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lucyandalexiafan · 3 months

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blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything.

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms.

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed.

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl"

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body.

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want.

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin.

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me"

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut"

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact.

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfics #dom!alexia #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #jelaous alexia putellas #shoe humping

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exhaslo · 4 months

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Puzzle Pieces Ch11

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, car sex, cockwarming, praise

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There was a slight chill in the air as the season's first snowflakes finally trickled down the cloudy sky. The moment Halloween passed, the atmosphere just smelled like Christmas. Every store, building and park was decorated for the holiday season.

Despite the cold winter air, the citizens of Nueva York kept their fall attire of simple t shirts and light sweaters. Those from out of town were easy to identify.

Such as Eddie Brock, who wore a thick coat and hat as he stood in front of your supermarket job. Frustrated by the fact that he could see his breathe, Eddie made his way inside. He breathed a sigh of relief towards the warmth and proceeded to the bakery section.

"Excuse me, is (Y/N) here?" Eddie said smoothly with a charming smile. One of the workers glanced at him,

"Not sure, she works at the Deli."

"Oh, Deli? Really?" Eddie whispered and thanked the worker.

That was a surprise. You were too chicken to handle something as fast pace as the deli back home. Here was worse. Hell, Eddie wouldn't be surprised if he saw you with gray hairs. Just the thought made him snort.

"Is (Y/N) around?" Eddie asked your supervisor.

Upon hearing your name, your supervisor glanced up at Eddie. Not recognizing the man, your supervisor hesitated. Everyone in the supermarket knew that you and Miguel were a thing. Miguel had already claimed you as his own and everyone was to make sure you did not have a hard time.

It wouldn't be pretty if you did.

"She called out." Your supervisor said simply and glanced at Eddie once more, "Mind if I ask who you are so I can inform her when she comes back."

"Her boyfriend. She left while I was away for work, do you think I could know when she works next? I'm sure she will be pleasantly surprised to see me,"

"Sorry, can't give out that information."

"Not even to her boyfriend?"

"No." Your supervisor said firmly. Eddie scoffed slightly,

"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow then."

Once Eddie was out of sight, your supervisor was quick to reach for the store phone. You picked a good day to call out, but Jessica was not here to see this interaction. Eddie was a dead man if Miguel ever found out that he claimed to be your boyfriend.

"Yes, I have some news for the boss."

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You were ecstatic as Miguel took you out for the day. It took little to no convincing when he had you call out and already had his driver waiting. You put on your best clothes for him and followed Miguel everywhere.

Everything you looked at for longer than 10 seconds, Miguel ended up buying. You were quick to get embarrassed and tried to tell him to stop spoiling you, but you secretly loved it. No one had spoiled you the way he was.

"The bed is going to have no room for us if you keep looking at stuffed animals," Miguel whispered in your ear before kissing your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up as you turned to him,

"S-Sorry, they're all just so c-cute." You replied and grabbed his hand as you pulled him past the store, "B-But I don't n-need anymore!"

"Amor (love), let me get you everything your heart desires." Miguel said with a loving smile.

You hugged Miguel in response. You really couldn't believe how good he was to you. That and you kept forgetting that he was rich. Miguel will literally buy you everything you want and that was dangerous.

"I-I like those plush...B-But all I really want t-to cuddle with is...is you," You squeaked, hiding your face in your sleeves.

Miguel nearly groaned at your cute little confession. He just wanted to grab you by the waist and cover you with kiss and marks, but, you were out in a public mall. Miguel had a reputation to keep. He was just going to have to wait until you two get in the car.

As the two of you passed a large opening, Miguel looked down at the street below. Furrowing his brows, Miguel watched as a small crowd formed around two drug addicts being cuffed by the police. This was nothing new, but the drug was.

Thanks to the new mafia gang in town, Venom, a new drug has spread like wildfire. Miguel did not like it when his city and people were being threaten. This new drug was making whoever took it hallucinate that they were part of a hive mind and worshiped their King.

"Miggy, I'm going to get a drink. D-Do you want anything?" You asked innocently, unaware of what was happening around you.

"No thank you, amor. Here," Miguel gave you his card and kissed your hand, "Get yourself a snack too. You look a little pale,"

"Mhm, t-thank...you,"

Miguel watched you smile shyly, hurrying back to the line. He had to protect your smile. You were robbed of it so much already. As Miguel watched you, he felt his burner ring. Quickly answering it, Miguel moved away from other people.

"Sir, we got a tip from the supermarket. A stranger appeared and requested for (Y/N), claiming to be her boyfriend." Jessica said over the line. Miguel inhaled sharply,

"Did they send footage?"

"Yes, Lyla is sending you an enhanced image of her ex. We'll finally have a face to go with the name."

"The audacity for him to call himself her boyfriend, ha...Hahaha, I'm going to-"

"Hehe, what's so funny?" You asked, your smile wide as you drank your sweet smoothie. Miguel stroked your cheek,

"Nothing, mi dulce conejito (my sweet little bunny)." Miguel patted your head, adoring your expression, "Jessica, I want everyone to keep an eye out, okay?" He whispered.

"One more thing, Miguel. Apparently, Eddie is going to keep going back to the supermarket until he sees (Y/N)."

"That won't happen,"

With a click, Miguel hung up on Jessica and returned his attention to you. That smile of yours was being threaten again. As much as Miguel wanted to leave and go find your ex now, he couldn't leave you alone.

"Miguel, is there anything you want?" You asked, holding his hand.

"We're shopping for you today,"

"I-I know, but Christmas...is around the c-corner...and...and I want to get you s-something...t-that you'll like...or...need." You whispered, pressing your head against his arm. Miguel felt his chest tighten, wondering how many horrible holidays you've gone through,

"Anything you give me I'll cherish with all my heart," Miguel kissed the top of your head, walking around the mall some more, "But, if it pleases you, I can have my assistant, Lyla, help you."

"R-Really?! T-Thank you!"

Miguel was eager to gobble you up again. He resisted and kept spoiling you by buying clothes, gifts and whatever you looked at. He had forgotten about Christmas, since it really wasn't something that Miguel focused on.

Miguel probably should start getting his mother and brother something for Christmas, and of course you. Noticing one of the pop up Christmas stores coming up ahead, Miguel felt you slightly pull against his sleeve.

"Go on, conejita (bunny). I'm right behind you."

You squealed softly as you hurried to the store. Miguel chuckled lowly since it was one of those calendar stores, but it wasn't the calendars that made you excited. Miguel casually stood behind you as you ravaged the puzzles.

Now this gave Miguel an idea.

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You hummed happily as you walked out of the mall with lots of new puzzles. Sure, Miguel bought you plenty of other things, but the puzzles was what you were more excited about. Having his driver take all of your bags, you smiled as Miguel followed you inside.

"Someone's happy," Miguel teased. You slowly crawled onto his lap, pecking his lips,

"Thank you...so...so much!" You chirped. Miguel's hands rested against your waist, gently biting your lip,

"We have some time until we reach the restaurant." He groaned, slowly undoing your pants. You huffed your cheeks softly,

"D-Don't be t-too rough."

"Never," Miguel said with a smirk as he hand stroked your cheek.

You whimpered softly, feeling your heart race as Miguel started to give you an array of kisses. Although you said for him not to be too rough, you honestly loved it when he was. Slowly grinding your hips against his, you melted against his touch.

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Eddie cursed slightly as he walked down the streets of Nueva York. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he watched the normal citizens ignore him. That was all going to change soon. Soon, his new drug was going to get into everyone's hands.

Everyone will worship him.

But, he couldn't without his star player. You. Eddie needed you to help put his new drug into regular citizen's hands. But you just had to move without telling anyone. You just had to be useless and make his life harder.

"Gentle, Eddie. We have to be gentle at first," Eddie whispered to himself.

He wasn't going to take you back without force of course. Eddie knew that he could still manipulate you to do his bidding. All he had to do was say a few sweet words and you would come crawling back to him. It was easy.

Stopping at the edge of a sidewalk, Eddie couldn't help but notice the fancy limo car beside him. He cocked a brow since the back of the mini limo was shaking. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, knowing that someone was having the time of their life.

The windows weren't even tinted that much. When the light turned green, Eddie went to get a glance as the slutty couple. His eyes widen as he swore he saw you moaning as you bounced on some stranger's dick.

"Nah, we're just seeing things now." Eddie whispered, before reaching for his phone, "But...I better get (Y/N)'s address just to be sure."

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You moaned loudly as Miguel held your hips down. You were clenching against his dick as your body calmed down from another harsh orgasm. You swore you saw stars as your body finally relaxed. Miguel chuckled, kissing your neck as he slowly started to thrust back into you,

"See? I said I would be gentle," He teased, rubbing your clit in the process. You wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering softly,

"I-I know~ mhm~ B-But...W-What if s-someone...ah~"

"I can always lower the window,"

"N-No~" You cried out as Miguel went faster, "M-Miggy~ I-I w-wanna be able t-to w-walk~"

"You will, baby," Miguel chuckled darkly.

Flinging your head back as you rode Miguel's dick, you moaned as you felt nothing but pleasure. Miguel grunted as he pulled you back in and groaned as he started to get rougher. You gasped and cried as Miguel brought you to another orgasm.

"Miguel~" You cried out.

"Good girl, (Y/N)," Miguel groaned as he unloaded inside of you, "See, still gentle,"

"Mhm," You rested against his chest, calming from your high, "S-Still super e-embarrassing. A-Are you sure...y-your driver d-didn't hear us?" Miguel carefully fixed you back up as the driver looked for parking,

"I'm sure." Miguel smirked, pecking your lips as he trailed your panty line, "Want him to hear us?"

"N-No!" You squeaked, covering your face.

Miguel laughed towards your behavior and helped you out of the car. He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into the restaurant since your legs were still shaking. He glanced down at your flustered cheeks and thought. He needed to casually tell you that it wasn't safe to go back to work.

"(Y/N), what would you think about not working at the supermarket anymore? I can take care of all your needs." He whispered as the waiter greeted them. You glanced up at Miguel,

"B-But...I don't want-" You stopped, knowing that Miguel didn't think of you as a burden, "I-I'll feel like I'm...just using y-you. I-I want to w-work too."

"Then, work for me?" Miguel suggested as they sat at their fancy table, "I could always use an extra hand." He offered. Your eyes sparkled at the suggestion,

"R-Really?" You gasped and thought, "A-As much...as I-I would like a c-change...but...I...I really can't."

"Why not, baby?"

"W-Well...I-I haven't had...a chance to t-tell you...But," You covered your mouth, looking shyly towards Miguel, "M-My parents...o-own the supermarket I work at...W-Which i-is why...s-someone like me can e-even work...t-there."

Miguel's eyes widen as he proceeded this new information. The supermarket that he took care of his mafia business at; the supermarket were he got his goods from; the supermarket that Miguel had great connection with....was owned by your family.

And those same owners told your ex where you went.

"Is that so?" Miguel said with a devilish smirk.

This just made things even easier for Miguel.

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dietmtdewbabynewyorkcity · 7 months

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HOW I’VE BEEN SUCESSFULLY LOSING WEIGHT: Notes from a former binge eater ♥️

*this guide is to show how ~I~ do things and offer advice on how to do it MY way. I am in no way encouraging anyone to do themselves harm. First off,

HEALTH IS WEALTH.

That being said.. this is literally the longest I’ve ever gone without bingeing. It’s just,,, easy this time. Once you get a feel of what it’s like to be skinny you just don’t crave junk as much anymore bc you KNOW it’s not worth it. The trick is to eat clean 90% of the time and allow your favorite treats 10% do the time. Fit them into your calorie limit!!! Here’s some personal favorites that have helped me lose like 20lbs in the past 2 months.

I tend to do one higher- calorie drink during the day (protein shake, Starbucks, etc) and one healthy filling but low cal meal and a sweet snack at the end of the night.

LOW CALORIE 90%

Mediterranean salad (~150): mixed greens, chopped bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, red onion. Little bit of feta cheese. Balsamic vinegar (not dressing or vinegarette!!!!) I don’t add meat but you could totally add chicken for low cal high protein choice. You could also add olives but I don’t fw them.

Chocolate Protein shakes from the gas station (loll). They’re 220 cal on average and a great treat. Strawberry one is good too.

SEAWEED SNACKS they’re literally 30-60 calories for a pack and kill my urge to eat chips!!! Please give them a try!

Soups. Soups that are already portioned and have the calorie amount posted. I add extra seasonings and spice to boost metabolism.

Coffee!! With almond milk and a little coffee creamer. It’s worth the calories if you want a coffee just make one it’s better than going to Starbucks.

Sushi: I’m vegetarian so I get an avocado and cucumber roll. It’s so good with fresh ginger and a little soy sauce. Sometimes I will be craving it allllllll day and have it as my OMAD so rewarding 🥹

Miso soup>>>>>> add tofu and seaweed and onions!! And mushrooms if you like them.

Monster Ultra energy drinks,,,, yeah I know they’re bad for you but I love them.

Fruits!!! I especially love strawberries, watermelon, cherries, blackberries, pineapple and mangoes.

TREATS 10%

Trail mix: dried cherries, pecans, walnuts, pistachios, cashews. High in calories but perfect for killing hunger. High protein keeps you full and muscles strong, high healthy fats will keep your hair and skin and nails beautiful.

Chocolates: SMALL PORTIONS. if you can’t eat just eat a piece without bingeing, do NOT buy a big bag. what I do is I buy a bar of whatever chocolate I’m craving for my bf and we share it piece by piece. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white, hazelnut, with coffee beans, with toffee, fruits, chocolate is the best thing ever 🍫

Starbucks! My fav drinks are matcha lattes (hot/iced), iced white chocolate mocha, caramel macchiato, and occasionally a pumpkin spice latte. Peppermint mochas on the holidays. Oat milk always

Baked goods. Same deal as the chocolate, ONLY BUY THE PORTION YOURE GOING TO EAT. If you have been craving a croissant, go get one. One. Don’t buy a whole dozen of them. You will end up bingeing trust me. My favs are cinnamon rolls <3

Habits

I’m going to the gym!!! Consistently for the first time in my life. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Spend 30 min on the treadmill alternating between incline walking and easy paced jogging. Put on a YouTube video. Wear pink and bring a cute water bottle. You have to make an experience out of it! I stick to cardio and full body stretches plus ocasional (light) strength workouts w my bf.

I don’t drink anymore. Just 🍃. Alc is so high in sugar and carbs and it’s literally poison bro. I know it’s hard to stop but once you do you’ll feel so much better.

I rarely weigh myself. I’m at my bfs house all the time so I only step on my scale maybe 3 times a month. It’s been a game changer!!!

MINDSET

I practice mindfulness and speak kindly to myself. Basically sweetspo + affirmations to myself all the time.

Taking more pride in your appearance will also help motivate you. You think you’ll still want to binge after you took a full body shower, clean PJ’s or outfit, painted your nails, skincare and makeup done, whitened your teeth and lit a candle? No thanks.

Limit stupid, negative, useless media consumption. Watch things that have to do with your hobbies/ interests and your social media algorithms begin to kinda clean themselves up over time. My pages are all about exercise, study blogs, beauty tips and sciencey stuff. No more drama or celebrity nonsense. Cut down your following!!

Remember you only have one life on earth. You’re young and hot once. Don’t you want to grab this chance while you have it? Unfortunately your beauty is your currency especially as a woman, so if there’s anything I can do to give myself a better life I will. Losing just a few pounds of fat will make the craziest difference in ways you’d never expect. Free and discounted stuff. More people smile at you and listen to what you have to say. Both literal and figurative doors will be opened for you.Clothes fit better bc they’re more flattering when your body is fit and healthy. While it feels good to get validation from other people, the best part of it is looking in the mirror and feeling proud instead of ashamed. The inner confidence that comes from successful transformation………….there’s no other feeling that compares. If you know, you know. I’m just saying,, the choice is yours 🤷🏼‍♀️

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msbigredmachine · 4 months

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Santa Daddy - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: Sorry I brought this in so late, I got sick. Better late than never though! Enjoy!

-----------------------

It was Christmas morning. Your face was a picture of utmost focus as you wiped away the hair stuck to your forehead. It was a mini madness in your open layout kitchen, but at least it was your controlled chaos. In a few hours' time, a select mix of friends, co-workers and family members would converge at your place for a Christmas sleepover for the ages, to mark your first holidays as Roman Reigns' fiancée.

What a crazy eighteen months it has been for you. If anyone told you that within that timeframe, you would escape from your abusive boyfriend, move states, find a new job and a new place to live, you would have laughed in their face.

And Lord knows how you'd have reacted if they added that you'd be dating a professional wrestler in that same timeframe. And not just any wrestler, but the marquee name, the number one guy in WWE. But here you were. In the house you lived in together. Diamond ring on your finger. Prepping dinner and being quite giddy about it too. It had been a long time since you were giddy about anything, but that changed after you said yes to a coffee date with Roman a lifetime ago, it felt like now.

The honey-glazed chicken, roasted potatoes and gravy were ready, as were the salads and greens. Your centerpiece was undoubtedly the smoky Nigerian jollof rice you couldn't wait for everyone to taste. The chocolate was fragrant as it melted in the pot and the sweet crème caramel was setting nicely. You really wanted everything to go smoothly today. Dinner first, after which everyone would gather in the den for gift swaps, karaoke, play some raunchy adult games, then go to bed whenever they liked before leaving in the morning for their drives home. It was the perfect itinerary and you planned to make sure it was.

You were whisking the chocolate sauce on the stove when the shuffling of a familiar pair of size fifteens invaded your ears. Your heart pounded a little harder anfd your brown eyes lit up as he walked into the kitchen, drinking him in with your heart-shaped mouth curving into a smile. It was incredible how he gave off the exact same aura and energy as his grand entrances to the ring with just entering a small room. It was intimidating in the sexiest way.

"I see someone found one of their gifts." Your voice was soft and sweet - a tone you used only for him - with the gentle tinge of a tease. Your man looked so good in his red Christmas-themed pajama set that matched yours, which he complemented with a Santa hat covering the top of his head.

Roman came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your neck. "You look amazing in yours," he told you. Taking a deep breath, he welcomed your fragrance deep into his lungs. Your scent reminded him of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day and the roaring fireplace several feet away in the living room. It reminded him of home. You were home.

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife-to-be. I love you." His voice was a low, tender rumble in your ear, and you shivered slightly as his hands massaged your waist, his warm breath caressing the sensitive nape of your neck.

"I love you too, Daddy. Merry Christmas," you greeted back, absorbing the aura, the love and affection radiating from him like a bright light. Gosh, how did you get so lucky, winding up with this incredibly handsome, sweet, gentle giant of a man as a life partner?

"It smells so good in here, babe," Roman complimented, dipping his finger in the gravy boat for a taste. "I wish you woke me up to help out," he added sheepishly.

You shook your head immediately. "Don't worry about it. You needed your rest from all the traveling you've been doing."

