag in hand, acting like it’s not a big deal.

inside? the perfect pair of winter gloves—luxurious, soft, and in your favorite color. oh, and he picked out a matching scarf, because, in his words, “you’re always complaining about being cold.”

he tries to play it cool when you gush over the gift, but you catch the tiniest smirk when you wrap the scarf around your neck. “don’t make it a big deal,” he mutters, but the way he watches you wear it says otherwise.

michael kaiser

kaiser’s gift is pure drama. he makes an event out of it, because, of course, he has to be the center of attention. he leads you on a whole scavenger hunt through the house, complete with cryptic notes and hints that are honestly harder than necessary.

when you finally reach the last clue, it’s a big box wrapped in glittery gold paper with an obnoxiously large bow. inside? a designer coat that probably cost more than your rent.

“only the best for my empress,” he says with that signature smug grin, pulling you into his arms. when you point out he went way overboard, he shrugs and smirks. “you’re worth it.”

alexis ness

ness is the ultimate cinnamon roll gift-giver. he spends weeks making something special for you—like a scrapbook filled with photos, ticket stubs, and little notes from your time together.

but he also surprises you with something cozy, like a fluffy blanket or a custom sweater he picked out because he knows you’re always cold.

when you thank him, his cheeks turn pink, and he shyly mutters, “i just wanted you to have something that feels like a hug from me.” (stop. he’s too precious.)

© txrully 2024

do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or post my works on other platforms.

likes and reblogs appreciated :) <3

hmmm should i make a part 2 w other characters? pls lmk! ^^

[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

Word Count: 5,632

Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

Type:  Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

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[rustedhearts]

let it snow (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: what happens when you're snowed in with your best friend (and there's a lot of sexual tension)?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ christmas carols✶ the library

tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend!steve

"oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go: let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!"

— let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

somewhere in indiana. december, 1976.

“That snow’s really comin’ down,” Steve mused from his bedroom window.

You glanced up from your book, splayed on your stomach against his duvet. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve let his drape drop back into place over the window, frosted with ice and fogging with the heat from his radiator. He wandered back toward the bed, flopping beside you and jostling the mattress. You huffed into your current chapter.

“Not worried about missing your date tonight?”

You shrugged, flipping the page that you haven’t even read. “Eh. He’s kind of boring anyway."

"Well, yeah," Steve scoffed, twisting to lay on his back. The blankets bunched up with his shifting. "His name is Peter."

"Your name is Steve."

Steve's head snapped your way to sharpen his eyes in a glare. "Hey."

A slow, sideways smile plucked at your lips. You turned back to your book and stifled a giggle, though it burst free when his fingers poked your side.

"Wanna go in the basement? I need a light and Mom'll kill me if she smells it up here."

You closed your book around your finger and gazed at him over your shoulder. "They won't be home for hours."

"It lingers, sweetheart."

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in your chest. Bless the cold for keeping the heat from rushing to your face. “Don’t call me that.”

Steve rolled off the bed and to his feet, rushing the door and paying no mind to your distaste.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he called, already halfway down the hall. "We can dip into some of my dad's scotch."

So half an hour later, Steve was on his second Winston—the first stubbed out in the glass ashtray on the coffee table—and you were nursing a mug of scotch. Your mug had Santa on it, and you traced his beard with the edge of your nail as Steve fiddled with the stereo.

"Don't have any Christmas tunes," he'd muttered once you settled in the freezing cold basement. "But we can break out the winter music."

"And what do you consider 'winter music?'" you asked.

He lit up a Winston and clenched it between his teeth, already rifling through his baskets of vinyl. "Anything as cold and dreary as this damn town."

Now, Steve was bopping his hips to a jazzy tune found on a very old record from early high school. You remember the day he found it at the record store. It was during his "blue period," where all he wanted to listen to was jazz and blues.

You hid your grin behind another sip as Steve made finger guns toward the ceiling in time to the trumpet of the song, though a giggle burst forth into a gulp of scotch. His head snapped your way, one finger gun coming to pull his cigarette away.

"I hear your giggles, Miss. Grinch," he teased, swinging his leg over the back of the sofa to sit on the edge.

You swallowed down the pungent liquor, wincing when it stung. "I'm not a Grinch. I just don't like Christmas the same way you do, you know that."

Steve blew a cloud of smoke though his teeth. "Yeah, never understood that, by the way."

"Not for you to understand, Hair."

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the ashed end of his cigarette your way. "Don't call me that."

You quirked a brow, chin tipping up defiantly. "Or what?"

Steve cooly mouthed at his cigarette a moment more. He carefully slid down the back of the couch until he was seated near your socked feet, leaning forward to stub his second Winston out. As it died out in the mess of ash, Steve hooked his arm around your knees and yanked you close.

"Steve," you warned, voice knocked a pitch up. "Don't!"

It took everything in you not to spill your scotch as Steve's thin fingers prodded at your sides. He knew just what spots to press on, just where to squeeze and jiggle to have you twisting and writhing in a fit of laughter. The kind of laughter that had you aching with soreness. The kind of laughter that sent you back to infancy together.

Steve swooped the mug out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table before it could fall—but only so he could ignore your giggled protests to stop as the pair of you slipped off the couch. You tumbled to the hard floor together, a mess of limbs on concrete.

Soon, you were pinned under his heavy weight. His hands stopped tickling and rested stilly on your waist. They slipped under your sweater in the commotion, and now his palms braced your bare flesh without barrier. You could feel him between your legs—the sheer size of him, pushing your thighs apart and stretching them to sting. The outline of him pressed against his jeans.

The laughter subsided to breathless sighs. You gazed up at his pink-cheeked face, splotched with excitement. Your stomach was in your throat. The record stopped spinning some time ago, and now the empty scratch of needle turn crackled through the empty house. The end of your nose was frozen from the cold, but the rest of you was on fire pressed up against Steve.

Steve: your best friend.

"You're so soft," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. His thumb started to move in odd patterns under your shirt. You were suddenly and extremely aware of your hands around his arms—and how firm his biceps were under his sleeves. Every breath that touched your face smelled like Winston smoke. There was a tear in the rug underneath you and it was tickling your cheek.

"Th-thank you."

His thumbs continued. The breathing shallowed. The record spun on an empty track. His eyes were such a pretty color—or, an amalgamation of many colors all in one pretty iris.

You swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. "I-I should go. Still...try to make my date."

Steve nodded, though he, too, was lost in your eyes. He never noticed how pretty the shape of your eyes were. How long and dainty the lashes were, how they brushed your cheeks with every blink. Did you know? Had you walked around with all this glorious beauty his entire life?

How could he have been so blind?

"Steve," you interrupted. "Get off me."

Steve scrambled to release you of his weight, rolling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. He helped you up—a gentle hand around your arm—and watched you grab your coat from the hook near the door. You've had that coat for years—the fur-lined collar and cuffed sleeves were full of lint and cat hair, and there was a button missing at the bottom.

While you were fishing for your gloves in the pockets, Steve moved the lace drapes over the back door and peered up the steps. There was about three feet of snow blocking the door, and as he watched, more piled over the staircase and across the yard.

"Uh...not sure you should go out in this," he announced.

You flicked your hair out of your face with mittened hands and huffed. "What?"

"The snow's pretty bad—"

"We live in Indiana, Steve. I've seen plenty of snow."

Steve dropped the snow and stepped away, arms folded over his chest. "Is Peter really worth getting stuck in a snowstorm?"

You cocked your foot out, mimicking his folded arms. "Maybe. He-he might be. I don't know."

It was the way his jaw tipped up at you, how his brows raised and nestled together, how his lip curled into a grin akin to the sixteen year old that never got told 'no.' It was the way your heart thumped in your ears with deafening force.

You weren't sure you could be around him right now. Not without wondering how his lips tasted. Not without wondering why he'd never told you he loved you.

"Really? What's his last name?"

"Good question. I'll ask him tonight." You rolled your eyes and whirled around, heading toward the basement steps.

If Steve wouldn't let you leave that way, you'd just go out the front.

"Hey—seriously, you're not going out in this."

"Oh yeah?" you huffed, stomping up the stairs. "Who's gonna stop me?"

A heavy arm hooked around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs with one quick pull. Steve hoisted you back down the steps, and it was only when he placed you back on your feet that you started kicking them. You got one good hit in the thigh before backing away to glare.

"What the hell is your issue?" you spat.

Steve threw his arms out—fucking Christ, his shoulders were broad. His hands were so big, and he had the prettiest pink flush to his face after all that play fighting and struggling.

"I'm not letting you go out in that."

It took everything in you to muster a squint and shoot it at him. You were sweating bullets in your buttoned-up coat.

"Well, I'm going."

Maybe you wanted him to grab you again. Maybe that's why you tried to push past him and dart up the stairs. Maybe you wanted to be chased, manhandled, held by those big, rough hands—Steve couldn't think of any other reason for your second attempt at escaping.

So, he snatched you up again. This time, you ended up dangling over his shoulder, and your feet were quicker to react this time. But your struggles were futile and adorable, and Steve chuckled when he brought you back to the cement floor and blocked off the stairs with a stiff body.

Once standing, you flicked your hair away again. Steve pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. Cords of muscle flexed in his forearms—those strong, wide forearms. The scotch was starting to take effect. The room was getting smaller and hotter by the second, and you couldn't stop watching his lips grow pinker with heat.

"You have to stop touching me," you breathed out, so much softer than you wished it would sound. But you had no strength around Steve when he was at this proximity.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, swallowing. He almost seemed in pain. "Then stop looking at me like that."

Your mouth ran dry. The room regained its frigidity in an instance. The sizzle of saliva down your throat passed between you.

"Like...like what?"

There was an ache growing in your chest that you were starting to resent. A hollow, weeping ache that squeezed with all its might when Steve looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing."

You watched him a moment. Scuff his shoes through the dirt on the floor. Wipe at his nose the way he does when he's nervous. Tuck his hands into his pockets and roll his shoulders. Meet your eyes only to duck away again.

"What if I...just go home?"

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, tousling his hair. "I'll-I'll walk you."

You nodded. "Okay."

Steve bundled in his coat and scarf, slipping on a pair of ratty old gloves before you pushed your way out the front door. Though you only lived a few houses down, it as a difficult trek. You had to hoist your legs with every step, kicking snow up the back of your jeans and under your coat. The wind whipped flurries at your face and numbed your mouth.

By the time you made it to your own front door, you were shivering and no less flustered than a few minutes ago. You turned around as you reached for the knob, finding Steve at the top step, waiting.

"Thanks for walking me."

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. His smile was tight-lipped. "Sure."

You opened the door and slipped inside. Steve watched you kick the snow off your boots against the wall and shimmy your coat onto the hook. He watched you trudge to the steps and ascend them slowly, lost in the world of your own thoughts.

He stepped back and shuffled through the mound of white on your front lawn. He stopped in view of your bedroom window on the second floor, and watched the glass turn yellow in the lamplight. You passed in front of the window on your way to the bed.

Steve echoed a white breath into the air.

