#Elf protesting Christmas

[never-looked-so-good]

📷 @/scuderiaferrari

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Caught Under the Mistletoe

♡ featuring: nanami kento x reader

♡ synopsis: alone on christmas, you spend the night with your equally lonely coworkers. of course, your office crush nanami kento wants to party, too. he's a mystery, yet you can't help wanting to be around him. with a little help, can you beat the odds and finally confess?

♡ wc: 8.0k

♡ tags: fem! reader, jjk au, office au, misunderstood nanami, friends to lovers, corny gojo (as usual), praise, switch nanami, whiny whipped needy nanami, lots of overstim, manhand|ing, öral (f!receiving), mäting press, nanami cums quick, multiple órgasms, basically vanilla

notes: im almost a month late for my christmas fic i am sooo sorry! hope everyone had a happy holidays. did i finish this fic or did this fic finish me? who knows :P comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

“Hey, watch your step!”  

Gojo barely catches your calf before you trip off the chair you’re dancing on. You fail to realize your heels are sinking into the fabric. Fortunate for him to be there—the tipsy girl isn’t doing herself any favors twirling on a spinning office chair, but liquid courage has its perks. You’re narrowly balancing a drink in your hand—plain whiskey—while Gojo attempts to keep his swishing in the short glass. His efforts must’ve looked like a game to you, because you’re giggling and patting his arm as if he were an exaggerating child.  

The rest of the office is in an uproar, loose paper scattered about and documents gone unfinished. Some dancing, others chat over burgundy wine or dark liquor. There’s an awful Christmas song playing in the background, but most are too drunk to hear it. You can almost listen to jingle bells above your belligerent assistant manager addressing his qualms about the boss in a haughty manner; ivory shirt unbuttoned, gut spilling out of his too-tight pants as he raises his glass in protest for a pay raise. The two usual troublemakers you seldom speak to are having a concerning amount of fun with the copy machine and their bare rear.  

You’re not without fun though, pencil skirt straining on your thighs while you jump and sing an unrelated song bouncing around in your head. If your boss were here, heaven only knows the trouble you’d be in. Luckily, he isn’t here. Every year, your boss took paid time off to spend time with family during the holidays.  

The other losers with nothing to do spent their Christmas at the office.  

Sometimes you spent so much time at the office you began to consider it home. And so you’d bring a little piece of home with you, holding a high spirit for the holidays. Red and green festivities kept the joy alive, regardless of the depressed groans and sighs you became accustomed to during shifts. You’re still young, still somewhat hopeful about your future career. You put your heart into decorating the department.  

Well, you and Nanami, of course.  

“Santa’s little helper” is what you called him, to which he adjusted his glasses and begrudgingly agreed. He agrees to most of your plans, unless they involve outrageous pranks or a possible HR violation.  

When he first arrived to the building, he exuded such a quiet energy you sometimes didn’t notice him on the clock. When the lights dimmed for the day, and you strolled past his cubicle, a bright blue light casted long shadows. His silence was almost intimidating, and though most people made it a point to avoid contact with him, it felt unfair to you. You made it a point to get to know him, even if it were sometimes overwhelming or tedious—popping your head in during crunch time or offering him a snack. He eventually responded in kind. Not the kind that spoke out of obligation, but genuine respect. You haven’t learned much about him since you met him, and he won’t openly indulge, but you make attempts anyway.  

You’ve been messing with him the entirety of December. More ‘elf-on-a-shelf’ like, leaving mysterious Christmas trinkets for him to find in his cubicle. A tiny Santa here, a gnome there, gag gifts hidden in his metal drawers. You still remember him opening his briefcase to find a small porcelain reindeer standing up on his folders. And let’s not forget when he sat down after a water break and instead of a whoopie cushion, a traditional Christmas song reverberated across the hallway.  

You’ve both done well, spending too much time after hours putting a tree up, blossoming with multicolored ornaments and shapes in no particular theme. Garlands with waxy red berries hang from the fluorescent ceiling lights and removable winter decals are stuck on every wall, next to the inconvenient rainbow bulbs. 

Nanami denied the addition of a mistletoe, to your utter dismay. He truly embodied the little helper role, tending to your every request with an accompanied sly comment or concern. Unfortunately, it didn’t subdue the increasing feelings you already have for him. Within your delusion, you’re even starting to believe he might be flirting with you—ridiculous, right?  

If stone-cold Nanami were flirting with you, you’d probably die on the spot. There’s no chance though, and you’re fine with crushing from a distance. At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself to maintain a friendship.  

He makes it hard, though—incredibly hard. It’s difficult right now, as he leans against a wall away from the crowd, teal button-up taut against his torso, wearing a Santa hat at your request. Nanami, who regularly keeps up with his appearance, looks somewhat disheveled from the alcohol.  

You’ve finally learned something about him; he can’t handle his liquor.  

