#they have orange frosting c: | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steveslevis · 1 month

Text

‘tis the damn season

AUTUMN

chapter contents/warnings: exes to whatever the hell this is, a little bit of smut, angst, weed and alcohol use, mutual pining, steve is an idiot and is afraid of commitment </3, barely proofread (sowwy)

w/c: 5.3k

The first big frost of the season blankets the town of Hawkins when you arrive on Wednesday night, the bits of ice glittering on the orange and brown leaves making the barren streets seem less intimidating as you make your way through your hometown for the first time in months.

There’s a sense of anticipation and dread that fills your stomach while navigating the streets you know so well, knowing you’re going to be asked the same mundane questions about college in the big city a thousand times over during the next three weeks. You know that’s not the only thing filling you with dread for the weeks to come, but keep telling yourself that’s all you have to worry about — right?

The first evening you arrive in town is jam-packed, since your friends insisted on having a so-called “Friends-giving-mas” as the night that you arrived, due to your anticipated absence on the aforementioned Christmas. You spend a few hours with your mom and dad before leaving, enlisting your mom to help you make some cookies for the party, promising you’d leave her and your dad some behind.

The clock hits 7 p.m. and you’re finally finished getting ready, having just thrown on a red velvet, long sleeved dress that hit just above your knees and your best black boots, Robin had requested everyone to look their best so she could take photos with her new camera throughout the party. You grabbed your secret santa gift and jacket, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving your room.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” you call out as you bound down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget your cookies, sweetheart! They’re on the table.” she replied from her place next to your dad on the couch, watching some rom-com while he was dozing beside her, “if you need us to come pick you up, we will.”

You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that you were only walking to the next house over on the road, so picking you up would be ridiculous.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage just fine.” you joke in return while grabbing the plate of cookies, “love you guys!”

—————————

The outside of the Harrington’s house is gleefully lit with warm string lights, wreaths already adorning the front windows and main door to the house in anticipation of Christmas in a few weeks. You always admired the way their house looked during the holidays, but knew it was only a cheery facade to hide the dysfunction that lay within the halls of the residence.

You knew the family all too well, having grown up next to Steve your entire life. You were the same age as him, grew up attending all the same parties as him, but ran in completely different circles than him — well, up until your senior year of high school at least.

Long story short, being best friends with Robin led to you ultimately becoming so-called friends with Steve Harrington as well. The two of you had what you now called a stupid summer fling before you left for Chicago in August, but the rest was history. The two of you had agreed to stay civil and not let the remnants of any unresolved feelings come between your friendship and the rest of the friend group.

So here you were, knocking on Steve Harrington’s front door on a random Wednesday in late November, cookies in hand as you stood there, shivering. You faintly hear Robin say that she would get the door, then hear footsteps pad towards the entrance.

You’re greeted by your best friend with the strongest hug you swear you’ve ever experienced, and you feel like you might not ever be let go if she has anything to say about it.

“Oh my god! I missed you so much.” Robin exclaims, the widest grin on her face as she grabs for your hand, “everyone’s in here, we’re just waiting on Nance and Jonathan then we’ll be ready to eat but come in! I have so much to tell you about everything you don’t even know—”

You follow behind her wordlessly, smiling to yourself as she rambles on about college applications and band and Vickie — who just so happened to be in the kitchen helping finish making the mashed potatoes so you had to be quiet — and everything that she can think to fit in a conversation to catch her best friend up on after months without. She leads you to the dining room after dropping off the cookies, where you hear two familiar voices having a very passionate conversation.

“I’m telling you, man, I’m cursed—“

“You’re not cursed, Harrington. I’m telling you, you’re just looking in the wrong place for love.” Eddie retorts to his frustrated friend, rolling his eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? And where should I be looking?” Steve snorts, haphazardly tossing forks, knives and spoons atop the napkin at each seat of the table.

“I’ve been saying ever since what happened this summer, you should be going after — oh shit, Y/N!” Eddie interjects, cutting himself off when you trail in behind Robin.

The metalhead pulls you in for a bear hug, whispering in your ear about how he promises not to ask you boring questions about college like everyone else. As you’re being engulfed in his embrace, you hear the sound of silverware tumbling to the ground from the other side of the table, followed by a string of mumbled curse words from the dropper.

You pull away from Eddie’s hug to look at where the noise is coming from, only to see Steve fumbling with a fork and spoon while trying to stand up from where he was just kneeling. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, taking in everything about him that you told yourself you didn’t miss. Eddie gives you a knowing look and you roll your eyes, knowing that he’s trying to tell you to not make things weird, so you try your best.

“Stevie, how are you?” you call to him while walking around the table, putting on the best oblivious and excited face that you can.

“H-Hey, Y/N.” Steve says, feigning coolness as he pulls you in for a quick hug, nearly stumbling over his words when you use the nickname you always loved to tease him with, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

His eyes flicker over to Robin momentarily, who shoots him a guilty grin before mouthing ‘sorry’ over your shoulder.

“Yeah, it was kinda last minute on my part, I just so happened to be coming home tonight since my finals were all at the beginning of the week. I kinda forced Rob to tell me when it would be so I could crash it,” you lie, trying to throw the blame on yourself instead of her, “sorry if I messed anything up, I-I’ll lay low and won’t eat if that messes up numbers or something—“

“No!” Steve rushes to retort, shaking his head at you adamantly, “I mean, shit—sorry. No, you’re not messing anything up at all, you know you’re always welcome here.”

The smile on Steve’s face is genuine as he speaks, but there’s a glint of sadness in his eyes while he scans yours for any sign of hesitancy. You give him a small smile in return, quickly moving your gaze from his to push down that sinking feeling in your chest you know is coming. Your chest aches as you focus your eyes downward, realizing that this night would be a lot harder than you had convinced yourself that it would be.

“Well!” Robin interjects, interrupting the growing awkward silence filling the air of the dining room where you stood. She reached for your hand while smiling over at you sympathetically, beginning to drag you towards the kitchen as she spoke, “gotta go say hello to everyone else before dinner!”

Your best friend whirled you around to the rest of the guests–which was just Nancy, Jonathan, and Vickie–who were all in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

A slew of awkward questions about Chicago ensued in the moments leading up to and during dinner, but you took them in stride as they distracted you from the bright eyed boy across the table who kept sneaking glances in your direction any chance he got. You explained your major, what you did for work outside of class time, and talked about all the new friends you met in the short few months you’d been gone. You could’ve sworn Steve’s jaw clenched at the mention of a date you went on prior to leaving for break, but you didn’t put too much thought into it.

Dinner goes by fairly quickly, and then it’s time for Secret Santa gifts in the living room. Robin begged everyone to participate, and even went through the effort of making sure you and Steve didn’t get each other, partly to not ruin the surprise of you being here and partly to diminish any awkwardness that might arise from it.

You had drawn Jonathan’s name, so you gifted him a few rolls of different camera film. Each person had to guess who their Secret Santa was, but apparently your gift was pretty obvious since he hadn’t been able to find any film like it anywhere near Hawkins, so he guessed you first.

Your turn rolled around and a small red gift bag was sat in your lap. You immediately knew who your gift was from, halfway from the grin plastered on his face and halfway from the smell lingering from inside the back in your hands.

“Thank you, Eddie.” you giggle out while pulling out four perfectly rolled blunts from the gift bag, courtesy of the best dealer in Hawkins.

“It’s always a pleasure,” he jabs back, “we can fire one up after presents if you’d like.”

You nod quickly at him, grinning widely before turning back to the circle where Robin was handing out gifts.

—————————

It’s not long before drinks are flowing and laughter is spilling through the Harrington residence, something that’s happened very few times within those halls. The night seems to go by too quickly, you notice how quickly when you check and it says 11 P.M. already, even though it feels like you’ve only been there a few hours. You’re sitting on the couch with Robin and Vickie, giggling their way through a story about some guy in the Hawkins band, when the sight of the back door sliding open and closed catches your eye.

You turn your gaze to see Steve stalking into the cold on his own, head turned down as he walks towards one of the ice-slicked pool chairs on the deck. A frown passes over your face as you furrow your brows, excusing yourself from the couple on the couch as you slip outside to follow him with your bottle of wine, one of your newly gifted blunts and a lighter in hand.

It’s the last thing you should be doing tonight, really. You shouldn’t be following Steve Harrington – the man who was too afraid to say he loved you and too afraid to commit to you – onto the porch. You should’ve stayed inside and drank some more wine with the rest of them and let yourself cut loose for once, but you just couldn’t do it. You just had to talk to him – you weren’t so sure what you wanted to talk about, but you just felt the need to.

“You alright?” was all you could slip out as you closed the sliding glass door, watching the brown haired boy from afar, making sure you weren’t making the wrong decision.

“Yeah–Yeah, just needed a little bit of fresh air.” Steve stammered, eyes widening for only a moment when he notices that it’s you that followed him outside.

You only hum in response, stepping closer to him as you sense no annoyance or anger in his voice, finding a spot on the chilled pool chair next to his. After setting down the bottle of wine you’d been nursing throughout the night, you took the blunt you’d brought as a peace offering between your fingers and waved it in front of his face.

Steve looked up for a moment, gaze shifting between the blunt between your fingers and your lips that curled up into a mischievous yet friendly smirk. His own lips perked up in a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at you when you brought the blunt to your lips, followed by the lighter.

“Would you like to partake?” you joke while puffing smoke through your lips, mixing with the cold puffs of breath coming from Steve’s.

“I’ll never say no to that,” he retorts, reaching to grab the blunt from your fingers.

There’s a breath of comfortable silence between the two of you as he inhales, then lets out a long exhale before focusing his gaze back onto the pool in front of him, onto the ice forming on the pool cover as a way to avoid your eyes.

“So, how’s the Stevie Harrington been faring since I’ve been gone?” you joked after a moment more of the quiet, shoving any nerves down that were threatening to force you to run back inside.

Awful, utterly dull and extremely depressing, was what Steve wanted to say.

He wanted to tell you how he fucked up so badly, how he hasn’t been the same since the last time he saw you, how he hasn’t even been able to look at anyone without thinking of you. He wanted to grab you by the cheeks and pull you in for a kiss and never let go. He wanted to scream and tell you how much he regretted ever letting you leave without knowing how he really felt, but he couldn’t now. It was too late, so he just said; “Oh, y’know. I’ve been fine. Just the same shit, different day.”

Steve wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame, something so uninteresting when the most interesting person in the world was sitting right in front of him.

“Does ‘same shit, different day’ just mean you’re stuck being the same old chauffeur-babysitter you’ve been for the last two years?” you tease, reaching down to grab the bottle of wine at your feet.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Steve chuckled, giving you a warm smile as he took another puff.

It only took a few moments to finally break the ice between the two of you, then things fell right back into place, right back into a comfortable normalcy. There was something that put you so at ease being outside with him, being able to talk to him without the looming thought of who would be the first to say “I love you” or who would be the first to leave waving over both of your heads.

The next hour went by in a breeze, and it seemed the party inside died down by the time the two of you decided to walk back in. Steve closed the sliding glass door behind you two and you noticed only Eddie and Robin were left standing in the living room. Vickie was presumably in the guest bed, where Robin was about to head to. Jonathan and Nancy had left twenty minutes prior, only popping their heads out to say a quick goodbye before driving off.

Robin said a quick goodnight to you before heading up the stairs, along with a promise to see you tomorrow for a girl’s day. Then, it was just you, Eddie and Steve in the living room, Eddie at the couch setting up his bed for the night while the two of you stood in silence by the sliding glass door still.

“I–I guess I should probably head home for the night,” you say, breaking the silence between the three of you as you start towards your bag and coat on the other side of the room.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Steve interjects a little too loudly, the weed and wine in his system instilling some false confidence in him. “It’s so cold out and I’m sure at this point your parents already think you’re staying anyways.”

You stop on your toes at Steve’s voice, cheeks heating at how interested he sounded in you staying there for the night. It’s not like it was a far and dangerous walk, Steve just wanted an excuse to be around you for longer. You turn around to look at him, then to Eddie, who was giving you a tired smile.

“We can have a sleepover on the couch,” Eddie chuckles, reaching for one of the pillows he was setting out for himself to move it to the other side of the couch for you.

“I don’t have any clothes,” you suggest, looking down at your velvet dress that would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep in.

“Oh, I’m sure Stevie has some clothes that you can sleep in!” Eddie says, shooting a smirk in his direction.