Maybe one day.

[silenzahra]

✨🎄🎅🏻 Christmas celebrations 🎅🏻🎄✨

Last year I shared on my old blog a short headcanon post about Mario and Luigi exchanging presents. Since it got lost, I thought it'd be good to bring it back to celebrate this special season, and I decided to expand on it and include our beloved princesses! 💖

@vulpixfairy1985 my dear big sister, you'll find here a little nod to your beautiful Luaisy story that I can never get enough of. It's very brief, but iI hope you'll like it! 🥰

@megamagimugi @peaches2217 @itsavee4117 @bberetd @pepperycar @smokszyvverstar @c-lavanda @eleventhhourfactor @stripetkattelalala54 @doodleydoo101 Hope it's okay that I tag you in case you'd like to read this! Feel free to ignore it if you're not interested 🙏🏻💖

Merry Christmas everybody and I hope you enjoy! 🎅🏻🎄🎁

Christmas for Mario and Luigi 💚❤️

Christmas has always been very important and special to Mario and Luigi. Ever since they were little, they enjoyed opening presents together every Christmas morning, celebrating the holiday with their entire family, and playing in the snow, whether it's building snowmen or having snowball wars. Each year, their mother also gives them hand-knitted Christmas sweaters for their birthday in October, so that they can wear them during the holiday celebration.

This tradition has continued into their adulthood. Luigi still proudly wears the garments made by his mom, with designs of reindeer or snowmen and bright green and red colors, not only because those are the brothers' favorite colors, but also because they’re the ones that best represent Christmas. Mario, on the other hand, feels that he’s too old to wear this kind of sweaters, but he’s well aware of the affection with which his mother knits them, so he wears them at family celebrations as a token of gratitude and appreciation for her work.

Luigi never misses an opportunity to tease his brother about this, and often gives him nicknames like “Rudolph” or “Olaf”, depending on what their mom has knitted on his twin’s sweater that year. Mario, though he grunts a bit at first, thus also earning the nickname “Grinch”, eventually teases Luigi back by calling him “Christmas tree”, since his clothes tend to be mostly green. The times when his brother dubs him “Santa Claus” for wearing a red sweater with a design of Santa Claus, the white beard embossed, Mario doesn’t miss the chance to call his sibling “Santa's elf” and starts giving him orders to get to work on this or that toy. It’s then Luigi’s turn to look resigned while Mario laughs.

When they were children, no matter what presents each one received, they always shared them: a ball, some crayons, some toy dinosaurs... Even the books, since Luigi, an avid reader from a very young age, would read them to Mario when they went to bed, even if his brother fell asleep in the middle of the story. Besides, their parents always made sure to give them at least two gifts that were, from the beginning, for both of them.

When they turned ten, their parents began to involve them, separately, in choosing the perfect gift for each other, asking them what they thought their brother would like to receive so that they could help Santa Claus a little. In this way, Mario has on more than one occasion chosen the books that his twin was most eager to read as soon as possible, while Luigi has decided on a racing car or a specific pencil box that he thought his brother might like best.

Over the years, the twins began to cooperate to choose gifts for their relatives, and, more or less subtly, they try to question each other to see what they could give to the other. Luigi always notices when his brother is trying to find out if he’s interested in this or that book, or maybe if he needs some new clothes to wear that year, but he doesn't mind pretending he’s completely oblivious and makes sure to give Mario more than one option to choose from. Mario, on the other hand, never notices when Luigi is probing him and always answers in a distracted manner, keeping most of his attention on whatever he's doing at the moment. This makes it easier for Luigi to choose the perfect gift for his twin.

As the date approaches, however, Luigi can't help but feel more and more intrigued to find out what his big brother will give him. The excitement bubbles up inside him the same way it did when he was a little boy, and before he knows it, he finds himself chasing Mario around the house they share in the Mushroom Kingdom, fists clenched under his chin and eyes sparkling as he questions him incessantly, wearing, of course, his Christmas sweater from that year.

“What are you going to give me this year? What's your present? Can you give me a hint? Is it big? Is it square? Can it be carried in your pocket? What does it smell like? Does it have letters on it? Is it warm? Is it green or purple? You know those are my favorite colors, right?”

Faced with such an avalanche of questions, Mario just smiles and gives him a look full of affection, but also of amusement.

“Yes, Lu, of course I know,” he replies nonchalantly.

“So?” Luigi insists, enthusiastic.

“So what?”

“Are you going to give me a clue? Even if it's a tiny one. Pretty please?”

Luigi's puppy eyes and the childish tone with which he elongates the last word are close to cracking Mario's relaxed facade, so, to restrain himself, he turns around with a sigh while he shakes his head.

“I'm sorry, Lu,” he replies lightly. “I forgot.”

“What do you mean you forgot!?”

The incredulous and desperate tone of his little brother always makes Mario have to resort to all his power of self-control to keep from breaking into laughter.

“I'm sorry,” he says without turning around, shrugging. “It's just that I have a very bad memory.”

“Bad memory?” Luigi exclaims, frustrated. “Who are you, Dory?”

At that point, Mario is never able to hold back a snort, but the way Luigi crosses his arms and even pouts in frustration fills him with tenderness inside. Unable to resist any longer, he ends up putting an arm around his twin as he starts tickling him with his free hand, which makes Luigi burst out laughing as he tries to get away from him. And Mario, of course, catches his outrageous laughter.

At other times, it is Luigi who comes to Mario with a smug and satisfied expression, very proud of having already prepared his present and eager to mess around with his brother a little.

“You know what, Mario? Santa Claus has already stopped by!” he announces excitedly. “And guess what? He left something for you! You have a surprise waiting for you under the tree. Aren't you dying of curiosity?”

He always says it crooning and in a funny tone, wanting Mario to play along and see if he can give him a hint, or even give it back to him with an “Oops, sorry, I forgot!”

But Mario knows him too well and doesn't fall for it. Even though he is, in fact, dying of curiosity inside, he usually finds a way to easily turn the tables.

“Yes, I think I've seen him too! He actually left something for you as well.”

And so Mario is once again met with an excited, pleading Luigi, making puppy eyes and pouting, proving that his inner child is still very much alive.

Even so, Mario adores his brother so much that, more and more, he tends to give in and brings out his eagerness that Luigi has prepared a present for him. For Mario, however, the greatest gift is undoubtedly seeing Luigi's happy face when he finally plays along and lets his enthusiasm shine.

When Christmas morning arrives, Luigi is always the more excited of the two when he opens his present. After all, whatever it is, it's a gift from his big brother, which automatically makes it the most important thing in the world to Luigi, his new favorite thing from then on. Mario could give him a piece of loose slab and Luigi would treasure it as his most prized possession.

So, whenever he unwraps his gift, Luigi squeals and eagerly hugs the object, usually a book, against his chest as he jumps for joy. Then, still springing, he opens his arms wide and squeezes his brother tightly, dragging him into his silly hops. Mario not only reciprocates, but when it's his turn, he also gets extremely excited and hugs his little brother even tighter, even lifting him off the ground. Neither of them can stop loudly laughing.

Christmas in the Mushroom Kingdom 🎅🏻🤶🏻

Since arriving in the Mushroom Kingdom, the brothers have introduced some of the customs of their homeland to their new home, including Christmas. This one is Peach's favorite, not only for the giving and receiving of presents, but for the message of peace, joy and warmth it conveys and the importance of sharing, helping others and enjoying the company of loved ones.

Peach has been included in Mario and Luigi's family Christmas Eve dinners since the first year the brothers spent in her kingdom, as have Toad, Toadette and Toadsworth. The whole family immediately made them feel welcome and included, and Mia, the brothers' mother, gave them each Christmas sweaters that they could also wear during this holiday, matching Mario, Luigi and, in fact, all the members of the family.

Their kindness only increased the princess' devotion to this celebration. She felt the desire to celebrate something similar in the Mushroom Kingdom so that all the Toads would know this beautiful tradition and get into the Christmas spirit.

So, as the brothers explained more about this holiday, Peach decided that she herself was going to take on the role of Santa Claus and make sure that all the Toads in her kingdom could enjoy a happy, warm and friendly Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Every year, Mario, Luigi and Peach decorate the kingdom together and invite all the Toads to participate. They put tinsel on lampposts and trees, hang garlands from the streets, and sometimes the engage each other in snowball battles that end with everyone making snow angels and building a big snowman together. In addition, in the center of the main square, they place a huge tree, crowned by a shining star, which Peach makes sure is always lit up, day and night. She thinks that, in this way, any Toad who looks at it at any time of the day will be able to perceive the warmth that emanates from it and will feel accompanied and, if needed, comforted.

On Christmas Eve, after the family dinner in Brooklyn, Peach goes to her castle and puts on a red dress, similar to the one she usually wears every day, but with long sleeves and the edges of her long red skirt made of white wool. She puts on white gloves, a red jacket whose edges are also made of wool and a belt to adjust it better and to be well protected from the cold. She covers her legs with white stockings and protects her feet with red boots, and replaces her turquoise earrings with golden ones, more in keeping with the festivity. Finally, Peach replaces her regal crown with a red hat, adorned with a white tassel on the end, and goes to the back door of her castle without anyone, not even the ever-vigilant Toadsworth, noticing her absence.

There she meets up with Mario and Luigi. They’ve already loaded a large sack full of gifts onto the Odyssey ship, guarded by Polterpup, to whose red collar Luigi has added a mistletoe ornament. Mario's outfit, very similar to Peach's, was, in fact, the main source of inspiration for the princess, who decided that, of course, she had to match her favorite plumber on such a special night. The only difference, apart from the fact that he wears pants, is that Mario always includes the white beard, which creates a curious contrast with his black mustache that the princess finds amusing and cute. To her, Mario is the perfect Santa Claus, and she can never help but pinch his cheek affectionately when she sees him dressed like this every Christmas Eve. And she loves it even more that Mario always blushes after her gesture.

Luigi, next to his brother, discreetly giggles before greeting Peach with a hug. The woman thinks her friend is the second best Santa Claus in the world, but only because, true to his style, Luigi’s suit is entirely green, including his hat, although it doesn't make him look any worse. Peach knows for certain that there’s at least one person who finds Luigi to be the best Christmas Santa, and, in fact, it is to her home that they head before she and Mario start the delivery.

Daisy waits for them every Christmas Eve at the top of her castle in the center of Sarasaland, her kart ready to take flight, just waiting for Luigi and Polterpup to arrive to meet her. Even though these meetings are usually quick, Peach and Mario always set aside a few minutes to chat with her, after, of course, Daisy has greeted Luigi with a tight hug and a passionate kiss, which, this time, causes Luigi to blush and Mario to chuckle.

Mario and Peach then return to the Odyssey and begin their nighttime adventure through the Mushroom Kingdom.

The princess knows each and every one of her subjects so well that she knows exactly what to get them for Christmas. For the children, of course, there are a wide variety of gifts, and Peach could never tire of seeing their excited faces when they see her and Mario arrive and when, after unwrapping their presents, they find the toy they were most looking forward to getting, be it a doll, a racing car, a ball or, in some cases, a book.