He won’t show it, but while he maintains the same stoic expression, strands of hair hang over his somber eyes, and his glasses aren’t perfectly perched on his face. The buttons pull at the fabric, and he heaves heavy with his sturdy arms folded underneath the chest, bunching his spotted tie. The light makes it worse, catching on the veins peaking from his skin. You could trace every tendon corded around his forearms, thick hands swirling a shot glass. It’s smaller in comparison to his palm, and you watch his fingers trace the rim of the glass. They look delicate and manicured, but equally rough. How they’d study the curves of a body, snake around a lovers head as he pulled them close. Wrapping his fingers around-  

“You’re drooling” Gojo blurts. You snap your head to him, and he laughs heartily before smacking your back. “Shhh-tt!” You wave a hand over his mouth, but the wide grin he’s sporting goes beyond your reach. He gets in close, not bothering to cover his mouth for the gossip.  

“Go tell him.”  

“Wha- hell no” you shake your head, stepping down from the chair nursing your dwindling drink. You refuse to hear the absurdity he’s proposing. “Why not? Perfect night, ain’t it?”  

You throw back what little is left in the cup and set it on a random coworkers desk. “How so?”  

“Christmas Eve. Lots can happen, y’know?” He presses his hand to the sides of your head and turns your attention back to Nanami.  

“Lotsss.” You swat him—luckily Nanami was engrossed in the contents of his glass. “Fuck you” you whisper, semi joking. He laughs. “Cmon, me and the guy are cool. Let me wingman.”  

“No.”  

“Why not?”  

“Why would I ever let you wingman when you can’t even get a date yourself?” He clutches his chest, feigning pain, “Ouch!”  

“I’m fine with us just being friends, okay?”  

“Pfft, clearly not. I just caught you eye-fucking him.” You roll your eyes, shooing him off mid-conversation. Gojo may be right, but it couldn’t happen today. It wasn’t worth confessing, especially with his gift tucked away in your bag. Life would become too complicated too fast.  

You’ve sobered up some from the harsh reality of your situation. Being sober sucks. However, you’ve neglected to check on Nanami since the party started, and now might be a great time. You walk in his direction, steering your eyes from Gojo’s smug expression.  

Nanami catches you approaching and nods, sleeves busting against his bicep. His brown sugar eyes are half lidded, and a light glow dusts feverishly over his ears and neck. His chiseled bone structure appears gentle with a pinkish blush. You hold your breath, afraid you might divulge the thoughts searing your tongue with sin.  

“How’s my little helper doing?” you ask, leaning against the wall beside him. Your bodies ghosts against each other, never fully touching, always in two separate worlds. You don’t expect his gaze to follow you, and you’re slightly surprised when you turn to him and he’s staring.  

“Pretty good,” his voice permeates like fine bourbon, deep and intoxicating to your hazy ears. He speaks in his usual rigid manner despite the drink. You could listen to him talk forever—embarrassingly so, as you got written up for talking frequently in his cubicle. “All thanks to Santa.”  

“I’m glad. Did he get you everything you wanted for Christmas?” you smile.  

“Yea. She did.” She. You brush it off—a slip of the tongue. It’s hard to trust what a tipsy person says, anyway. You press your nails to the corners of your mouth and pull upwards.  

“Then be happy!”  

“I am” he responds. Blunt. You sigh dramatically.  

“Hmph. But you never smile.” He watches you close, and your nerves cause you to fiddle with the paneled pattern on the glass. So much for wanting his attention.  

“Would you like me to?” There’s no humor in his tone. Did you want him to smile? Of course. But you desire the genuine satisfaction of a pure, unfiltered smile. It means nothing if you have to force it out of him.  

You turn your head from him with a pointed nose. “Nope. I want it to be genuine when you do.”  

Facing him again, you accept the challenge, “I’ll get you to smile!”  

There’s a subtle perk in his brow, and faint creases form at the corners of his drooping lids.  

“Oh yeah?” he drawls, an octave lower. It spurs a feeling within you that crumples your resolve too fast. Breath catching in your throat, the air is suddenly stuffier than before. You grip the glass for dear life, attempting to compose yourself, but you can’t when he’s staring at you like you’re the only person in existence. You watch the way his eyes flick across your face; your eyes, then your nose, down to the curve of your lips, moving quicker as they travel down. You swallow thick, unable to avert your gaze, unable to stop the heavy rise and fall of your chest. You must be imagining it. Or maybe Gojo’s right, what’s the harm in-  

“(Y/N)! Get over here and drink with us!” your assistant manager yells from another section.  

It breaks you out of your trance, and you turn on your heels towards the sound, just enough to hide the blush pooling over your cheeks. “Comin’!”  

•••  

The night has simmered into occasional chatter, with most of your coworkers leaving to go barhopping or get a head start on their hangover. The stragglers—a few employees, you, Gojo, and Nanami—packing up to leave.  