"What time do the festivities start again?"

You turned off the stove to temp the chocolate down and turned to him. "Not till like, three."

"Hmm, and it's only nine-thirty now. That's a whole lotta time to ourselves," he pointed out, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he tugged at the waistband of your pajama pants. "I know I got a lot of presents, but Daddy wants to open this one first. Can I?" he asked with a syrupy sweet voice that promised something much more carnal.

"That depends on if you were naughty or nice this year," you replied.

The dramatic pout that came with his puppy dog eyes was so cute. "I promise I've been a good boy."

You arched a manicured brow at him. "You sure? Not even the tiniest bit bad?"

Roman puffed out his chest and grinned proudly. "I'm positive. I made my woman very happy this year. That counts as good, right?"

The glittering rock on your finger answered that question. "Definitely," you agreed.

"Exactly. By the way, look up."

You followed his pointed finger. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the cabinet right above you. You met your fiancé's stormy stare, and your pussy purred from the mischief and lust you saw in them. You licked your lips with anticipation, knowing full well he was going to have his way with you, like he always did. Like you always wanted him to.

"C'mere." He guided your face to his own with his hand on the back of your neck. Your hands clutched his broad shoulders as your lips melded together in a soft, passionate dance. You stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, worshiping each other's mouths, the smacking of your lips and hushed sighs mingling with the soft Christmas ballad playing through Alexa.

As you kissed, Roman couldn't help but get turned on. He let his hands slip down into the back of your pants and over your backside, molding your bare ass cheeks in his palms while you pressed yourself against him. You continued the increasingly intense makeout session, neither of you seeming to be in any hurry to stop.

"Santa Daddy thinks you've been a good girl this year," he murmured against your lips, "so good that you deserve a special present."

"Mmm, I love presents, Santa Daddy," you replied, allowing him to pick you up and place you on the countertop. He stepped into the space between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, while your arms curled around his shoulders as you dove into the kiss. He caressed your mouth with his luscious tongue in a way that made your knees weak. Your hands and his moved in unison, pulling off each other's clothes until you were both completely nude. The second your top was off, his fingers teased your nipples, which instantly pebbled at his touch. His broad chest was hard and warm against your palms, and you scratched your nails along his ribs just to hear him hiss in a breath right before his mouth latched onto your throat. You whimpered and gripped his hair. God, his mouth and tongue felt so good on your skin. He nibbled and sucked on you while massaging your right breast, and you felt the pit of stomach heat up with the rabid need for your pussy to be filled. The moisture pooling between your thighs could probably fill a lake.

With your eyes closed as you savored the sensations, you never quite saw him take the pot of chocolate, dip the whisk in it and wave it over your nipples. The chocolate that dripped onto your skin seared with heat, but his tongue was there to quickly lick it away before the pain registered as anything more than a turn-on.

"Mmm, that's tasty," he commented.

You watched him and his lethal mouth like a hawk. "You like that, Daddy?" you inquired, resting back on your elbows.

"Oh, I do." He drizzled more chocolate over your breasts. Your mind swam as he took his time sucking each soft flesh, activating your erogenous pressure point. He then dipped his finger in the warm chocolate then made a long trail down your lower belly. He licked that away, then used two fingers to paint your entire pussy with the hot chocolate, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on his masterpiece. Your body jerked and you sucked in a breath at the fire that raged between your legs. Then his tongue was down there, splitting your soft folds apart to delve into your sweetened essence.

Yanking the Santa hat off his head, your fingers threaded through his messy ponytail, pulling his face flush against you, writhing against him and begging for more. "Unnnh, babe, that feels so good," you groaned, your brain growing fuzzy as he French-kissed your pussy, pleasure licking at you with the same devastating impact as his tongue. "Fuck, baby, I love you!"

"I know," Roman moaned back, pushing your thighs further apart. "Spread your legs, baby...wider," he instructed you, his burly arms winding around your thighs and yanking you closer to him. "Mmm, perfect. Imma eat you off this counter, girl."

And he was. With gusto. Desperate for release, you tried to squirm but he had you pinned down to the kitchen island, keeping you still. You were panting hard as the tension coiled tighter in your belly. You were almost there, just a step away from that cliff, when he nuzzled his face against your wet pussy and flicked your hard little clit with his thumb. The pressure sent you over the edge and you moaned through the orgasm, your back arching against the cool surface of the counter. Your string of moans was an aphrodisiac to Roman, and he kept up his tender licking and sucking until your legs fell from his shoulders and you gave a shuddering sigh.

"Jesus," you whispered.

Roman resembled a kid in a candy store with his beard stained with cum and chocolate, eyes bright and lust-filled. He looked up, licked his lips with a smug smile and said, "Nothing tastes as good as you, baby," he praised, and your ego swelled. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel good. Twining your fingers in his, he pulled you upright and kissed your lips, sharing your tangy sweetness with you.

"Your turn," you announced, and slid carefully off the counter, pushing him to sit on one of the stools. You moved to take the pot of chocolate, but the three mason jars filled with homemade caramel sauce caught your eye. A devious little idea popped up in your head. Grabbing one, you unscrewed the cover, licking the sauce around the rim before grabbing Roman's dick with one hand, bringing the jar up to his plum-shaped tip.

"Fuck, girl," Roman shivered, his eyes wide when you dunked his dick right inside the jar. Your eyes shone excitedly as you pulled him back out, the thick, succulent syrup dripping down his pipe and around the rim of your hand.

"Mmm, look at all this sweetness on your dick, Daddy," you moaned, bending at the waist to capture his cock between your lips, your husky sigh vibrating against his sensitive skin. Roman moaned softly as you angled your bobbing head, sliding his dick further down your throat with the same rhythm as your hand stroking him, the sensations leaving him boneless.

"Shiiiit, just like that, baby, eat up my dick like a good girl, how's it taste, huh?" he managed to ask.

"Good," you hummed, working your tongue from the tip of his dick down to the veiny underside of his shaft, causing his breathing to grow labored as his cock throbbed in your hand.

"Oh my god, your tongue, dem juicy lips," Roman clutched your hair, watching you intensely. "Keep suckin' my dick, baby, show me what that mouth do."

Wordlessly, you drew his cock deeper into your mouth with a deep breath and started sucking him with only your jaw doing all of the work. His dick was more than sizable, but was no match for your mouth. Daddy had trained you well to handle all of that fat dick with your mouth and pussy. You paused to scoop more caramel sauce with his dick like a spoon, licking off every drop off his shaft with lavish swipes of your tongue.

"Put some on my balls," Roman instructed.

He held his dick up and out of the way while you rubbed a mix of chocolate and caramel all over his balls. As you sucked on them, Roman slowly massaged his dick, occasionally slapping your face with it. The visual of your arched back mesmerized him, the deliberate twerking of your plump ass cheeks as you pleasured him short-circuited his brain. Even hotter was the sight of his balls hidden in your mouth and the sauce mixture smeared on your chin. The contrast of the dark substance on your brown skin was so fucking sexy.

"That's it, baby, that's it...shit!" The Tribal Chief's deep voice was a strangled gasp, his breaths becoming even shallower as you popped his balls out to recapture his dick. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, lost in toe-curling pleasure as you lodged him in the back of your throat, your warm mouth swallowing around the base of his shaft like a suction. It was his turn to fidget in place, his fingers digging into your scalp as ecstasy loomed ever closer. "Baby I'm gon' come," he whined.

You moaned at his warning, the vibrations shuddering around his length. Your eyes locked with his as he started to fall apart. With a loud groan, he held your head still and gasped helplessly with each spurt of his cum gushing down your throat, his hips bucking from the force of his release. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt you swallow, drinking your fill, your tongue lapping up whatever you spilled. You pulled him out and gulped air back into your lungs, then glanced back up at him with those mischievous pretty eyes, pursing your pouty lips against his blunt head and making his cock twitch in your grasp.

"How the fuck am I still hard?" he half-laughed, half-choked, earning a proud grin from you.

"I got that magic mouth, baby," you declared haughtily, twisting your hand around him in gentle soothing strokes, "And you got this magic dick. You gonna put it on me, Santa Daddy? I know you want to."

"Damn right." He got off the chair and spun you around, bending you over the kitchen table. The tabletop remained cold against your bare, chocolate-streaked skin, and you shivered in response. It was only seconds before he guided your hands to grip the edges of the table in front of you. You moaned softly as he nudged your legs wider apart, hiking your ass slightly higher to press himself up against you.

"Ay, Alexa, turn that shit off, I wanna hear my girl scream for me," he growled at the air, and you burst out laughing when the kitchen fell into an abrupt silence.

His hard dick throbbed between your ass cheeks. He ran the thick head up and down the slit of your pussy lips. When he pushed the first few inches in, you whined pitifully. Your velvety womanhood pulled him in, eking a groan from the Tribal Chief as his big hands roamed your back and ass. His thrusts were slow at first, savoring the feel of your tight, wet pussy tugging at him with each languid stroke. You responded by bucking up against him, luring him even deeper into your body. You moaned together in mutual pleasure.

"God, so tight, so wet...bomb ass pussy," he grunted, smacking your ass and squeezing on the soft juicy flesh, knowing it would make you that much wetter as he stretched you open with that good dick. Your keening moans were nothing but fuel for him; he knew you loved it when he fucked you deep and hard and a little rough, ticking all your little sexual boxes that no one but him knew about. His rhythm was steady yet heavy, keeping you on edge with deep strokes right up on your g-spot. Leaning over you, he swept your hair out of your face to kiss your cheek, a hushed moan slipping from his throat when you squirmed against him, pressing your ass closer to his hips every time he pushed into you.

With the table pressing into your belly and his body trapping you against it, you felt his dick swell inside you, girthier and harder with every thrust. Your body was so sensitized from your previous orgasm that you felt another one build in record time. You wanted your second nut so bad, and you rolled your ass against him, hoping to put enough pressure on your clit to bring it on.

"Unnh yeah, throw that sexy ass back at me," Roman grunted with another hard smack to your ass which jiggled from the impact of his big hand. Said hand then made its way into your hair, the other gripping your waist as he grinded against you and you against him. He loved it; loved you, loved the feel of your bodies moving together, your juices dripping all over his dick, loved the fact that you couldn't seem to control the noises you were making as the kitchen echoed with the erotic sound of them.

"Oh, baby, I'm fuckin' close," you whimpered through your moans.

"How close?" he asked, his lips brushing soft kisses between your shoulder blades and trailing them down your back. His warm breath and his soft beard tickled your skin, and too aroused to answer, you merely whimpered again and bounced your ass more impatiently on his dick. The tension was there in your belly, swirling around so close to explosion, and you needed it like you needed air.

Roman's grip on your hair strengthened, anchoring himself to you. "Don't move. Lemme get that pussy." He was like a Ferrari engine, accelerating with harder pummeling thrusts that filled you to the brim. He was now balanced on just the balls of his feet in an effort to drive deeper into you, pounding you out until you were leaking down your thighs and all over his dick and balls. It felt so good. Too good.

"Yes, Daddy, beat that shit up...unnhhh, my god, I'm coming," you moaned long and loud as you unraveled like flimsy wrapping paper. Stars sparked behind your eyelids as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably from its intensity.

"Mmm, there you go sweetheart, soak my dick, come all over it," he snickered proudly, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Was that nut good, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, so good," you grinded out, lightheaded, your eyes glazed over and unfocused, even more so as you felt his hand spread over the back of your neck and hold you down to the countertop, his hips winding against your ass as he stayed burying his long, girthy dick in your warm, snug depths.

"Good, cuz I'm 'bout to nut too...shit, baby girl, this pussy amazing...You gon' make me put a kid in you..."

The thought of him breeding you with his seed had your pussy clenching around his cock, the suckling sensation reducing his husky taunts into yet another helpless moan. You could tell from his breathing that he was indeed close, his frenzied thrusts becoming sloppier as white-hot pleasure surged through both of your bodies in incredible waves.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Roman grunted, squeezing your hips for dear life as something snapped inside him. Slamming his dick into you one last time, he went completely rigid with a shout as he came hard for you. The warm wet spurts of cum emptying inside you caused your body to shiver against his as you milked his dick dry. His heavy weight kept you pressed into the hard marble table, both of you so limp that it didn't seem to matter that you couldn't breathe. Somehow, you managed to stand back upright, making him do the same behind you. As he wrapped you up in a hug, he was still inside you, and you tilted your head up to gently bite his bottom lip before licking at his tongue. It made him smile, and you couldn't help but smile back as he shared a long, greedy kiss with you before finally pulling out with a groan, slapping your backside one more time as he stepped away.

"Save some of that chocolate stuff for us," he said, grinning when you shot him a questioning look. "I want you to use 'em on me again later tonight."

You picked up the two sets of pajamas off the floor. "Hmm, you won't be too tired from dinner and all that?"

"Too tired to fuck you? Never, my baby girl."

"Then I'll make sure to bring a jar of each." You laughed as his Adams apple and his cock bobbed simultaneously, his imagination running wild with all the nasty things you would do to him.

"Good idea. Nah, scratch that, great idea," he corrected himself with a chuckle, lifting you into his arms bridal-style and carrying you out of the kitchen. "Right now, we both need a shower."

"Why do I got a feeling this 'shower' is gonna keep our guests waiting?"

He laughed with you and ascended the stairs. "You know me so well."

It was two p.m. by the time he was through with you. When you determined that your legs could function properly again, you dragged yourself out of his bed, changed into another set of pajamas and made your way back downstairs to put the finishing touches on the food and the rest of the house. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when this man came up behind you and ran his hands all over your body. His dick was hard.

"Again?" you breathed, biting back a gasp when he started undoing the strings of your pants. The guests would be arriving anytime soon.

"Just one more," he groaned huskily in your ear, grabbing a jar of chocolate sauce, "I've missed you so much, baby, I need to taste you one more time..."

About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Jey and his wife Larissa were your first guests. When the front door opened, they took one good look at you and Roman; disheveled clothing, hair out of place, the smear of sauce over your left breast and on the corner of Roman's lips, and put two and two together.

"Y'all nasty," Larissa giggled and entered the house, with Jey merely shaking his head behind her.

🎄THE END🎄

-----------------

This is definitely my final story for the year. I'm so proud of how many I was able to churn out and EXTREMELY happy and proud of how much you all like it. Thank you all, I appreciate all your support and feedback more than you'll ever know! 🥺

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368 notes · View notes

sparkle-fiend · 1 year

Text

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge.

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live).

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night."

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.)

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it."

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!"

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?"

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it.

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly.

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that.

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside.

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would.

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.)

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence.

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet.

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure).

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan.

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day."

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead.

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least."

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps.

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette.

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool."

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve.

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly.

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner.

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin.

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot."

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping.

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice.

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff."

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?"

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts.

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly.

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is.

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie."

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..."

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?"

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move."

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on.

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house.

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?”

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused.

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv.

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?"

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him.

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

#steddie #steddie fic #my writing #Valentine’s day ficlet #I’ve been working on this over a week #and still ended up having to rush to finish for today #not real happy with it #I wish I was a faster writer

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Text

Naughty or nice? | Ethan Landry x Reader

Advent calendar day five: Friendsmas + gift giving

Summary: The whole group gathers at Sam and Tara's for Friendsmas. Left to yourself in the living room, you and Ethan

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The night before everyone went home for the holidays, you all gathered at Sam and Tara’s apartment for a Friendsmas dinner. The place was lightly decorated in the spirits with only a small Christmas tree and twinkling lights you and Tara hung up a few weeks ago. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

‘’These gingerbread cookies are hilarious,’’ Sam complimented when she saw everyone’s caricature portraits in the box.

Some had been more of a challenge to make than others, but you managed to make them all somewhat ressemblant to each of your friends. You even made Tara’s a tiny bit smaller than the others.

‘’You even made Chad’s big head accurate,’’ Mindy pointed out, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she bit the arm of her cookie.

Chad scowled at her as he attempted to take a bite, only to have the head break off and tumble to the floor, making Mindy burst into laughter.

‘’Even the cookie-you can’t keep it on its shoulder!’’

In true sibling behavior, Chad flipped his sister off.

Having dealt with them since they were kids, Sam chose to leave them to their bickering and returned to her cooking. The water was boiling anyway.

She searched the counter for the box of pastas, only to realize that she forgot to stop at the store after her appointment with her therapist this morning. ‘’Ugh, I forgot to get macaroni for the mac’n’cheese… Can someone go to the bodega down the street, they should have some pastas? Any will do.’’

Tara, eager to escape vegetable-cutting duty, volunteered. ‘’I can go!’’

‘’I’ll go with you!’’ Chad said, going after her. ‘’The streets are icy, I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt or something.’’

You and Mindy shared a look once he was out of sight, knowing that it was cheap just an excuse to be alone with Tara. Hopefully he’ll stop chickening and finally make a move on her.

Leaving Sam with Mindy to finish dinner, you joined Ethan who was sitting alone in the living room. He was watching something on his phone, his attention absorbed by the tiny screen, and didn’t hear you coming.

‘’What are you watching?’’ you asked over his shoulder, a playful smile on your face.

He jumped, his heart hammering in his chest. ‘’Shit, you scared me.’’

You giggled as you walked around the couch and sat beside him. ‘’What are you watching,’’ you repeated.

Ethan shrugged, turning off his phone. ‘’Nothing. Just dumb things on youtube.’’

You hummed, taking a candy cane from the bowl on the table and trapped it between your red-coated lips. The sweet peppermint aroma filled the air as you leaned slightly closer to Ethan. ‘’So…have you been naughty or nice this year?’’

Ethan choked on air. His eyes flicked away from your mouth, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. ‘’W-what?’’ he stammered, the unexpected question taking him by surprise.

You chuckled, removing the candy cane from your lips. ‘’Just curious, you know? Santa's making his list and checking it twice.’’

Still flustered, the boy managed a nervous laugh. ‘’I guess I’ve been mostly nice? We volunteered together at the cat shelter last month and I helped you for your art project, does that gives me brownie points?’’

‘’You’re cute.’’ You leaned in and ghosted your hand up Ethan’s arm, wishing there wasn’t a sweater covering his bicep. ‘’Since you’ve been so nice, should I give you your Christmas present now?’’

An immediate panic struck his face. ‘’Christmas present?! I didn’t know— I’ve got nothing to give you…’’

You shushed him with a finger over his lips and, with your other hand, you pulled aside the left side of your wrapped sweater, flashing him your matching red lace bra. The article was very sheer and left nothing to the imagination, which made Ethan’s eyes go wide.

‘’Holy shit.’’

Just then, the door creaked open as Tara and Chad returned, snow covering their shoulders and heads. Snapping out of your bubble, you quickly covered up and loudly greeted the two. Tara gave you a strange look, her cheeks red from the cold, then hopped over to the couch to tackle you with her cold self.