“O–Of course I do, I’m sure I still have your favorite pajama pants up there if you want them.” Steve says hurriedly, as if you would change your mind if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

You give the two of them a smile, pretending to contemplate the decision for a moment before nodding. You could’ve sworn you heard Steve let out a breath of relief at your nod, but he turned towards the stairs before you could acknowledge it. Without a word, you follow right behind him up the stairs, slowly realizing the effects of the cherry wine and weed are coming to the surface.

Steve steps into his bedroom and you follow behind him, a situation the two of you knew all too well.

—————————

You don’t know what led to this, but there you were, in Steve’s bedroom, him towering over your space on his bed as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Tongue against teeth, hands against cheeks, legs tangled together, just like they were meant to be.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t come crawling back every time you were in town, but here you were.

Somehow coming upstairs for a stupid pair of pajamas led to Steve giving you that look of lust and utter desire, led to you becoming a willing participant in his games once again after swearing you would never touch him again, led to you letting him sneak his way into your heart – and pants – yet again.

Your head is spinning as he kisses you, his lips slotted into yours like they belonged there, a perfect fit. You’re unsure if it’s the wine, the weed or the sheer yearning that’s making you feel like this, but you don’t want it to stop any time soon.

There’s a gnawing feeling in your stomach when Steve props his knee up on the bed next to your hip, you know you should stop before he gets any further, but the ache between your thighs is outweighing any thought of what would come after he spreads you open.

Steve groans into your mouth when you pull him closer, fingers intertwining with and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, and you only smirked against his lips in satisfaction. You knew everything about the boy who was turning to a puddle just from the touch of your fingers. You knew exactly how to make him tick, and him the same for you.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes when he finally pulls away from you, full lips parted as he stares down at you. There’s a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in so long, one you used to mistake for love but now only know to be pure lust. “I–I’m sorry I just, I need–I need you.”

You stare at the desperate, doe-eyed man in front of you for a long moment, mind wandering to a place of fear as you think about what you’re about to do.

Instead of saying anything in reply, you close the space between the two of you once again, smashing your lips into his in a feverish and bruising kiss. Steve is on you in an instant, gently pushing you back and up on the bed, letting your head fall on his pillows. You can tell by the way he stumbles on his way up to you that he’s intoxicated — on the weed or the wine, or you, you’re not sure — but you soon realize that you are too.

A hand wanders toward the hem of Steve’s sweater, tugging at it quickly as he pulls away from the bruising kiss. He wastes no time in pulling the cable-knit up and over his head, tossing it to the side while sitting up on his knees to take you the sight of you in. Your skin was hot and your eyes were blown with lust, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you stared up at him.

You’d only been under him for a minute and had completely folded to his touch. You cursed yourself for letting your inhibitions crumble so quickly, but another part of you didn’t actually care, the same part of you that wanted to claim him as yours forever.

Steve’s eyes trailed over you, from your cheeks to the low neckline of your dress, over the curve of your hips, ending on your thighs spread on either side of his knees. The crushed velvet of your skirt bunched where your leg met your hip, letting the fabric ride up enough for Steve to see exactly what he was searching for.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of your white lace underwear beneath, having to hold himself back from diving in right that second.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, hands tracing over your hip bones while lowering his lips to yours once again.

A moan falls from your lips as his meet yours, his knee coming up between your thighs, creating friction against your core.

“Fuck—Stevie,” you say, choking back a pitiful whine while grinding against his thigh desperately, “please, I need you.”

You swear you hear Steve nearly choke at your words, three words he’d been dying to hear from you for months.

“I know, I know, baby.” he coos at you, trying to keep his cool as he strains against his pants, “I’ll take care of you.”

You nod feverishly as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck, taking his sweet time while trying not to get drunk off the scent of you.

“This—This doesn’t mean anyth—this doesn’t change anything,” he stammers between kisses, peering up at you as he speaks, “we can still stay close—keep being friends after this.”

You hum in agreement, ignoring the dread building in your gut as you do. You want to be more than friends, you want to scream at him until he admits that he loves you too. But he nearly said it doesn’t mean anything, so you’re convinced he wants nothing to do with you after tonight, nothing but a friend to laugh with and a pretty face to fuck on every break from college.

You push the thoughts from your mind, focusing on the boy in front of you as his hands begin to massage your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your core with every circle. Steve chuckles lowly as you let out a whine of anticipation, teasing you silently as he gives in to your desires.

Steve knows your body like he knows his own, so what comes after pulling off your dress is nearly second nature to him. One large hand trails to the waistband of your underwear while the other reaches for your breast, nipple peaked from the exposure to the cold air conditioning. You moan in surprise when he wastes no time in putting his mouth to work on your other nipple, tugging your underwear down your legs simultaneously.

His fingers immediately fall to your core once you’re free of the underwear, fingertips circling the bundle of nerves at the top as you let out another whimper.

His moves are careful but quick, he knows you want to waste no more time, and you’ll whine about his teasing if he doesn’t act soon.

He’s out of his boxers in an instant, one hand keeping contact with your clit as he situates himself above you.

“You look so good like this, sweetheart.” Steve says, voice low as his eyes raked over your body, “so pretty spread out for me, all fucked out for me even though I’ve barely touched you.”

“Stevie…” you whimper, reaching a hand up to him, but he pulls from your reach with a smirk across his face.

“Tell me what you want from me,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek as he lines himself up with your slick, teasing the tip against you slowly.

“I—I need you, Steve.” you beg, cheeks flushing at the admittance, “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he retorts with a smirk, sliding into you with ease.

You both let out a low moan as he bottoms out, filling you in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You forgot how thick he was in the time you’d been gone, your body wasn’t used to the stretch of his cock inside you, but it still felt like he was meant to be there. Like he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

And you were right, nobody could make you feel that way. Nobody else could touch you and make you fall apart in less than five minutes like he could. Nobody else could get you so riled up over a few praises thrown in with some condescension (which you embarrassingly loved too much) like he could. Nobody could hold off from cumming long enough to give you three orgasms before getting one of their own like he could.

Nobody did it like he could.

This doesn’t mean anything you repeat in your mind, clinging to his arm like your life depended on it after the two of you calmed your breathing and cleaned up. You weren’t sure if you were repeating those words to convince yourself or to ease your own mind about what just went down, but you knew they stung your heart more than any fighting words the two of you had ever exchanged.

“I missed this, cuddling with you, holdin’ you like this.” was all he slurred out against your hair, pressing a sleepy kiss into the crown of your head.

“Yeah, me too.” you mumble in return, accepting the warmth of his embrace as sleep finally took you in, ignoring the gnawing pain growing in your chest.

—————————

The spice of Steve’s cologne mixes with the familiar scent of his room, filling your senses when you wake, nearly sending you into a panic. You sit upright in the bed, turning to face the boy you claimed you wanted nothing to do with romantically just a few hours ago. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to you, plush lips parted and brows furrowed as he subconsciously pouts about the loss of your touch. The alarm clock behind him read 2:03 A.M., meaning you hadn’t been out for too long, but long enough to sober you up somehow.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta get out of here. Is all you can think as you stumble out from under the comforter, knowing you would never live it down if anyone found you’d slept in his bed, especially with your limbs entangled like they just were. You quickly dress in the clothes you’d originally come into the bedroom to fetch, and snuck out of the bedroom without a sound.

Before making it to the living room, you turned toward the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of water. What you weren’t expecting to be faced with in the kitchen was Eddie, but there he was, leaning against the counter with disheveled hair that probably mirrored your own.

“What a night so far, huh?” he jokes as you shoot him a knowing glare while trudging across the tiled floor.

“Don’t even start with me, Munson.” you warn, absentmindedly reaching your hand up to the cabinet for a glass while shaking your head.

“Woah, don’t get that attitude with me! I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, setting his own glass into the sink, “but that also doesn’t mean I didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not,” you snap back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he gives you a shit-eating grin, “there’s no way you heard anything because nothing happened.”

“You’ve always been such a bad liar, Y/N.” Eddie laughs, stepping out of the kitchen to walk towards the living room where the two of you would be sleeping.

A sigh escapes your lips when Eddie leaves, letting you be alone with your thoughts finally. There was an ache in your chest that wasn’t going away any time soon, and it was in that moment that you wondered if you would ever be able to get over Steve Harrington, or if you would be in a continuous cycle of hurt and comfort for the rest of your damned life.

You collected your thoughts as you downed a glass of water, throwing back two ibuprofens with the last chug for good measure, before finding your way back to the living room. Eddie was on his side on the long side of the L-shaped couch, leaving the shorter side for you to sleep on. His eyes were closed as you laid down with your feet next to his own, but you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” you heard through the darkness after turning off the table lamp once you were settled.

“I know.” you sigh in return, staring up at the ceiling that was only lit by the streetlights flowing in from outside. “I just don’t want to live like this forever, I–I can’t keep being the secret that Steve is too embarrassed to talk about.”

“He’s not embarrassed of you,” Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear, “he’s just afraid of fucking everything up even more than he already has.”

If only he could say that to my face, then maybe I’d believe it, you thought to yourself, chest tightening at just the thought of the brown-eyed boy who was fast asleep upstairs.

You don’t reply to Eddie, unsure of what to say back, unsure of what you could squeak out without breaking down.

“Goodnight, Eds,” is all you say in return, though you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

—————————

After falling asleep for all of fifty minutes around 5 in the morning, you decided you had to leave.

The entirety of the almost four hours you laid on Steve’s couch consisted of staring at the ceiling and fighting off tears while thinking about how you regretted everything you said and did over the last twelve hours.

Coming to the Harrington house was a mistake, even stepping foot back in Hawkins was feeling like a mistake at this point.

The only words repeating in your mind were This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything.

You eventually had enough of the self-loathing and inability to sleep, so it was time to go. It was time to hastily change out of the pajamas that smelled too much like the boy you loved too hard, and time to go collapse in your own bed. There was no telling if you’d actually fall asleep once you made it there, but that was beside the point.

It was when you finally made it back to your parent’s house, to your childhood bedroom, that you swore that you wouldn’t see Steve Harrington again for the rest of Thanksgiving break, and hopefully would avoid seeing him again for a long while, for the sake of saving yourself from another heartbreak.

---------

tags: @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stevis writes #ttds*

506 notes · View notes

fadingdaggerr · 5 months

Note

Could you do Mel x reader where reader normally LOVES all things Christmas and gifting presents to people but this year she’s feeling down and just not as festive so Mel goes out of her way to give reader the most magical Christmas 🎄

Please and thank you! May you have the best day 🫶

frosted hymnal

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: generally the request above, however, there is definitely a different tone to this then what was asked for, bit more sad underneath | 4.1k

warnings: grief/loss (thematic - not in depth), hurt and immense comfort throughout to makeup for this sad

translations: bambino (baby), cara (dear), tua stellina (your little star)

note: this one is a bit personal to me, especially in the details and a family tradition i snuck in. i’m also not feeling very festive and ‘hell yeah christmas’ due to similar things i put in which is why this reads more h/c than holiday cheer oops

Ever since that balmy night in August when you’d gotten a call from your aunt as you ate dinner, laughing at Melissa’s recount of her conversation with Barbara earlier in the day. As the phone cuts her off unexpectedly, you swallow your laughter as you say a greeting into the phone. Immediately, your smile drops and your eyes flick to Melissa’s, already red and a fist clenching and unclenching as you listen.

“Thank you for calling,” you say with a shaky voice, barely making it out before you gasped for breath. Another beat as your aunt says more to you, “yeah, I will. Love you, too. Bye.” The moment the call ends, your head falls into your hands and tears fall. Melissa is immediately next to you, pulling you into her. Her lips press into your hairline, just letting you lean on her and let it all out.

You’d just talked to your grandfather three days before.

For days after, you hardly spoke, ate, or even moved from the bed. Your arms stayed locked around Melissa unless she had to step away, only then would her pillow take her place. She barely knew what to do, most of her family were angry when in mourning, much like herself; she’d broken half her picture frames and almost her hand when she found out about her grandmother. This eerie silence, the lack of anything from you, it was different, and it scared her even if she didn’t want to admit it. It took days to get you downstairs, a week to get you into the sun in the backyard. Melissa just held you until you quietly asked to go with her to the store after two weeks, the same quiet tone that filtered into most gatherings since.