In those moments, watching Mario interact with the children, deep in his role as Santa Claus, joking, wishing them happy holidays, patting their Toad heads affectionately and enjoying the mirth and eagerness they give off, Peach feels herself falling more and more in love with Mario. It's as if he himself were a child too, as if, in fact, he had an even better time than the kids on that special night. And, of course, with the parents, the young Toads and the couples, Mario is the most polite person in all the universes and makes sure, too, to offer them a gift that is to their liking, as well as some warm laughter that he concludes with a resounding “Ho ho ho!”

When it's the turn of the older Toads, the princess knows very well that what they crave most on such a special night is company. For her, and she knows it’s the same for Mario too, it’s always a pleasure to visit them, sit with them by the fire and share a few minutes of calm chatting. They always go out of their way to make them feel comfortable in their homes, and Peach tries to bring them some new woolen clothes to get them through the cold winter. Mario, for his part, makes sure to shower them with Christmas sweets typical of his homeland.

Peach loves every second of Christmas and how it has allowed her not only to meet people she now considers her family, but also to get closer to her subjects, have the opportunity to talk to them for a few moments and find new ways to make sure they are happy in the Mushroom Kingdom and never lack anything.

And, of course, she also enjoys the moments aboard the Odyssey ship, where her own Santa Claus does his utmost to keep her warm, snug and comfortable. Peach enjoys sitting with him and simply watching the kingdom out the window together, reveling in the company of her favorite hero and plumber on the most magical night of the year.

Sometimes Peach even dares to go a step further and take Mario's hand in hers.

And her heart flutters when he not only doesn't pull away, but gives her a gentle but firm squeeze, conveying to her that, for him, that night is also much more special since he can share it with her.

Christmas in Sarasaland 🛷🎇🎈

Ever since Luigi first told Daisy about Christmas, the princess of Sarasaland declared herself the number one fan of the holiday.

Although at first no one in her household is familiar with Christmas, Daisy decides to go all out. After an afternoon of shopping in Brooklyn driving Luigi crazy with everything she wants to acquire, Daisy takes him with her to Sarasaland and asks him to help her decorate not only her castle in the Chai Kingdom, but the entire empire. To do so, she invites Luigi to stay in Sarasaland for a few days and he, delighted to help her and share the Christmas excitement with her, agrees, always accompanied by his faithful and adored Polterpup.

They get down to work right away, so that, with Christmas still more than a month away, all of Sarasaland is decorated from top to bottom with bright lights, colorful garlands and a gigantic Christmas tree in every central square of every capital city of each of the four kingdoms that make up Daisy's home. The young princess spares no expense, and Luigi enjoys decorating Sarasaland with her and strolling through its streets once the lights are on, sharing a hot chocolate with Daisy and with the always cheerful and giggly Polterpup trotting around them.

Daisy loves how Luigi's eyes sparkle even more brightly when the Christmas glow lights them up.

Daisy soon becomes a guest in Mario and Luigi's family home as her relationship with the younger plumber begins to take hold. Like Peach, Daisy soon wins the hearts of all the brothers' relatives, and when Mia surprises her with her own personified Christmas sweater, the squeal of excitement that escapes her can be heard in the entirety of Sarasaland from Brooklyn. She immediately puts it on and decides that, even though crafts aren't her thing, she wants to learn to sew those sparkly sweaters herself to join in the tradition of giving them as Christmas presents.

At that moment it is impossible to determine who is happier: Mia, for having a new disciple, or Luigi, for seeing his girlfriend follow in his footsteps. After all, he also learned to sew thanks to his mother, and he can't get over the joy of having someone else to share his enthusiasm for Christmas with besides Mario.

From Brooklyn, Daisy always sets off straight back to Sarasaland to get everything ready for what has become her favorite night of the year. The Christmas spirit nested in her from the moment her boyfriend told her about this holiday for the first time, almost more intensely than inside Luigi himself, and impatience devours her throughout the year as she’s forced to wait for the right moment to hand out presents, sweets and celebrate Christmas properly.

So, when it's finally time, Daisy lives it to the fullest.

As Sarasaland is mostly warm, the winters are not usually very cold, so Daisy doesn't need to bundle up too much. A thick red dress with a couple of white buttons and black stockings is enough for her, and, following Peach's advice, she decided to have the edges of her skirt and sleeves made of white wool. Over her shoulders she wears a shawl of the same color that is fastened with a flower-shaped brooch, matching her earrings, and she covers her feet with red boots with white edges, also Peach's recommendation.

In contrast, unlike her friend, Daisy replaces her crown with a red cloche-like hat topped by a white tassel and with a sprig of mistletoe attached as an ornament. That way, whenever she sees Luigi, Daisy has the perfect excuse to kiss him, and she does take advantage of it.

Mario and Peach bring her dear boyfriend to her in the Odyssey ship, and although Polterpup always jumps out first to greet her, Daisy only has eyes for her green Santa, as she calls him. She loves how well his costume suits him, and most of all, she adores how good he looks with his fake white beard. Daisy has even wondered what Luigi would look like if he chose to grow a beard someday. She's sure it would make him look... interesting.

Before her friends take their leave to carry out their mission in the Mushroom Kingdom, Daisy hugs Peach tightly and wishes her all the happiness in the world. To Mario, on the other hand, she gives a shocked look.

“My God, Mario!” she exclaims, pointing to a spot on his jacket at the level of his stomach. “What a stain!”

“What!?”

Mario looks down, equal parts bewildered and alarmed, and that's when Daisy quickly reaches up to tap him on the nose. She starts laughing before she even finishes her prank, but Mario's gesture of resignation and exhaustion is so funny, and Luigi's laughter is so outrageous, that Daisy ends up joining him and emitting thunderous guffaws that must surely be heard by everyone in Sarasaland. Even her friend Peach has trouble holding back her laughter, and Daisy is well aware that this is what ends up causing Mario himself to burst out laughing as well.

And then, at last, comes Daisy's favorite moment.

Seconded by Polterpup's excited barking, the princess grabs Luigi by the hand and pulls him into her kart. It’s thanks to him, in fact, that her racing vehicle is the perfect Christmas sleigh to fly over all of Sarasaland in one night. Daisy wanted it to be larger, so that everyone could fit comfortably and have room for the sack of presents as well, and she deeply wished it could fly in order to reach all the corners of her vast empire and none of its inhabitants would be left without celebrating Christmas.

And Luigi, her perfect and wonderful boyfriend, truly her green Santa Claus, made it possible.

Daisy already knew about her favorite plumber’s mechanical skills but witnessing them first hand is something very different. Luigi has not only made her wish to take to the skies to deliver presents to her subjects come true, but he’s also remodeled the kart in such a way that it really looks like the sleigh of Santa Claus himself: he’s painted it red, respecting Daisy’s floral logo on the front, and has placed tinsel on the door, on top of the seats and even on the turbos that allow it to fly. He’s added a back seat to carry the gift sack and his beloved Poltergust 3000, and on both sides of the vehicle, each year he prepares a handful of balloons that he places on the outside. Green and gold, both colors that hold a special meaning for them and remind them of a dance among bubbles under the starlight.

Since Luigi is the artist and, moreover, the guest, Daisy opens the door with an exaggerated bow for him to be the first to get on the kart-sled. She, however, is the driver, and she loves to accelerate and feel the wind in her face as soon as the vehicle takes flight. In fact, she almost always lets go of the steering wheel and stretches her arms out to the sides, laughing nonstop, which makes Luigi gasp and freak out a little. She turns to him with her cheeks hurting from the joy she feels at that moment, and Luigi, even though he’s clinging with one hand to the edge of the sled and with the other to Polterpup, who is panting happily, only needs to look at her for a second to slowly forget the panic that rules his features.

The smile full of love and tenderness that blooms on his face only increases Daisy's bliss.

When they’re high in the sky, the princess presses the button next to the steering wheel. Immediately, she hears behind her as the kart-sled begins to throw fireworks that, she hopes, will alert the inhabitants of the Chai Kingdom that Christmas has finally arrived. For a second, Daisy wishes she were down there so she could see in all their splendor the Christmas shapes Luigi designed for the fireworks, but, deep down, she wouldn't trade being up there for anything.

Especially because she gets to be with him.

After a couple of laps to make sure everyone in the kingdom is still awake and ready, Daisy exchanges a quick knowing glance with Luigi and they both nod in unison, smiling. The princess quickly activates the autopilot and they both turn to the back of the kart-sled. Luigi is the first to reach into the gift sack: he pulls out a new handful of balloons, green and red this time, and takes hold of the Poltergust to inflate them. As he does so, he releases them into the Sarasaland night sky, so that they serve as a sort of ornament framing the fireworks.

Meanwhile, Daisy hauls in the presents and, just as she pulls them out of the sack, she starts dropping them on either side of the sleigh. She doesn't hold back and shamelessly imitates Santa's laughter at full force, which only causes Luigi to burst out laughing. That, in turn, motivates Daisy to increase her “Ho ho ho!”, delighted to make her green Santa laugh.

And Polterpup, euphoric at all the excitement, jumps and barks all around them, trying to catch the balloons before Luigi releases them and peeking all the time on both sides of the sleigh to watch the presents fall into the hands of their new owners.

Daisy and Luigi repeat the same operation in Birabuto, Easton and Muda, the other three kingdoms that make up Sarasaland, and both continue to have a wonderful time and enjoy themselves like little kids. Daisy feels that the holiday is even more special because she can spend it that way with her adored boyfriend and share a night of laughter and fun with him. She knows she’s lucky to have Luigi in her life and that he’s brought a whole new world for her, one filled with magic and fantasy that keeps her inner child very much alive. Daisy thanks every day for having met Luigi and fallen in love with him.

As the sleigh drives them back to her castle in the Chai Kingdom, the sack of gifts completely empty and only the green and gold balloons adorning the sides of the vehicle remaining, Daisy and Luigi's gazes meet, the sound of fireworks echoing around them. The princess, without hesitation, leans toward her green Santa Claus, playfully removes his hat and ruffles his fluffy locks, which always feel so soft to her touch. His hands go up to her waist as he laughs softly, and Polterpup, as if he knows what’s about to happen, moves off Luigi's lap and stands on the front of the kart-sled to enjoy the last moments of flight.

The moon and the stars are witness to the tender but passionate kiss that the princess of Sarasaland and her own personal Santa Claus share at the end of the most special night of the year. The fireworks that illuminate the sky and the glow coming from the festive cities at their feet are their backdrop.

Christmas morning🎄🎁

Despite the fact that they both find it tremendously difficult to separate from their princesses, Mario and Luigi end up returning to the little house they share in the Mushroom Kingdom to, as they do every Christmas morning, open presents together and surprise each other, Polterpup being their constant companion for a few years now. Laughter and barking flood their home as they discover what the other had in store for them on that special day, and of course, Polterpup gets presents too: a collar with a shiny new tag and noisy or squishy toys to play with, both on his own and with his owners.