—

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All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA @katherinejess

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #scream #scream imagine #scream 6

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theehoneeybee · 6 months

Text

Talking in Your Sleep. Chapter 3.

Talking in Your Sleep - Monkey Gone to Heaven

Children went missing at Freddy's in the 80's, forever tainting its reputation.

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

series m.list

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Children screamed and ran through the pizzeria, high off of cheap sugary candy and excitement. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place had become the go-to place for children's birthday parties and cheap pizza. Food, arcade games, prizes, and of course, the animatronics: it was a kid's dream. Everyone had their favourite member of the Faz-gang. There was Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie the Bunny, Chica the Chicken and Foxy the Pirate. On special occasions, another character would come out. A golden bunny. He was different from the other characters. He was controlled by a person. Someone inside the suit would walk around and entertain the kids when the main gang weren't on. He gave you the creeps. There was just something off about him that you couldn't describe. One of the employees had told you that the bunny was from a different location, and was meant to be part of a duo with a golden bear. You didn't really care for the other animatronics but you tried to stay away from the golden rabbit.

Tucked away in the corner of the main room, you sat at an abandoned table and drew away. Freddy's was your unwanted second home. Your parents worked. A lot. There was little time for them to look after you, and though they could afford to pay a babysitter, they chose to dump you at the pizzeria. Weekends and school holidays, you were there from open to close. More often that not, they forgot to pick you up too, too invested in their work to care about their own child. You couldn't escape the neglect at home, you parents would leave you to your own devices, continuing to work from home. It had taught you to become independent. You knew how to cook, clean and take care of yourself. It wasn't like you had any other choice.

You stared down at the page. The cheap waxy crayons Freddy's provided strewn across the table. Drawing had become your escape. As soon as the colours hit the page, everything else melted away. The sounds of screaming kids, pinball machines and singing animatronics became background noise. It helped you pass the time. Being at Freddy's from 9am to 9pm multiple days a week gets boring quickly. You had managed to get the high score on every arcade game, collected almost every prize available at the counter and tried every pizza flavour. You just wanted to go home.

At least the staff were lovely. Everybody knew you by name, always stopping by to make sure you were doing okay. They sometimes snuck you free ice cream too. You couldn't complain bout that. Seeing you here by yourself so often made them feel horrible. Many of the parents would stare and whisper. What kind of parent leaves there child here? You tried your best to ignore them. On days when your parents would forget to pick you up, someone would stay well past their shift to make sure you get picked up safely, letting you wait inside to avoid the cold weather.

"It's showtime, boys and girls!" a loud voice boomer over the intercom. "Come join Freddy and the gang for their latest song!"

Immediately, a tsunami of children flooded towards the show stage, jumping up and down excitedly as they waited for their favourite animatronics to appear. You didn't look up from your drawing. Colourful strobe lights painted the room as the rhythm of a pop sing started to play, the animatronics mechanically lip-syncing along. The chair across from you was pulled back and you heard the thud of someone sitting down. You peered up slightly from your drawing. Across from you was a girl about your age. Her long, golden blonde hair tied up in cute pig tails, adorned with colourful ribbons. She started at you, bright blue eyes filled with curiosity.

"Do you always sit by yourself?" she asked, you gave her a slow now, not putting down the crayons. The girl shuffled her chair over so she was next to you. "Woah!" she gasped, staring at your drawing. "You're really good!"

You shyly smiled, "Thank you."

"I'm Susan, but everyone calls me Suzie." Suzie offered her hand out for a handshake. After a moment of hesitation, you took it and introduced yourself.

You and Suzie quickly became friends. She came in every Saturday with her family for lunch. You learnt her favourite animatronic was Chica. She would carry around a plush of Carl the Cupcake and wore a shirt that said 'Let's Eat!'. The two of you would draw east pizza and draw together, sticking up your artworks on the wall which were adorned with hundreds of other drawings. Suzie would always insist yours were the best. She made your time at the pizzeria more bearable. You actually looked forward to Saturdays were you would get to see her. Her family was sympathetic towards your situation. In a way, you were jealous of them. All you wanted was a normal family. Parents who actually wanted to spend time with you. They always offered you a ride home, but you couldn't accept. 'My parents will be here soon,' you'd always insist. They were reluctant to leave you, but there was always and employee who's wait and keep you safe. You didn't want to burden them.

One Saturday, Suzie wanted to go watch the show. Chica was going to be performing a Cyndi Lauper song, two of Suzie's favourite things. You decided you would keep drawing then once the show was done, you'd go play arcade games together. The show ended, but Suzie didn't come back. You waited for a few minutes, she had probably just gone to the bathroom. But after fifteen minutes had gone by and Suzie hadn't returned, you started to get worried. Packing up your crayons, you began your search of the pizzeria. You went through every room twice, even checking the bathrooms. Nervously, you decided to approach her parents.

"Hi sweetheart," Suzie's mum greeted you, a kind smile painted on her lips. When she saw the worried look on your face, her face fell to one of concern. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Suzie."

The next few weeks at the pizzeria were quiet. Cops came and went, searching the pizzeria top to bottom to see if they couldn't find clues to Suzie's disappearance. Her face was plastered all over the news: Young girl goes missing at local pizzeria. Slowly, the investigation slowed as nothing was being uncovered. You didn't want to go back to Freddy's. Your parents would drop you off, kicking and screaming until you had finally had enough. They dropped parents not to take you there. You plea fell on deaf ears.

You stood up, dusting dirt off of your jeans to begin the journey home. You turned around, taking one last look at the sign, Freddy waving with a big grin, illuminated by cheap neon lights. The walk home was long. You kicked rocks along the path, scuffing your shoes in the process, holding onto the straps of your backpack. A faded missing persons poster was taped to a light post. Suzie's familiar face stared at you ,a bright smile adored as if she wasn't missing. You felt your bottom lip tremble, running the rest of the way home.

When you got home, you were out of breath, taking a minute to sit on the porch steps and breathe. You tried to door but it was locked. Somewhere in the garden your parents kept a spare key. For the next half an hour, you searched the plants, turning over rocks and faded gnome statues until you found it. The house was empty. It would still be hours until your parents came home. You didn't care if they would be mad. You refused to go back to the pizzeria.

It was almost 10pm when your parents came home. You were half asleep, laying down on the couch as the TV played quietly in the background. "Why weren't you at Freddy's?" your father asked nonchalantly. He was tired from work, loosening his tie as he entered the living room.

You sat up angrily. "I'm not going back there. Suzie went missing there, you know. I'm not going back!"

Your father groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Whatever, I'm not dealing with you right now. Just stay at home." He walked upstairs, leaving you alone.

You slowly wandered up the stairs to your apartment, lugging bags of groceries up with you. Your arms burnt as the heavy bags gave you a workout. Fumbling with the keys, you managed to make your way inside. As soon as you stepped in, you were greeted by a bundle of letters in the hallway, having been pushed through the rust mail slot in the door. You sighed as you put your groceries away. The fridge was bare aside from a few half-empty condiment bottles. You scooped up the letters and flopped down on the couch, opening them up one by one.

Electricity. Overdue. Gas. Overdue.

The last one made your stomach drop.

Rent. Overdue. Final notice.

Angrily, you threw the bills onto the coffee table. You had until the end of the month to pay this month, plus the back rent or you'd be on the streets. After the events at Freddy's last night, you were planning on calling Steve today to quit but it didn't seem like that was an option now. Even if you took another job during the day, with minimum wage you would never be able to pay it all off. You rubbed your temples, trying to fight of the headache you felt brewing. There wasn't anyone else you could stay with either. Your relationship with your parents was non-existent. The second you turned 18, you left like a bat out of hell. You decided to take a nap before your shift, curling up on the couch, trying to ignore your impending doom.

"Abby, give me my vest." Abby, with Mike's oversized security vest hanging off her shoulders, stood firm. "I'm serious," Mike stated. "Give me the vest."

"No!" Abby protested. "I don't want to stay with Aunt Jane. She smells like cigarettes," she whispered.

Max had gone MIA. She didn't answer any of Mike's calls. He even tried calling her brother but it went straight to voicemail. As a last resort, he called Aunt Jane. Of course, she jumped on any opportunity to make Mike look bad. Oh, you can't take care of Abby? I'm not surprised, I guess I'll gave to do it. Mike grabbed Abby, throwing her over his shoulder. She squealed, banging on Mike's back. After a struggle, Mike managed to steal the vest off of her.

"She's all yours," Mike huffed, grabbing his backpack and heading out the door.

Dread filled his body as he drove to Freddy's. Every cell in his body was telling him to turn around, to call Steve and quit, but Mike powered forward. He needed this job to prove to the court that he was a fit guardian for Abby. If that meant putting himself at risk at a haunted pizzeria, he'd do it. There's nothing he wouldn't do to keep Abby safe. Mike was surprised to see your car when he pulled into the parking lot. He was almost certain you would have quit. You had already opened the pizzeria and were set up in the security office.

The sound of the door opening startled you. "I'm surprised to see you back here," Mike says, putting his backpack into the locker.

"I could say the same for you." Mike wedged the chair under the door, tugging on the handle to make sure it was secure. "Trust me, if I could quit, I would," you said with a sardonic chuckle.

The two of you had an unspoken agreement that you wouldn't be leaving the security office tonight. While the whole pizzeria was a death trap, the security office was the safest room. Mike noted as you anxiously bit your lip. You both sat in silence, eyes glued to the monitors and listening intently for any noises. Mike yawned, almost nodding off as he tried to keep focus on the monitors. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and you noticed his usual undereye bags were even darker than usual.

"You can sleep, y'know," you offered.

Mike immediately shook his head. "No, I don't want you be alone."

"I'll be fine, Mike," you promised. "You really look like you need the sleep. I'll be okay for a couple of hours."

Mike looked between you and the monitors before reluctantly agreeing. He grabbed his cassette player out of his backpack and put his headphones on. You couldn't help the small smirk which formed on your lips. Mike gave your chair a playful kick before settling into his own. You kept a close watch on the monitors, letting Mike get some rest. Your mind couldn't help but wander back to your many bills. Your stomach churned with anxiety. Unable to focus, you decided to properly explore the office. Despite working here for almost three weeks now, you never bothered to properly look through the office. You poured over the shelves, mostly filled with old paperwork and memorabilia. As you checked through the lockers, a bright orange container fell out. Curiously, you picked it up. 'Michael Schmidt,' the label read. 'Triazolam. Take 1-2 before bed.' Sleeping tablets. You glanced over at Mike before carefully putting the bottle back into his backpack. Feeling like you had overstepped a boundary, you quickly took your seat and went back to watching the monitors.

"Garrett!" Mike called out, watching in despair as the navy blue car skidded away. The sound of a twig snapping behind him caught Mike's attention. To his surprise, five young children were standing behind him. The blonde boy stood in front of the rest, staring Mike dead in the eyes.

"What is this?" Who are you?" Mike asked with confusion, looking across the group. T he children didn't move, staring at him in silence. "That car. Did you see who drove that car?" Did you see who took my brother?"

In an instant, the children scattered, running in different directions. This dream was different. They were never different. Every night he would relive the memory of Garrett being taken, but something was wrong this time. Mike began to chase after the blonde boy, following him deeper into the pine forest. Just as he was about to catch up, his foot got caught on a rock, sending him tumbling to the hard dirt below.

"Shit! Are you alright?" you asked, leaning down by Mike's side. He was fast asleep, then the next thing you knew, he had flown out of his chair onto the floor. Mike groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he slowly sat up. He looked around your office, your concerned gaze focused on his face.

"I'm fine," Mike assured. "How long was I asleep for?"

You helped him stand up. "A couple of hours. It's almost six. Did you have a bad dream or something?"

Mike sat back down into his chair with a huff. "Something like that. It happens a lot though. I'm used to it."

Your eyes flickered over to the locker, then back at Mike. You noticed his forehead was bleeding. "You've hit your head. I'll grab the first-aid kit. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Luckily the first-aid kit was kept in the office so you wouldn't have to venture out. Even though nothing strange had happened tonight, you were still on edge. Kit in hand, you scooted your chair closer to Mike. You pushed his hair out of the way, gently cleaning the wound. It wasn't very deep, just a small cut.

"I'm fine." Mike winced slightly as you cleaned the wound. "Y'know how I have that book on dream theory?" you nodded. "Well, I use it to relive a memory of my brother. When I was younger, he got taken. No one ever found him or who did it."

"I'm sorry," you apologised. Your last day with Suzie came to mind. It had been so long since you thought about her. "So, you're trying to remember if you saw his face?"

Mike nodded. "Not having much luck though."

You finished cleaning his cut and gently placed a bandaid on top. Of course, the only bandaids in the supply box were Freddy Fazbear themed, not that Mike knew that. You tried to hide your smile as you stuck the Foxy bandage to his forehead, letting his hair fall back into place. "All better now."

The alarm on Mike's watched sounded, signalling the end of your shift. You shivered as you stepped out into the cold morning air, locking the rusty metal gates behind you. You decided to sit in your car and watch the sun rise, giving Mike a wave as he drove off. You looked at the Freddy's sign through the rear-view mirror and felt a pang of guilt hit your chest. You knew what it was like to lose someone dear to you. You thought about Suzie and the other kids who went missing. It was unfair that they were taken away. Their families deserved closure. You wanted closure. You started your car and began the drive home in silence.

Tomorrow is another day.

#mike schmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #william afton #michael afton #abby schmidt

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ant0nsfirstluv · 4 months

Text

Spending Winter Break/Christmas with Riize Headcanons

Merry Christmas Eve Briizes 😛

Warnings : None

More Under The Cut !!

Shotaro:

Takes you on a holiday vacation back to his birth place Kanagawa!!! and spend some time in Shibuya as well

Rents out a beautiful mini house for you and him to stay in together during the vacation, it would be too cute and have a nice view

Perhaps even coming with a personal onsen

Would take you to multiple winter festivals and winter firework shows buying you whatever treats and charms you’d like

PICTURE TIMEEEE does whatever to make the pics perfect with the right ambience

When Christmas finally hits you two would finally exchange gifts I like to think he’d get you a nice bracelet since I’ve seen him wear his own a couple times :))

MORE PICTURES .

Eunseok

I see a chill but memorable Christmas with him, you two doing cute activities like building gingerbread houses and making ornaments

definitely not laughing at how your gingerbread house looks (he is AND is taking pics to show the gc) but helps you fix it after 😭

Once you both finish building the gingerbread house he’d just hold your hand and feed you the left over candy and gingerbread

he loves horror movies so he’d probably would want to watch a Christmas based horror movie instead of just a regular one like Krampus or something

pretends to not care about you wanting to stay up Christmas Eve but will keep slightly shaking you awake once you start dosing off before the clock hits 12

Randomly took your hair and adds a christmas themed ribbon to it (when he did it, you have no clue)

Sungchan

drives you around to look at the pretty lights and attractions Christmas Eve, even letting you get out the car and take pictures together at certain winter attractions

gives you a gift a day early because he can’t help but show you one of the things he got you already (a nice little necklace with your initial mayhaps)

doesn’t let you show him his gift early because shhh the Christmas spirit 🤫 but then caves in letting you tell him what you got him

takes you (his pretty luh lady) out for a nice dinner at one of your favorite restaurants to eat at

gets you two the picture worthy seasonal christmas deserts once you two are done eating the main course even sharing some of his with you

Insta posts dedicated to spending the holidays with you once you two’s day is through of course

Wonbin

Christmas shopping with him for days upon days upon days before the actual day. You two practically have a summary of what you have gotten each other 😭

would randomly ask you about your measurements and sizes over and over just to be sure the clothes + jewelry he got you is the right fit ( “Hey what’s your shoe size again.” … “Wonbin you asked this earlier.” …. “…But are you sure-” “ Yes”. )

plays you some Christmas/winter songs on his guitar when you both end up dozing off not being able to show and exchange gifts till the morning

You alr know he’s posting a Christmas photo dump showing off the jewelry/earrings you two got each other

Watches Christmas movies with you, talks about how crazy home alone is and how he’d set up the traps if he was the kid or get in the house as the burglar 😭

Seunghan

he would not budge about your present and would have you actually wait until 12am or Christmas Day morning to open it oh my god 😭 but only because it’s v special

once he realized the tradition behind mistletoes he’d order one online just to randomly lift it above you two so you can give him a little kiss FOR FREEEEEE whenever

shows you “christmas themed snack recipes” from tiktok for you two to try (it was toooo difficult and you both gave up and ordered some chicken in)

I can’t get over the gamer Seunghan agenda he’d most def show you all the Christmas themed skins he got recently (maybe even bought you some skins if you play the same games)

once it’s finally 12 he’d finally show you your gift and he’d probably give something super personal that he’d know only you’d want to have

Sohee

KARAOKEEEEE bye you two would be swinging together singing alll the Christmas songs even the corny ones that you’d hear in the mall/ads

you two would probably play music the entire day in general, not just holiday hits but you two’s favorite songs as well and would just sing and dance together

sohee has said before he thinks it’s funny to give someone a useless gift so he’d probably have one gift that’s just a random strange item for jokes

BUT ofc he’d have an actual meaningful gift for you (but he’s most definitely giving you the useless one first just to see your reaction)

would have you two go out in hoodies + comfy clothes to get some small little deserts for you guys to eat Christmas Day at a mini mart

Anton

we already know Anton is always online and always planning so he’d have a bunch of ideas and once again an itinerary of what you guys will do this christmas break

SIGHT SEEING ! maybe he’d take you home to jersey to walk through certain streets and plazas to see the lights and snowmen holding hands, If you got too cold (because it can get cold as hell in jersey 😭) he’d bring an extra thicker jacket in his tote bag just in case + let you keep your hand in his coat pocket

MATCHING/COORDINATING CHRISTMAS PAJAMAS he’d have you guys make Christmas tiktoks to keep for himself to watch whenever you two are apart

make a snowman and snow angels with him ommlll it’d be funny how large his angel would be in comparison to yours 😭

depending on how longgg you two have been together he might even take you to meet the fam in jersey and spend the holidays with them too

the gift he’d have for you would be so expensive and would be something that he remembered being associated with your favorite things + hobbies

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enchantedbarnes · 11 months

Text

Uncle Buck • Part 5

Meddlingpunkitis

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Benji shot up from bed first thing in the morning, excited to see your first reaction after setting up his movie night.

He sat at the kitchen table waiting. You eventually walk in to grab a drink from the fridge and then walk back out as if it was a regular morning. Why did he only get a passing noogie?

Benji quickly looks over at his dad sitting next to him, "Aren't people in love supposed to be like, floating and all dopey looking??"

Theo finishes a sip of his coffee, "Not necessarily. If you're talking about your aunt, I've never seen her, as you describe, 'dopey in love.' Also, it is 6 in the morning. It's a miracle she's even awake right now. If you see her looking happy and 'floating' at 6am, I think we have a body snatching case to worry about instead."