She’d noticed it at Thanksgiving, the silence and the empty stare when no one was interacting with you. First holidays are always the hardest, she’d felt the same when her Nana passed away, but that was years ago and she’d had everyone around her where your family was states away. You spent the holiday pressed into Melissa’s side, only speaking when spoken to, hand gripping hers for dear life. Aunt Deb tried not to look offended when you barely touched the famous apple pie that you usually inhaled.

It had been Grandpa’s favorite.

—

The silence and the stare never really went away as the table runners went from orange to red and green, apples and pumpkins became evergreens and snowflakes. Melissa tried to stay discreet in how she watched you detangle the gold beads that wrap around the tree, robotic movements and pursed lips. Slowly, she moved from the couch to the spot next to you with her ornaments and hooks, shuffling closer to you to gain your attention.

You turn to look at her for a moment, a tiny smile stretching your lips before your eyes go back to the beads in your lap. The redhead takes the chance to prop her chin on your shoulder, making you turn back to her again, tilting your head back to get a proper look at her. Cold fingers brush her hair behind her ear while you admire her, a low voice speaking to her for the first time in an hour, “hi, pretty.”

“Hi, amore,” she murmurs back, a gentle kiss placed to your shoulder over your sweater, “you’re awfully quiet over here by your lonesome.”

You huff a little laugh through your nose, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been spacing out while I untangle these damned things,” you hold up the beads, “seriously, did you tie these in knots before I put them in the attic last year?”

“All part of my secret plan to keep you here forever,” she jokes as she shoves the ornaments away to help you with detangling.

Melissa delights in the first smile she’s seen from you all day as you shake your head at her answer. Leaning in quickly, you press a kiss to her cheek and quietly say, “like I was planning on going anywhere.”

Half of The Apartment and two glasses of wine later, you both finally get the beads untangled and wrapped around the tree. Basic ornaments went first, then the intricate ones that had been gifted by Barbara from the craft store were next, followed by the more personal ones with names, dates, and pictures within. A fireplace ornament with a photo of you two in it made you pause and let a little smile on your face, but it dropped when you remembered who had taken the picture and hand written your names on the bottom. Melissa sees the warmth in you go cold, taking the ornament from your hands and placing it on a branch for you, front and center.

“Hon, we can hold off on this if you need us to,” she says with a gentle tone, as if the right volume would shatter you into pieces. Melissa had watched you sluggishly place ornaments on the tree, for every three she got on there, you’d only put up one. The blank stare that had appeared at Thanksgiving was even more pronounced, and every conversation about holidays and holiday shopping had been borderline dismissed unless absolutely necessary.

The sigh she gets as an initial answer is less than desirable for a response. You turn away to grab a penguin on skis, breathing out a real answer, “it’s fine, babe, really. I just want to get this over with.”

That was certainly not what she expected. She normally had to hold you back from decorating before Halloween even ended, by the last trick-or-treater you already had a plan for the decor for the winter months. Sure you’d brought down the boxes for her, not letting her help at all since she always complains about her back afterwards, and yeah, you pulled out the Ella Fitzgerald Christmas album, but only at her request. There was no bounce in your steps, no obnoxious lovely singing of carols, not even the reindeer antler headband had made an appearance when decorating. As much as she poked fun at you for all of it, she found herself missing it more than anything at this moment. Simply hungering for your unbridled joy during the season.

Even though her own shoulders deflate, Melissa steps towards you, arms wrapping around your middle. Immediately she feels you give into her, leaning fully and melting into her arms. Her lips pressed to the side of your head, “it’ll get done anyways. Why don’t we take a break? We have the weekend, honey.”

“Can we just finish it now?” you murmur as if you’re afraid she’ll get mad. In truth, you just want it to be over so that you don’t have to think about it anymore, pretend the holiday isn’t even happening. You turn in her arms and move your hands to hold her face, “I just want to lay down and watch movies with you all weekend and eat the cookie dough that’s in the freezer.”

“That dough is for my students, so keep your grubby little hands away from it,” she jokes to lighten your mood, which works fractionally given your soft laugh. She leans to kiss your cheek, “how about I’ll make some brownies while you wrap this up?” She gestures to the remaining ornaments on the coffee table. Your nod and smile have more life to them, making her grin and press a short kiss to your lips, pulling away despite your insistence to make it last.

She watches you from the doorway for a moment, watching you stare at the tree as you mentally mapped where the ornaments should go, almost akin to your usual behavior. Melissa takes the distraction and runs with it, calling your aunt as she pulls out cocoa powder and sugar.

Melissa keeps her voice low as she asks your aunt questions, and slows down as she repeats her address for your aunt. The next call she makes is to her own mother, knowing that Giorgia is near god-level when it comes to sewing, having made every blanket and bunny for her grand and great-grandchildren.

The night ends with only half of the brownie she gave you being eaten while you lay on top of Melissa, head tucked into her neck and a tight grip on her shirt. She resides herself to the knowledge her back will hurt in the morning, but your steady breathing and weight against her was enough to not care.

—

The last day of school before winter break arrives, finally. The next two weeks were going to give Melissa the peace she had been waiting for, especially for you. Half of her lunch today was spent worrying about you when you came in late with redlined eyes, evidence of your tears in the corner of your eye. You waved off concerned glances and questioning looks, just giving a look to your girlfriend that you would tell her later. Under the table, she knocks her foot with yours and keeps it there, a silent I got you.

Getting out of the car, you immediately turn when Melissa doesn’t join you, “where are you going?”

“I gotta run over to Ma’s, I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she says, crossing her fingers that you won’t press more, “I promise.” Your eyes give her a once over before you nod and turn back towards the house. She pipes up again, trying to ease the guilt of not being able to spill the beans, “no kiss?”

You laugh from your spot at the front door, calling over your shoulder, “you can come collect when you get home, ditcher.”

At her mother’s she is given the creation already wrapped since it was “perfect” and looking would be “questioning the genius at work,” so she doesn’t peek, knowing her mother adored you too much to have screwed this up. Pulling into the driveway, she moves quickly to not gain your attention, slipping inside to run upstairs before the door even shuts. She hides the box in the spare bedroom closet, praying that you won’t feel the need to remake the whole bed over the weekend.

As she descends and joins you back in the kitchen, she sees your rigid posture as you stand over the stovetop. Soup. You always make soup when you’re sad, always watching it simmer and bubble, stirring near constant like the spoon is pushing your thoughts around and not the vegetables. Before she can wrap herself around you, you’re already turned to the side with an arm out, inviting her into your embrace. Melissa quickly accepts, taking the moment to bury herself in your neck, holding your waist tight as one of your hands rests on her back, the other still stirring.

“What happened at lunch?” she asks from her hiding place, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

Your blunt nails scratch her upper back as you speak, “Tamika gave me a card and was telling me all about her Christmas plans this year.” There it was. Tamika lived with her grandparents, and Melissa remembers from when she was her student that the girl was very close with her grandfather, always talking about their weekend adventures. You sigh as you play with amber waves, “I just needed time to cool down before I came to lunch. If I came in crying, I would probably still have Janine glued to my hip right now.”

Melissa just squeezes you tighter, “text me next time, won’t you? I could’ve been there for you, you don’t have to do this ‘suffer in silence’ bullcrap.”

“I know-”

“I don’t wanna hear it. You need me, you get me. Got it?” Despite her serious words, her tone is soft, telling you that she means every word, and that these words are coming from her heart.

“Yes ma’am,” you mumble, kissing her hair as she tucks into you more.

—

Christmas Eve at the Schemmenti house was loud, very, very loud. Melissa’s eyes were drawn to you every few minutes, gauging your reactions and facial expressions, knowing full well you’ll put on a face for everyone else that only she can see through. Her heart beat speeds up as she sees no sign of anything on your face as the nieces and nephews are practically climbing you like a jungle gym, all vying for your uninterrupted attention. When Giorgia finally allows everyone into the kitchen again, you enter with Michael over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes, plopping him into his booster seat as he giggles and squirms.

Falling into your designated seat in between the toddler and Melissa, you’re met immediately with a hand squeezing your thigh. You can feel the silent question in her touch, responding with your own squeeze of her hand, an answer telling her that yes, you’re okay. Giorgia captures your attention as she passes the bolognese over to you, but Melissa’s eyes stay on you and the crinkles around your eyes.

“Bambino,” Girogia says later on, pulling your eyes away from the kids playing together, “you’ve barely touched the tiramisu, I know it’s your favorite. Not even a second slice?” Leave it to Giorgia to ask you how you are without actually saying the words.

“Ma,” Melissa begins to warn, but stops as your hand falls on top of her on the table.

“I’m okay, mamma,” you say with a little smile at her concern, “I just don’t wanna eat too much of one thing and not get to enjoy the rest.” Unconvinced, but knowing not to pry, she cuts out another square of the desert and puts it on your plate. There is no room for refusal, so you dig your fork in and pray to whoever may be watching that neither woman notices your hand shaking. As the kids open their singular gifts for Christmas Eve, there’s a notable lack of smile on your face, unless one of the kids is looking right at you. The smile seems to come out easiest for them, but Melissa can see how quickly it falls once the attention is gone. She wonders if you’ve been doing the same around her when she’s been able to get a smile from you the last few days.

Everyone began leaving shortly after, most of the kids getting tired and cranky. Though she was half asleep in her father’s arms, Nicolette made a point to drag herself over to you to hug tightly before she left, barely wanting to let go. Vinny has to pry her off of you with a promise that she’ll see you in a week for New Year’s, though you end up having to give her a pinky promise to seal the deal. Melissa thinks that may have been the most you’ve smiled in months.

Once the kids and cousins are all gone, the redhead allows herself to drape across you, mumbling into your ear, “ready to go home?” She gets a nod as a response, your eyes shutting as you bask in her touch for a few selfish seconds. Saying goodbye to Giorgia, though never a want, was a must by the end of the night, your off-behavior making it that two Schemmenti women had eagle eyes set on you. Two big kisses to the cheek and a ciao set you free from the house, Melissa’s hand only ever disconnects from yours as you get into the car.

That night, Melissa and you lay in bed watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas while you braided little sections of her hair, releasing them and rebraiding every few minutes. Your fingers trailed from her hair for her forehead, gently gliding down to her chin to tilt her face up towards you. Her lips stretch into a smile as she watches you look down at her in adoration, eyes soft and searching over her face. Leaning over her in your lap, you relish in her smile growing at the sudden closeness.

She pushes up, pressing her lips to your shortly. Sitting up and turning to face you, she kissed you again, pushing you back into the pillows. Melissa’s hands gripped your hips while yours came to her face, thumbs gently caressing her warm skin. Whining as she pulls away becomes laughter when she presses kisses across your face, settling a last kiss to your lips.

You stay cupping her face as you take your turn to stare up at her. In a quiet voice, as if you were afraid to ruin the moment, you say, “I’m sorry for being such a downer lately.”

A kiss to your cheek, “you’re not a downer, you’re grieving. It just feels different this year and it sucks. You can be all sad, and I get to hug and spoil you without you complaining about it.”

“Name one time I complained about you kissing me, I’ll wait,” you say with fake indignation, before she can answer, you cut her off, “you can’t, don’t even try.” When she laughs, you feel it as you still hold her face, staring up at her dumbfounded.

“What?” she asks when she notices that difference in your gaze.

Your thumb brushes over her bottom lip, catching slightly, “I just love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too,” her lips press to your thumb. Her eyes shift to the clock on her nightstand, 12:02 AM stares back at her, “merry Christmas, baby.”

Your only response is pulling her down to kiss her again.

—

The sun wasn’t even up yet, why the fuck did she think this was a good idea?

The better part of the early morning was spent desperately searching how to get her laptop connected to the TV, and God forbid the sound works one of these times. Melissa is just about to scream into a throw pillow before the screen lit up and the tester video finally played through the speakers. She got her present for you all situated, wondering how the ones for her got there without you waking her up, she’d both fallen asleep and woken up on top of you. After what felt like six hours but was only two, she slowly moves upstairs to wake you up, but is met with you groggily sitting up in bed.-

“I’m surprised you’re up already,” she says as she moves closer to you, her arms raising to rest on your shoulders. Your own go around her waist, pulling her in until she’s straddling your lap, hands pushing under her shirt to warm against her torso.

“It was too quiet, no one was snoring in my face,” you mumble, smile stretching across before wincing as she smacks your shoulder, “you wound me, I may never recover.”

She can’t hide her laugh, “if this ends with you saying the cure is taking my shirt off, it is too fucking cold in here and you can stay wounded.”

“I thought you loved me,” you huff as you flop back down on the bed.