Christmas mornings are usually a bit slower for the brothers, as they like to take their time sharing hot chocolate and holiday treats while enjoying their gifts and tossing Polterpup his new toys back and forth. Shortly before lunchtime, however, the two get ready to go out again.

First they go to the castle in the Mushroom Kingdom. There, Peach always organizes a small party for all the local Toads to come, if they wish, to share the joy of Christmas. And, of course, as soon as the brothers arrive, she, Toad and Toadette, under Toadsworth’s supervision, rush to bring them their presents. Mario and Luigi are still not quite sure how they do it, but every year, not failing a single time, they all get their gifts right, and the brothers are happy to see that they too have chosen wisely what to give each other that morning.

The Odyssey ship is a hive of activity as Mario and Luigi board it, accompanied by Polterpup, Toad, Toadette, Toadsworth and Princess Peach, and set off for Sarasaland. As cheerful and lively as ever, as if the few hours of sleep she had slept that night had no effect on her, Daisy welcomes them singing and jumping and clapping her hands, showing that she still has plenty of energy. After the initial greetings, including the customary kiss to Luigi, Daisy gives them not one, not two, but three presents each, while letting out squeals of enthusiasm that only prove how much she loves to spread joy and how well she fits the role of Santa Claus.

Christmas morning ends in the same place where Christmas Eve night began: in Brooklyn, at Mario and Luigi's family home, where Mia, their mother, is more than delighted to welcome them all. Greetings turn to laughter, and laughter turns to conversation, and there’s an abundance of jokes, the most delicious food they've ever tasted, huge amounts of gifts, and the warmth of a home overflowing with love.

And, at the center of it all, Mario and Luigi. Two humble plumbers who have become the heroes of many and who, with their affection and camaraderie, have united creatures from different worlds to build the large and warm family they make up today.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tiger Club (part 3)

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (you are here!) || ao3

~~~

It’s Eddie’s week for Tiger Club and by Thursday he still hasn’t seen Steve once. It’s been Robin every day so far, but she promised yesterday that he’d be doing pick ups today and tomorrow. Eddie hadn’t really believed her after so many previous missed connections, but when the kids ran out to the playground screaming about Dad bringing them for ice cream after school, he thinks maybe he should’ve taken her seriously.

Because now here he is, fiddling with the sleeves of his leather jacket and smoothing a hand over his flyaways like he’s about to meet the goddamned Pope. He’s not nervous– he’s not. It’s just some guy– nay, an ex-trust fund kid. Sure he sounds amazing on paper, but Eddie’ll decide that for himself.

“So is he here yet?” Jumping out of his skin, he turns to find Chrissy smirking at him. He checks his watch and sure enough, it’s 3:45, and Max and Dustin are the last kids on the playground. God, he really should’ve noticed all of the other kids leaving. “Eddie, you seem nervous,” she says, giggling as he scoffs at her implication.

He is not nervous.

“What would I have to be nervous about?” He almost shouts it, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I don’t even know the guy. I just know he’s late. Again!”

Chris nods toward him, eyeing something over his shoulder and he turns in time to see a familiar maroon SUV pull up to the curb. But the man stepping out onto the sidewalk definitely isn’t Robin.

No, he’s just the prettiest man Eddie’s ever been lucky enough to set his gaze on.

He’s wearing tight, acid washed jeans and a navy henley that’s holding on for dear life across his broad chest. The aviator sunglasses should really make him look like a stereotypical douchebag, but of course it just makes him look hot, accentuating his full, pouty, pink lips. His thick, chestnut hair is feathered to appear casual. Even from across the playground it looks soft, and Eddie’s desperate to touch, to hold and pull tight. 

The fucking guy is effortlessly cool, and Eddie hates that cool ex-jock is a look that’s apparently his type. 

The man scans the playground, a wide grin brightens his face when he catches sight of the twins. Eddie watches as the literal fallen angel pushes his fingers into his mouth– sending Eddie’s thoughts careening dangerously off course– and whistles loud enough that Dustin and Max pop up like adorable groundhogs.

“Daddy!” Max yells, jumping up and running full speed towards him with Dustin hot on her heels. 

Daddy? Eddie’s never heard either of the twins call him that– it’s always been Dad. Although Eddie’s also pretty sure he’s never seen Max this excited before.

Steve drops to his knees– Eddie’s jaw hits the ground at the same time– to catch his kids as they send him toppling over. The three are a pile of limbs and smiles, and it’s melting Eddie’s cold, grinch heart.

Chrissy nudges him. He can tell she’s already reading him like an open book, the same way he had when she’d first laid eyes on Robin. Instead of teasing, her smile is full of comfort and encouragement. She lightly tugs his arm, pulling his frozen legs behind her towards the chaos. As the kids disentangle themselves, he can hear them excitedly talking over one another. 

“No, Daddy listen, Lucas told the funniest joke at recess–”

“Max, oh my god, no one cares! I literally made a volcano in science–”

“Shut up, Dustin, no one cares about your stupid science volcano!”

“Hey!” Steve’s up on his feet clapping loudly to get the kids’ attention. “Language, Max. How many times do I have to tell you that Dustin’s science stuff isn’t stupid? And Dustin, don’t interrupt your sister when she’s talking. Just because you’re louder doesn’t mean you get to talk over her. Both of you apologize. Now.”

The kids look equally cowed, and mutter their apologies before turning back to their dad with their proverbial tails between their legs.

“And?” he prompts.

“Sorry for arguing, Dad,” they answer in unison.

“Good. Now, let’s go find Miss Chr–”

The end of Steve’s sentence is lost to the autumn wind as he catches Eddie’s eye. He watches as Steve slowly pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and jesus christ those are the warmest honey hazel eyes Eddie’s ever seen. Steve’s mouth has dropped open, drawing Eddie’s gaze to his plush lips.

Up close, Eddie can pick out the golden shine to his hair and the moles scattered across his skin. Two on the man’s neck hold his attention, filling Eddie with the strong urge to bite. Steve pushes up his sleeves to reveal toned forearms. His hands are large with long fingers and Eddie needs them wrapped around him.

“Daddy, what are you looking at?”

Both men jolt at the sound of Max’s voice. A heavy blush coats Steve’s face, and Eddie wants to explore where else the man turns red and wanting. Mouth suddenly dry, he darts his tongue out to wet his lips, only for Steve’s gaze to immediately track the movement. 

“Daddy, oh my god why are you being so weird!”

Steve tears his eyes from Eddie’s mouth, briefly turning to face Max again.

“I’m not being weird. You just haven’t introduced me to your teacher yet.”

“Oh, right I’m so sorry,” Chrissy steps forward, not sounding sorry at all. “This is–”

“Mr. Munson, right?” Steve says. “And I’m–”

“Daddy,” Eddie finishes.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and Eddie realizes everyone is staring at him. Steve’s eyes are wide, mouth open in shock. He’s flushing red down his neck and up to the tips of his ears, but his eyes never leave Eddie’s. 

“Did you just call our Dad, Daddy?” Max asks, pointing and laughing.

And oh.

Oh god no.

He called him Daddy to his face in front of his children, and the universe, and everyone. A beautiful, gorgeous, perfect specimen of a man he’s never met before, and he called him Daddy like Eddie was cursed in a past life to make a total ass of himself. He’s on the verge of melting into the ground when Dustin’s shrill voice cuts through the fog to come to his aid.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Munson. Last week I accidentally called Mrs. Click, Mom, but it was an accident,” the boy reasons. “It happens to everyone, it’s okay.”

Except it’s very much not okay, and Eddie thinks nothing will be okay ever again. 

He chances a look and sees Steve’s finally closed his mouth, though he’s chewing on his bottom lip and still blushed up to his ears. Eddie can only imagine how red his own face is.

“Well,” Chrissy clears her throat– loudly. “Eddie, this is Steve. And Steve, this is Mr. Munson, but you can call him Eddie.” She looks a little too pleased with herself, but Eddie doesn’t know whether to thank her or remember this for next time Robin comes around.

“Hi,” Steve says, dazed, absently reaching out for a handshake because of course Steve’s the kind of man to shake a guy’s hand who’s just accidentally called him Daddy. The nerve of some people.

“Umm, hi,” Eddie responds while he grabs Steve’s hand. It’s not a firm handshake between two people meeting for the first time. It’s gentle, Steve practically cradling Eddie’s hand in his and he was right. Steve’s hand is bigger, softer than his own, but Eddie’s fingers are thicker.

Over far too soon– but maybe too long if Chrissy’s scrunched expression is anything to go by– Steve lets go. Eddie’s forced to stand and watch Steve flex his fingers, stretching until they’re white, before balling them into a fist and shoving his hand into his back pocket. His other hand rakes through his auburn hair, and– for absolutely no reason whatsoever– Eddie considers including a Jane Austin unit next semester for his eighth graders.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from the kids. And Robin. Oh and Jonathan and Joyce,” Steve rambles. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say the man sounds flustered. It helps him relax a bit.

“All good things?” Eddie teases, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers before pulling it in front of his face.

“Yeah, they just failed to mention,” Steve gestures vaguely to all of Eddie, much the same way as Hopper had but also very, very different. He looks down at himself to make sure he didn’t wear anything especially heinous today, but all he finds are his typical combat boots, black jeans, and his gray t-shirt underneath his leather jacket.

He steps a little closer to Eddie, putting them within middle school slow-dancing distance from each other. Eddie can’t look away from his eyes, warm and golden, just like everything else about him.

“Kids,” Chrissy cuts in, “why don’t we go get your stuff together while your Daddy talks with Mr. Munson a bit?” Eddie could kiss her for being such a saint, and the three of them wander off while Eddie remains a captive to the intensity crawling around in Steve’s stare.

“So,” Steve sighs, voice low and smooth. Chills spread down Eddie’s spine, and he knows he’s done for. “Daddy, huh?”

Heat scorches Eddie’s face as white hot embarrassment spreads to his core. Steve smiles like he’s successfully cornered his prey, and Eddie can’t figure out what to do with his hands. He stands frozen as Steve takes another step forward, now toe to toe.

“Yeah,” Eddie drags the word out, not quite sure of what he’s agreeing to. He’s only sure of Steve’s breath mixing with his and Steve’s eyes roaming his face and Steve’s everything.

He clears his throat, smoothes his clammy hands over his jeans, and tries again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He chuckles, hoping to play it off as casual. “It really was just an accident like Dustin was saying, you know? An awkward slip of the tongue. See, the thing is that Max was calling you Daddy, right? Which is totally weird because she always calls you Dad. So I was just kind of surprised and confused and I couldn’t stop thinking about you– I mean Daddy! The word Daddy, not you as a Daddy.” Eddie groans scrubbing his hands over his face, hiding behind his fingers. “Fuck, god, I’m so sorry, this is so unprof–”

“I don’t think you’re sorry,” Steve interrupts. “In fact, I think you liked it. And if I had to guess, I think you want to do it again.”

This isn’t happening. This is not real life. 

Things like this don’t just happen to people like him, to the Eddie Munson’s of the world, and certainly not with men like the golden god leaning into his space. Except here he finds himself, trapped in a real-life porn intro with a man he’s never met yet has been crushing on for over a month. The tightness of Eddie’s black skinny jeans is becoming an increasing problem and he reminds himself this is a school and there are children here. 

Before he can recover enough to save himself, Steve’s cooing at him, pulling at the edge of his leather sleeves and asking “would you like to do it again?”

Eddie nods, dumbstruck and inappropriately turned on.

“Good,” Steve praises, saccharine, “all you have to do is ask for my number and I’ll give it to you.”

Eddie looks around the playground and sees Chrissy with the kids well on the opposite side. They’re playing on the swingset, thoroughly distracted. 

“I know they’re there. It’s okay, they can’t hear us,” Steve says and grabs Eddie’s hand. He tangles their fingers together, goosebumps shiver up Eddie’s arm. “Now, ask me.”

“Umm, can I have your number?” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head and gives Eddie's hand a firm squeeze. “No Eddie, you need to ask nicely. Go on now, I won’t say it again.”

Eddie swallows against the dryness in his mouth and Steve’s darkened eyes flit down to catch his neck flex around his empty throat.

“Please, Daddy, may I have your number?” Delicious shame coils through his chest while heat curls lower in his core. He’s not used to such brazen affection, nor so immediately trusting to reciprocate. And fuck, normally Eddie’s the Daddy. But from everything he’s heard– all of the kind and caring people who talk about how amazing Steve is– he thinks this might be okay. Hopes and wants and craves it all to be okay.

Steve’s answering smile is surprisingly gentle. He rubs his thumb against the back of Eddie’s knuckles before taking a step back, not far enough to leave him self-conscious, but Eddie feels like he can breathe for the first time since Steve stepped out of the car. 

“Of course you can have my number, Baby, thank you for asking so nicely.”

Eddie unlocks his phone and hands it over just as Chris makes her way back with the kids. They all say their goodbyes, and much to Eddie’s delight, Steve texts him before the SUV even pulls away from the curb. To top it off, Steve waves as they drive by, a dorky spirit-finger wave that sends Eddie into a fit of giggles, like he’s a school boy with his first crush.

Chris elbows him in the side, a smirk on her face and her eyebrow arched. 

Eddie sighs in faux-defeat. “He’s alright, I guess,” he answers her unasked question with a giant, smitten, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

He loves the twins, has met basically Steve’s entire family, and is almost positive Chris and Robin have hit it off. Eddie’s hopes are already too high up to pull back down to earth, excited to see where this journey will take him. He’s loath to admit it after weeks of petulant moping and pining, but Steve Harrington does, in fact, live up to the hype.