Benji let's out an annoyed grunt as he scoops up the last of his eggs into his mouth and storms out of the kitchen.

Theo shrugs to himself, taking another sip of coffee while scrolling through emails on his laptop.

"That should be promising," he mutters to himself.

Benji stops in your doorway, "Are you and Bucky official yet?"

"Official...ly human? I'd say 90-99% for sure. Verdict is still out."

"Is he your boyfriend now?" He clarifies with a huff.

You shrug while sipping your drink, looking through your closet for today's outfit.

"You're the most frustrating person alive," he stomps off.

-----

Strolling through the aisles, you and Benji were out on a shopping trip after you picked him up from school to pick out decorations for the upcoming holiday season and your annual Christmas party.

Benji riding at the front of the cart, his feet on the basket underneath and hands holding onto the front while pointing which direction you should steer and which aisles to stop at next.

"Sorry dude, 6 bags of family size sour patch kids didn't make the budget cut." You stop him as his arms reach out to grab as many as they can hold.

"How about 4?"

"You can grab one," you hold up a finger, "of the smaller sharable sizes, final answer."

"Fiiiine," he tosses the smaller bag into the cart, "What about peanut slim shady's?"

"Alright, one bag of peanut slim shady's too," you agree.

You told him when he was around 4 years old that M&M's were called Slim Shady's because the rapper Eminem invented them. None of you have had the heart to correct him or teach him otherwise as he got older and you hope he never stops calling them Slim Shady's.

The look on his little face when you had joined in taking him trick or treating shortly after that...

Benji gleefully skips over to you in his little werewolf costume while shouting, "Looks! I got slim shady's!" Holding the tiny packet of candy up to you, waving it over his head.

"The real slim shady's?!" You asked in reply, trying to keep a straight face.

He nodded back enthusiastically.

"We need to grab some new string lights since we used some for the movie room. Maybe a new tree topper too.." you listed off.

"No! We can't replace tree monster!"

"I thought you hated tree monster?"

"It's a part of the tradition now!"

"Okay, okay. Tree monster rides again another year then. How about a new tree skirt? Does the Christmas Tradition Committee agree with that?"

"Mm…. Yeah, that should be fine."

"Your mom texted with a reminder to grab more garlands for the stairs banister," you read aloud while looking at your phone.

You texted Bucky earlier before you left on your shopping adventure with a quick hello to check in with him and see how his day was going, sharing that you were picking Benji up from school.

You notice a reply from him that says,

'Stuck with Samuel today 🙄'

"Look at this pillow! It looks like a dinosaur chicken nugget!" Benji lifts the pillow up to your face.

"It's the most beautiful chicken nugget pillow I've ever seen."

"We should get it for Monty! Do you think they have french fries too???"

"If that's what you would like to get him, sure. Add it to the cart, bud."

"Yessss!" He cheers as he hops back onto the cart while singing a made up song about chicken nuggets.

Turning the corner to leave the aisle you slow down so you don't push Benji and the cart into anyone. Benji looks around the corner for you, "Clear!"

"Thank you, co-pilot."

You make your way over to the Christmas decorations finally.

"How about this ornament?" Benji asks with a wide grin while holding up a large ornament that says "Just Married" on the back of a car window.

"You're hilarious. Hold on while I search for an 'in memoriam' option," you playfully glare down at him.

"She likes it," he smirks to himself as he skips down the aisle.

"Hey, get back over here. Put that back, you gremlin!"

He giggles and turns out of the aisle.

"Benji, you know better than to leave out of my eyesi-"

"NO WAYYY! AHHHHH!" You hear Benji shout from the next aisle.

You ditch the cart and take off after him assuming the worst from his shouting.

You stop short when you turn the corner and see what the shouting was about.

"LOOK AUNT Y/N!"

"Heyyy Aunt Y/n," Sam grins while holding onto Benji who jumped up in an attack hug.

You breathe a sigh of relief, "Oh hey, Sam! Glad to see you here and not some stranger dragging this one screaming out of the store," you greet back with a relieved smile, "Benj you can't run off and start shouting like that. Can you give Sam his personal space back now please? Thank yooou."

Benji hops down, "Are you shopping for decorations too??" He asks excitedly.

"We were just-"

Benji let's out an exceptionally loud gasp as he looks ahead down the main aisle, "Future. Uncle. Buckyyy!!!" He takes off running again across the store.

Bucky's eyes widen as he spins around. He catches the projectile 8-year-old leaping at him with his right arm, while the left holds his shopping basket with items he was carrying.

Benji releases his arms from his death grip hug and cups his hands on both sides of Bucky's face, squeezing his cheeks till his mouth puckers.

"I'm so happy to see you!!!"

"M ha-py t' see y'too," Bucky muffles back. "What do you have there?" He asks once his face is released, nodding at the ornament Benji is still clutching between his fingers.

"If I show you, Aunt Y/n is going to make me sleep outside in a tent for a week."

"Is that so?" He looks over at you with an eyebrow raised while lowering Benji back to the ground.

"For the record, I never said that," you hold your hands up in defense, "but I wouldn't rule that option out completely," you shrug while walking over quickly and snatching the ornament, crossing your arms so it's tucked under and unseen.

Another awkward encounter to add to the tally.

"We're shopping for decorations," Benji grins while Bucky places his basket down next to him. "We have a Christmas party coming up! You'll come, right??"

Bucky is bent down at eye level with Benji, "Well, I'm not sure -"

"It's the Saturday the week before Christmas!" Benji starts rattling off the date and time of the party, listing who is expected to be there.

Bucky looks over at you, his eyebrows raised.

You shrug again, "Don't look at me, it's his world, we're just living in it. But yes, you're absolutely invited if you don't already have any plans. You too, Sam." You smile at them.

"Would it be rude if I bring a plus three? My sister and nephews are visiting," Sam asks.

"Are they Benji's age? We'd love to have them join too."

Benji pumps his fists, cheering to himself. "Yesss!" He skips ahead pulling Sam along, directing him towards the next few aisles while firing away questions about his nephews.

Bucky stands up and leans against the nearest end cap with a smirk on his face.

"Hi," his eyes narrow in suspicion as he quickly looks over at your crossed arms, "Are you really not going to show me whatever it is you're hiding?"

"Absolutely fucking not, thank you so much for asking."

He laughs at your answer while you try to think what to do next. "Fancy meeting you here though. What did Sam do to convince you to go shopping?"

"Oh, you know, good ol' fashion lies and deception."

"Ah, yes. Of course," you step closer, "The promise of food and future solitude to lure you out? And then the classic 'gotta make a quick pitstop' announcement halfway?"

He snaps his fingers and points your way, "That's the one."

You grin and hold your arms out in an invitation for a hug, making sure the ornament is tucked into your hand and sleeve. His smile softens when you step closer again and he accepts your hug.

"Happens to the best of us," you answer while trying to play it cool. With your arms around him, you give a slight squeeze that he returns. Reaching out your right arm very slowly to try and tuck the ornament on the shelf behind him discreetly. Your plan was to hide the ornament behind the larger items on the shelf behind him. Nothing gets by the super soldier though. As he goes to turn his head to see what you're up to, you have to think fast on a distraction and quickly leave a peck on his cheek that was now in front of you.

His eyes widen slightly as his head swivels back over at you and then narrow in suspicion. You finally drop the ornament as quietly and quickly as you can. He goes to turn again, this time lifting you off the ground and turning both of you for him to better see. Grabbing his face with both your hands now you continue to plant quick kisses all over.

"Is it that bad?!" He laughs, beaming over at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm also just so happy to see you," you feign innocence while trying to pull away. He squeezes you closer while tickling at your sides. You break into laughter as you continue to try and break free.

Sam and Benji both poke their heads around the aisle and smirk at each other, sharing in a discreet high five, before ducking back into the aisle out of sight.

Ornament now forgotten, Bucky doesn't take his eyes off you as you both smile warmly at each other. He quickly lifts you again and starts walking you both towards the direction the other two went. Pausing quickly he leans in with a smirk and gives you a quick kiss before continuing to shuffle the both of you forward.

You send a warning text off to Bucky the morning of the Christmas party:

'hi... just a quick heads up for tonight (and I mean that warning literally...) Benji has covered the house in mistletoe. Latest scheme seems to be getting us under all of them at some point. How would you like to proceed?'

'10 - 4. Do we get to mess with him?'

'Absolutely. 🫡 See ya tonight, friend.'

'Later, pal 🙄'

-----

Walking into the living room carrying a plate of snacks, a knock on the door grabs your attention and you hurry over to open it. Opening the door with one hand, while still balancing the snacks in the other. You spot the giant kissing ball hanging above the porch and roll your eyes.

Bucky and the Wilson's arrive at the same time as one of Theos's coworkers. You quickly greet them and usher them all through the door.

"Daaang, look at you. Your hair is so long," Sam comments walking in.

"Don't get used to this. I do not have the patience for this. Prudence insisted on straightening and styling it for me."

"Noted," he chuckles, "Did you add more colors, or were these always there and hidden in the curls?"

"I added more in. Benji used to tell his friends at school I was part My Little Pony."

"You had a pony..? I think I'm missing a reference," Bucky asks.

"It was a popular set of toys and an animated show called My Little Pony. It was colorful ponies with bright colored hair."

"Right...of course..."

This gets a small laugh from you as you place the snack tray on one of the many tables set up.

"YOU CAME!" Benji shouts running into the room.

Greetings and introductions made, Nora rushes over to say her own hellos and takes the Wilson's to meet the other kids that have arrived so far. Benji looks up at you expectantly. There's another sprig hanging above nearby, you just have to take 4 or 5 steps closer towards Bucky.

You stare back at Benji, not moving from your spot. "What are you lookin' at?"

He huffs and goes to catch up with Nora.

You move closer and kiss Bucky on the cheek, "This should be fun." Nodding your head up, "Quick recap, I've counted 6 so far. Best placed one is over by that bookcase," you tilt your head towards it, "He angled it juuust right so you don't notice it until you directly stand in that corner there."

"I don't know, you look very beautiful all dolled up. Might not be able to stick to this plan."

"You clean up pretty well yourself, but I'm not letting him win. Sorry." You pat his shoulder as Prudence and Monty steal Bucky away and you finish setting the last of the snacks and napkins out.

The front door opens as more people arrive.

Included in the latest arrivals is your neighbor Frank who walks in with his niece.

Benji walks by Bucky nodding his head "discreetly" towards the door and mouths, "Frank." He then mimes sticking his finger in his mouth and gagging while he continues to scramble away and stand near Nora once again.

-----

You're chatting with Sarah on the couch. Benji walks up and throws himself dramatically across your lap. "Hi, are you going to sit here all night?" He asks.

"Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Can we make gingerbread houses?"

"Prudence already set everything up on the kitchen counter, knock yourself out."

"But I need adult supervision."

"For what? To stop you from eating frosting? There's no tools involved."

"Moral support and guidance in knowing I'm doing something right. What if I put up 5 walls by accident?"

"Then I'd be very impressed from afar at your architectural brilliance."

He groans and rolls off your lap, walking away.

"The drama," you roll your eyes, "Do you think Aj and Cass would like to join him? We have plenty of kits."

"I'm sure they'd love that. I'll go ask them, thank you so much."

-----

You were now standing no more than three feet from the kitchen entry that had a bundle of mistletoe hanging above it. Sam and Nora standing to the left of you, the kitchen entry to your right. A table is behind you with a bowl of family friendly egg nog set up on it. Frank approaches you and the table. You greet eachother with friendly hellos and you introduce him to Sam. As they shake hands you take a few steps back to move out of the way of the table, offering Frank an empty cup.

In taking those steps back you were now dangerously close to the mistletoe-trapped entry with Frank still next to you. As you're asking how his niece is doing, you feel something hit the back of your head. Nora tries to discreetly cover her mouth to shield her reaction.

Your hand flies up to brush through your hair as you look at the ground. At your feet you see a gumdrop and a small gingerbread chunk laying there. You whip your head up and glare into the kitchen.

Benji's hands fly up in fake surrender, "It slipped! I told you I need adult supervision! These gingerbread pieces are crazy!"

The group of kids giggle as they pause their decorating to watch.

"Oh, I'll show you something crazy," you step into the kitchen and Benji takes off, ducking around you to escape. He slips in front of Theo and his co-workers playing it up like he was intently listening to their conversation, as if he had been there the whole time fake nodding along.

"Stop terrorizing your aunt," Theo says without even needing to assess the situation.

Benji clutches his chest, "I would never."

Bucky smirks into his drink as he watches from across the room. Quickly returning his attention to Monty and Prudence next to him.

Benji eventually sneaks his way back into the kitchen when all eyes and attention were finally off him.

-----

A couple times now you have taken turns in frustrating Benji to no end.

You're currently standing innocently under one of the many mistletoe, taking a sip from your glass in hand. You could see Benji in the corner of your peripheral trying to hide under a table. Bucky then walks by slowly. Benji's hands clench into anxious little fists in front of him, his small head poking up from the table ever so slightly. You and Bucky exchange a quick passing pleasantry to each other as he continues to walk by without stopping. Benji drops his head to the floor, groaning in frustration.

You smirk into your drink as you take another sip.

Nora and Theo have taken a different approach for the night and keep purposefully stepping under every mistletoe near Benji and giving each other exaggerated loud kisses. "Ugh, gross. Will you two stop it!" He crawls out from under the table and takes off across the room.

-----

"Hey, Y/n? Question for you..." You and Bucky both walk over to Sam who was standing by your decorated tree, "What am I looking at here?" He points to the top of the tree.

Bucky squints at the tree, his head tilting in confusion.

"That's tree monster..." You answer with a shrug.

"Tree what now?"

"We didn't have an official topper for our tree. Every year we'd just use a random toy up there. Benji came home from kindergarten one day with this masterpiece. I don't know what toy it used to be, but he sure did a number on it. And then I jokingly stuck wings to it thinking 'surely this will make us rethink this situation and get something else' but I was very mistaken. Theo added some googly eyes. Nora added the halo and reinforced it a bit...It's a complete abomination but we love him."

"It's deeply unsettling to look at, but I'm happy you have expressed your creative side as a family."

"I disagree," Bucky answers, "I think every store should have one, so that all families can enjoy having such a creative nightmare on their trees as well."

"Aww, thanks Bucky. I'm sure we could whip something up for you!" You joke.

"Ya know, I don't have a tree. So, darn...won't be needing one. Thanks for the offer."

"You don't have a tree??"

"A crypt has more decorations than this man's home. His place looks like someone moved out yesterday and left behind what they couldn't fit in the U-Haul."

"Thank you, Samuel."

-----

Your cousin Andrew arrives fashionably late with his wife Elyse and their 6 year old daughter Phoebe.

Phoebe squeals and runs up to Benji, throwing her adorable pudgey arms around him in a tight hug. His arms still at his sides while she squeezes tight, giggling with tiny glee. Benji always pretends to be annoyed but you all know he loves the attention. He pulls one of his arms free, patting her on the top of her head. "Hello, Phoebe. I'm glad you're here, I have a mission for you."

"Me??" She grins up at him while jumping up slightly.

"Ohh yeah, definitely you," he guides her across the room away from the adults.

"Andy!" You greet him with a hug when he walks up to you with Elyse, "Where's my Phoebs?" You look around his legs.

"She's -" he looks down and around the room, "She's in the building, she walked in before me. She saw Benji and took off with him."

"That can't be good," you laugh and introduce Andy and Elyse to Bucky, Sam, and Sarah.

During your conversation Bucky suddenly catches his balance and looks down as he feels a small body crash into him and wrap their arms around his legs.

Bright hazel eyes with a Cheshire smile beam up at him, the large grin showcasing her missing front bottom tooth.

"Hello there," Bucky laughs, greeting his new small friend.

"Hi, Uncle Bucky!" she giggles while Bucky's eyes widen.

"Oh no, it's contagious. Meddlingpunkitis has spread to the next youngest," you gasp dramatically while bending down to scoop up the giggling little blonde, "What will we dooooo?!" You cry out, "Not my little Phoebe!" You bend over again with her in your arms, hanging her upside down while tickling into her sides.

She giggles and squirms, trying to escape.

-----

Benji walks up with his gingerbread creation in hand on a platter. "Ta-daaaa," he sings, holding it up to you.

"Wow! Great job, Mr. I Need Supervision. Is that...?"

Benji rotates the plate so the front is now in better view. "It's a chapel!" He grins.

"That better be Mr. and Mrs. Claus..."

Closer inspection revealed one gingerbread figure with a black and yellow frosting lined arm and a bowtie, the other decorated with multi color frosting hair in a white outline "dress".

”You're exhausting, you know that? One part of me is really proud of you, because you did an amazing job on this. The other part really wants to smother you....with love of course," you give him a side eye, "Go put that back in the kitchen and never speak of this again."

Benji grins as he turns and retreats back towards the kitchen area, sneaking in a quick detour to show Sam his handywork. Sam immediately pulls his phone out to snap a quick picture of Benji holding it up to the camera with a grin.

-----

"I have an idea but it might be a tiny bit of a gamble and slightly outrageous.." you whisper to Bucky as you finally reunite in the same area.

Nora had just finished forcing everybody to gather around to take a series of group photos.

You've successfully dodged all the mistletoe encounters so far.

"How outrageous are we talking? I'm not kissing Sam."

"Oh come on, I wasn't asking that - unless-" you hold up your fingers to your chin in thought.

"No." He points a quick finger towards you.

"Okay, okaay. Fine."

You lean in closer and fill him in on your next plan.

"...you want me to kiss your neighbor?"

"Obviously the objective here is to avoid you actually needing to kiss her, but it's a sacrifice for the greater good here if it's unavoidable, Buck. Or we could go back to your Sam plan," you smile as sweetly as you can over at him.

"Y'know, at first I didn't recognize it, but now I definitely see that same evil little twinkle that's usually in Benji's eyes, and let me tell you," he leans closer, bending slightly to reach your height and points at your eyes, "It's absolutely genetic. You should see yourself right now."

"You think my eyes twinkle?" you grin up at him.

"Y/n," he sighs but starts to laugh.

"Pleeeease," you unleash the pout.

"That," he points at you again, "is even worse. You're serious?"

"Aren't you like, trained in stealth? You can do it!"

"Thank you so much for the pep talk, but I still don't understand why you want me to kiss your neighbor."

"You are so hung up on that tiny detail! I can assure you, it will not get that far. I had baked goods and candy launched at my head when I got too close earlier, I can't even begin to imagine what stunt will happen if you get close enough. He's probably gonna lower himself down from the ceiling somehow like something out of Mission Impossible. Oooor, if you don't wanna kiss Sam, I'll just gooo--" you start to step away but a hand shoots out and stops you, pulling you back to your original spot.

He glares over at you, "Not funny."

"A little funny?" You squint while pinching your fingers.

"Unbelievable," he places a quick kiss to your temple and releases your arm as he storms off towards the next target area.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" You call after him, just loud enough so only he's the one to hear you.