Melissa leans over you, “would breakfast and presents work?”

“She really does love me,” you say with a giggle as you push up to kiss her quickly before patting her thigh to ease her off of you.

When you walk downstairs, you almost completely walk past the TV without noticing half your family on the screen, waving as they see you. Nearly jumping out of your skin makes them laugh, but your attention goes to Melissa. She just points at the laptop, showing you that the call is live, that your family is sorta-here for the holiday. There’s heavy effort that goes into making sure you don’t start crying on the spot, overwhelmed by the work that you know Melissa put into getting everyone on the call together.

“Merry Christmas guys,” you say, waving at your nephews as they start cramming into the camera, desperately trying to reach you through the screen.

“Aunt Mellie said we surprising you,” the oldest one yells, grinning with a front tooth growing in.

You smile, hands almost reaching like you wanted to grab him, “oh, you did, you totally did, buddy.” Turning back to Melissa you walk into her opening arms, needing to express the love for her that felt like Coke and Mentos in your chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmur into her neck as she sways you from left to right.

The rest of the morning is spent watching the kids open their presents from you and Melissa on the video call, listening to your cousins, aunts, and uncles update you on everything, and staring at Melissa as she talked easily with your family. She’s so good with them, and more importantly, they’re good with her, most of the little kids already prefer her to you anyways. Who are you to complain, you already know she’s the best.

When everyone hangs up, the tears in your eyes are no longer sad, but happy, carefree. Melissa put an arm around your shoulders, “have a good morning, hon?”

“You did all that for me,” it’s not really a question, moreso a statement of disbelief.

She nods, “I got one more thing, even though it does break the ‘only a stocking’ rule.” Your face screams unimpressed, she’s the one who said if it couldn’t fit in a stocking, neither of you could get it for the other. Before you can argue she amends her statement, “there was no purchase involved, cross my heart.” That seems to get the irritation off your face.

From behind the tree, she pulls out a box in ice blue wrapping paper, paper you recognized from her mother’s house. You eye her carefully, but her face gives nothing away, only the fidgeting of her sleeves says that this was a big deal to her. Carefully, you undo every piece of tape, pulling out a which box. Melissa’s hand urges you to open the box, nodding at you even though her eyes stay trained on the lid until your hand begins to open it.

In the box is a teddy bear, a worn-maroon color, tortoise shell buttons for eyes. Your thumb runs over the fabric, eyes flicking across it as the bear starts to feel familiar. Raising it to your nose and inhaling, there’s a lingering scent of wood and shoeshine, and this indescribable smell that brought you back to hanging clothes on the line at your grandparents house. It was his shirt, it was your grandfather’s lucky shirt. He’d worn this shirt the day you were born, when each of the grandkids graduated high school or college, and to every anniversary date with grandma.

Tears fall down your cheeks freely. Looking up at Melissa, she seems unsure of what to do, finding it hard to look at you while you look at the bear. Flying out of your seat, you launch yourself at Melissa, knocking her backwards onto the couch, “thank you. Thank you so much. This is so... you’re too perfect, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she answers as she holds you to her tightly.

“I love it,” you press a kiss to her skin. You trace your finger over the stitching on the arm, recognizing the pattern, “did your mom do this?”

“She did. I called your aunt and asked her to send a shirt, and gave it to Ma at a dinner a few weeks ago to make into a bear or rabbit or whatever she could with the material,” Melissa clears her throat, “this way, you can give the old man a hug whenever you need one.” The sincerity and adoration in her gift, her words, her actions, were all too much. She felt a choked sob against her as fresh tears fell, mutterings of I love you from both of you.

The cocoa on the table went cold, the breakfast she was going to make completely forgotten. Melissa was never one to care this much about what she got from or gave to other people during the holidays, truthfully she threw out almost everything anyone by you or Barbara gave her, save for the pencils from her students. Sure the novelty items were great, and the scratch tickets weren’t bad either, but she liked the look on your face seeing that bear more than anything she’d ever get.

This was everything. You in her arms, holding onto her, kissing her face everywhere as the appreciation and love for her overflowed into the living room. Nothing else has or will ever matter as much as this, as much as you with her in this moment.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she whispers into the space between you.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” you answer, closing that space.

happy holidays my angels, love u all ❄️

as always, feedback appreciated <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #lesbian

199 notes · View notes

honeykaes · 1 year

Text

—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

✦ pairing: diluc x reader

✦ w/c: 3k

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, fingering, oral fixation, slight rough sex, nipple play, implied!virgin diluc, mention of blood, mention of murder, angst, takes place during diluc’s time in snezhnaya, alcohol, implied that reader has some kind of ties to fatui, unedited

✦ synopsis: as the blizzard outside your cabin continues raging and the fire in your cabin beginning to die, you go outside to get more firewood only to see a man decorated in all red narrow his eyes at you— blood staining his face and gloves with a large claymore appearing on his back and a bottle of firewater in his hand.

The dim fire crackled in the small fireplace trying to heat the chill of the wooden cabin. As you reached in the cabinets to collect some tea leaves to hopefully warm your body up more this evening, you noticed the flames of the fire dimming from orange to blue. You couldn’t resist the sigh escaping your lips.

Your cabin was always like this as the snow terrorized the environment outside filling it with a cold and icy white. The snow seemed to blow harder outside your window, adding inches to the layers of snow that would never melt in the region of frost and love.

“The Tsaritsa must be particularly angry right now, I wonder why…” you muttered. You waltz over to your box noticing only a few twigs of firewood remained—it wouldn’t be enough to keep the fire blazing the entire night. On these particular days, you wished that Natlan's Archon, Murata, blessed you with a vision to keep the chill from driving you crazy.

“Great…” you muttered, walking towards the front door to grab your coat from the rack. As you bundled yourself up, wrapping a heavy scarf to keep the cold away from your neck and lower face. You plopped your boots on, fastening them securely. Bracing yourself for the change from a slight chill to bitter cold, you opened the door seeing the woodland area covered in snow.

You quickly closed the door, praying the wind didn’t get to your dying fire as you trudged to the side and opened a small wooden box outside. As you lifted the handle, you were greeted back to a lack of dry firewood—from what was impossible was now a small miracle you had hoped would keep your fire active in your small cabin.

As you grabbed a few twigs, closing the latch back down on the now empty box, you looked up noticing a vibrant red throughout snowy white—and gasped realizing it was a man. The man had fiery scarlet hair fashioned in a high ponytail. His eyes matched as heavy eye bags laid beneath them. His outfit also showed off his love of red, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. Blood smeared across one of his cheeks, and his gloves and shoes were stained with it too as a large claymore appeared on his back.

As his eyes met yours, you felt frozen as if you were a rabbit caught under the eyes of a predator. The man brought a bottle up to his lips, taking a swig of it before letting it fall and rest on the snowy floor.

“Are you a member or have any affiliations with the Fatui,” he asked. His voice was serious and horse, eyes narrowing at your form. You quickly shook your head, raising your hands to signal you were unarmed and meant no harm.

“No, I’m not affiliated with them.. I’m..” you muttered before taking a sigh. “I’m no one and mean no harm to you. I live here to get away from all that.” He broke his intense gaze with yours, looking up to the cabin and the small glow from your fire and lamps inside.

“...May I stay the night then? This blizzard is getting worse and I need to patch my wounds up. I will be gone and out of your hair once the sun rises,” he grunted. You clenched your jaw, grabbing the small bundle of firewood closer to your chest. Your eyes narrowed into something glowing on his bloodied gloves. It was a delusion, a pyro delusion at that.

“If you keep the fireplace going with your delusion, I will agree to it, but you have to be out by sunrise. I don’t want to be caught up if any of the Fatui are after you,” you muttered. The redhead grunted once more in agreement, trudging through the snow and past you, As his hand opened the door, you saw the small blood trail he left with his feet. You looked down, kicking some of the snow to try to cover it.

“...Did I make the right decision?” you asked yourself.

As you walked back to your cabin, taking your boots, coat, and scarf off and placing the firewood where it needed to go, Diluc followed—setting the pair by the door. He made his way to the table near your fireplace, taking off his jacket wet from the snow on the back of it. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he gazed by the fire, lifting his left hand up. As his delusion glowed scarlet, the fire burned with intensity as a wave of warmth melted away any inch of cold in the cabin.

“Thank you,” you muttered. You grabbed a bucket of water, sitting next to him on a stool and a rag. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily, confused about what you were doing.

“I don’t want you trekking blood in here, so please let me help address your wounds,” you stated. Diluc merely sighed and leaned into his seat as you placed the rag into the water, soaking it before ringing it out and placing it on his cheek. Wiping the blood away, you could see just how pretty his face was. His eyes were big, jawline strong—some freckles even decorated his cheeks. To say he was pretty on the eyes was an understatement, even as you took off layers of dirt and blood from his visage.

As you finished with his face and neck, you noticed his intense gaze was back at your form. You placed the rag back into the bucket as the once-clear water turned murky.

“I need you to take your vest and other layers so I can address your chest,” you asked. The man merely scoffed, before undoing the buttons from his vest. It soon fell onto the floor revealing a white peasant shirt that soon followed suit along with his gloves, leaving his chest and arms bare to you. You’d never guess the fresh scars and wounds littering his chest and lower stomach. One of the bandages wrapped seemed soaked with fresh blood, he clearly opened it from doing whatever was outside.

“I didn’t expect someone from Snezhnaya to be so hospitable,” the man mutters. You couldn’t help but chuckle, peeling the old gauze away and letting it fall to the floor.

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, so the saying goes,” you replied. You rang the rag out again and placed it on the wound hearing him suck a breath in. You tried dabbing it to avoid causing more pain to him but to clean the area up.

“I’m guessing you're from Mondstadt though based on your accent. I read in books that Mondstadters appreciate hospitality a lot. That true?” you asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, not saying a word. It seemed he didn’t want more of his identity to slip out; it may be better that way for you too but yet…

“...Why are you after Fatui?” you asked, lifting the rag away from him again. You lifted the bucket away, reaching under your cabinet to get the gauze and alcohol you recently purchased during your short trip to the city.

“How do you know that? Who's to say the Fatui aren’t after me,” he grunted. You sighed, motioning him to lift his upper half towards you and he followed. You brought a fresh rag onto the distilled bottle of alcohol, letting it soak up before placing it back onto his wound. He hissed loudly glaring down at you.

“I guess you’re right but the look you gave me was one of revenge. Someone on a mission. I’m well aware of the Tsaritsa’s agents. They commit atrocities and cruelties for the love of their archon. It's safe to assume you got caught into that somehow,” you murmured. The man merely scoffed once more as you began wrapping gauze around his chest, covering the newly made battle wounds from your gaze.

“Well aren’t you a clever one. It sounds like you’re quite familiar with them. Were you lying to me,” he muttered, eyes glaring into your own. You merely shrugged.

“I wasn’t but let’s say they’re part of the reason I put myself through living in these conditions here. Perhaps one day I can move to Mondstadt. I heard their archon doesn’t let the snow come in. Just warmth, happiness, and hospitality, right?” you chuckled to yourself. The man’s gaze left yours momentarily, looking into the fire with a far-away expression on his face. Your face slightly softened; you wondered if he misses home.

“That bottle of fire water you were drinking earlier and left outside tells me you’re trying to numb yourself to complete your revenge. Is it to make it easier to take their lives or is it to lessen the pain of grief? …You do know they’re other ways of doing that” you muttered, leaning into his face. You lifted your hand up, hand gazing on his smooth and clean cheek as his eyes snapped back to you. Your thumb pressed against his soft bottom lip, as he parted them—an unreadable expression swirling in his scarlet eyes.

“Trying to seduce me to avoid suspicion. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he grumbled. You expected him to push your hand away and turn around yet, he remained still—eyes even softening to your own.

“Why do it, I don’t get it,” he mumbled. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away from his gaze.

“We all have our own baggage,” you replied. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he soon leaned into your face. Your noses brushed against one another as you tried to resist the urge to gasp from his sudden movement.

“Then I guess the only words I want to hear from you tonight is my name, Diluc,” he whispered, taking your hand away from his lips tightly clasping it with his large palms. As your lips connected, your eyes fluttered closed, soon placing their hands on Diluc’s firm chest. A moan reverberated out of you feeling his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, tongue soon darting into your mouth as he finally rose up. His hands were firmly placed on your waist, awkwardly guiding you to your small bed.