~~~

Tiger Club was so much fun to write! It was the very first story I wrote when I decided to get back into writing. This fic sat in my drafts for months before I decided it might be worth going back to. And now look at it!!

[perseyhandmaiden]

Ten people I'd like to know better

I have seen this on my dashboard and think it will be fun to play. Thanks to @cantseemtohide for the tag!

last song: Apex by Chris Webby ft Nems, Apathy, Anoyd, Mickey Factz & Ren Thomas

favourite colour: All of them! I like earth tones, but I also like bright colours, such as hot pink, grape-candy purple, turquoise, neon green... although you'll catch me wearing black more often than not.

last movie: Dr. Suess's How The Grinch Stole Christmas (Jim Carrey version)

last book: Unfortunately I don't read books anymore. My favorite has been Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I lent it to someone years ago and never got it back. 😅

sweet/spicy/savory: Savory. I'll go for leftovers as a snack over chips or candy. Mmmm, meat.

last googled: Tim McIlrath

current obsession: Well.. the Sims 4 obviously. And my 5 year old Grey Tuxedo Cat named "Kit Katt Cudi". She keeps me sane and helps me enjoy life.

looking forward to: Springtime

Now I'm supposed to tag 10 others... If you don't want to play don't worry about it! If you don't want to be tagged in the future just let me know. :) @plasticflora @bizarre-brew @simsfvr @igotsnothing @igglemouse @wolkentage @ipod-shuffle @randomizedtraits @bakersimmer @lynzishell @zosa95

[theorphicangel]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫.| 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦!) 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 |

synopsis: In the span of 3 years, it's crazy how much you can learn about one single person. So much yet so little.

You find yourself realising that with every year there will always be more to learn. Every year offers a new opportunity to grow together.

You soon learn that he has things that are discreetly hidden from you.

And you him.

tags: roommates au, fem!reader, eventual smut, mutual pining, friends to lovers

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟎𝟏: 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲

word count : 4.9k

warnings: drinking, alcohol, drunk! Levi🤨

“Don’t even think about it.”

The warning slipped from your tongue in a haste.

Not even a full minute had passed since emerging from his room and your words were already aimed straight at his throat; piercing his skin like the tip of a knife.

Your intonation held a low and deep vibration throughout the room which almost startled him.

Almost.

You weren’t even looking at him directly.

His steel eyes snap over to your figure on the couch where you sat with your legs curled up like a cat under a fluffy blanket. Two hands held open your new novel, the one that had been on your reading list for god knows how long.

He'd gotten it as a gift for you at Christmas. You guessed it as soon as it caught your eye underneath the tree, one of the very first gifts placed there. It took everything in you to hold back at the temptation to rip at the carefully wrapped present and not jump straight in between the pages.

You held back. For him at least.

Barely two days into the new year and you’ve regretfully almost come to the end of your story. He curses quietly under his breath at noticing this, himself regretful that he hadn’t gotten you the whole book collection instead.

He thought about saving it as a birthday gift instead. Most definitely.

You continued to read on, pulling an oblivious expression with your eyes still glued to the page as you hear him huff in impatience. You knew all too well that if you just looked up to your left, he’d be standing there with his hands placed on his hips and his infamous scowl imprinted on his face in pure frustration.

A smile played along your lips at how easily you could rile him up. Too easily.

“You even touch that Christmas tree and I’ll take away your present.” you forewarned, fingers turning the feather-light page, eyes already jumping to the next sentence.

The Christmas lights that were wrapped around the tree blinked furiously in the corner of the living room, the large golden star at the peak of the tree heavily loomed over to one side, threatening to topple over due to its weight.

He’ll never forget how you had coerced him into helping you set it up. And you’ll never forget the comical-like way in which his eyes widened at the sight of you returning back to the apartment with a large cardboard box in your hands.

“It was a sale, I couldn’t resist.” were your words of defense, consciously aware that it was still early November at that time.

Despite your protests, he brutally ignored your excuses, instead babbling mutters of discontent as you made him walk in circles around the tree to wrap the tinsel.

“Stupid.” he remembers mumbling, feeling himself become increasingly irritated at the lone strands of tinsel that fell onto your carpet, which he would now have to go to the effort of hoovering once the two of you were done.

Switching on the bright lights—that you had definitely spent way too much money on—they powerfully illuminated the room, the festive colors of red and green bouncing off your white walls. The electricity bill for that month was indefinitely set to soar.

Regardless of Levi’s annual duplication of the Grinch, he couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of satisfaction at your glowing smile in reaction to the tree and after what felt like hours decorating, you finally won against your need for perfection. You stretched out your hands in front of him proudly, a beaming smile stretching across your lips with an exclamation of, “Happy birthday!”

He scoffed at you, his mind no where near the idea of his birthday. You knew how much he dreaded it each year, coming to the sudden realization that he was getting one year older.

Or one year closer to death as he would say which would earn a light slap on the arm from you for ruining the so-called “Christmas spirit.”

You introduced him to all the traditions of the holiday; something abnormal to him, having never experienced this during his childhood. A few years before and he would’ve never even given a second thought about the holiday.

The only thing that he does remember from his childhood is the long anticipation of receiving a present from his mother, one that she had saved up for all year to be able to give him.

He appreciated them all, no matter how small or bare, he was always grateful. Unlike the other kids who’d grown up spoiled, flaunting their gifts as soon as it was the return back to school after the holidays.

Was he envious of what other kids had growing up? Yes, of course, what kid wouldn’t be?

But, now having grown up he’d come to realize that he was deeply satisfied to have the more important things in life, like the close memories of his mother. He was more thankful to have spent time with her rather than receiving a bunch of toys he would soon grow out of.

Especially since people can suddenly be taken away from you in a blink of an eye.

But celebrating also helped you too, he’d learnt that moving away from your family to a new city by yourself wasn’t easy and with the guilt of the first christmas that he had spent with you, from then on he’d make sure that he'll put in all his effort.

Even if the whole day shortened his lifespan in the process.

Now standing in front of the glowing tree, Levi didn’t have to turn around to witness the grin on your face. He’d already heard it through your threat.

If there was one thing he learned about you throughout all these years, it was that you always kept to your word.

“It’s fucking January,” he remarked, “Christmas is over.”

You shook your head, “Nuh-huh Mister Scrooge, it’s still the holiday if I remember clearly.”

He snorted out loud, “Barely.”

“You’re just mad that you’re going back to work earlier than me.” you noted and again your mind can picture a crease between his brows at your blunt reminder.

“Whatever.” he muttered, sulking his way over to you without any further debate.

You felt the couch shifted a little under his weight, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

Finally, you glanced up from your book to observe the figure sat adjacent from you.

You caught him mid-yawn, his hair uncharacteristically disheveled, raven locks astray, but one thing that predominantly stood out towards you was how well-rested he looked, his face slightly puffy from sleep and eyes full of energy, no evidence of dark circles under them. You felt content at this sight and it was more than obvious by the way you studied him.

“What?” he said bashfully, suspicious of your observation of him.

“Are you still hungover?” you ask, distracting him. You were annoyed that he caught on regardless of your obvious stare.

He rolled his eyes as your question. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants, he deliberately ignored your question.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” you murmur, eyes returning back to your place in your book.

A wave of silence filled the room, no further conversation made between the two of you. It was a comfortable silence, one that the two of you have gotten well adjusted to for the past three years, more than comfortable in each other’s presence.

Then, after a minute or two of silence, his lips parted to defend himself after some deep thought.

“I’m not hungover.”

You hum quietly, the sound of paper flicking as your fingers turn the page, not seeming bothered by his answer.

You recall back to New Year’s day, returning home with Levi from Erwin’s annual New Year party. Erwin was polite enough to offer that two of you should stay the night but you remember clearly how he kept whining about wanting to go home. With you.

In your three years of living with Levi, you’ve barely–no, rarely, seen him drunk. You didn’t know what was really up with him at Erwin’s, just the fact that as soon as you stepped into his apartment, he couldn’t stop throwing back the drinks. It was very incongruous to the usual Levi that you knew.

Unless he had something on his mind. You figured it was just the post-birthday emotions hitting him. He never went into detail but you were smart enough to assume that this time of the year was always tough for him.

As a result, you had to carry him home. His heavy, dead-like arm wrapped around your neck with the majority of his body weight pushed up against you for support, making your thirty minute walk home looking to take around an hour.

“Fucking hell, Levi.” you swore, your footsteps echoing against the stone pavements, the sound ricocheting off the concrete walls of the giant buildings that loomed above you.