"It's white wolf," he mutters back.

"For real?"

Bucky starts to approach your neighbor who is standing under one of the many mistlebombs hanging around, this one strung up above a popular gathering area of the living room.

Before he can get within 3ft of dear sweet unsuspecting Sylvia, yelling erupts in the room with a chorus of AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!s. Suddenly 3 small bodies take down the super soldier. Benji leading the charge grabs onto an arm and attempts to climb up Bucky's back while Sarah's boys both tackle a leg of their own, making sure to get him at the back of the knees in their takedown.

Your eyes widen as you watch the group of them land in a heap on the floor.

You hold your breath waiting to see if you should run over and check on them but let out a relieved sigh when Bucky gives a dramatic roar and starts play fighting back with them while sitting up. The boys giggling and continuing their shouting and attack.

"Tiny savages," you shake your head.

"Should we help?" Nora asks walking up to you.

"Nah, I'm sure they're fine," as soon as the words are out of your mouth, sweet little Phoebe, not wanting to be left out of the excitement, joins in and hops onto Bucky's back, throwing her little arms around his neck.

"Oh shit. Hey, White Wolf? Ya good?" You hold your thumb up and then down.

You see a vibranium thumb pop up.

"See? He's got this."

-----

It was starting to get late. Most of the guests have already left. You're finishing up clearing off some of the tables with help from Bucky.

"You're our guest, you're not supposed to be doing clean up labor."

He shrugs, "I don't mind."

"Where'd you get the bracelet?" You laugh noticing the multi color beads circling his wrist.

"Phoebe gave it to me on their way out," he twists his wrist so the rest of it is in view.

"So stylish," you compliment while stacking some plates together.

Sam walks up with a tired AJ carried on his back.

"Y/n, as always, it's been a pleasure. Thank you so much for inviting all of us."

Sarah walks up carrying Cass who is already knocked out.

"Of course!" You pull him in for a hug, "Thank you so much for coming. It was an absolute pleasure having you all with us. Bye AJ, it was nice meeting you," you reach up to give him a fist bump that he sleepily returns.

"I hope you all can visit again soon," you pull Sarah in for a hug next and run your hand along sleeping Cass' back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Do you guys need any help?" Bucky asks while passing Sarah her bag and another bag filled with cookies the boys decorated.

"Nope, we're good. Theo is grabbing a taxi for us. You coming with?"

Bucky looks at his watch and nods with a shrug, "Probably a good idea."

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night," Sam waves while walking off towards the door.

"Wait!" Benji rushes down the stairs with two red envelopes.

"For you," he hands one over to Sam, "Merry Christmas!" He jumps up for a high five.

"Is this my wedding invitation finally?" Sam holds the envelope up to the light.

You give him a push towards the door, "It's a Christmas card. Get out of here."

"Sure, sure. See you at the wedding!" He smirks while stepping outside.

You shake your head and start to follow them out.

"Cab should be here in 5," Theo announces by the doorway before going back inside.

You step out onto the porch and give the Wilson's a final wave while they wait by the curb, checking out the neighbors light displays and decorations.

The large kissing ball with multiple mistletoe jammed in there hangs above you, dangling from the short roof over the porch.

Benji hops out onto the porch with Bucky following behind, pulling his leather jacket on.

"For you!" Benji hands the last envelope to Bucky, "Merrryyy Christmas!" He wraps his arms around Bucky's waist.

"Merry Christmas, bud. Thanks for the card."

Benji stares at him expectantly and then looks over at you.

"Am..I.. supposed to open it now??" Bucky asks.

Benji shrugs, still staring you both down, "You don't have to."

You scratch at your neck and try to discreetly point up, signaling to Bucky why the stare down was happening. His eyes follow up and you see him realize what's going on.

"Ok, I'll save it for later then. See ya," Bucky holds his hand up for a high five to Benji, who gladly winds back his arm to give the strongest high five he could.

Benji quickly realizes standing right there isn't going to get him the results he wants and he starts walking slowly back inside, "See ya, F.U.B.!"

Bucky's eyebrows scrunch while looking at you.

"I'm assuming that's Future Uncle Bucky," you sigh and answer for him.

"Ah," he grins, "Thanks again for having us, pal."

"You're very welcome, friend. One more fake out for the road?"

Bucky leans in close, you both tilt your heads, he slowly lifts his hand.. and pretends to pluck an eyelash off your cheek.

"Got it," Bucky jokes while pulling back, pretending to blow the lash off his finger.

"OH MY GOD! WILL YOU JUST KISS ALREADY?!" Benji throws his arms up in exasperation, closing the front door with a loud thump behind him.

You both try to hold in your laughter and keep a straight face, but Sam's laughter echos loud and clear. You peak over and see Benji ducking down from the window.

Keeping your platonic facade going, you both give an exaggerated firm hand shake. You can feel the intense laser focus stare coming at you from the windows again.

"Goodnight, ol' chum. Let me know when you get home safe, please."

He gives you a salute and you go to turn the doorknob but nothing happens. You shake it and push against the door.

"Locked you out?"

"Yuuup," you pull your phone out and pull up your bank app. Nodding to yourself, "Yup, okay. Bucky, break the window."

"..What?"

"Break the window," you point to the pane of glass, more specifically the one you know the watch guard was staring out of behind the sheer curtain.

"What??"

"I'm going to pay for it, come on."

He stares at you like you've grown an extra head.

"Fine, we can use the spare key if you wanna be all boring about it. I'm going to need a boost," you step closer to the edge of the porch, looking up at the roof covering the porch.

"A boost?"

"What? You think we keep our spare key under the mat like a bunch of fools?"

"Or, hear me out..." He reasons, "You call Nora and you can use the door without the need to scale your roof or smash in a window."

"Booo," you pout up at him.

"There is another option..." he steps closer.

"I'm listening..."

He gives a subtle nod to the door where no doubt you can still feel a pair of eyes burning into your head through the window.

"Aw man, but then the tiny tyrant will win."

"Does it still count if you kiss this guy?" He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a Ziploc bag, holding up the "Bucky" gingerbread man Benji decorated.

"Oh my god," you laugh and swat the cookie away from your face.

"Fine, I'll put him back with the missus," he lifts up another Ziploc bag high enough so you can see the colorful "hair" frosting peak out of the pocket signalling he also has your gingerbread person in there and tucks both back into the pocket.

"Unbelievable, do you have the building in there too?"

He grabs your right hand and pulls you in closer, wrapping your arm around his neck. "Nah, left that for the next confectionery nuptials."

You shake your head with a laugh and bring your other arm around his neck.

"Thanks for dealing with us, once again," you smile up at him.

"Phoebe was a nice addition this time. Do you get to see her often?"

"Just the occasional family gathering and birthdays. Definitely not often enough. I'm sure Andy would be more than willing to pawn her off for a night or two if asked. She's just as mischievous as Benji though. Her mischief is more animal based. Her teachers call her a Disney princess because she tries to befriend every animal she sees. She also tries luring many squirrels and wild life into their house."

"Yikes," he laughs.

"Ride's here, Buck!" Sam announces while helping Sarah and the boys get in.

He gently grabs your waist with his vibranium hand and brings his right hand up your neck, moving to cradle the back of your head. You see a bright flash of light come from the window and before you can investigate further Bucky quickly dips you backwards while giving you a sweet and tender kiss. Your grip tightens around him, giggling in surprise.

"I want a copy of that," Bucky points towards the door when he lifts you back up.

"Copy of what?" You ask, a little dazed still.

Benji cracks open the door with Nora's camera in hand, "We have a ring doorbell too. I'll send the video link with it."

"Excellent, thanks. Goodnight, Doll." He smirks and gives you another quick kiss before turning to meet up with the waiting taxi.

-----

The next day you receive a text:

'This is getting framed.'

Attached was a picture of Benji's Christmas card stuck to Bucky's refrigerator by a magnet.

Sorry for the long wait! You rush a miracle, you get rotten miracles. If you'd like to see more, send me your ideas. 😉

Dividers I believe were from @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @firstcashheroathlete @stany0url0calwh0res111 @sjsmith56 @eliwinchester99 @tbhidkbutok @babymady @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @its-daydreamer23 @capswife @thecubanator2 @wintermunsonreads @buckybarnessimpp @moon-light1928 @emily-roberts @jeanbarton @lottiehernandez @tellenically @trixxietat @imdoingbetternow @maximoffrogersslut @samsgirl93 @lovebittenbyevans @inwhichiramble @jbuckybarnesfan @daemonslittlebitch @marvel88 @spiderman-stilinski @marvelfreakgirl @tinkerbelle67 @assassinscross @foolishwaitersblog @jasminex12 @buckysbaby-doll @kilikina34512 @rintheemolion @themorningsunshine @saranghaey @je-suis-prest-rachel @alovecraft @openup-yourmind @alicedopey @ilovetaquitosmmmm @sebbystanlover-vk @s0upm1x @ivorycrow19 @songoficecreamandfireworks

Next: Part 6 I Caught Fire

#uncle buck fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes series #bucky fanfic

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hunnylagoon · 5 months

Note

hey! I want to request a fluffy one shot about ellie being a parent with the reader. The rest is in your hands, write what comes to ur mind!

Small Hands

Summary: People say that the magic disappears when you have children, that never applied to you and Ellie, you are just as hopelessly in love as the day you were married. You celebrate Christmas with your friends and family despite a few bumps in the road.

A/N: I usually don’t fuck with kids but this concept actually seemed really cute to me. This chapter is a bit shorter, sorry if it’s rushed, I wrote this while studying for my exams. Thank you for requesting! If anyone else has requests, feel free to leave them and I will get around to them! There is the smallest teensiest weensiest smidgen of a angst in the middle but it comes from a third party. Warning for mentions of postpartum depression

The air was infused with the spicy aroma of gingerbread and the warm glow of twinkling lights as a group of friends gathered for their annual Christmas party. The cozy living room, adorned with tinsel and stockings, echoed with laughter and the jingling of bells. The adults, each holding a mug of steaming cocoa (with a splash of Bailey's), exchanged stories of the year gone by while the children, eyes wide with wonder, eagerly awaited the arrival of Santa Claus.

The living room sparkled with the joy of reunion, as friends who had become family over the years shared in the holiday spirit. You being the hostess of the party, had a flair for festive decorations, you had turned your home into a winter wonderland, complete with a towering Christmas tree and a crackling fireplace. "Levi, get away from there!" Your eyes went wide and you slammed your mug onto the coffee table before you ran to retrieve your son who was wearing an elf onesie and had been attempting to pull out bottles from the wine rack. Your friends and family laughed at the scene "Geez," You grabbed him from beneath his arms and scooped him up, quickly bringing him close to your chest. He had just turned four and was rapidly getting too big for you to carry him. You put him on the ground and ushered him toward the game room telling him to go play with his sister while all of the children were playing some kind of board game or watching the Polar Express. "Where is your mother?" You mutter under your breath, gaze suddenly focusing on the sink full of dishes, you sigh and walk towards them, figuring it easier to get them done now as opposed to when the part has ended and you're too exhausted to do so.

In the tranquil kitchen, the rhythmic cadence of water splashing and the clink of porcelain against stainless steel create a melodic backdrop as you diligently tend to the post-dinner ritual of washing dishes, humming along to the song 'Last Christmas' which you could hear ever so faintly rise above the busy chatter of the living room. your hands, adorned with soap bubbles, move with a graceful choreography, navigating each plate, glass, and utensil with practiced efficiency. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminates the dance of water droplets, casting a prism of reflections on the gleaming surfaces. The scent of citrus-scented dish soap permeates the air, as you, lost in thought, scrub away at remnants of roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

"There's my girl," You feel a pair of arms snake around your waist, you didn't need to turn around to tell who it was; it had of course been your wife, you looked down at where her hands rested on your midriff, her silver wedding ring glistened beneath the warm overhead lighting in the kitchen.

"Are you aware your son is trying to get into the wine rack again?" You turn around to face her, her hands changed from their spot on your waist to the edge of the kitchen sink, leaving you stuck between her and the counter, faces inches apart.

"What can I say? He's got drinking problems," She teased, gaze flickering to your lips for a minute.

"That's all you," You said, your faces were so close that you could've sworn that you could count every single freckle on her face. Without warning, Ellie puts her hands back onto your waist to pull you close, she plants little kisses on your neck, earning a giggle from you "Really?" You laugh "Is me washing dishes really that attractive?"

"Oh, absolutely," She thought you were so incredibly stunning, even in something as simple as a red cable-knit sweater with faded mom jeans and hair tied up sloppy in a claw clip. You had only bought the claw clip in the first place because your daughter told you they were trendy.

"Okay, seriously, there are kids here," You laugh, gently pushing Ellie away from you "We can save that for later."

"You just look so beautiful," Ellie wears a goofy smile on her face.

"In mom jeans?"

She shrugs "As beautiful as the day I met you, if not more."

You can't help the huge smile that consumes your face. You and Ellie had met in college, she was a bartender and you went to her bar every single Friday just to see her, all of your friends sat in a booth but you would always push for them to sit at the bar when they refused, you sat alone just to talk to the pretty girl behind the bar. "Do you remember how we were spending Christmas in College?"

"One bottle of peppermint schnapps and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels."

"You're forgetting a game of strip poker," You add.

"That's probably because I was hammered off my ass," She says bluntly and it makes you laugh. Back in college, the pair of you made plans to fly home to see your families but a snowstorm had other plans, with arrangements cancelled you went back to each other, cozying up on Ellie's beat-up couch and dumping schnapps into eggnog, god it tasted awful but the sound of Ellie laughing, her cheeks and nose pink from cold air almost made it taste better.

"You know..." You say, drawing Ellie's attention "I think it might be time to start the gingerbread house contest."

Ellie is way ahead of you, she leaves the kitchen and enters the game room, you can tell the exact moment she announced it by the kid's reactions all you heard was cheering before a dozen kids stormed out of the game room and gathered around the dining table where you had meticulously placed a gingerbread house decorating kit at each chair as well as little bowls full of several colours of frosting and miscellaneous candies lined down the center.

Parents sat next to their children or stood behind them, either rooting for them or guiding their small hands along the gingerbread, aiding the decorating process. Ellie sat between both of your children "Levi, you can eat it after you build it," She chuckled, gingerly moving the plastic butter knife of icing to the edge of a wall for the gingerbread house, "See? You put icing along the edges and then you stick it together and then when it dries, you have a house!" She explained in simple terms to your youngest, turning her head to look at your daughter who was too busy conversing with her friend to decorate "You should be listening to this too, Kenna, useful tips," She teased. Kenna rolled her eyes, she was ten years old and at that stage where she was starting to get embarrassed by her parents. Ellie laughed at your daughter's reaction, locking eyes with you from your spot by the doorway where the two of you share a look of understanding.

"Uh oh, looks like Papa's intervening," Dina said, she stood next to Jesse, cradling her baby, JJ, in her arms, watching the scene unfold.

"Alright, kiddo, here's what we're gonna do." Joel shooed Kenna's friend away, replacing her. Under hushed whispers he explained a plan to Kenna, the two were discussing a layout to win the gingerbread contest.

"Oh, it's getting heated now," Ellie said, now moving her focus onto Levi's sloppy gingerbread house.

Everyone was in the festive dining room, laughing and talking, truly in the Christmas spirit, all except for one; you heard what sounded like faint sobs coming from the kitchen. With furrowed eyebrows, you followed the sound and found none other than your friend, Catherine crying into her hands.

"What happened?" You break the silence, catching her attention.

Catherine begins to wipe away tears, shaking her head "It's nothing, it's so stupid-

"Well, it's not nothing if you're crying." You cross your arms. Catherine can't seem to get the words out, she just shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut in her best attempt to push back tears, her blue eyes red and puffy "Whatever it is, I'm not going to judge you."

"It's just-" She takes a deep, shaky breath" Sometimes I wish I wasn't a mom, I just wish I could pack up my bags and leave in the middle of the night and never come back." Catherine was an English teacher at a middle school, you had met her not long after you met Ellie. She was also a new mother, she had only had her baby girl, Clementine for six months; you saw how tired she was, she always for dark bags under her eyes, she used to intricately braid her dirty blond hair every day but now she only had the energy in her to tie it up into a loose bun. "I'm sorry," She laughed "I don't know why I'm crying."

"Because it hurts." You answer, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

Your daughter ran into the kitchen with a huge smile on her little face "Mom, you need to see my house, Papa Joel is helping me and it looks really cool so far-" Her smile faded in the slightest when she saw you with Catherine, "Is Cathy okay?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," You kneel to eye level with Kenna "Her tummy just hurts from too much hot chocolate so I'm gonna take care of her for a bit." You brush one of Kenna's lose hair behind her ear and plant a kiss onto her freckled forehead "Just go back to making your house, I'm sure it looks awesome, I promise I'll come see it when it's done but I think your auntie Sarah would love to see it." Kenna nods casting one last look at Catherine who turned around to hide her tear-stained face from your daughter and hurried out of the kitchen. "Cath, let's talk outside." You move towards the sliding door on the other side of the kitchen, you hold it open for Catherine who follows you outside, immediately hugging herself in an attempt to fight off the cold. "So, where is this coming from?"

Catherine looks around the snow-covered yard, she sees the snowman that your children made with Ellie the day before and it only adds to the unbearable weight on her shoulders "I'm not good at this, I'm a bad mom-

"No, you're not-

She lets out another sob "Like just now, you are so patient with Kenna and Levi, you and Ellie have this incredible house and an amazing family, you guys never fight and I just feel like I'm falling behind."

"You're crazy if you think Ellie and I don't fight, we argue all the time about the stupidest things, like earlier we fought about who would pop that champagne cork. We fight, but that doesn't mean that we don't love each other, I'm sure you feel the same way about Emmet."

"I love Emmet," She says "I really do and I love Clementine so so much I just wish I had a minute to breathe." Catherine can hardly look you in the eyes "I work with kids all day and take care of them and then I get home and it's just more of the same but there's cooking and cleaning and it's endless."

The silence stretches between you two. Catherine's face is scrunched up, her pale turning red from the cold. With each unsteady breath, she heaves, a cloud of carbon dioxide emerges. The sleet covering every inch of ground acts as soundproofing over the neighbourhood, the only thing you can hear are birds flapping their wings and Catherine's heavy cries.

"Do you remember when I wanted to be a writer?" She asks "When I used to have dreams, I would hole myself up in that one corner booth of that coffee shop every Sunday and I would write for hours on end."

"And every time someone mentioned a book or movie that they like, you would ask what they liked about it so you could use bits of it in your writing." You say, your lips stretching into a thin melancholic smile at the memory.

"Well, it's all gone out the window." She was shaking by that point, not from the frigid air or her now wet socks but from misery "Two years ago I was hosting wine-tasting parties and Emmet was taking me out to these beautiful high-end restaurants. I could fit into sleek back dresses and wear high heels for hours without getting blisters, now all I eat is Kraft dinner and takeout. Every nice blouse I own has gotten baby vomit on it."