As you two parted—lips glossy as a string of saliva connected the two of you—the springs of the mattress squeaked trying to adjust to the two bodies on it. As Diluc remained on top of you, his hands soon made way for the band of your pants, tugging them down to reveal your underwear to him. As the flimsy fabric followed and he guided it down your leg, his eyes focused on your entrance, now revealed to him. He could see your cunt, pulsating as his cock pressed uncomfortably in his tight pants.

The brought his finger towards your slit, sliding it up and down, noticing the way your body jolted whenever he came in contact with a nub towards the top. He pressed the pad of his thumb on it, rubbing small and firm circles along it as your body squirmed underneath him. A small smile etched itself on his lips, noticing his fingers beginning to get wet from your slick starting to sob out of you.

“Do you ask all the strange men outside to do this to you,” he murmured into your ear. You opened your eyes at him, scowling at the man—lips quivering from the attention he was giving your sensitive clit.

“No, of course not. Fuck…You’re the first,” you groaned. Diluc’s heart fluttered momentarily, trying to stop his cheeks from getting ready with no success. A scowl remained on his face, partially ashamed he was so worked up after that, grinding his hips into your thigh to get any bit of friction he could to relieve his arousal.

“Well aren’t I special,” he grunted, his thumb remaining on your clit before he brought two fingers towards your opening slowly sinking them in as you shutter. As he pumped them inside of you, your hands reached out towards the bottom of your shirt lifting your shirt up to reveal your chest. Diluc’s lips quivered soon pressing his lips on your hardened nipple as you gasped. His teeth graze upon the sensitive bud soon pulling it up, as a moan of pleasure and pain escapes from you. Slowly his pace inside of you as his mind was wrapped up on your chest, he doesn’t notice his fingers beginning to curl inside of you as you choked out his name loudly in the cabin.

“Fuck, there! More. Right there, Diluc!” you begged. Snapping out of a haze, Diluc rested his head on your chest, looking back down to pay attention to his fingers. He began pumping faster, keeping his fingers curled to the spot you keep squirming from. Squelching noises echoed out into the room from how fast Diluc thrust his fingers inside of you. With one last pump, your hands shot to his thick, wavy hair, body shivering in pleasure as you finally reach your high. He could feel how tightly your velvety cunt squeezed onto his fingers, soon pulling them out of you. Strains of your click clung onto his fingers, his hand now glistening in it.

As your chest rose and fell, trying to catch your breath, Diluc popped the button of his pants freeing his cock. He pumped his hand decorated with your slick with his cock, pulsating and twitching, eager to replace his fingers inside of you. It was thick in girth and long in length with prominent veins running along the sides—his tip already budded with precum.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock ran along your slit—swiping it up and down, nudging his flushed tip at your clit. He soon moved it down, trying to slide it inside of you but seemed to fail each time.

“Diluc,” you murmured out, confused and ready to help him. He clenched his jaw and narrowed down at your pussy, clearly frustrated and embarrassed.

“Shut up. Don’t say anything,” he grunted. He firmly pressed his thumb on one of your soft folds, swiping it to the side to help widen you out more. As he finally sinks his tip in, he sucked a breath in hearing a low moan from you. He continued this motion for a while—dipping his tip inside of you before pulling it out—fascinated by the softness and tightness of your cunt.

“Diluc! Stop teasing me and put it inside of me already,” you shouted in desperation. He scoffed, momentarily rolling his eyes before finally sheathing his cock inside of you. You choked out his name trying to adjust to his length—feeling your walls burn in anger as you were steadily stretched out until he was buried deep inside of you.

His nails bury themselves into your hips as he soon begins to thrust inside of you, the mattress groaning with every stroke of his cock. A groan escaped Diluc’s lips, addicted to the feeling of having your cunt squeeze him, trying to milk every drop from him. His balls smacked against your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist.

Lost in the pleasure, Diluc let one of his hands go from your hips noting the crescent moons already developing there before grabbing onto your chin. Just as you did earlier, his thumb pressed along your lips, soon parting them and resting on your tongue. You swirled the muscle around his thumb, your moans now muffled from it feeling his cock twitch inside of you as he propelled his cock inside of you faster.

As you tried to move your hand down to play with your clit, Diluc smacked your hand away as he grunted loudly in your ear. Unlike before, his callous thumb was rougher flicking your clit rapidly as your body writhed in pleasure

“J-Just tell me what to do instead—” he grunted. He wanted to cement this memory in his head, watching your body sway to the pace of his thrusts. Your cunt fluttered down, making it harder for him to move his cock inside of you. Your teeth cave down on his finger as your eyes shut tightly, reaching your second climax of the night. As he let his hand go from your chin and mouth, his hand connected with the headboard of the bed—gripping it tightly as his knuckles went white, his strokes inside of you getting rapid and unsteady.

Before he could close his eyes and let himself spill his cum inside of you, he quickly pulled out pumping his cock a few times. A loud groan erupted from him as thick white ropes of cum spurted out of his flushed tip, splaying across your lower stomach and chest.

Diluc tried to ease his rapid heartbeat and wipe the sweat from his brow. He let the ribbon of his hair go, long hair releasing and cascading down his body. You lay there watching him soon rest beside you, catching his breath as you looked over to the fireplace, crackling and brighter than ever.

Neither of you said a word to one another as you lay next to each other in the small twin bed, mixed emotions swirling between the two of you. For you, you were in the arms of a murderer—someone on the run who would make the Tsaritsa and Fatui happy to see dead. For him, he let his urges get the better of him, sleeping with a “civilian” of an enemy nation responsible for his father’s demise, yet this was the most at peace he was for a long time.

You two knew by morning he would be gone, never to be seen by you again but for now, in the bitter cold—the two of you could use each other for now, warm in each other arms as the blizzard blew loudly.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc imagines #diluc scenarios #genshin imagines

796 notes · View notes

hermit-permits · 4 days

Note

my name starts with F (for Frost) can I have a permit for the letter F

This DIAMOND PERMIT has been given to PERMAFROST7767, @perseriph, and @orange-and-green-chess-board for OWNERSHIP OF THE LETTER F.

(Oh? Are we trying to spell Hermitcraft altogether? In that case, we'd need a C and an A as well.)

#hermit permits #diamond #permafrost7677 #the letter f #requested

17 notes · View notes

importantchaosgiver · 6 months

Text

I know I haven't posted anything recently, I am sorry. But I'm thinking of ways to continue Steelclaw's story. But, I recently just finished watching the FNAF movie and I have so many ideas. I hope you enjoy.

The Mystery Begins

Summary: Back in the 80s, a cop was called to Freddy Fazbears to help in the investigation of the five children disappearing. She didn't find anything, but many years later, she can't help but think about it. However, when she gets called to the pizzeria, she gets more involved than she should have been....

Warnings: Slight mention of blood, some spoilers?

******

No one's POV

It was unlike anything anyone had heard of. Five children, one party. How? The parents of the kids were worried out of their mind. Cops and detectives were looking through the building with everyone outside. Some officers were talking with everyone, trying to understand what was going on. Amongst these officer's was a young woman with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. She was rather new to the job, having gotten out of the police academy a month ago. Officer (Y/N) (L/N). She was tasked with interviewing staff. She saw a man with brown hair, icy blue eyes and glasses. Beside him was a young girl with blonde hair and an orange toy aeroplane.

He was talking with her colleague, but his eyes drifted over to her. (Y/N) paused, their eyes locking together. She was surprised at how good he looked, but she couldn't help but feel a little cautious about him. Something wasn't right. He gave a small smile at her, one of that unnerved her slightly. Little did she know who he was....

******

Years later....

(Y/N) yawned behind her hand a little as she put her phone down. Years had passed and she had grown older. Instead of being a simple officer, she worked hard to become a detective. Work was slow in Utah, she had just gotten off the phone with a friend of hers when there was a knock on the door. It was a co-worker of hers. "Hey, detective. We've just got a call. Apparently, Freddy Fazbears was broken into," he said. (Y/N) paused. It wasn't unheard of. The place was shut down ever since the kids went missing. So, of course people would break in. But, why was being asked to she get involved?

"Again? Why are you coming to me?" she asked curiously. Her co-worker shrugged. "Dunno. It was the night guard who called. Michael Schmidt," they said. (Y/N) shrugged. It was something to do. She stood up, grabbing her coat. She took her car and drove to the pizzeria, the sign (despite looking old and some vines and dust coating it) lit up. Nostalgia hit (Y/N) as she got out of the car and headed to the entrance, pressing the buzzer. A few minutes later, a man came to see who it was. "Mr Michael Schmidt, I take it?" (Y/N) asked. He nodded, wondering who she was. "Detective (Y/N) (L/N). You called about a break in," she said. "Yeah, that was me," he said, letting her in. "Did anyone find the people who broke in?" (Y/N) queried. "I don't think so. But I found something," Mike said. She raised an eyebrow, following him along the halls.

Mike noticed how she looked around, as if she had been there before. He showed her to the supply closet and showed her the door. (Y/N) squinted a little, taking out her flashlight, scanning the door. Just below the frosted glass window, was..... blood? "That's fresh, right?" Mike said. "Yes, it is. Do you mind?" (Y/N) asked, holding out the flashlight. He held it as she put on latex gloves and a swab.

"Hopefully we can find out who could have done this," she said, putting it into a tube and then into a bag before putting it in her pocket. Mike nodded. Just then, they heard a little girl's scream. The two looked at each other. Mike was the first to react. "Abby!" he shouted, running to the main room. (Y/N) followed, hot on his heels. "Mr Schmidt, wait!" she said. When they arrived, they saw the animatronics around surrounding someone. (Y/N)'s eyes widened. They weren't supposed to do that. At least, not to her knowledge. Freddy slowly approached them menacingly. Mike picked up a chair to use as a weapons; (Y/N) drew her gun, except she didn't know how well that would work against an animatronic. Just then.....

"Mike, they wouldn't stop tickling me! I thought I was going to die," Abby giggled, walking up to her brother. (Y/N) looked at the child, surprised. "Is this your daughter?" she asked. "No. S-She is my sister," Mike said, cautiously putting the chair down. (Y/N) holstered her gun, seeing Freddy stop walking. Bonnie moved forward, staring intently at (Y/N). "You're pretty. Are you Mike's girlfriend?" Abby asked. (Y/N) blinked. "No, I'm not. I'm a detective," she said. Mike hid his face in his hands, embarrassed. Abby turned to the animatronics. "They said they've seen you before," she said. "Pardon?" (Y/N) asked.

"Chica, Freddy, Bonnie and Foxy. They said they've seen you before," Abby stated. (Y/N) looked at the animatronics, one by one. All of them were looking at her. "Oookay? Well, I best be going," she muttered. Mike nodded. "Thanks. For coming out here so late," he said. Then, the buzzer rang again. A different officer was outside. Mike brought her in, clearly familiar with her. "Vanessa, this is Detective (L/N)," Mike said. The two women shook hands. (Y/N) looked at Vanessa. She looked strangely familiar. "Have we met?" (Y/N) asked, looking at her. "Briefly. Back in the eighties. I was a kid," she said. Oh, now that made sense. "Ah, yes. Now, I remember. You were with your father," (Y/N) said with a soft smile. Vanessa smiled back, but something about her body language gave away she was cautious.

So, (Y/N) let go of her hand and went to leave, passing a picture on the wall. One she should have paid attention to. One with a yellow rabbit and five children, all holding hands, clearly drawn by a child. If only she knew. But Vanessa gulped. A detective? Her dad won't be happy about this...

#fnaf vanessa #steve raglan #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #abby schmidt #fnaf bonnie #fnaf freddy #fnaf chica #fnaf foxy #william afton #michael schmidt x reader #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader

28 notes · View notes

i-give-u-tmnt · 3 months

Text

losing heat (2012)

a scraped one-shot that I never posted on ao3

Anyway no TWs for this one so enjoy :D

takes place during Se4 Ep2

As Mikey stands outside the ship, he shivers and stomps his feet impatiently.

The cold ice planet does little to help his mood, but he tries to keep his spirits up.

He looks over at Leo, who is pacing back and forth near the ship.

Mikey’s been shivering so hard that his chest feels tight, and his vision starts to get blurry.

He feels lightheaded and has to steady himself against the side of the ship.

Leo notices Mikey struggling and quickly approaches him.

"Hey,Mikey, you okay?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

Mikey nods, but his breath comes out in a shaky wheeze.

Mikey collapses against the ship, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to stay conscious.