His own steps lingered–irregular and clumsy–as he relied on you for total support. It was nearly four in the morning and groups of people were still out in the city, alive as ever, still drunk off a new year high. You could tell by the fireworks being set off irregularly that the celebrations had yet to finish, also not missing how Levi’s body flinched at the sudden sound of fireworks nearby, rising up into the sky, illuminating for a few seconds before disappearing into colorful clouds of smoke.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid interactions with large groups of drunk strangers wishing you a slurred happy new year from across the street. You gave a friendly smile back and wished them the same back, the same couldn’t be said for Levi, drunkenly sending death glares as his own response.

But it wasn’t until you walked past a certain group of strangers, that consisted mainly of guys, that he really grew hostile.

“Did you-did you see tha’?” he blurted out, stumbling in absolute defeat.

“See what?” you asked, focusing your eyes on his face and not missing the glow that the streetlights created upon his face.

“The way that guy looked at-” he paused, taking a breath, probably to hold down the bile rising in his throat. “You.”

He finished in a dangerous tone. It sounded unnatural even for him.

“No, I didn’t see that Levi, they’re drunk.”

“Drunk bastards.” he cursed, losing his balance momentarily until you held him upright again.

You hold back a chuckle, “And you’re one of them.”

“M’not drunk.” he debated, his lips turning into a pout.

“Okay,” you said, an idea popping in your head, “Stand by yourself then.” You pause in your steps and remove his arm from around your neck. In this separation, the warmth of your body is quickly replaced by the chill of the winter wind.

You’ve paused purposely by a lamppost to hopefully make it easier for him to navigate. You stand away from him, only a few meters, next to the hovering streetlight.

“You good?” you ask, raising a brow at his state.

His eyes are drooping a little, full of fatigue and obviously intoxicated. His body sways a little, side to side and his dark locks flutter a little in the almost icy winter wind. You don’t miss how pink and tinted his cheeks are, especially under the glow of the streetlight.

Little puffs of vapor escape from his mouth now visible in the cold winter air but disappear quicker than you can blink.

Vapor escapes from your own mouth as you observe him, “You’re swaying Lee’, that’s cheating.”

His eyes are now fully closed and a part of you is slightly concerned that he’ll topple over at any moment; just one light tap on his shoulder and he’ll end up face planting the stone pavement.

“M’completely–” he pauses again taking in a shaky inhale,“Fine.”

He scrunches his eyes before he attempts to walk and at an incredibly slow pace, his shoes scuffing the pavement. He barely moves an inch before opening his eyes again.

He looks around wearily, a dazed expression on his face.

“Did I get far?” he mumbles, his lips puffy and pouting.

Adorable.

You can’t attempt to hide your grin any longer, “C’mon you idiot, let’s go home.”

“You’re the idiot, idiot.” he grumbled back, immediately falling to your side, his arm wrapping perfectly over your neck.

You nodded,”Yeah yeah, thank you.”

And if it wasn’t enough to drag his ass home, you also had to get him up to your shared apartment.

“One step lee’, almost there.” your voice strained under the weight of holding Levi upright as he reached the second floor. One down, thirteen more to go.

And to think that out of all fucking days, tonight had to be the night that the elevator was out of order. The universe couldn’t even wait a day into the new year before testing your patience.

Your arm was wrapped securely around his waist, fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him up the stairs. Sweat dripped down your back, your warm winter coat doing its job too well as an insulator.

“Are-are—we almost there?” He slurred, almost falling as he did so and your free hand suddenly clasped onto the railing to steady yourself. If he falls, you’re certain you’ll go down with him.

Now you sort of understand why he gets so annoyed when he has to pick you up from a night out, especially if he had to do this every time with you. The only difference is you're more of a mess. By far.

And with that taking longer than it should’ve, you finally come to a standstill at your apartment door. Your hand delves into your coat pocket, fingers searching through crumples of old receipts and tissue for your keys, it doesn’t take long for that sweet metallic jingle to reach your ears.

Levi stood next to you in silence. He was rather quiet during the final climb up the last floor. You brought it down to his exhaustion and post drunk clarity finally hitting him, a feeling you know all too well and despise deeply.

The jingle of your keys echoes down the empty hallway as you turn the lock, opening the door to a sea of darkness. You follow through first finding the light switch and Levi trails in after, shutting the door. Your back hits the wall of the hallway with relief and fatigue, you couldn’t wait to get to your bed.

But first… you had Mr grumpy to deal with.

Slipping off your coat and your shoes, you address him with an exhale noticing how he’s remained still the entire time, staring into the abyss.

“C’mon Lee’ let’s get you to bed.”

He makes no response, already trailing into his room without debate. Before you follow, you grab a glass of water for him during the night.

You find Levi sat on his neatly made bed, only completed with the task of removing his shoes. His dark locks look even more disheveled.

“C’mon,” you coo, placing down the cup on his neat bedside table. There’s only a radio that sits on the counter, its red digits reading, 4:23 am. Your hand pulls back the covers as Levi stands and he makes his way to lay down immediately but the touch of your hand meets his bicep.

“Change first.”

A light whine came out his throat, before he could even stop himself. If he were sober enough to care he’d cringe but he steps back following your instruction.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” you state, “you don’t wanna sleep in those clothes, trust me.” You speak merely from experience, you know first hand that it’s not the best way to start the morning after a night out.

You go to leave the room to give him privacy before a soft utterance stops you from doing so.

“Stay.”

A hum leaves your throat in confusion. He watches you apprehensively, whole body rigid with his fists curled up by his side.

His mouth is snapped shut almost as if he regrets the previous words that come out of his mouth, you’re about to put it down to the state of him being intoxicated before he pleads again.

“You don’t have to leave.”

You remain unmoving with your mind still not sure of what to say apart from a simple, “Okay.”

You do turn around though, in an attempt to give him space whilst you try to find some clothes for him to sleep with.

“First drawer.” he says, nodding his head to the direction of his bedroom cabinet.

He slips off his slacks, stepping out of the material in slow movements. The clink of his belt carries a heavy tone and ends up with a loud clang on the floor.

You find gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt and as you turn, you find Levi half way in pulling off his own shirt before dropping it carelessly to the ground, too exhausted to pick up it and fold the material.

You try not to let your eyes linger too much on his body, particularly on the muscular tone of his stomach, a dark trail leading down to his lower abdomen as he stands solely in his boxers.

You awkwardly avert your eyes to the floor as you hand him his clothes, your cheeks burning up.

He dresses in silence, brushing a hand over his locks which in the process lifts up his shirt, revealing another little peak of his lower abdomen. In an attempt to distract your mind, you pick up his clothes without hesitation, hands already going to fold them methodically.

“I can do that tomorrow-” he starts, mouth open in protest at your help. You’ve already helped him enough. Too much.

“It’s alright, I’ll put them in the basket,” you say, folding up his stained t-shirt and pants, removing the belt before you fold up the latter.

His exhausted eyes linger over your face as he sits in silence on the edge of the bed, watching you complete the task.

You can feel his eyes bore into you. Purposely, you avoid his gaze, instead focused on the task at hand. “Thanks.” he utters, quietly, once you’ve finished.

You half shrug, “S’’nothing.” You know that he would do the same for you, Levi’s the type of guy to without you even asking so it’s only fair that you do the same.

“I’d give you painkillers, but you shouldn’t take them after drinking.” you say, nodding over to the glass of water that sits on the bedside table.

He nods wordlessly, “Thanks.”

You’re about to turn to leave, grabbing the pile of his folded clothes on the edge of his bed to place in the laundry basket. Your figure is about halfway into leaving the room before his voice stops you again.

“Do you mind staying–just for a little bit?” he speaks up, timidly. Levi still sits at the edge of his bed, and there’s a nervous manner in his body language that you don’t usually see. Tufts of raven hair are stuck to his forehead, his eyes wordlessly pleading you with his gaze.

It’s a tempting offer.

His eyes linger over your face, watching as you hesitate for a moment and for a second he regrets asking you at all, he’s just about to say never mind before you interrupt.

“Sure.”

Walking over, he shuffles over to the other side, silently observing you get underneath his covers. The scent of your laundry detergent—one that Levi religiously insists on buying—fills your nostrils as well as the faint smell of alcohol from him.

Your mind is too aware of the close proximity, the air from his lungs meets your bare neck and for once, out of three years of living together, the silence of it all scares you.

You clear your throat awkwardly, your heart loudly thumping in your ears.

“Did you enjoy tonight then?” you ask, your voice almost breaking as you did. Never would you have expected to be in this predicament. Laying in your roommate’s bed.

You hear a light scoff come from him. “As much as a new year’s party can be.”

You want to ponder on what made him want to drink so much in the first place, knowing his particular distaste for alcohol. But your lips remain shut making the assumption that he—like everyone else—wanted to mark off the end of the year and either way, you’re glad you remained sober tonight even if you weren’t planning to. At least one of you had to be responsible for getting home.

“You should get some sleep Lee.” you suggest, propping your elbow up and resting your head in the palm of your hand.

He lets out a deep hum in response.

To be honest, Levi was still thinking about his behavior tonight, his steel eyes observing your shadow through the darkness. A pit of anxiety stabbed at his lower abdomen, flashbacks popped up in his mind here and there of his behavior. His hand rubbed his forehead, a headache already forming in his skull.

If he could take it all back, he fucking would.

“Sorry.” he mumbles, silently dreading what tomorrow’s hangover would bring.

“For what?” you ponder, curiosity in your tone.

“Making you drag me back here.” he lets out a sigh, “We should’ve just stayed with Erwin.”

“It’s fine.” you reassured, “You’ve done this way too many times for me.”

“Not out of free will.” he joked. A low, natural hum played in the background, the natural vibration of the apartment alongside the outside noise of distant fireworks continuing the arrival of the new year.

“You got a new year’s resolution?” you ask, fingers skimming over the soft, fresh duvet covers.

Levi held back another scoff. Personally, he found that shit so stupid.

He would always remember how Hange would create thirty new resolutions each coming year and yet when December 31st they’d only have completed four by the end of it.

“No.” he states, “What about you?” he’s still slurring slightly, but you can tell the alcohol is starting to wear off especially as his body grows with more weariness and his question is finished off with a yawn.

You hesitate slightly out of embarrassment, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he repeats, his tone holding a subtle teasing tone which releases some of the awkward tension in the room.

“I don’t know,”’ you admit shyly, fiddling with your fingers underneath the covers, becoming too comfortable under the covers. You’re going to find it hard to leave soon.

“Well, what is it that you want to do?”

You shug, despite Levi not being able to see you. “It was just a thought, I don’t think it’ll make a good resolution.”

“What is it?” he asks again, gently pushing for an answer.

You let out a sigh, “I just want to get more work done, y’know develop my career and try to push into more opportunities?” you reveal, slightly shy.

“You’re already doing that.”

“Really?” You hummed in disbelief, “I feel like I haven’t worked as hard in the last year like I usually do.”