The way Catherine is speaking, she sounds bitter with despair hanging in her tone. You at a loss for words, postpartum depression was common but you hadn't realized just how much Catherine was suffering. She had spent six months feeling this way with no one to talk to. When you first adopted Kenna you were terrified, you thought that you wouldn't have a mother's instinct and that you were going to screw her up in some way or that she would resent you because you aren't her biological mother.

"I haven't got a full night of sleep in six months, all I hear is that fucking screeching cry. That's all she does is scream, she screams when she's happy, when she's sad, when she's upset and angry, it's all I hear and I'm so fucking sick of it." She buried her face into her hands "Emmet just loves her so much, he does everything with her without complaint and I can't help but hold the slightest bit of resent for her, I probably sound evil right now."

"You don't," You pulled Catherine in for a hug. Embracing her and all of her sadness, if it belonged to her then it belonged to you as well. "I'll tell you this right now, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better." Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck.

"That isn't helping-

You pushed her away, holding onto her shoulders, forcing her to face you. "Remember when you adopted that dog?"

"Toothless," She smiled at the thought of her old Labrador.

"He was a puppy when you adopted him, he had way too much energy, barked at every sound, and pissed and shat on the floor of your apartment a lot," You say, face dead serious despite the subject matter "That night before exams when you were exhausted and all you wanted was to sleep, you tucked yourself into bed and Toothless was right beside you and then he pissed all over your white duvet. You called me and you just cried and cried because you were so stressed and that was the tipping point. How about that time he dragged your period-stained underwear out of your laundry basket when you had a date over-

"Okay, I get it," Catherine laughed.

"My point is, when that puppy stage passed, you were in love with that dog, you blew off plans just to take him on walks downtown. If you had a bad day, you would curl up on the couch with him. Not that I'm comparing your child to a dog but when this postpartum leaves, that child is going to be the light of your life. Fridays at the bar won't sound appealing when you can make popcorn and watch Disney with your daughter, nothing else is going to matter as much as that girl. When Clementine gets older you'll find that every eye-roll means you're doing something right."

"Is that true?" She asks "About the eyerolls?"

"No," You laugh "It's just something I say to make Ellie feel better."

Catherine chuckles, wiping away what remains of her tears. "Thank you."

"I know it feels like it's the end of the road but it's not. It gets easier every single day but that's the hard part, you need to get up and face it every single day." Your words calm Catherine down. Her tears dissipate and with a deep breath she is no longer shaking "We should go back inside now, I wanna see who won the gingerbread building contest." You sling an arm around her and guide her back inside through the sliding door.

"But my socks are wet." She says, hesitant to step back inside.

"I'm sorry for making you stand in the snow but that conversation needed to happen," You urge her inside anyway, not caring if your freshly cleaned kitchen floors get wet "I'll lend you a pair of slippers."

You and Catherine return to the dining room where the contest is just wrapping up, both in fuzzy slippers; the pair Catherine wore had little black spotted cows on them while yours were teal and made to look like Perry the Platypus, a gift you received from Ellie out of the blue because she thought they were hilarious and wanted both of you to have a matching pair. "Just in time," Dina says, she's wearing a white turtle neck and blue skinny jeans, leaning against the wall, watching her husband with a smile "They're about to announce the winner."

Ellie is speaking in a hushed voice with Jesse who is holding JJ in one arm, she's acting as serious as ever and even pretending to ask JJ for his opinion, the baby just babbles in return "Interesting, thank you, JJ," She says. Ellie turns to the crowd, everyone goes silent waiting for her words "The consensus is... You are all winners!"

Many of the older kids groaned in annoyance, all of the adults knew this was coming that didn't stop Tommy from saying that it was outrageous.

As the night unfolded, the kids, bundled up in cozy sweaters, gathered around a table filled with art supplies to craft their ornaments. Laughter filled the room as little hands carefully adorned paper snowflakes and painted wooden stars. The parents, caught in the infectious energy of the children, joined in the crafting, reminiscing about their childhood holiday traditions.

With bellies full and hearts warmer than ever, the group of friends settled into a circle around the fireplace. The children, tucked in cozy blankets, many of the kids fell asleep in the game room while 'Home Alone' played on the TV.

As the night drew to a close, the guests exchanged hugs and well wishes. The flickering lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow on the scene as the friends, with their children in tow, bid farewell, knowing that the memories forged on this magical night would linger in their hearts long after the last snowflake had fallen. Parent hauled their sleeping children away into their cars, putting a close on the night.

Ellie took Kenna, hand in hand, to the bathroom, making sure that she thoroughly brushed her teeth. She tucked her daughter in, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Kenna tried to argue that she wasn't tired but the second her head hit the pillow her eyes shuttered closed and any chatter she had in her was replaced by soft breaths emerging from the sleeping girl.

You had taken Levi straight to bed, he was already passed out when you found him curled in a ball on a blanket in the game room. He gently put him down on his bed and pulled a Spider-Man blanket over the top of him to keep his little body warm. You made sure that his night light was plugged in before stepping away and closing the door, but not all the way, you left it open a crack, just the way he liked it.

And so, the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, and the spirit of togetherness lingered in the air, a reminder that the company of cherished friends and family had just left, leaving you and your little family to sit in the static quiet of the fireplace crackling.

The air is still tinged with the scent of cinnamon and pine, and a soft glow emanates from the myriad of twinkling lights that adorn every corner. The Christmas tree, a majestic centrepiece, stands tall and proud, its branches adorned with an array of ornaments that glisten in hues of red, gold, and silver. A cozy fireplace crackles merrily, casting a warm embrace upon the room. Festive stockings, embroidered with care, hang in anticipation of surprises. Plush blankets drape over sofas, inviting you to sink into their warmth. Every surface seems to gleam with the holiday spirit, from the gleaming silverware on the dining table to the festive wreaths that adorn doorways. The ambiance is a symphony of holiday joy, where every decoration tells a story of cherished traditions and the magic of Christmas despite the displaced blankets and dishes, as well as random craft supplies that were somehow everywhere.

"We should probably clean this up before bed," You say, bending down to grab a throw blanket off the floor.

Ellie grabs your wrist to stop you "That's what tomorrow is for," You turn to face her "Right now I just want to be with my wife."

You grin "I don't think I'll ever get sick of you saying that."

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of saying it."

You kiss Ellie, she has one hand pulling you in from the small of your back. "I think I have a crush on you." You giggle.

"A crush on your wife?" Ellie raises an eyebrow "Who could imagine that."

"No I mean, I obviously love you but there's a difference between being in love and having a crush, we've been married for fourteen years and I still get excited when you call me pretty. I can't help but stare at you in a room full of people and when you look back I get butterflies because I just can't help but be thankful that I got lucky enough to have you." Your lips curve up into a smile "I don't think that was corny enough," You say sarcastically.

Ellie kisses you again, it is simple and sweet, like the taste of sugar resting on the tip of your tongue "I guess I have a crush on you too," She looked so pretty in her jeans and red flannel, sporting the haircut you gave her with pride; whenever someone mentioned her haircut she would get all giddy and say 'My wife did it!'. An idea snaps into your mind, and you swiftly break away from Ellie and kick off your Perry the Platypus slippers, jetting to the kitchen to the sliding door and running outside. Ellie calls after you, with no response, she follows your trail of teal slippers. She pokes her head outside "Honey?" She calls into the night, and instead of your voice answering her she is decked in the face by a snowball. "Ow!"

With rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, your breath forming clouds in the cold, launched the first snowball, its trajectory guided by both precision and mischief. Ellie, undeterred, retaliated with a well-aimed throw which truthfully fucking hurt when it crashed into you as she used to play softball and didn't know how to gently throw anything. The world around you transformed into a playground, each snowball being thrown with more power.

As the not-so-friendly competition unfolded, your movements became a dance—a graceful ballet of dodges and throws. The landscape bore witness to their camaraderie, marked by the hushed giggles (trying your best to stay quiet enough that you didn't wake the kids) and the occasional shrieks of delight. Frost-kissed eyelashes framed your beaming faces, capturing the essence of a moment suspended in the magic of winter.

The cold air filled with the warmth of your connection. You both paused, momentarily breathless, her laughter echoing in the serene stillness of the snow-covered landscape. Amidst the snow-laden trees and glistening ground, you and Ellie shared a quiet gaze—a fleeting, unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that stayed unbroken with each tossed snowball.

Your cheeks flushed with both the chill of the air and the thrill of the game, finally forfeited, coming out from your shielding spot behind the shed, you laughed as you approached Ellie, moving your delicate hands to shake snow out of her hair. The memory of the evening lingered, a cherished chapter in the story of your enduring love.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #Ellie is down bad #christmas #you have kids with Ellie #Ellie Williams X reader fluff

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

Note

Hey my family out the Christmas decorations up today and it made me think of a cute little request for roosters brood? Like one where the kids tell the squad that they say mommy kissing Santa thought it would just be funny and cute 🥰

Aww that is super cute! I’m totally getting into the holiday spirit despite it being my busiest season, work-wise 😫 Hope you like this little drabble which may or may not have somehow turned into a Hannix thing.. I don't even know haha I've just been in a Jake mood lately 😅

The Secret

Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: One of your children confides in Hangman after he sees you locking lips with Ol' Saint Nick.

CW: just a tiny drabble, fluff, Christmas, kids, hints of Hannix

WC: 400+

“Guess what?” you hear your son say excitedly as he pulls on Jake’s pantleg while the latter is hanging a string of lights above your window.

“Chicken butt,” Jake responds without looking down.

“No!” Your son cackles. “I have a secret!”

Jake glances at him with a smirk. “Let me guess,” he says. “You’re not planning on keeping it.”

“Keeping what?” the boy asks in confusion.

Jake’s grin widens and he steps down from the stool to sit on it instead. He leans forward and gives your son his undivided attention. “Alright, go ahead.”

Your son brings his face to Jake’s ear and starts saying something when Jake jerks away from him. “Buddy!” he exclaims. “When you’re talking into my ear, whisper. You’re gonna burst my damn eardrum.”

“Bagman!” Phoenix tosses a garland at his back. “Language.”

“Phoenix!” he responds, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Can you save the violence for when we’re alone?”

Natasha’s eyes widen and her mouth curves into an outraged grin. She goes back to her poinsettia arrangement in silence.

Jake returns his attention to your son, who starts whispering feverishly into his ear.

“Oh, really?” Jake says, his mouth stretching into a wide smirk. He glances up at you with a roguish smile.

“You can’t tell daddy,” your son warns.

Jake nods, still watching you. “I agree.”

…

“What was that about?” you ask Jake later that evening after Bradley goes to put the kids to bed.

Jake turns to you with a laugh. “Apparently, you’re on the naughty list.”

“What?”

“Little Pete –”

“It was Nick,” Natasha interrupts Jake, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever, they’re practically the same person.” Jake waves his hand. “Little Nick saw mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

You clap a hand over your mouth, gasping. “Oh no!”

“What happened?” Bradley asks, coming down the stairs.

“Bradley was trying on the new Santa costume he bought,” you say with a slight whine. “I can’t believe they saw us!”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Natasha muses. “Finding out that Santa isn’t real or thinking that your mom’s having an affair with old Saint Nick.”

You cringe. “Both are terrible!”

Bradley makes a face. “Someone saw us?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, Pete –”

“Nick,” Natasha corrects him again.

Jake sighs in exasperation. “How can you even tell them apart?”

Natasha shrugs. “Pete is shorter.”

Bradley chuckles, taking you by the waist and kissing your cheek. “Don’t worry, darling,” he mutters. “We’ll just tell the kids that Santa kisses everybody.”

Jake glances at the two of you sourly and then reaches over to take Natasha by the arm. He pulls her toward him possessively. “As long as Santa doesn’t demonstrate it,” he comments with a grimace.

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rustedhearts · 4 months

Text

last christmas (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the return to your hometown for the holidays comes with the many ghosts of christmas pasts—including your ex-fiance, steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ christmas carols ✶ the library

tags: angst; hurt/comfort; reader’s parents are given names (celia/john) but no physical descriptions; reader is also given a name (lucy) because I refuse to write "y/n" but it's the same thing, still no physical descriptors; reader is a smoker because it's the 90s;

"a crowded room, friends with tired eyes, i'm hiding from you and your soul of ice. my god, i thought you were someone to rely on. me? i guess i was a shoulder to cry on,"

— last christmas, wham!

hawkins, indiana, december, 1999.

You couldn't deny—the nip of cold Indiana air was a welcome feeling after all those Californian winters. To bundle in layers of warmth and heavy fabrics, to shiver in the back of your father's sedan while he sang backup for your mother's Christmas carols: it really felt like home again.

It snowed the few days prior to your arrival, and every inch of Hawkins seemed sprinkled or covered with perfect white fluff. It'd been so long since you'd seen snow.

"I've got all your favorites stocked at the house," your mother announced from the passenger seat. "Strawberry Jell-O, Scooby Snacks—"

"Mom," you laughed. "I'm not a child anymore, you didn't have to buy all that."

She twisted around in her seat to face you. "When you're back in my house, you are a child! Let me have my fun, you haven't been home in ages."

Three years was hardly ages—but, you supposed, it was long enough. The first Christmas after you moved was too difficult to stomach back in Hawkins. The second, you were too busy with work to take even the weekend for a quick plane ride here and back. And the third, well...you still just couldn't do it. You couldn't handle seeing him again.

But this year, you decided it was enough. You had to pull your big girl pants on and buck up. It wasn't fair that your friends and family kept getting caught in the crossfire.

The car jostled through the icy driveway of your childhood home. Your father parked the car and hurried to the trunk to grab your luggage, while you slid slowly out of the backseat. Like reflex, you immediately directed your attention to the inflatable snowman bobbing on the lawn next door. The lights strung from the awnings and wrapped around the pines. The last name painted on the mailbox.

The Harringtons.

"Come on, I'll make us some tea," your mother ushered, looping her arm through yours.

Your father was close behind, crunching through the salted, icy snow mounds. You kept a close watch on the driveway next door as you approached the open garage and entered the warmth.

Luckily, there was no sign of that maroon BMW anywhere.

"So, I thought we'd go shopping at Macy's tomorrow afternoon, and then have dinner with your grandparents on Wednesday, but—"

"Celia, let her settle in first," your father interrupted, sawing into his chicken.

Your mother pursed her lips at him, but her eyes remained on you. "Oh, psh. What does she need to settle in for, she's lived here all her life! What do you think, honey, Macy's? We can grab breakfast beforehand."

You smiled at your father who passed an apologetic and knowing stare, and nodded at your mother. "Sure, Mom, that sounds fun."

After dinner, your father positioned himself at the sink, scrubbing every dish with care. He handed them to you to dry, and as he did, he watched you peek through the kitchen window toward the other side of the house.

“You think you’re gonna see him?”

You swept the dish towel over a clean dinner plate. "Who?"

Your father quirked a brow down at the soapy wine glasses. "Steve."

You barely saved your mother's delicate dinnerware. It clattered against the countertop through your fumbling hands, and once steadied, you turned to shake your head at your father, who slowed the faucet down to a trickling stream.

"N-No. No, I can't."

He held out a handful of forks. "Don't you think it's been long enough?"

"Dad..."

"All I'm saying, is...maybe you owe it to him. To yourself even. It's time to close that book for good, and you can't do that if you never speak to him again."

You plucked the towel over the fork prongs and tried to block out your father's even-toned words. He was right—he was always right. It irritated you how your parents never stopped knowing what was best. How they could always read you like a book without even trying.

But you desperately wished he wasn't right. And no matter how selfish it sounded...you just couldn't face Steve.

"I'll think about it," you managed to get out.

Your father hummed, turning the tap off. "Might be good for you, kid. Just trying to help."

You placed the forks back in their drawer. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed a quick and gentle kiss to your father's cheek and smiled.

"I know. Thanks, Dad."

When the dishes had been dried and put away, and your mother was already asleep with her glasses on the edge of her nose and her magazine dangling off the couch, you tip-toed up the stairs toward your bedroom. You still knew just which steps to avoid, just which carpeted areas squeaked and groaned.

But the flash of deep red in your periphery had you halting on a croaking step. You peered through the window on your left, holding the lace drapes away to get a better view. The BMW you spent high school riding to school and football games in came to a stop behind a minivan. The driver side opened and slammed closed.

Steve Harrington in the flesh.

Bundled in a heavy, brown wool coat and carefully knotted red scarf. His hair flounced in the wind and collected snowflakes with grace. He carried a pie dish and a smile on his face. Heart in your throat, you watched him stomp through snow piles toward the other side of the car.

He opened the passenger door and greeted a redheaded woman with a kiss.

She took the pie from him, cradling it close to her expensively-adorned chest. They had matching coats. She swooped a leather-gloved hand through the front of his hair to fix a tousled wave. His lips moved in words of gratitude, and you could almost hear the octave of his voice in your head again. How he cooed when he talked to you. You could tell by the softness of his eyes, the relaxed muscles of his smile—he was doing the same to her right now.

Steve wound an arm around her waist and turned them around. He flicked his head to toss away his hair, and for a moment, you swore he looked toward your window.

You hurriedly mounted the steps and slipped into your bedroom before you could find out if that were true.

"God, Mom, my arm's about to fall off."

You waddled alongside your mother down Main Street, carrying (literally) armfuls of shopping bags. She came rushing into your room at promptly seven o'clock this morning to rouse you, throwing your drapes open and ripping off your covers. She took you to get bagels and coffee, and then scrambled into shopping mode. Macy's lasted two full hours, and you immediately felt like a teenager whining for McDonald's again when one o'clock came around and you were famished.

"Oh, quit whining," your mother huffed, adjusting her own bags on her arm. "We'll stop for lunch after this."

So, you pushed your way through another store, hitting just about everyone in your vicinity with a gift-wrapped shopping bag. You were sweating through your layers, cheeks flushed hot, and your stomach was so hollow with hunger that it felt like it would cave in. The first day back home for the holidays was truly off to a great start.

"Sorry, sorry—oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"So, just when the hell did you get back in town?"

Raising your eyes from the crowd of shoppers you irritated and the bags you dropped, you settled on a familiar head of shaggy raven hair and round, brown eyes.

"Eddie!"

He accepted your tackled hug with a chuckle, closing his arms carefully around your crinkling bags. The embrace lasted a beat too long before you pulled away and grinned.

"I didn't know you were comin' home this year," he said, bending to collect your abandoned bags. You strung the corded handles back over your padded arm.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Sorry, I...wasn't sure if I should..."

Eddie tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, as heavy and studded as ever. It creaked when he shrugged. "No biggie. It's awkward, I get it. Amanda would be stoked to see you, though."

"Oh, how is she? How are you—and everyone?"

The pair of you squished against a shelf of holiday candles as a bustle of angry mothers pushed through. You lost your mother somewhere in the crowd.