He feels so cold, and every muscle in his body aches. He can't take much more of this.

"Mikey!" Leo yells, racing over to his brother.

When he sees the crack in Mikey's helmet, he starts to panic.

"Oh no, buddy... this is bad."

"Leo?" Donatello calls, running over to him. "What's wrong?"

Leo looks at Donatello and shakes his head.

"Mikey's helmet must have gotten cracked in the rockslide. His suit is using double the power to keep him warm, and he's barely holding on." He glances back at the ship, then at Mikey.

The orange turtle's suit makes a beeping sound, letting them know that the suit is critically low on power.

Leo looks at Donatello, fear and desperation etching his features.

He can't lose Mikey now.

Mikey's vision is starting to blur.

He feels hot and cold at the same time, and his muscles are aching from the effort it takes to stay conscious.

He tries to focus on Leo, but everything is starting to spin.

"Leo..." he manages to whisper.

Leo shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes.

"No, buddy. You're not gonna leave me. I won't let you." He looks around desperately, searching for something, anything that could help.

"Don, can you...?" He trails off, unable to formulate a plan.

Donatello looks around, panic setting in.

"I-I don't know, Leo. There's nothing we can do. The suit is going to die..." He trails off, his voice cracking with fear.

"No, no, no," Leo whispers, shaking his head. "We can't lose you, Mikey. We just can't."

He looks around again, searching for something, anything.

Then, a desperate idea forms in his mind.

He hesitates, unsure, but he can't let Mikey die.

He steps closer and slowly wraps his arms around his brother, hugging him tightly.

"Come on, buddy. Don and I will keep you warm. We'll make a turtle pile, just like we used to when we were kids."

Donatello calls over Raph quickly explaining the situation before they all join in, forming a tight circle around Mikey.

Leo wraps his arms around Mikey, pressing their bodies together to share warmth. "Come on, buddy. You're not going to die on us. We'll keep you warm, we'll get you through this."

Mikey feels the warmth of his brothers surrounding him, and it's almost enough to make him feel better.

He tries to respond, to tell them that he'll be okay, but all that comes out is a raspy wheeze.

They remain in their turtle pile, the cold air biting at them but not as badly now that they're sharing body heat.

Raph glances up at the sky, hoping that Fugitoyd will hurry.

Leo feels a wave of panic wash over him as he realizes Mikey's suit has died.

He looks into his brother's helmet, noticing the frost forming on the inside.

"Oh no... Mikey, buddy... I'm so sorry..." He buries his helmet in Mikey's shoulder, tears streaming down his face.

Mikey tries to comfort Leo, but he's barely able to move.

He can feel the frost forming inside his helmet, and he knows he doesn't have much time left. His vision is starting to fade in and out, and it's getting harder to focus.

Donatello turns back to his brothers, tears streaming down his face. "We can't lose him." He squeezes Mikey tighter, willing him to hold on.

As they huddle together, Raph can't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach, knowing that their little brother is slowly dying in his arms.

Time seems to slow to a crawl as the cold seeping into Mikey's suit begins to overwhelm him. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower, his body growing limp in their arms.

The frost forming on the inside of his helmet spreads, slowly covering his faceplate, obscuring his features.

The boys hold on tight, refusing to let go, even as they feel the warmth draining from their own bodies.

Mikey's vision fades to black, and he feels himself slip away.

His last thought is of his brothers, and how much he loves them. He wishes he could have done more, been stronger for them.

But as he drifts off, he knows that they will be alright without him.

11 notes · View notes

path-of-grass-and-leaves · 2 years

Text

Rosehips: Uses, Preparation, and Correspondences

Element: Water

Planet: Venus

Toxic to Dogs?: No

Toxic to Cats?: No

The rosehip is the accessory fruit of various species of rose plants. This fruit forms when blossoms are left on the rose plant and allowed to drop their petals. They are usually red or orange in color, but some species can be dark purple or black. The bright orange hips shown above were harvested from my Rosa cania (Dog Rose) bush.

Rosehips are rich in vitamin C and are used in a variety of culinary dishes including syrups, jellies, sauces, cocktails, and teas. Harvest these in Autumn after the first frost for softer, sweeter fruit.

Correspondences:

These are my personal correspondences and are not universally true. Correspondences depend on culture, tradition, and personal practice. Additionally, the species of plant from which you harvest your rosehips may affect their associations, due to differences in use and symbolism.

Healing - Rosehips are rich in vitamins, especially vitamin C. It is also said that the dog rose got it's name from the folk belief that it could cure the bite of a rabid dog, but this has been debated.

Love - Roses traditionally represent love. The Dog Rose specifically has been said to represent love and marriage.

Beauty - Since rosehip oil is so popular in the hair and skincare industry, it would make sense for it to be associated with physical beauty.

Fertility, abundance, and growth - Due the fact that rosehips are bursting with seeds. Dog Rose blossoms are great for pollinators and the hips make an excellent food source for birds.

Death and Rebirth - Rosehips are ripe during Autumn, right after the first frost, just as most plants and crops begin to die. The seeds germinate during Winter and start growing in the Spring.

Harvesting Rosehips

Before harvesting rosehips, remember to collect from plants that have not been treated with pesticides.

If foraging, do not take from conservation areas and do not harvest all of the hips. Birds and other species of wildlife depend on them as a food source.

Rosehips should be collected during Autumn, after the first frost. They should be deep orange or red in color.

To harvest, simply cut the stem at the base of the hip. Wear thick gardening gloves to protect from thorns.

Drying Rosehips

Smaller rosehips, like that of the Dog Rose, can be dried whole. Larger hips must be sliced. I also recommend cutting and cleaning rosehips, as they contain tiny hairs that will irritate the skin and mouth when touched/consumed.

Start by washing your rosehips in cool water. Dry with a paper towel. Slice the hips in half.

If you want to save seeds, scoop them out of the hips until you have a good handful. Rinse, dry, and store in a sealed container in the refrigerator until you are ready to germinate.

After cutting the hips, transfer to a baking sheet or dehydrator.

If drying in the oven, set the temperature to 100 degrees Fahrenheit and bake for 3-4 hours, or until the fruit is bone dry. If using a dehydrator, set the temperature to 135 degrees for 6-8 hours.

Hairs and seeds can be scooped out before or after drying. You can also add the dried hips to a food processor, pulse until finely chopped, and sift out the hairs and seeds using a sieve.

Once prepared and dried, store in an airtight container in a cool, dry place.

Uses for your rosehips include but are not limited to:

Self love and emotional healing spells

Ritual baths

Kitchen witchcraft

Spiritual offerings

Tinctures and oils

Abundance and growth spells

Resources:

Superstition and Folklore

Dog Rose: General Information

Drying and Storing Rosehips

Toxicity to Cats and Dogs

(Please note that though rosehips are not toxic to dogs and cats, you should keep them out of reach, as they contain hairs that can harm your pet and irritate their mouth and digestive system when consumed.)

🌙

#witchblr #witches of tumblr #green witchcraft #kitchen witchcraft #beginner witch #correspondences #garden witch #rose hips #herbs

114 notes · View notes

sweethoneyrose83 · 5 months

Note

Can you do Glamrock Freddy cupcakes?

Glamrock Freddy Cupcakes

Ingredients: - 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour - 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder - 1/2 teaspoon salt - 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened - 1 cup granulated sugar - 2 large eggs - 1 teaspoon vanilla extract - 1/2 cup milk - Food coloring (orange, blue, and red) - Cupcake liners

For the frosting: - 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened - 2 cups powdered sugar - 2 tablespoons milk - 1 teaspoon vanilla extract - Food coloring (orange, blue, and red)

Instructions: 1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a muffin tray with cupcake liners. 2. In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. 3. In a separate large bowl, cream together the softened butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. 4. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, then stir in the vanilla extract. 5. Gradually mix in the dry ingredients, alternating with the milk, until the batter is smooth. 6. Divide the batter equally into three bowls. Add a few drops of orange food coloring to one bowl, blue food coloring to another, and red food coloring to the third bowl. Mix until well combined. 7. Spoon the colored batter into cupcake liners, alternating the colors to create a marbled effect. 8. Bake in the preheated oven for 18-20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. 9. Remove the cupcakes from the oven and let them cool completely before frosting.

For the frosting: 1. In a bowl, cream the softened butter until fluffy. 2. Gradually add the powdered sugar and continue to mix until well combined. 3. Stir in the milk and vanilla extract until the frosting is smooth and creamy. 4. Divide the frosting into three bowls. Add orange food coloring to one bowl, blue to another, and red to the third bowl. Mix until the desired colors are achieved. 5. Using a piping bag or a knife, frost the cooled cupcakes with the colored frosting, creating a decorative design.

And there you have it! Glamrock Freddy Cupcakes ready to enjoy.

#video game #five nights at freddy's #spooky vibes #fnaf security breach #pizzaparty #fnaf movie #glamrock animatronics #glamrock #fnaf help wanted 2 #glamrock freddy

7 notes · View notes

madseance · 1 year

Text

Cake mix? Cookies!

Problem: You have a box of cake mix in your pantry because one time, you felt ambitious at the grocery store, but not like “bake a cake from scratch” ambitious. Then later you remembered that baking a boxed cake is still kind of a pain in the ass, because you still have to use a cake pan, and then get it out of the cake pan, and level it off (losing cake in the process?!), and let it cool, and frost it... no. So now the box of cake mix is just sitting there in your pantry. Mocking you.

Solution: Make it cookies!

You will need:

1 box of cake mix. ANY flavour

2 eggs

Half a cup (about 120 mL) of cooking oil. I use vegetable oil if that's what I have, but coconut oil is also very good for this

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350 F (~175 C) for a conventional oven, 325 F (~160 F) for a convection oven.

Mix all the ingredients together.

Roll the dough into balls about an inch? in diameter (I get about 2 dozen).

Flatten the balls slightly into disks (about as thick as a pencil).

Bake for about 10–12 minutes (a little less for a convection oven).

COOKIES!

Customisation options:

Once you realise how easy this is, you can buy cake mix to cookify on purpose. ALL THE FLAVOURS WORK. Take a moment to really imagine the possibilities here. When did you last have a strawberry cookie? Butter pecan cookie? Carrot cookie?

You can also add chocolate chips. Or other kinds of chips. Or nuts. Or candy. To ANY of those cake mixes. Possibilties²! Consider: orange cookie + dark chocolate chips. Chocolate cookie + peanut butter chips. Banana cookie + pralines. Pineapple cookie + shredded coconut.

If you also bought frosting, you can put that on the cookies. It's way less of a hassle than frosting a cake. YOU CAN MAKE COOKIE SANDWICHES. (Let the cookies cool first, and use room-temperature frosting, for a much easier time. Stir or whip the frosting first to make it even easier.)

If you've read this far, feel free to drop cookie + chip ideas (good or cursed) in the notes

#recipes #cookies #food

21 notes · View notes

okami-zero · 5 months

Text

Nine people I'd like to get to know better

Got tagged by @vasheden! Thanks, Vash! Here we go!

Last song: I Wanna Take You For a Ride (Inspired by Marvel vs Capcom 2) by the 8-Bit Big Band. Absolutely love their music - big band stuff just has so much energy, and I love that! I don't think I've heard any of their stuff that's bad, or even meh. All Really Good music! (Did you know they did a full version of Mordin's little ditty from ME2? >3 https://youtu.be/UxVekZRIWyg)

Favorite color: Okay, this one is tough. Usually Blue or Orange. Not the overly bright, pastel versions. LIghtest blue I like is sky blue, or azure. And lightest orange...well, the fruit. xD I tend to favor darker variants of the two, and which I like more depends on my mood for the day, or what the subject being discussed is (whether this influence my two favorite reptilian ninjas, or vice versa, I cannot say... xD)

Last movie/TV show: Okay, last movie, simple - The Jim Carrey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Aside from the original animated film, this one is my favorite. Jim's very physical acting, plus his amazing facial expressions paired with the makeup, and he does the Grinch Smile™ perfectly! For new movies? Godzilla Minus One. Go see it. Just... you gotta go see it! TV Show would be anime, and that would be Burst Angel, a show I got a preview DVD for an never was able to find again, until on a whim (and after catching sight of my wall scroll of such) I looked it up on Crunchyroll and there it was! I think the transfer from Funimation may have dinged the subtitles, but it's still pretty good.