Levi’s words are now mumbled, falling captive to the power of sleep, “You’re one of–” he yawns again, “the–most hardworking people I know, if anything, your resolution should be to relax more.”

You let out a snort, “Coming from the man who eats, sleeps and breathes in front of a white screen sending emails.”

He scoffs in response,”Well, when you have a shitload of new interns to supervise on a daily basis who constantly ask you stupid questions ninety nine percent of the time, you barely know the meaning of rest.”

“You’re hard working too, Lee.’” you say, “You don’t realize it, but I honestly–I aspire to be like you. You’re always so calm and even when things ‘Go to shit.’” You curl up your fingers to air quote his own words,”You always handle it well.”

Your throat grows thick and you pause to swallow before speaking again, “If anything you should be taking your own advice this year.”

You can’t see due to the darkness of the room and for once Levi is grateful as fuck. With the mix of alcohol and the compliment from you, his heart pounds at a million miles per hour right now.

‘I aspire to be like you.’ You might as well have tattooed those words right above his fucking heart in the sense that your comment will stay permanent in his mind forever.

He’s definitely sure that his cheeks are a burning red from your comment, his mind running on pure elation.

He clears his throat nervously trying not to seem obvious that your words had deeply impacted him.

“I’ll die before that ever happens.” he grumbles and you poke him in the side in annoyance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine,” you say, “What’s yours?”

His face scrunches up, thrown off guard by your sudden question. It takes him a while to think before coming up with a definite answer for you.

He lets out an exhale, his heart almost heavy as he admits it to you.

“Not to take anyone for granted. Anymore.”

You remain silent, hearing it clear in his voice the remorse behind it. Your own heart aches, your limbs almost tempted to reach out to comfort him in a way, to try and understand the sorrow that he holds. Over the past three years, there’s always been allusions to it but you’ve never asked explicitly. It’s not your place to.

After a period of silence he clears his throat, “So–” he begins, “Let’s make a deal.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in curiosity as Levi continues.

“You will promise not to overwork yourself this year and I–” he hesitates, “I’ll not take anyone for granted.”

“And don't overwork yourself too.” you add on to the end.

He clenches his jaw, that wasn’t something he thought about agreeing to but…fuck it.

“Fine.” he says exasperatedly, “I won’t overwork myself…I mean–I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough.” you declare, “It’s a deal then.”

“Deal.”

You don’t remember much of the conversation past that point apart from listening to him complain about the new interns and the annual Christmas office party.

He makes a suggestion for you to come with him next time to which you respond with a “maybe.” It’s not much but it’s enough to set his hopes up, an unfamiliar, warm feeling in his limbs. He tells himself it’s the after effects of the alcohol, unknown that you too, are silently experiencing the same effects.

Somewhere along that point, you fall asleep, your body only jolting awake a few hours later. Already, the sunlight peaks through, illuminating the room that was pitch dark just a few hours ago.

Your eyes were blurry, your body aching and overstimulated with heat as your clothes stuck your skin. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the new lighting of the room.

Coming to your senses, you notice the feeling of a heavy limb wrapped over your torso, keeping you tightly secured in place. Only then you realize that you’re not in your own bed.

A head of jet black hair beside you makes you fall back into reality. Shit.

Levi’s arm is wrapped around your waist, tightly, and his head positioned near your shoulder. Light snores escape from his mouth, they’re so quiet you can barely hear them. You can feel his chest expand and deflate against your back, it feels so snug and so…right.

Too right.

Without warning your mind panics, desperate to find a way to get out. His presence was too intoxicating for you to even comprehend your own thoughts.

You shuffle slowly, attempting to get out of his grip in a way as not to disturb him. Your plan to be discreet fails in pure vain as a light groan is heard near your ear.

“Levi.” you whisper, sensing that his body is beginning to come alive, ever so slowly.

It takes a while for him to become aware of his position and remove his hand away. Almost immediately, you notice the growing distance between the two of you as he pulls away.

And all of a sudden you hate it. The iciness that your body feels as he pulls away, your brain almost lulling you to return to him, pull him back and close the distance between the two of you.

Ignoring your painful isolation, you sit up and stretch your aching legs before unwrapping yourself from the covers.

“Sorry,” you mumble,”I must’ve fallen asleep.”

There’s no response as he’s turned away from you, the back of his raven hair the only thing you see.

You don’t even know if he’s awake. You make the assumption that he’s not based on the fact that he doesn’t really say anything to you as you exit his room, the unspoken tension thick and awakened between the two of you.

Since then, not much has been impacted between the two of you although you both actively avoid discussing what happened that morning.

It’s not awkward but more so that the tension between the two of you has shifted ever so slightly.

“You better not touch the decorations either way.” you state after a long period of silence, flipping the next page of your novel.

Levi clicks his tongue in faux annoyance.

To you, you think that you’ve successfully won him over. But in reality…

he doesn’t really care if they stay up for the rest of the year or if you’re planning to take them all down tomorrow.

For long as you’re here; you can make up the rules

if you’d like to be tagged let me know !

[sunkissedscribbles]

☆ 𝑆𝐿𝑌𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁 𝐵𝑂𝑌𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐶𝑇 - 𝐻𝑂𝐺𝑀𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝐴𝑌 𝟷𝟽

including: mattheo, theo, enzo, draco, blaise, tom

☆ HOGMAS 2024 LIST ☆ MASTERLIST ☆ TAG LIST ☆ KIARA'S PART

☆ 𝑀𝐴𝑇𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 ➵ he’s not really keen on new films, and finds most of the holiday ones generic ➵ not that we can really blame him for it, christmas films most of the time are generic ➵ what he loves is  difficult relationship (he’s secretly all for the drama) ➵ so how about a film with nine difficult relationships? ➵ his favourite is ‘love actually’. and of course, he has an opinion about all the pairs on the screen

☆ 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 ➵ he loves marvel, alright? ➵ he’s a bit of a nerd but he’s just perfect this way. and honestly? you love it ➵ so when ‘the guardians of the galaxy holiday special’ came out you didn’t have to ask twice ➵ in fact, you didn’t even have to ask ➵ because his reaction was “i’m booking the tickets for tomorrow” ➵ but he doesn’t necessarily like the other 300 you made him watch before

☆ 𝐸𝑁𝑍𝑂 ➵ see, he’s the least traumatized of the group and he did actually have a childhood ➵ thus, he can watch as many christmas films as he wants, his childhood favourite would always make him feel nostalgic ➵ so, briefly, teenage (and probably even as an adult) enzo still watches ‘santa clause’ every year and unashamedly claims it as his favourite

☆ 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 ➵ he says it’s a tie between ‘home alone’ and ‘die hard’ ➵ but he puts the home alone dvd’s to the side of the christmas section so if there is a fire he could just grab them and run ➵ he finds the pranks iconic and the story funny, he also gives a plus for the soundtrack and for kevin being a badass man character ➵ DESPISES the grinch; ”that dog is the only good part of the whole shitshow”

☆ 𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑆𝐸 ➵ just as the rest of the slytherins, he’s only a softie on the inside ➵ so he lives for romantic films, okay? ➵ and he makes you watch ‘the princess switch’ every week of the advent period ➵ he hates the ‘home alone’ films ➵ also loves iron man 3 and die hard

☆ 𝑇𝑂𝑀 ➵ he finds ‘a nightmare before christmas’ bearable. the rest? do not even ask. ➵ number 1 reason? it’s dark and creepy enough to compensate for the rest. ➵ secondly: it’s a classic ➵ though he’s seen grinch too. and hated it. ➵ he cringed when cindy lou started singing so hard he turned it off (nearly threw the dvd player out) ➵ and the third reason: he doesn’t like christmas anyway. he says it’s just a waste of time and money ➵ and he simply hated the titles of every other film you suggested

tag list: @mattiesgf @inksoakedparchment @girllblogging777 @mqstermindswift @myysunshine @yelanare @mamartinez @s00ty-feet @malfoylover4l @potterxz

[gundamthey17]

Day 2 of Payneland Promptfest 2024

I know I'm a month late, but December ended up being a hell of a month. I do still intend to write all 7 prompts, so hopefully people aren't totally sick of holiday-themed stories yet. (It's still the holidays, right? lol)

Day 2: frostbite | “How did you even find this?” | getting dressed up

“Crystal!” Charles said excitedly.

“Gah!” Crystal jumped. “Don't startle me like that! You do know it's early, don't you?”

“No, I didn't. I don't sleep,” he replied. Unbothered, he barrelled on. “Have you heard of ugly Christmas jumpers? Or, wait, what do you call them? Sweaters? Ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Yes, Charles, I've heard of them. What about them?”

“I just saw someone wearing one. They were big in the eighties. I can't believe they're still popular!”

“I don't know about still. More like again.”

“Do you know where to get them?”

“Uh… lots of places. Thrift stores probably have the best ones.”

“Can we go?”

“You want to go shopping. For ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Yeah! It'll be brills!”

Crystal yawned and shrugged. “Fine by me, I guess.” It wasn't as if she'd had any other plans for the day.

“Great! You get Niko, and I'll get Edwin.”

A short time later, Charles was following Crystal into a thrift store, practically bouncing with excitement. Niko and Edwin were close behind.

Sure enough, the first clothing rack they saw was full of Christmas jumpers. 

“Ooh, what about this one?” said Niko, holding up a particularly garish jumper for Edwin to see.

Edwin frowned, unsure how to respond. “Um… it's…”

“It's mint, Niko!” said Charles. “I think I see some more jumpers over there.”

The next hour was a blur of Christmas jumpers, laughter, and (generally) good-natured teasing as the quartet each picked out a suitable option.

Charles found his jumper almost immediately. He spotted it from across the store, and his eyes lit up. “No way! Brills!” He practically sprinted over to it, leaving Edwin and the girls to follow at a more reasonable pace.

Edwin frowned again as Charles held up the jumper. It was mostly black and green, with some red details here and there. The central image was of a classic-white-sheet sort of ghost, with a red ‘no’ symbol over it. The bottom hem had an alternating pattern of Christmas trees and… some sort of squarish white smiling face wearing a hat. “Why does it say no ghosts?”

Charles sighed dramatically, running a hand over his face. “It’s Ghostbusters, mate. You’ve literally seen the films! This is their logo!”

“Ah, yes, I remember. What has it got to do with Christmas?” To his credit, Edwin seemed to genuinely be trying to make sense of the ugly Christmas jumper tradition.

Charles shrugged. “It was Christmas in the second one. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s in the style of a Christmas jumper. That’s the important bit.”

“If you say so,” Edwin replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

Charles handed the jumper to Crystal, who glanced at the tag. “This is a double extra large. Are you sure you want this one? It’s not gonna fit you.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“Okay. You do you, I guess.”

Crystal had started out somewhat skeptical of the whole endeavor, but her mood had brightened considerably when she found a jumper that depicted the Grinch giving two middle fingers. She wordlessly draped the jumper over her arm and continued to peruse the rack, half-listening as Charles explained the Grinch to Edwin. Crystal didn’t have the patience to explain every pop culture reference, but Charles, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

“Right, so there’s this book, and this guy, the Grinch, absolutely hates Christmas…”

Niko insisted on scouring the entire store before she settled on a jumper. The one she picked featured a large Christmas tree in the center, and was covered in a dizzying array of baubles, garland, pompoms, and candy canes.