"She's good, everyone's...good. I mean, three years, kid...it's been a while. Don't even know where we left off."

A sheepish grin concealed a pair of warm cheeks. The tops of your ears burned under your earmuffs. God, it was embarrassing owning up to your bullshit, wasn't it? There certainly wasn't a manual for apologizing to your friends for getting lost in the crossfire of a called-off marriage.

"Yeah, I know. I just...didn't know what to say to anyone."

Eddie nodded, though his eyes avoided yours. His jacket clinked with his shifting. A ringed finger spun a candle on the shelf.

“Yeah, I get that. Well…hey, we’re all gonna be down at Deb’s on Christmas Eve for drinks. Like we used to, remember? You should come.”

A twinge of sorrow tugged in your chest. You watched Eddie teeter on the edge of hope and disappointment. He knew you’d say no. He knew you’d forget them. But how many hours over a short lifetime had you spent together as friends? How many times had Eddie picked you up when your car broke down? How many times had he come crying to you when he first met Amanda and he wasn’t sure how she felt?

How many times had you broken your friend’s heart?

Swallowing, you adjusted your bags again. “Is…is he gonna be there?”

Eddie scoffed. “Steve? Nah, he’s got…stuff.”

His eyes darted to you with wide worry, and you knew exactly just what ‘stuff’ he was referring to. The red-headed beauty with the fancy cashmere winter wear, and more grace and elegance than you ever had in your entire life. The woman who meant Steve finally moved on from you.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled. Your cheeks felt lined with sickly sweetness, stomach churning with illness. “Well…if you’re sure he won’t be there, then…maybe I’ll stop by.”

Eddie pulled off the shelf of candles and grinned.

“Yeah? Oh, man, Amanda’ll be stoked. And Robin’ll be there! She’s seein’ this girl from Indianapolis who literally drives two hours every day just to see her.” Eddie rolled his eyes, though a fond smile touched his mouth. “They’re cute, though…when they’re not mouthin’ at each other in public—nah, nah, it’ll be fine. Seriously, everyone’ll be so excited.”

You giggled, enthralled by his babbling. It was funny how much changed in three years, but how some things would always stay the same.

“I’m excited, too.” And you really were.

Sure, you made friends in L.A over the years, but none—not even your closest friend and roommate Bridget—could measure up to the ones you’d had since childhood.

The kids you grew up on the block with—the ones you suffered though puberty and high school with—could never be replaced. Being around them filled you with a certain bittersweet ache you’d never feel anywhere else.

“Alright, it’s at seven like always,” he said, tapping your arm. “See you there. And good luck with these crowds.”

You laughed at his shudder and waved your goodbye. “See you.”

As he pushed his way out, you spotted the top of your mom's head hurrying your way. She grabbed your coat sleeve and huffed when she found you.

"There you are—who was that?"

"Eddie—"

"Oh, the Munson boy! Eddie! Eddie!” She began to hop up and wave to accompany her shrill exclamation. You cringed and covered half your face to silence the stares.

“Oh, shit,” she sighed, clicking her tongue. “He’s gone. That boy was always so sweet. How’s he doing?”

You trudged after your mother as she filed through the masses, willing away the hot flash of her humiliation. “He’s good. Invited me out on Christmas Eve. Apparently they all still get together.”

Your mother fingered at a candle, assessing the vessel and smell. She hummed, glancing at you. Her basket was already half full.

“Oh…that’s nice.”

Are you going to go? lingered in her reply. You chewed on the edge of your lip and shifted your weight.

“I was thinking maybe…I’d go.”

“Oh good!“ Relief visibly flooded her. “It’s about time you spoke to him again, you know. Your father and I were just saying that the Harringtons—“

“What? Mom, no,” you huffed, jaw tightening. “Steve’s not gonna be there, I made sure of it. And you’re talking to the Harringtons? Come on, why are you always meddling?”

Your mother placed the candle back on the shelf with a heavy clunk. A mother and her young son rushed by and nudged your bags. The air in there was getting stiffer by the minute.

“They are our neighbors, Lucy, and were before you or Steve even came into the world. This hasn’t been very fair on us, you know. Did you ever think about that?”

If you thought you couldn’t breathe before, it was no match for the shallowness of your lungs now. You practically felt your color drain, the heat to your body drop to your feet.

“Well…Mom, I never said you had to stop being their friends,” you muttered, following her to another display table.

“I knew having them around would be too difficult. But I also thought that, by now, the pair of you would’ve…I don’t know…”

You plucked the lid off a candle and sniffed it absently. “Gotten back together?”

Your mother glanced at you in her periphery, pursed with hesitance. She sighed, head shaking.

“Maybe. We all thought…I mean everyone figured you were meant to be.”

You couldn’t remember the last time your chest felt this heavy. The last time your heart hurt so terribly.

Well…you could think of one.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I know.”

Your mother watched you a moment, twisting candle lids and plucking display glitter. She let you go on a moment longer before adjusting her shopping basket and flicking her hair out of her face.

“Alright, let’s get in line. If we’re lucky, we’ll get home by New Year’s.”

the harringtons’: christmas eve, 1994

“One more, one more!”

“No—Steve! Come on, I look terrible.”

“You look glorious, honey. C’mon, blow us a kiss.”

You threw a hand out at the camera lens, but it scarcely concealed your glowing grin. The pixelated picture of your own body blurred with Steve’s unsteady hand as he fell into laughter. He could barely keep his eye on the shutter to make sure you were in view.

“Kiss this,” you announced, and the camera panned to your denim-clad backside jutting out at him.

Steve snorted, and the whir and click of the zoom creeping in came from behind the camera. You tipped your hips from side to side to flaunt your ass, and Steve’s hand suddenly appeared to pop it. You jolted upright, whirling around to gape at him.

“Steve, we’re in your mother’s kitchen.”

“You just had your ass out!”

“I was joking—ooh, I’m telling.”

“Get that ass back here.”

Steve barely managed to place the camcorder on the kitchen counter before he tackled you. The lens caught a sliver of tangling bodies—just limbs flailing and the crackled sound of laughter. You had the hiccups. Steve was out of breath. Your sleeves were the same color—matching Christmas sweaters from Grandma Harrington, who always loved you.

When he carried you into view—arms locked tight around your middle, your legs scrunched up to your chest—the pair of you were all teeth. Just smiles and nothing else.

You were so happy.

“Hey, you two! Are we havin’ pie or what?” was a muffled call from somewhere in the house.

Steve placed you on your feet and swept two heavy palms over your tousled hair. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Even through the grain and static of the old picture, you could see the fondness in his face. How he gazed down on you like finding sunlight for the first time.

“Yeah,” he called back, and bopped you on the nose all the same. “Be right there!”

You gnashed your teeth at him playfully, and he threw a big hand over your mouth. From the way he recoiled in amused surprise a second later, you knew you had licked him.

Pie, little did you know, was code for ring. His family had been in the living room preparing for his proposal while he distracted you with affection and baking.

And when he clicked off the camcorder and snapped the screen shut, you knew he was taking you into the other room. He’d propose in front of the tree with your entire families as witnesses. He’d give you his grandmother’s engagement ring from the 50s, polished and sized just for you. She’d give you a wink from the armchair where she was sipping tea.

His mother had wedding magazines tucked away since your first date in high school. Your father told Steve when he was fourteen years old that he “better take good care of his girl.”

You were meant to be together.

What went wrong?

“You’re positive he won’t be there?”

You fumbled with the flimsy nylon toes of your black tights, cellphone wedged between your cheek and shoulder. On the other line, Bridget munched on an egg roll noisily. You could practically picture her Chinese takeout spilled over her coffee table, the terrible movie paused on the television. It was what the pair of you would normally be doing on Christmas Eve at your shared apartment.

“That’s what Eddie said.”

“And do we trust Eddie?”

You screwed up your nose, fixing the other seam over your toes. When they were where they should be, you pressed to your feet and rushed the closet door.

“Well, yeah. He wouldn’t lie about something like that, ‘specially not since we haven’t seen each other in so long. Plus…Eddie’s not a liar.”

You pulled a black skirt from its hanger and unzipped the back. You couldn’t fit into all your old clothes left over, but a few staple pieces were squeezable. This particular black skirt was from early college days, when you and Steve were rotating parties like clockwork.

You paused as you placed it on the bed. It likely hadn’t been worn since it’s last spin on a dance floor with Steve. Or was it that date in Indianapolis, the one where he surprised you with a show at the theater?

“Hello?…Helloooo?”

Blinking out of your stupor, you looked away from the skirt and toward your mirror, picking the phone up from your shoulder. “What?”

“I said ‘people can change,’” Bridget said. “How well do you really know this Eddie nowadays?”

Fingers curling tightly around the blue plastic of your Nokia, you clenched your jaw and exhaled sharply. “I know him, Bridget. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

You wedged the phone back against your shoulder and scooped the skirt up. You wiggled it on and reached behind you to zip it. Your father was watching Die Hard on VHS in the living room at an obscene volume level. Your mother was in the kitchen rolling cookies in cinnamon and powdered sugar with her stereo on.

And here you were, primping and prepping for a night out with your old CD case splayed on your bed. It was really beginning to feel like old times, and you weren’t sure how well it settled with you.

“Well…alright. You wearin’ somethin’ hot just in case?”

You smoothed your hands over your hips in the mirror and exhaled.

“Obviously.”

You borrowed your dad’s sedan for the short trip down to Deb’s. He handed you the keys with a pointed look and a demanded promise to call if you were too drunk to drive. Your mother didn’t let you leave without a Tupperware container of freshly-baked Christmas cookies for your friends.

She looked over your outfit with curious eyes. You scurried out into the cold before she could question just why you were in your tightest black clothes for a night at the dive. The cookies sat in the passenger seat until you rolled into the parking lot, and you did your best to conceal them under your coat as you wandered inside. Nothing more pathetic than a woman bringing her own food to the bar.

The bar looked mostly the same, with little tweaks and updates that would go unnoticed by those who didn’t spend most of their youth here. But they still strung the same rainbow lights from the high beams and frosted window front. They still played a mix of tinsely Christmas tunes and whatever was most popular on the radio. Still had stale peanuts in little wooden bowls and glass ashtrays on every table.

Still kept your booth near the window where your friends used the ledge as a table.

"Hey, guys..."

"Oh my god!"

Amanda was the first to leap up and hug you, jostling the table as she sprang to her feet. Robin next, her hug much softer and tame. Though already reacquainted, you accepted Eddie's hug gratefully.

"Come sit by me, kid," he drawled, shifting down to make room.

You slid into the booth and pulled the Tupperware from your coat. "I didn't come empty handed. Courtesy of my mother, of course."

"Oh, nice," Eddie exclaimed, reaching in for a sprinkled wreath. "Mama Celia makes the best Christmas cookies."

"Bleh, don't call her that." Robin scrunched up her nose. "Oh, I'm sorry, this is my girlfriend Pam. Pam, this is our friend Lucy."

You smiled at the girl sitting beside Robin and extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Lucy's visiting us from L.A," Robin continued, bringing her rum and Coke up for a sip. "For the first time in three years."

You shot her a glare, and Pam shifted a glance around the table. "Oh...that's nice."

"It's complicated," you justified.

"Not really," Robin huffed. "She was engaged to Steve for two years, kept putting off the wedding—come to find out, she leaves him at Christmas without a word to anyone. Steve's brokenhearted, Lucy's living her dream in L.A, the rest is history."

A heavy silence fell over the table. Robin slurped at her drink through a thin plastic straw. You lowered your eyes to your lap and swallowed. The radio behind the bar changed to the tooting tune of "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree."

"Alright," Eddie interrupted, a big ringed hand coming between the table. "Can we just agree to have a good time tonight? Whatever happened...it's in the past. Can't do nothin' about it now. It's Christmas."

Flicking your eyes Robin's way, you searched for her agreement before giving yours. Pam rubbed her hand over Robin's back against the booth. Amanda kissed Eddie's cheek and squeezed his leather arm. It struck you in that moment that you were at a table full of couples.

"I'm gonna get a drink."

They served spiked eggnog in copper mugs, and you nursed one greedily to wash down the regret plaguing your every thought. You regretted what you'd done, you regretted coming out tonight, you regretted not thinking this through. Maybe you even regretted coming home for Christmas altogether.

"Is Steve really not coming?" Amanda broke the ice and uttered his name sometime around eight o'clock.

The table was littered with cookie crumbs, crumpled napkins, and empty drink glasses. Someone ordered a basket of fries and they'd been picked at savagely.

Eddie glanced at his girlfriend, and then at you. You shrugged, waving it off.

"It's fine. You can say his name."

"Uh, no." Eddie cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket that creaked with the weight. "He's...meeting Jessica's parents tonight."

Jessica. Of course. The redhead with the cashmere coat and Ann Taylor sweater. You wanted to bite off the corner of the fucking table. Everyone seemed to be waiting for your response.

And maybe it was the alcohol breathing fire into your veins, or your complete inability to stay calm and collected when you wanted to lose your shit—but you decided to bite.

"Jessica...how'd they meet?"

Amanda and Eddie winced. Eddie was the bravest of the bunch, and distracted himself with breaking a bell-shaped cookie in half as he replied.

"She's a paralegal at his dad's firm. They met last summer...it only just became serious."

Ann Taylor, cashmere, and brains. She was your worst fucking nightmare.

Swallowing tightly, you smeared a stiff smile over your mouth. "Oh. Well...that's great!"

You could only sit in the silence for a moment before you slid out of the booth and snatched at your purse on the end hook.

"I'm gonna run out and have a smoke. Be right back."

They watched you rush the front door and escape into the snow without your coat. You collapsed against the brick wall, gulping in the much-needed open air. Unlatching your purse, you scrambled through your belongings and retrieved the crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes rotting in the zippered compartment with your tampons. You hadn't touched them in weeks. An early New Year's resolution to yourself to quit smoking.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

You lit one up with hungry need and inhaled a deep drag. It immediately soothed the itch in your lungs, but did nothing for the sting burrowing a hole in your chest.

So, he was happy. He was moving on. Did you expect him to wait for you to figure your shit out forever? Did you ever even plan on coming back to him? No. You were selfish and cruel, and you never deserved Steve anyway.

But Jessica? Really? He might as well have gone through the catalogue, closed his eyes, and pointed. She was perfect. His grandmother's engagement ring would suit her better than it ever suited you.

You were halfway through your cigarette and properly shivering when you glanced through the foggy glow of the front window toward your booth. Your stomach lurched into your throat at the sight of Steve standing over the table, pulling off Jessica's coat. She slid in beside Pam and flashed a dazzling smile.

You flung yourself back against the wall. "Fuck."

Well, you could abandon your coat inside and buy a new one. You could Irish goodbye and call your friends tomorrow. You were sure they'd understand the need for a fast getaway.

You stubbed your cigarette out on the rubber bottom of your heeled boot and flicked the butt into the snow. You straightened up and whirled around.

"Hey."

There he stood, pink-cheeked and bundled up. The handsome brown coat from the other day, a black scarf wound and knotted neatly around his neck. Flurries of snow sprinkled the top of his hair like glitter. The wind spun a whiff of his cologne toward your face. He was still so fucking pretty.

You were suddenly on the verge of tears. Standing so close to him felt like looking at the sun.

"They told me you were out here." His words came with puffs of white air. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and pulled his shoulders back.

"Yeah," you squeaked. You cleared your throat and looked toward the snow. "Smoke break."

Steve found the cigarette sizzling in the snow and hummed. The pair of you watched it sink into a divot of white for a while. His loafers crunched over the salted sidewalk when he stepped away from the door.

"Didn't know you were home."

You licked over your lips, suddenly dry and rough from the cold. "Yeah, 'til New Year's."

"Oh," he murmured. He watched the toe of his shoes crush small balls of snow on the ground. He wouldn't move his hands from his pockets.

You pressed back against the wall again and curled your arms around yourself. You could barely feel your fingers anymore.

"She's pretty."

Steve lifted his head in your periphery. The impassive softness of his face slipped. "Don't. Don't fuckin' do that."

The anger in his words hooked inside you like a grapple. There were those tears again, pricking at your lash line. You felt like you could throw up, and out into the snow you'd spew your heart. Whole and full of punctures from the anguish in his eyes.

From all those voicemails he left on your machine that haunted your sleep. Call me back, please, baby. What did I do wrong? We can work through this, we can get through this together. Please don't leave me. Don't do this, Lucy, I love you. You're fucking crushing me.

"What, you wanted me to wait? Sit around like some lost puppy dog just waiting for you to show back up?"

He was yelling now. Tufts of white air shot from his mouth in great gusts. Every one felt like a slap.

"Fuck that. And fuck you! Who does that to a person? And after three years, you're still hiding."

You lifted your head, gazing over at him sorrowfully. "I don't know what to say, Steve."

His shoulders dropped with a sharp sigh. He pulled a hand from his pocket to wipe over his face. "Yeah, well that's a real first."

Steve kicked at the wall with the toe of his boot. Shards of snow and ice fluttered off the soles.

"Were you ever gonna marry me?"

You sniffled, rubbing at your eye to will away the tears. "You don't want me to answer that."

Steve scoffed, ripping away from the wall—and you—to step toward the street. He pushed his hair back and you watched it bounce back into place perfectly.

"Yeah, you always thought you knew what was best for me. But, you know, you never fuckin' asked...I wanted to go with you. I wanted to move, I had—you know what? Never mind."

He spun around and stomped toward the door. You pushed off the wall with another sharp sniffle.

"Steve."

He stopped. Glared at the door handle with a tight jaw.

"She really is pretty. I'm just glad you're happy."

Steve yanked the door open and tossed his head over to you. "Wanna know the best thing about her? She'll never mail me back her ring."

The bar door slammed after him. He took slow steps back toward the booth, and smiled when he saw Jessica. She received a kiss on the cheek and an arm around her shoulders.

You tore Steve Harrington apart. You'd have to live with that for the rest of your life.

Dear Steve,

In true "me" fashion, I left without saying goodbye again. You'll understand how difficult it is to sit in a house right next to yours and still function normally.

I could apologize a million times over, but it would never be enough to fix what I've done. This decision will always be the biggest regret of my entire life. But I never deserved you, Steve.

You said you wanted to move, that you had it all planned out. But I watched you wince for two years at the mention of my hope to go. I watched you cringe and pull away any time someone asked what our plans were. You never wanted to leave Hawkins, and I couldn't be the one to ask you to. I knew one day, you would've hated me for taking you away.

There are a million other things I could say, but just know this:

Any woman on the face of the Earth who's known the gift of being loved by Steve Harrington is the luckiest person in the world.

Merry Christmas, Steve.

Love,

Lucy

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #king steve #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x you

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ciphykiss · 11 months

Text

incubus >

blade x f!reader; nsfw, mdni somnophilia (does it count if its in a dream idk), slight dubcon, light “claiming” elements

You’re going to resign tomorrow.