Sweet/spicy/savory?: Yes. Very yes. BUT, if I absolutely have to choose, savory is top, especially if it's got a little kick to it. xD I cannot handle super sweet stuff, like cake frosting that isn't buttercream, and even that needs to be moderate. Spice tolerance...is alright. But there has to be flavor that I can get before the capzasin kicks in. I think some of my favorite spice comes from Indian food, cause it is spicy AND savory. x3

Relationship status: I am but a single okami. Am comfortable with it, and have been for a while, but I do miss a few things I'd like to have again. I have some things to lock down first.

Last thing I googled: The proper spelling for "Capzasin", because I keep think there's an extra c in it for some reason...

Current obsession: Um... I don't have anything demanding my time, though HALO Infinite is close. It's fun playing Firefight again, and I want the Superintendent AI companion, goddammit! (ODST my favorite game? Why would you think THAT? >3) But as games go HALO, FFXIV (I have a house that needs decorating, and maybe learning some gpose things so I can do sappy screeenshots of AKagi and his girls. x3 Or Gev being...himself. xD) and Armored Core VI, and really wanting to tweak some of my gunpla, honestly. I need to adjust my toolkit some. :P Much like Vash, I think I will thumb through the activity page and tag folks who I don't think have done this one. No pressure, of course, I just did mine because I am trying to be more active and stuff. Cheers! @elveny, @reucrion, @techietacotrain, @kunstpause, @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond, @vazaymir, @clockworkdragonffxiv, @thelorekeeper, @dragon-saint

#about me #okami rambles

4 notes · View notes

someonefantastic · 11 months

Note

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” For vacation au cangel 💗

This took forever to finish because for some reason instead of writing a, you know, drabble for some reason I chose to write the entire first date scene which turned out to be over 2k words. I swear I'm nearly incapable of writing something short for this fandom smh

Anyway this is a sequel to this fic and basically the premise of this au is that everyone is human, there's no supernatural elements, and Cordelia and Angel meet while on respective vacations

___

The flurry of butterflies in Cordelia's stomach have officially upgrades to bats--and she's pretty sure they're waging a war. To say she's nervous for her dinner date with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Frosted-Tips is an understatement; she's been jittery all evening prompting some lighthearted jabs from Faith and Fred. It's like she's in high school, except Queen C never really got nervous on her dates so maybe it's more like she's about to do an audition for a very successful producer. Either way, she's nervous and she's not really sure why.

The elevator dings and she takes a deep breath, smoothing out the long light gray skirt of her dress. Giving herself one last glance in the elevator's reflective surfaces, she pulls her shoulders back and strides out into the lobby.

She spots Angel almost immediately and her heart immediately picks up it's pace. She could never forget how pretty he is but if she did, the sight of him standing there in a navy button up that hugs his form perfectly and dark jeans is a very good reminder. The smile that spreads across his face as he spots her threatens to turn her insides to jelly and she gives him a wave as she crosses the lobby.

"Hi."

"Hi," he greets back, eyes leaving her face for a moment to scan down her dress. "You look beautiful."

She feels her cheeks grow warm. "Thank you. And you look very handsome yourself."

His smile simply grows and she decides that it's right up there with the sunset and the Grand Canyon for most beautiful sights she's ever seen.

He offers her his arm and she automatically takes it. "Shall we?"

"Oh yes please. I'm starving."

He chuckles as they head to the resort's dining area.

___

Dinner goes off really well. Cordelia can't remember the last time she had this much fun with a guy but they've barely stopped talking since they sat down. Well, to be honest, it's been mostly her talking and him listening but he's been asking her so many questions about herself that it feels sort of unavoidable--after all she is chatty. But he seems to be enjoying himself and she certainly knows that she is so she really hopes this is going well by all accounts.

"So, Angel," She says when there's a lull in the conversation, "We've talked so much about me but I want to know more about you. Like what do you do for a living? Or what brings you here?"

He swallows the steak he's been chewing--he likes it rare and to be honest, she finds that a little weird, but it's definitely not a deal breaker. "I work at a law firm, leading the security team. I don't love it but it pays the bills. And I'm here because my friend--you might've not noticed him but he was playing basketball with me. Was wearing orange shorts." An amused smile pulls at Cordelia's lips as she thinks of Fred. "He knows a guy who works here and managed to get us a good deal." Picking up a knife, he starts cutting into his steak. "I've been so busy with work and felt like I wasn't around Connor nearly enough so--" He stops mid sentence, knife halfway through the meat and gives her a guilty look. "Oh."

Eyebrows creasing, Cordelia puts down the wine glass she was about to sip from. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I just... I never know when or how to bring this up. I'm still so new to this and..." He trails off and Cordelia's brain fills with countless worst case scenarios. Angel takes a deep breath. "I have a son."

The scenarios freeze and dissipate in the blink of an eye. "Oh?"

He nods, a little uncertain. "His name is Connor, he's five." Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and flips it open to reveal a picture of him--sans frosted tips--and a little boy with dirty blonde hair and a grin that reminds her of Angel's.

Cordelia feels a smile spread across her face. "He's adorable."

Angel nods his head, practically beaming with pride. "He is. He's going into first grade this year and he already knows all of the alphabet and is starting to read!" His eyes light up as he talks and Cordelia finds herself captivated. "He's really smart and he's athletic too. You should've seen him on his junior hockey team, one game he scored three goals." Stopping himself, he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get carried away."

"No, don't apologize." She gives him a soft smile, covering the hand he has resting on the table with hers. "Your son sounds wonderful and it's really sweet hearing you talk about him. You really love him."

"I do," He says fondly, his eyes going far away. "His mother and I... well we were never good together and it didn't end well. She's no longer in the picture."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was for the best. And well, Connor? He's the best thing to ever happen to me."

Scratch his smiles, the sincerity and love in his voice and written across his face is absolutely breathtaking.

"That's why I'm on this vacation," He continues, "I wanted to spend more time with Connor and give him cool experiences. It's what he deserves."

She squeezes his hand. "That's really sweet." A thought strikes her and she frowns. "Why are you here with me then? You should be with your son."

He ducks his head. "Is it bad if I say I needed a break from him?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "Not at all. This girl at work has kids and she once told me a big reason why she chose to return to work was to get out of the house every once in a while, so I get it." A playful smile dances across her lips. "Is that your only reason though...?"

With a smirk, he grasps her hand and lifts it to his lips. "Not at all. I saw you sitting by the pool and nearly got hit in the head with a basketball." She chuckles at the image, her stomach flipping, though not unpleasantly. "I'm very glad you agreed to dinner."

"So am I," She says softly, warmth bubbling inside of her. Tearing her eyes away from her face, she returns to her meal, cutting off a piece of her scallops. "So, if you're on this date with me, where's Connor?"

"He's with his uncles." She glances at him, prompting him to explain, "I came on this trip with a few of my friends. There's Gunn--it's his last name--he's the guy I mentioned before. He works security with me. Then Wesley, it's a long story how I know him but he works at the museum where I'm from archiving old books or something. And then Doyle, who's like my brother. Youo might've seen him on the court as well, Wesley was watching Connor during his nap time." He takes a sip of his wine. "They all agreed to look after him so I could be here with you."

"Well tell them I say thank you. They sound like great guys."

"Yeah I really appreciate them." His glass clinks softly against his plate as he sets it down. "What about your friends? They seemed interesting."

"That's one way of putting it," She says with a snort. "I met Faith in high school through a girl we both knew but we didn't really become friends until later on in our lives. She did time a few years back, it's not really my story to tell, but once she got out she started a non-profit helping kids to get off of the streets. I help her out." Taking another bite of scallops, she continues, "And then I met Fred when I accidentally signed up for what I thought was an all inclusive retreat but turned out to be five days in the mountains taking care of some woman's farm." They both laugh. "We certainly bonded."

"Seems like it," he says shoulders still shaking.

"They're good friends even though Faith has less of a filter than I do."

He hums around his bite of steak. "Good to know."

They lapse into comfortable silence, eating their respective meals and occasionally sneaking glances at the other. But a tightness wraps itself around Cordelia's spine, fear manifesting itself physically at the possibility of vulnerability, at the realization of how relaxed she feels around this man in such a short amount of time. She doesn't know him, not truly, and yet she wants to with such a fierce desire that it scares her. Not only that but she wants him to know her as well, to let him strip her bare of her defenses, allow him to crawl inside her skin and know the parts of her she's kept on lock from everyone else.

It's a terrifying thought to realize how much she wants this and more importantly, just how much he could hurt her if she let him.

Swallowing down her anxieties with a gulp of wine, she levels her gaze at Angel. A smile slips across her lips at the crease in his brow as he concentrates on cutting his steak, her heart fluttering at the tensing muscles in his hand. And she decides right then and there that she won't let him hurt her--but she also won't let her fears get in the way of getting to know this beautiful man.

___

By the time dinner--followed by dessert and a walk around the resort--is over, the moon is high in the sky and those still awake have gathered at the bars and other places with nightly activities. The hallway to Cordelia's suite is quiet though, the only sound is the soft elevator ding and the scuffing of footsteps as Cordelia and Angel make their way to the door.

They walk hand in hand, bodies so close together that their shoulders bump occasionally. The door gets closer and the bats in Cordelia's stomach become tiny vampires, gnawing away at her insides. Part of her doesn't want this night to end, to be honest it's the most enjoyable date she's had in a very long time. Talking with Angel feels like talking to an old friend; there's an ease and a comfort to their conversations, a rhythm that they found so quickly that just feels natural. She genuinely enjoys being with him--something she can't say for very many of her past relationships.

As they stop in front of her room, the other part of her waits in nervous anticipation for how this night is going to end.

"Well, this is me," She says, glancing at her room number as her body turns to face him. "How much do you want to bet my friends are in the living room just waiting to ambush me?"

He chuckles. "My friends probably will do the same."

"Why do we put up with them?" She asks teasingly.

He laughs again and ducks his head. A silence spreads between them, tense and exciting, wrought with anticipation and the pounding of Cordelia's heart. She watches him study his shoes, shift back and forth, as if gathering up the courage. It's cute how shy he's being but the silence stretches on one second too long and she can't help the sigh she heaves.

"Well? Aren't you going to kiss me?"

His head snaps up and his cheeks go red, one hand moving to run through his frosted tips. "Well-I-I didn't want to assume. I really like you and I didn't want to mess--"

He's abruptly cut off as Cordelia surges forward and firmly presses her mouth against his.

Angel relaxes almost instantly, his hands finding her hips and gently holding on. She palms his face, kissing him softly, tenderly, but without an ounce of hesitation, like walking into a pool for the first time and feeling the cool waters slowly warm. His skin is soft beneath her hands, lips like ambrosia and when he parts them slightly her head spins.

She pulls back before it can go any further, before she breaks all carefully crafted defenses and invites him in for something she hasn't done on a first date since high school. But she already mourns the loss, her mouth tingling with the ghost of his kiss and she steps back, letting her hands drop from his face before she can give into the temptation to press her lips hard against his and never come up for air again.

His hands remain on her hips for half a second more, thumbs running slow circles against the satin of her dress and then he lets go, looking at her with wonder and warmth, his cheeks pink.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” She teases gently, voice coming out soft, nearly breathless.

He smiles, not a large beaming grin or a gentle quirk of his lips but a soft curve that she longs to run her fingertips across. "I hadn't realized just how much I wanted to kiss you."

She feels warmth bloom in her chest and spread up her neck, flushing her face. "Me too."

"I should let you get some sleep," he says hesitantly, like it's the opposite of what he really wants. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." And then, without thinking, she presses up on her toes and kisses him once more. "Goodnight, Angel."

His voice sounds breathless, wistful. "Goodnight, Cordelia."

#ats #angel the series #cordelia chase #angel the vampire #cangel #fanfiction #fanfic #CA vacation au #skipps writes #asks #julie tag

17 notes · View notes

amyelevenn · 2 years

Text

found effect

PARING; c!Technoblade x gn!reader

SUMMARY; long awaited part 2 to lost cause

WARNINGS; angst, slight violence

A/N; can you tell i suck at writing dialogue ?? also srry this took so long, wanted to take a break out of respect & have been v busy//not motivated at all

alsoooo anyone wanna be mutuals?? lmk that would be rlly cool!!!

2.8K words M.LIST

All hope you had held out for Technoblade’s return were gradually diminished on the fifth day of the third week (oddly specific? Yes, but only because you had promised to keep a hold of time and reality this time round). Seemingly endless days of anguish passed, with still no sign of your beloved hybrid. You became painfully aware of how childish and stupid it was to expect him to comeback anyway.