“That’s great!” Charles said.

“That’s… something,” Crystal added.

“It’s perfect,” declared Niko, and that was that.

Edwin, to no one’s surprise, ended up having the hardest time finding a jumper that suited him. Early on, he located a knitted blue and white jumper with a pattern of snowflakes across the chest and hem. He held it up hopefully, but Charles shook his head.

“Nah, mate, they’re supposed to be ugly Christmas jumpers.”

“I dunno,” Crystal muttered loudly to Niko, “the grandpa vibes are pretty strong with that one.”

“Given that I am likely older than your grandfather, I am not at all offended by that.”

Crystal ignored him, rummaging around in a pile of jumpers, until she smirked and held one up. “I found the perfect sweater for you, Edwin!”

Edwin turned, and his expression soured as he took in the picture of a fat, grumpy-looking cat, wearing a Santa hat and wrapped in Christmas lights, above the words ‘On The Naughty List’. “Absolutely not.”

As time went on, Crystal grew more and more impatient. “You know what your problem is?” she asked eventually. Edwin opened his mouth, but she continued. “I don’t think you have enough Christmas cheer.”

“I am plenty cheerful,” Edwin replied indignantly.

“Oh yeah?” Crystal grabbed a Santa hat from a display. “Prove it. Wear this.” Without waiting for a response, she reached up and perched the hat on Edwin’s head.

Edwin stiffened like a cat being forced to wear a strange costume.

Crystal snickered. Edwin looked to Charles for help, but Charles merely flashed him a cheeky grin, all crinkled nose and bright teeth. 

Niko looked around to see if anyone was watching them. Luckily, the shop was nearly empty. “Does that just look like a floating Santa hat right now?” she asked quietly.

“Most likely,” Edwin replied, snapping out of it. He quickly pulled the hat off his head and handed it back to Crystal.

Charles and Crystal both offered up several more jumpers, but Edwin rejected all of them. 

Suddenly, Niko’s eyes went wide. “I know!” she said, and without another word, hurried away to a back corner of the shop.

Edwin caught Charles’s eye, but Charles just shrugged.

Niko returned a moment later, holding a jumper that was somewhat similar to the one she had picked out for herself. It was red and had a large tree in the center, but where hers was covered in baubles and garland, this one only had lights.

Edwin kept his expression neutral as he said, “I’m… not sure that –”

“Wait! You have to see the best part!” Niko reached inside the jumper and did - something, and suddenly the lights on the tree began to glow and blink.

Edwin’s expression transformed into one of awe. “How… how does it do that?”

“Batteries! See?” Turning the hem inside out, Niko showed him a small, white box with a button on it, which was cleverly concealed inside the jumper.

“Good job, Niko,” Charles said. He smiled and put one arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “I knew we’d find you one.”

They made their way to the front of the store, where Crystal paid for the jumpers, and then they stepped out into the cold December day.

They waited until they were back in their makeshift office to put on the jumpers. Edwin grabbed his and Charles’s.

“Wait, so any normal clothes can become ghost clothes?” Crystal asked.

“Not exactly. There is a complex magical process that must take place, wherein –”

“Literally no one cares.”

Edwin looked so affronted that Charles actually felt bad for him. He leaned over and whispered, “I care. You can explain it to me later.”

“I have explained it to you before!”

“Yeah, well, this time I’ll listen, won’t I?” Charles replied with a grin.

The “complex magical process” turned out to be the boys just putting the clothes on, though Edwin insisted there was more to it than that.

“If you could just put them on and they vanish, why didn't you do that in the store?” Crystal asked.

“That would be stealing!” Edwin replied. He felt around the hem of his jumper for the mechanism Niko had shown him, and pressed the button. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked to life. Edwin smiled, looking relieved. “I was not sure that was going to work once the jumper ceased to be tangible. It seems it has successfully retained its properties. Though I do wonder about the batteries…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Charles.

The Ghostbusters jumper seemed to swallow most of his lithe frame. It nearly reached his knees, and the sleeves completely covered his hands. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Too-big jumpers are the best,” he was saying, to no one in particular. “It’s like being in a big, warm hug.” He flapped the sleeves for emphasis.

The sight caused a fluttering sensation in Edwin’s stomach. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Charles’s mouth. He immediately drew back with a gasp, phantom heat rushing to his cheeks in an invisible blush as he realized Crystal and Niko were still right there. Before he could stammer an apology – to Charles? to the girls? – Charles closed the distance between them and looped his arms around Edwin’s neck.

“So, what do you think of ugly Christmas jumpers? Pretty brills tradition, innit?”

“I… am beginning to understand it now.”

Niko tugged on Crystal’s arm, and the two quietly left the room as Charles leaned in to kiss Edwin properly.

[funtimeisparty]

🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈🎄😈

[welp-heregoessomething]

Tagged by @sarahdonald87 💙💙

Last song:

It was on the radio.

Last movie: The Grinch (but the weird new one with Benedict)

Currently watching: Ghosts

Currently reading: Helter Skelter in book and Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell on audio.

NPT: @theinheriteddutchess @jenny-superbadgerz @chai-a-latte

[thesimquarter]

Get to Know You / Catch Up Tag

I was tagged by @devilrose — thank you!!

I’ll tag… @urbania-resident @dusksimulacre @horseghoul @gaypleasantview @gr47p @thehandsomecat @optimumchibi

Currently reading: Nothing right now! I think I need to find a new webcomic or two to chip away on sometime soon… Or maybe just get some books on my phone. The last book I read was ‘I’m Starting to Worry About This Big Black Box of Doom’ but I didn’t get too far because executive dysfunction and it being library book. Of what I read, it was a very interesting book! The 27-y/o autistic NEET protagonist and the weird girl deutragonist spoke to me. I didn't get far enough to judge quality, but it was a very accessible read, I can say that.

Last song I listened to: It was definitely something on the Sirius XM 80s Channel. But it’s boring to say ‘well, I just don’t know what!’ Anyways, my phone says ‘Pygmalion’ by The Scary Jokes bc…yeah that’s my music taste. I like the album it's from as a whole!

Last series: TV Series? I… do not watch much TV. I guess I watched Spongebob Seasons 1-3 not too long ago for the nostalgia.

Last movie: Literally do not know if I’ve formally watched a movie since like… August? If this counts, yesterday, I had to sit in a waiting room for a few hours (a family member was getting surgery), and there were movies playing on the TV. The last one I got to see was Illumination's Grinch Movie. There weren't captions on and the TV was on pretty quiet, so I couldn't hear a thing. I just spent the entire time thinking about the Who's designs and how they interpreted them compared to the original. Anyways! I should fix this.

Currently watching: I DO… watch a lot of YouTube. And I have an answer to this! Neurotic Goose’s series on completing the Gregtech Horizons Minecraft Mod Pack starting with absolutely nothing (and I plan on watching his other series too!). Hits the exact threshold of being interesting enough to listen to/watch and unexciting enough to fall asleep to. I love how low-budget the production quality for the series is and how the script is written. Tickles my brain in the right spot.

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy?: Sweet 100%, but spicy is good. I have a decent spice tolerance. Savory is can be good, but I don't like salty things a whole lot. My REAL favorite flavor is sour though. I use a LOT of vinegar…

Relationship status: Single and disinterested in changing that.

Favorite color: Either bright red or dark purple/plum! Not completely sure which. :)

Current obsession: [gestures towards blog] Okayyy, the sims handhelds is my special interest and my default when I'm not particularly obsessed with anything at the moment. I have a lot of projects I can work on associated with The Sims... and I tend to get obsessed with one project at a time in a cycle. I've been most into developing my aforementioned Neocities website (so website development, I guess. I've been looking at a lot of websites to see how they're structured n' stuff). Outside of that I have been playing a large, kitchen sink-ish Minecraft mod pack centered around Cobblemon (Minecraft Pokémon Mod).

Tea or Coffee: Tea. Herbal teas to be specific...

Last Thing I Googled: 'minecraft screenshots’ bc i was looking for the hotkey to take minecraft screenshots with (F2, if anyone was curious).

[leapingbadger]

People I’d like to get to know better Tag game!

Thanks for the tag @collophora and for your kind words! This is the perfect distraction from work! 😁

Last Song: Fare Well by Hozier

Favorite color: teal

Last Book: Star Wars Jedi: Battle Scars by Sam Maggs

Last Movie: The Grinch (‘Tis the season)

Last TV Show: Bob’s Burgers (on a loop)

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: all!

Relationship Status: married

Last thing googled: Bespin

Current obsession: The Bad Batch. Never getting over this one!

Looking forward to: Christmas!

No pressure tags: @clonethirstingisreal @oliviaeatworld @faithwalkcreationscloneart

I never get tagged in this sort of thing so thanks so much!

[jonquilyst]

People I'd like to know better...

Tysm @bloomingkyras for tagging me!! 💖

Last Song: This Is For You by DJ Hell

Favorite color: I don't have one 😅 I like them all!

Last Movie: How The Grinch Stole Christmas (the 2000 one)

Last Book: Currently reading "Assassin's Apprentice" by Robin Hobb

Sweet, Spicy or Savory: Sweet

Last Thing I Googled: Crash Bandicoot

Current Obsession: Toontown Rewritten (I just got back into it after several years of not playing)

Looking Forward To: Getting a new job and recovering the money I've lost from not working for several months!!

Tagging @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants @changingplumbob @riverofjazzsims @invisiblequeen (Idk who's done this so feel free to ignore if you have ^^)

[quia-nominor--leo]

people i'd like to know better tag game!

tagged by @edwardscissorfeet and @theamazingmurderrocks

last song: Solaris by Elliot Minor (I'm seeing them next year!!)

favourite colour: gold and red

last book: I just finished Fagles' book of translations of the Theban plays thanks to the bookclub, and I'm currently reading Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man

last movie: I haven't watched a movie in months. Watching stuff is hard work. I think the last movie I watched was putting Pirates of the Caribbean on in the background while I was cleaning.

last tv show: ...SPN. In the year of our lord 2023 I decided to start watching Supernatural. I'm still working on it. Don't ask me why, it sucks. I'm on season 12. Send help.

sweet/spicy/savoury: sweet!!!

relationship status: yes.

last thing i googled: english to german google translate </3

current obsession: the late roman republic probably counts? especially cassius. always cassius.

looking forward to: going back to Malta for the holiday period. I'm a grinch and hate Christmas, but I can't wait to be back in the south so I can understand people talking, so I can speak to people in my own language, so that I can experience temperatures that are above zero, SO I CAN SEE THE SEA AGAIN BELOVED, so I can eat good food etc etc.

tagging: ohhh I think most of the mutuals have already been tagged? (its a very incestuous group here) but also @burritofriedrich and @winteryserpent and @wardentabriis and all the beloved mutuals who haven't been tagged!