This is what you tell yourself when the siren of your cell blares Jingyuan’s ringtone at 3 AM on a weekend, a mere two hours following your last shift at the general’s personal slammer (you’d applied for an administrative assistant position, dammit; you were supposed to be serving the slick bastard tea and going on lotus cake runs, not wiping prisoner spit off your cheek). In the beginning, you’d attempted to balm the degrading lifestyle with girthy checks, cruising into salons like clockwork every Friday with your hair up and eyes cucumber’d, lovely Foxian ladies attending to your nails and worn muscle (you’d try to ignore their comments about how you’d aged fifty years in half of one but just end up crying), flirted with the latest designer dresses, and found yourself zombie-clicking add to cart whenever you were on the verge of your bi-weekly meltdown.

No amount of flashy makeup, a piled vanity, and three grand miniskirts are convincing enough for Tingyun, however, and the Foxian would only glance over in pity as you threw yourself at your weekend prize in attempts to forget whatever near-death experience you’d suffered from grooming Jingyuan’s latest charge before their trial.

Your holidays always ended in one of two ways: the ambassador consoling you by observing her nails while you threw your guts up on a clubside of the red light district, remarking on how you should’ve just worked under Yukong like she’d told you to (it wasn’t your fault you’d been seduced by the sleeping general enough to delude yourself into thinking you’d had a shot at a postgraduate office romance), victim to you screeching obscenities of “that bastard” while vomiting a day’s meals (five shots of espresso, a chicken wing, and offbrand Lexapro). Then, you’d spy grime under your nails from previous altercation and wail louder, because you were wasting your prime in fucking prison cells.

It was either that, or being rudely interrupted at approximately five-thirty the next day (a holiday, mind you) to a string of texts that had bypassed warnings of “do not disturb” in favor of bitching about how a true friend wouldn’t let you sleep with a negative four. The true miracle was you not ending up on Tingyun’s blocklist (she’d added you indefinitely once until you’d bombarded the Sky-Faring Commissions with love letters begging their amicassador for “one more chance pls :’(( </3”).

“Why don’t you just quit,” Tingyun had asked on an average Sunday afternoon while stirring her margarita; the Foxian looked a picture-perfect beauty next to your rat-haired, hoodie-clad figure, makeup from last night melting off your face.

You’d ceased licking hollandaise sauce off your upper lip to stare at her. And instead of arguing about how you’d likely never procure a salary as high as your current one (nothing was worth the cost of your youth and beauty), or how Jingyuan could, quite literally, ruin every one of your future job prospects if he deemed you necessary (you’d find a way to murder him; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned), you could only muster a single thought.

“Tingyun, you’re a genius.”

The paperwork (because he is the bastard, Jingyuan had purposefully orchestrated his resignation process to be thrice as lengthy as the average Luofunian businesses, complete with word-limit essays detailing the exact reason for departure and a five-year timeline on future posts) is stashed under a vase on your nightstand; you make a mental note to litter expletives along the margins to finalize the word count. With the shit he’d just pulled, the general would be in no position to even raise a brow.

“Where’s the newbie,” you grit, slamming your receiver and thumb print over the holographic lock of the Cloud Knight’s maximum security cells. Your companion, a Vidyadhara accountant-turned-night watch guard (because Jingyuan’s ever-growing penchant for tossing civil servants into the line of criminal apprehension remained steadfast even before your recruitment), sweats nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Miss [Name],” Danyin stresses, wincing at the sight of weeks-old inmates clawing at his fabrics for scraps of food, money, and flesh; you ignore him, walking onwards with an air of pissed-offery not even the most seasoned of inmates would dare inflame; your hair hangs behind you, perfumed and damp from its midnight shower, face void of the traditional rouged eyes and thick liner you’d adopted since entering Jingyuan’s court. “If I may speak—”

“You may not.”

“—the general was adamant you meet with him first before apprehension of our newest inmate. He seems… quite ruffled.”

“As he should be, because the next time I see him, I’ll rip him a ne—”

“It is evident that this criminal is naught like the others, [Name], and this is the first time we’ve had to quarter anyone in Cloudford’s maximum security ce—”

You whirl around to face Danyin, eyes ablaze. The guard withers under the brunt of your glower.

“I will see to it my duties are performed,” you say evenly, “and then, I will clock out, return to bed, and enjoy the rest of my weekend with my cell muted. You can let that scoundrel know I will be unavailable for the next 48 hours.”

And with that, you jerk the handlebar of the deepest cell in Jingyuan’s fort shut, your last sight that of Danyin with his mouth hanging open.

The maximum security cells of Jingyuan’s prison are surprisingly less unkempt than the bustle of the commons; it is dark and smells distinctly of a new, unused apartment complex. There are neither guards nor cellkeepers, no windows to speak of; only a dark, winding hallway leading to your destination.

It’s the first time you’d been allotted clearance; originally, you’d presumed the general lacked faith in both your combat abilities and the unwavering loyalty shared by his retinue (both are correct), but now, you realize it’s simply due to a lack of occupants.

(And rightfully so, because you’re having a terrible time imagining what dangers would have Jingyuan paranoid.)

You stop in front of a glass cell; it is tempered, element, bullet, sound, and magic proof; you glance down at your wristwatch and realize it has lost its signal. A neon red “O” flashes on top of the door.

Hesitantly (because despite your lack of sleep and the fact that you’re moving on sole hatred), you touch the glass, peering into the darkness for any sign of movement (any sign of life).

There are none.

Chewing your bottom lip, you decide to adopt the usual “fuck it” mentality you’d been ailed with after more than a few double-digit near death encounters in these halls and press the pads of your fingers over the lock.

It churns, once, twice, thrice, before responding in a robotic monotone; “high-risk individual detected; please exercise caution.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave your hand. “Just get it over with.”

A pause. “Searching database; clearance confirmed. Please confirm entry command.”

You click your tongue. “I do.”

A soft, buzzing sound. “High-risk individual detected; please reaffirm entry command.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!”

The algorithm grows silent. The cogs behind the seemingly innocuous doorway bluster for at least ten seconds, winding open in a rigid, clumsy gait.

Inside, it is darker still. It smells of the preserved glaze used all over the Luofu to seal unused buildings, and a hint of dust; metallic odors assail your nose. Your eyes adjust to the blackness, and you peer long enough to spy the end of a conversation table.

“...uh, hello?”

No response. Annoyed, you search the walls for the lightswitch—your hands dart blindly until it finds the lever.

Dim, blue hues glint off the corridor, bathing the cell in an ominous, funeral-morning light. Your eyes train to the end of the table, and there he sits—still, unmoving, a mane of raven hair cascading down his back, a flesh-and-bone composition of some western Dracula. He is unlike any other inmate you’d laid eyes on before, something incorrigible, clandestine about him; it’s as if he’s frozen in the intersection of immortality and death, one foot through the door, never fully on either side. Distinctly, it reminds you of some late-stage cases of mara-struck individuals that would eventually be sent for termination (the grim fate of all Xianzhou natives).

He is as strong as he is imposing, and nearly as tall as the general himself; this, you can ascertain by the muted rise of his chest, the cling of Xianzhounian fabric over battle-hardened muscle, and knees that hit the bottom of the table.

He can kill you, you realize instantly; a part of you screams that he not only can, but will. It is a primitive fear, one you hadn’t thought you’d face in the closely-guarded Luofu ship, especially under the watchful eye of the Cloud Knight’s general; it’s enough for you to stop breathing, and render you frozen in your tracks.

You force yourself to exhale, dragging the chair on your end of the table back to situate yourself.

“Good evening,” you manage to utter, cringing at how it comes out a half-squeak; you bite your tongue, willing yourself to harden. A killer this man might’ve been (a professional one, if your screaming gut instinct had anything to say), you didn’t power through half a decade of amicassador training and Jingyuan’s bullshit to flail at the sight of a wanted criminal. “I’m [Name], associate-assistant of General Jingyuan of the Cloud Knights, acting director-in-command of Cloudford’s maximum security center; my duties include, but are not limited to, prerequisite questioning of inmates following admission, collection of bio-data, and basic care of inmates that are unable to groom oneself.” You spy the etherous shackles bound at the wrists of his gauze-covered hands. “Do you consent to the precursory collection of bio-data?”

No response. Not even the slightest tilt of a head, not a single hair moving out of place. A little paler, and you’d presume him dead. You chew the inside of your mouth.

“Would you be willing to provide your legal name? Planet of origin? Species?” Each question is followed by another inch of silence, widening the sea between you and the stranger; though you’re simply following protocol, you can’t help but shiver at the thought of offending Jingyuan’s newest specimen. “...that will conclude logistics. As per duty, and due to current physical restrictions, I am, by law, required to provide basic grooming; this will include a wipe-down of the face. You may vocalize any additional requests; if deemed appropriate by the Cloud Knight Codex, I will comply.”

Silence.

You decide you’d rather the world swallow you back into its womb and spit you back out so you might choose another path in life. Anything to prevent the development of that stupid crush on the scoundrel-general that had left you moon-eyed enough to brush off Tingyun’s recommendation of bannering under Yukong’s Sky-Faring Commission, where you’d entertain foreign investors and tryst with exotic artists instead of dancing with the stink of death every workday.

“...I’m going to touch you now,” you murmur, the scrape of your chair filling the cell. “Please excuse me.”

It’s like diving head-first into a guillotine; every live-wire nerve in you is shrilling for you to run, dignity and Jingyuan and the peace of the Luofu be damned. Leave the goddamn cell door open if you had to; anything to save your own skin. You don’t, of course; instead, you waver in front of the man, still a sitting statue, and tear open the sterile clothpack you’d pocketed.

Slowly, you kneel—and suddenly, you’re having to look up at him, all harsh lines and dark hair, and you thank the Aeons he’s blindfolded and you can’t see his eyes, because you know you wouldn’t have been able to perform any duty under the brunt of a killer’s stare.

He smells of incense and the bloodied scabbard of a sword. Specifically, the woodsmoke used in funerals. Hesitantly, you press the damp end of the satin to the stranger’s cheek.

The result is instantaneous, and you would’ve missed it had you hadn’t been seasoned by years of dealing with the most insidious of criminals; his mouth twitches, his nostrils flare; the actions are subtle, not at all assuming to the naked eye, and would, when performed by any other inmate, be brushed off as involuntary fidgeting;

But not this man, not death himself.

You nearly drop the cloth in alarm. But you don’t, and you try to look anywhere but him (because looking at him hurts as much as it would staring into the core of a non-artificial sun), climbing over the bridge of his nose, the flesh of his lips, the dip of his brows and the cuts of his hard, narrow jaw.

He is handsome.

The thought is both funny and terrifying; it helps you function, albeit more normally, though a part of you knows you shouldn’t find a national security threat anything more than appalling.

“Done,” you murmur, pulling back until you’re no longer drunk on the scent of orientals and woodsmoke. You pause, affirming just how pretty he is up close—a word you’d seldom use to describe men, and though he is absurdly handsome, there’s something flowery about the drape of his hair over his shoulder (another sign of danger, you now realize, as Xianzhounian warriors only cut their hair after defeat), the fullness of his mouth; like a carnivorous, night-flowering jasmine, you muse, blooming a scent so elusive it would only attract the most macabre of victims into its maw.

Aeons, the wanted criminal had you waxing poetry. Had your perpetual sleep deprivation toed its way to insanity?

“...do you require any further assistance?”

It shouldn’t shock you, it really shouldn’t; and yet, his response has the same effect as being struck with a killing blow from the general’s lightning lord itself;

“No,” he rasps, and the sound shoots right down to your core.

Fuck. Maybe you should’ve convinced your Foxian friend to take that old geezer up on his threeway offer last weekend, because it had clearly been too long since you’d gotten laid. For a wanted criminal you’d just laid eyes on to have such—

No. There’s no way. You make a mental note to ask Tingyun what self-care devices are trending and hide the pang in your nether regions with a shuffle of your thighs.

“Alright,” you squeak, scrambling to your feet—and protocol be damned, because there’s nothing in this godforsaken intergalactic universe that can stop you from crawl-dashing out the door as fast as your stupid work heels will carry you.

You need an intervention (an orgasm). Stat.

ꨄ︎

The Jingyuan that haunts you at dusk is as capable as the one you loathe during the day, thrice as inflamed, and so deliciously pliant. Your vision is obscured in the pewter-gray of his mane, teeth scraping the naked flesh of your shoulder, wet and warm and hard.

You dig your nails into the roots of his hair, as always, and yank. In response, he lets out a muffled groan—you imagine the sound reverberates under your skin like ripples along a lake, and feel his (your) hands dip below the hem of your dress. He would be careful, you think—considerate, despite his bastardry, barely bruising, just harsh enough to leave you wanting, just how you like it (or so you think).

“I hate you,” you gasp, to no one; Jingyuan chuckles, lips soft over the juncture of your throat.

“Me?”

“You,” you moan, the rake of your nails along his back coaxing him into littering a thousand kisses over your neck. “I hate you, I hate you—you and your stupid hair and lackadaisical, know-it-all attitude, and—fuck, I deserve a raise!”

“You don’t sound as though you hate me,” he hums. “In fact, you sound… rather pleased.”

Of course the Jingyuan in your hallucinogen-inspired wet dream is as cocky as the one in flesh; you scowl, landing a good one across his left cheek. He laughs, then, which spurs you to lock your legs around his hips and push him into the plush of the many pillows of your dreamscape.

“Shut up,” you order, “and put that mouth of yours to use for once.”

He doesn’t need any further instigation; dream-Jingyuan (somehow just as insufferable, despite being the byproduct of YOUR imagination) grabs you by the thighs and splits you open like his last meal. You gasp, hips moving of their own accord—reality blurs with the walls of your dreamworld, your own fingers replaced with the general’s calloused ones, and you sway to build the peak of your climax to your heart’s desire, lips coaxed open by his tongue, clit brushing against the bridge of his nose.

It’s all too much, really; you don’t remember the last time you’d had a dream so vivid, despite having remedied your insomnia quite often with visions of taming the sleeping general. There’s a strange sense of liminality; the thick fog separates to make way for cracks that closely resemble your bedroom wall, silk sheets fading into the strewn blankets you’d received as a New Year’s gift.

And then, Jingyuan does something completely unscripted—he slides you off his face, throws your leg over his hip, and grinds into your core.

You let out a whimper, something small in the back of your mind screaming that this isn’t normal—that a fabrication shouldn’t be chasing after his own pleasure, that the teeth along your neck feel harsher, more volatile;

But you can’t be bothered to care, whining for more—because suddenly, his mouth isn’t enough, and you need him, you need to be filled—had your vision been less blurry, and had you been even a smidgen less wanton, you wouldn’t noticed the shock of white hair fade into ink, the bare chest replace itself with dark fabric, and the fog of your dreamscape turn to overhead skies and a bed crowned in a million spider lilies.

And then,

“Jingyuan?” The forbidden, familiar baritone husks into your ear, and Aeons, you’d never crumbled faster—your eyes split open, still hazy, glittering with unshed tears—of frustration, of want, of hatred, everything in between and more, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. “Of all men, him?”

“What’re ‘ou doing here?” You babble, incoherent; your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and slowly, the inmate you’d been acquainted with mere hours before rises, shrouding your world in a curtain of black hair.

He smells the same—incense and blood and rain. Great. Now you’re hallucinating scents.

“That won’t do,” he says, lowering his face; the fabric of his blindfold touches your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but the fact that you can’t truly see him is even more erotic than any fantasy you’d ever conjured up before.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, the last shreds of decency slipping away to the cloudsmoke of his perfume and the flush of his hardened body against yours. “This isn’t—mmm!”

His mouth is on yours, and it is nothing like any mirage store-bought fantasia can conjure up; he is nothing like the men you pick up at clubs, nothing like the teasing Jingyuan in your dreams. He is taking you, commanding your lips to part to make way for him; his tongue searches yours, feverish and so ravaging that it should have you fleeing the planet.

Then, he moves, and you feel the brush of something hard against your mound, near corporeal; the threads of rationality snap, and you’re arching, using your hooked leg as leverage to melt into the dream-criminal’s body, because now, a dream isn’t enough—you want to feel him, warmth and muscle and the cage of his arms, and become one; a mouth isn’t enough. Suddenly, nothing is enough.

He pulls away to latch onto your neck, and you cry at the loss.

“No,” you wail, hooking your remaining leg over his waist. Slender, moreso than Jingyuan’s. “Kiss me more—gimme more—I need—”

“Take it yourself,” he says, working on the welts now littering your collarbone in what an absurd part of you assumes is an attempt to replace any remnants of the dream-general. “Do you really think yourself deserving?”

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes. “So—so mean,”

You lay there for a minute more, frustrated and so stupidly wet, aching for his touch while he seems content to deliver his punishments in the form of mouthing along every inch of your throat and breasts.

“You demon,” you accuse, fisting his shirtsleeve pathetically. Your lips twitch into a frown when he continues to ignore you.

Take it yourself, huh?

And then, because it’s a dream and you would rather die than be left unsatisfied in your own un-reality, you grab the stranger by the face, part your lips open, and finish what he so rudely began.

A part of you expects a nightmarish turn—one where he lashes out to skewer your gut, or worse; instead, he indulges you, fingers steadying your hips as they attempt to grind into a rhythm.

“You’re in my dream, aren’t you?” You whisper, scattering pecks along his cheek—he is, after all, so pretty, too pretty not to dote on. “Take responsibility. Jingyuan would.”

It’s like smelting a firecracker; his mouth bends into an almost-scowl, and the grip on your hips turns bruising.

Bandaged fingers curl into your heat, building atop an existing pressure—your reaction is visceral. A gasp, then an involuntary swivel of your spine with the heels of your feet digging into the bed; and just as you think he’s going to build a staccato, his ministrations halt.

It’s devastating, and it has you wailing into the crook of his pale, unforgiving, not-quite-embrace; frustrated, you knock your fists against his chest. If it were reality, it would hurt you more than it hurt him.

“You bastard.”

“I could ruin you,” he haunts, an echo in your ear. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing, finding relief only when I move inside you.”

His lips graze over your own.

“But I won’t.”

It’s a strange, humiliating experience, coming undone from a mere kiss; your heat throbs, neglected, still sobbing to be touched, be soothed, put at rest; but the way he holds you can be mistaken as loving, and the curl of his mouth against yours is almost kind; it’s like grasping at the shadow of a man that never existed.

And then, you wake up.

Your walls are sepia and no longer skies, there are no lilies at your feet. Your cheeks are tear-stained, and there’s a hand under your skirt, the other cupping your breast in poor mimicry of your dream demon.

Something red catches the mirror on your nightstand.

There, splintered across the previously unmarred expanse of your throat, lies a canopy of bruise-colored kisses.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade hsr #honkai star rail smut #blade smut #part of a series but im too lazy to format parts rn

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