He said he would come back. He wouldn’t lie, right? Techno wouldn’t have no reason to – nothing to gain from it. So where was he?

By now, his stupid letter had become a mantra to you. You read it daily – no, hourly, as if in the 60 minutes something you hadn’t noticed previously would appear.

Yet, you respected his wishes, and took care of yourself. And, if you were to say so yourself, you didn’t look so bad. No, you looked good. Much healthier and normal than before, which was nice – different, a change to how it was.

So that’s all you did. Took care of yourself, and waited.

Your record player was cleaned of dust and constantly in use, music the only thing keeping you sane and from falling into a pit of self-hatred. Within days your favourite vinyl had been scratched and deformed from the sudden overuse, motivating you to quit wallowing even for a moment and to go get a new one.

The poof of the creeper in front of you, along with the drop of a disc provided you with a well needed surge of pride as you checked what disc you had gotten. Fortunately, it had been your favourite. A happy squeal escaped before you could stop it, a stupid grin lining your face.

The walk home, you felt the best you had in God knows how long. You felt as if you had won a big prize, a big victory, like a big game had gone

He would show eventually. He wouldn’t lie, right?

***

He lied.

2 and a half months had gone by, wasted to pointless dormancy and waiting for the piglin brute’s promised return. But now you knew – he wasn’t coming back, and you doubted he ever was in the first place.

Are you surprised? No, he has let you down before – why is this any different?

Dusk was rapidly approaching on you, the fading light of the setting sun illuminating your living room in a pale orange cast. The day has passed, the night has come. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. The repetition of it all had become desperately suffocating – an endless loop that you never seemed to catch a break in. You couldn’t handle it. You needed out.

So, naturally, you did what you do best; run for your life. Run away from your problems, blissfully ignoring them as if they would never come back to bite you. Not even bothering to pack anything, you pulled an old cloak around your shoulders and followed the glowing star west, no real destination in mind.

As you wandered absentmindedly through the darkness, you let your thoughts drift.

Most of the past while was spent outside, enjoying the ambience and the serenity of the lake across from your home. One of the days, a family of horses came over and bathed in the water for around and hour, then happily trotted off into the distance. The thought of the happy memory brought a soft smile to your face. You hoped they were doing okay.

The snap of a twig under you brought you out of your thoughts, just in time to stop yourself from tripping over a root ahead. As reality set in, you noted how cold it was out – and that you were now in the tundra, snowflakes landing on your eyelashes and lips. Frost bit the tips of your ears and nose, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

But you kept walking, slowly approaching a small hill. At the top, you felt the ache of overuse spreading from your knees up, momentarily making you pause for breath. You hadn’t moved this much in…well, since you had retired.

As you stand, hands on hips, you scan the natural world before you. You are quick to spot a cosy appearing pair of cabins not too far off. You could make it – that was for sure, but right now, your breathing was more important. Watching it fog in front of your face, you continued scanning the tundra.

The moon provided a great source of light, illumining a family of polar bears snuggled into each other, sleeping the night away. You wished you could be like them, not a problem in the world.

But alas, you had to keep moving so you wouldn’t get frostbite or hypothermia.

Towards the bottom of the hill you lost your footing, causing you to slip and tumble your way to the ground. Sure to be covered in melting snow and dirt, you weakly dusted yourself off, knowing it was a meek and pointless attempt. Standing back up, you felt so much colder and more exposed now, having the bitter wind blow freezing air onto your soaked pants. All the more reason to hurry to the cabins.

Not far out now, you noticed both places were bursting with light – the one on the right more so than the one on the left. The latter seemed bigger, but that could just be a matter of perception. Observing the property around, you realised the two houses were actually joined together with a small bridge, sporting a small pond underneath. The place was beautiful, your perfect idea of design.

Heavily climbing the few stairs, you knuckles rasp on that of the door with the brighter light. It opens almost right away, revealing a man you hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“Philza?” you gasp, your old friend the last person you expected to see on the other side of the door. The initial shock is enough to forget about the bitter cold snapping at your legs, a momentary distraction.

“I- what are you…mate, you must be freezing! Come on in,” he smiles, warming your soul.

Following his lead, you step through the front door and shake off your boots, but leave your cloak on for the sliver of warmth it’s providing. A faint click sounds from behind you, and you are left to soak in the heat of Phil’s place. A roaring fire sits not too far away, and you look to him to see if you can sit by it. Of course he says yes, chuckling as you sprint to warm yourself up.

“So…er- oh! Would you like some tea? I got all kinds,” he offers, walking into the kitchen.

“If that isn’t too much of a hassle that would be delightful,” you shiver, sending a very grateful grin towards him.

“Oh of course not – I was making myself one anyway. What kind would you like?”

“I’m sure whatever your having will suffice.”

He moves around for a moment, then throws a box your way. “Peppermint any good?”

You sigh softly, “my favourite.”

“Ah, perfect,” he beams, pouring two cups with boiling water. You chuck the box back, laughing slightly as the old man misses and it hits him in the face. The sound makes Phil smile, a chuckle of his own almost escaping.

Your attention is soon back on the flames, entranced as they dance in the fireplace. The crackle puts you at ease, along with the low swirling of snow outside the window. You never got snow where you lived, so this was like ecstasy – if you had it your way, you would have your life here in the tundra.

“What brings you here at this hour?” Phil hums, handing you your mug. He himself sits on the couch facing the fire, your side now to him. You don’t answer, because you don’t know how. He senses your hesitancy, then asks more simply, “anything in particular?” A slight shake of your head tells him enough, that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Mate…you know everyone thinks you’re dead, right?” You hum quietly in acknowledgement, taking a sip of your tea and allowing the warmth to course through your chilled veins.

“But you’re not.”

“That’s what I’m told,” you mumble, exhaustion beginning to set in. The crackle of the fire soothes you into a relaxed state, pressing you back into the sofa chair behind you. You push yourself up and onto the soft cushion next to him, curling into yourself. He pats your knee, reminding you of a father. “I’m sorry about your sons,” you whisper, your voice almost about to leave you.

Sighing softly, he keeps his hand rested on your knee. “Ah, don’t be mate. Not your fault, nothing for you to be sorry for.” Silence envelops the two of you, the wind outside, the flickering flame and the tea doing wonders to calm you both down. Minutes pass like this, you gazing wishfully outside, Phil’s attention on his tea.

“Techno is just across the way if you’d like to say hello – I’m sure he’s still up, the poor guy never sleeps,” Phil chuckles to himself, placing his mug on the table.

“I- no, that- that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to disturb him,” you smile nervously, pulling your knees tighter to your chest.

“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t disturb him.”

“Really Phil, it’s okay. I can always change my mind.”

“That is a very good point. Now, I’m gonna go get ready for bed – I’m assuming you are planning on staying the night?”

You nod. “If that’s okay, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No, of course you can stay! Will the couch be alright?” he beams.

“Yeah- yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great,” you return the grin.

“Alright, just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much Phil.”

“No problem mate. Now, get some sleep. Goodn-”

Phil is promptly cut off by a few sharp knocks on his door. His expression drops, but quickly regains its composure before instructing you to lay on the couch, and to stay down unless told differently. The door squeals open, a gust of cold air making you shiver.

“Techno, what can I do for you?”

“I know I don’t usually-” a huff, then, “look, I’m gonna be gone for a bit. I dunno how long, but I just thought you should know.”

“Alright mate. Am I allowed to know where you are off to?” Phil jokes. No one laughs.

A beat of silence. “To see and old friend.”

Your expression drops. Who else would he be talking about? It has to be me…right?

A pair of footsteps recede, and you know they aren’t Phil’s. The cold stops flowing around you, a quiet click, and Phil is back by your side.

“As I was saying, Goodnight, mate. Sleep well.”

You return the sentiment, and he bids himself adieu.

The second he is gone from your sight, you rush to your shoes, hurriedly pulling them on. Your cloak already fastened around your shoulders, you grab a nearby lantern, light it, and head out after the brute. Phil’s door slamming shut in the wind most likely alerts him of your sudden departure, but you don’t seem to mind nor care.

You have no idea what you are going to say to Technoblade when you catch him, but that was the least of your worries now. First, you actually had to catch him.

Following the large footprints left in what you assume to be the piglin’s wake, you remember just how cold it really is outside. The harsh winter wind makes quick work to prick your exposed skin, only urging you to hasten your pace.

The sudden change from being under the stars to being submerged in the darkness of the forest has you shuddering from the eeriness, only heightening your discomfort. An old torch from your inventory is lit to pave the way, or to at least show you where Techno went.

The second your gaze lifted from the now-lit torch in your hands, a cold blade was push firm against your throat. Breath caught in your throat, your head snaps up to meet that of the person holding the sword, but quickly falls back in sudden relief.

“Jesus Techno you can’t do that to me!!” you screech, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I coulda’ had a heart attack.”

“Don’t follow me then,” he deadpans. “If I hear someone behind me, I’m gonna scare them into leaving.”

Hands on your hips, you pause. “Solid point, actually.”

The silence that follows is awkward, only broken by an obviously fake cough on your behalf.

“So, uh, you were going to ‘visit an old friend’. Would I be right in assuming it was me?” you ask, face downturned, watching your feet sweep snow out of nervousness.

“No.” You don’t need to see his expression to know just how stony it is; a look you have seen many times. “Was actually off to see Dream.”

“Oh,” you mutter, feeling something akin to defeat.

The awkward silence is back, and in full force this time. You can feel Techno’s hard stare studying your face, and you have to make a conscious effort to stay looking at the snow.

“I’m kiddin’,” he smirks, a playful glint in his eyes that you don’t catch in time.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...‘was funnier in m’ head..” he mumbled, internally cringing.

“Why didn’t you come back?” your mouth uttered before your mind could think properly.

“I couldn’t.”

You waited for him to say more, but he kept his lips sealed shut. You prompt him, “So why now?”

“Things changed.”

“You are unbearably cryptic, Technoblade,” you smile a little at his stubbornness, glad to see he hadn’t changed much at all.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuffs. Awkwardly pointing over his shoulder in the direction of his and Phil’s homes, he silently asks in you would like to walk.

You nod slightly, easing a bit of the tension.

You fall in step with him, the only noise the wet scrunch of melting snow under foot and the quite bristle of the leaves in the witching hour breeze. He leads you back the way you came, careful to dodge all of the visible tree roots.

You feel like you have an elephant on your shoulders, all of the unspoken words heavy and unbearable. Like you were on board a sinking ship with no available lifeboat. You couldn’t take the guilt(?) weighing on your chest, so you were going to speak up. To finally speak your mind.

“You alright there?” Technoblade turns his head back to you, now that the trees had opened up to reveal his warm home once again to you. There’s something in his words that makes your heart squirm behind your sternum – could’ve been the pure sincerity, or the underlying worry, you weren’t too sure.

“Listen Techno, I…” you hesitated. “Can I tell you something?”

The look he gave you was more than enough to tip you over the edge (he gave you the most adoring puppy eyes you had ever seen on a person let alone the Blood God himself (maybe it was the lighting? For your sake let’s hope not.))

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Actually that’s not true, I remember when I fell for you. Originally it was when I first saw you even though I don’t believe in love at first sight and whatever, but when I really fell was when- you know that isn’t relevant right now. Look, I get it if you don’t feel the same or you hate me now and want me off your property and out of your life but you gotta give me an answer, I’m dying over here!!”

A beat of silence. Another.

Your eyes had been everywhere but on his for the past minute, shooting from Phil’s dark window to the disrupted white left in your wake.

His frozen lips on yours surprised you, but was more than welcomed. You melted into his touch as he did yours, the two of you moulded into a perfect fit. One of his hands held your cheek and neck lightly, as if you would break any second. The other was sitting idly on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

The kiss was brief, yes, but it was passionate. It was intimate, loving, caring, you name it.

You pulled away first, in desperate need to intake air that wasn’t from him.

“Was that okay?” he murmured, his voice so inviting you could barely restrain yourself.

“More than.”

You don’t remember much else from that night – the adrenaline easily blurring everything together – aside for how exceptionally warm you had felt in his arms. A warmth you had never felt in your life before, and one you would rather die than give up.

tags; @crazyfandomist @youmom4 @icompletelydontknow

#angst #technoblade x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #technoblade #dsmp #minecraft #ameswrites #angst with a happy ending #fluff #first kiss

70 notes · View notes