You’re throwing your coat over your shoulders, running to your cubicle to hopefully catch the last bus. Before you can grab your briefcase, a flicker of something shiny draws your eye. You pull your drawer open; a miniature snow globe with two fluffy penguins inside wearing festive hats and scarves, flippers stretched as they gather snow. You shake it up and watch the artificial flakes spin in the liquid. A smile unconsciously beams on your face, even more when you notice a yellow note tucked on the underside. You peel off the tape and unfold the post-it note.  

“Your turn  

-Nanami”  

A bland note from a serious man. Even so, your heart feels full to the brink of bursting. You reread the note over and over. You wish you could’ve witnessed big, intimidating Nanami buying the minature from a toy store. Unintentional poker face pointing at tiny penguins. The image sends you into hysterics. Once you’ve had enough of gushing over the same two words, you tuck it in your wallet, a place you won’t forget, and gently put the gift in a safe compartment in your bag.  

You can already hear Gojo from the elevator; he gets loud when he’s drunk, and unfortunately he’s a lightweight.  

“Cmon, you’re taking too long!” he drones, holding the elevator.  

“Okay, okay!” You shuffle inside. You’re a bit sad that Nanami left before you could say goodbye, but you still have the opportunity to give him his present on the next shift. Gojo leans on handrail, button up popped to his stomach.  

“So, no one’s gonna make a move, huh?” He pity’s you in his smug, know-it-all attitude, “it’s so embarrassing watching you two.”  

You have half the mind to refrain from reminding him about when he broke down midday in front of Geto’s house, begging him to take him back. He gets emotional about it. “It’s not as easy as just saying ‘hey, I’ve liked you since I’ve met you. Please don’t think I’m weird’.”  

“Whatever. Guess this must be the life of people with no game. I feel sorry for you, y’know?” You scoff. If anyone has game, it isn’t Gojo.  

“I don’t see you getting laid tonight.”  

“Spoke too soon, sweetheart. I’m fucking a pretty girl after this. And you’re going home,” he peers under his glasses, “dickless.”  

“You’re such a little-“ The elevator dings, opening into the company lobby. Some people are mingling by the sofa. Nanami’s at the front door, putting his beige trench coat on with his briefcase at his side.  

You’re about to step out when Gojo intercepts you, walking ahead first.  

“Na-Na-Mi!”  

“Satoru.” you angry-whisper, trying to grab him. But he dodges your attack effortlessly and glances behind, mouthing ‘shut up’.  

Nanami turns to Gojo, not exactly peeved but surely not happy to see him. They’re two opposites, and you could tell that Gojo quickly got on his nerves. “Hello.”  

Gojo puts an arm around him, and you watch him visibly clam up. “So formal! The boss isn’t here, you can speak normally.”  

“This is how I speak. Also, happy holidays.”  

“Mhm, mhm. By the way, my friend (Y/N) here wants to-“  

“Also wish you a happy holiday!” you chime in, speaking through your teeth. More like screaming, as you try to grab the attention of Gojo’s massive ego, to no avail.  

“Riiight. Anyway, Nanami-“  

“Shouldn’t we all start heading home?” you add, itching to run from the situation. You zip your coat, but Gojo won’t let you go that easily.  

“We should! In fact, Nanami, (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone to walk her home. She lives far, and you know how dangerous it is for a woman to walk alone at night.”  

You feel your eye twitch. You might actually kill him tonight.  

“I’ve got a date tonight so I can’t do it. And I know you have nothing to do so-“ Nanami side-eyes him, then turns to you. For a second, his gaze seems to soften. You smile, mostly as a silent apology for Gojo’s rambling.  

“Would you like me to walk with you?” he asks kindly.  

“…If you don’t mind.”  

“I don’t mind at all” he’s quick to retort.  

“Great! No time to waste then!” Gojo proclaims. He brings his other arm around you, guiding both of you out the sliding doors and into the cold darkness dotted by frosted streetlamps. He steps back from the throuple and brings Nanami close, practically smushing you together by the arm.  

“See ya!” he waves.  

Nanami surveys the path, giving you ample opportunity to glare at Gojo. He never cared, dopey grin on his face as he mimics a sexual act with his hands. Then he walks in the other direction, leaving you to deal with the situation he created. The bus is long gone.  

“Are you ready?” Nanami says, directing you to the inside of the sidewalk.  

“Yea, let’s go.”  

Snowfall cascades in blooming white sparkles amongst the icy sky. It drapes the parked cars in sheets of powder, and the tips of your shoes in frost. The solid breeze through your pantyhose creeps into your bare legs. Cold, but not uncomfortable. You luckily brought earmuffs, but Nanami isn’t as fortunate. Checkered scarf draped around his coat, you can’t tell if his ears are red because of the chill or tipsy after effects. He looks at you, unaware of the red patch on his nose.  

“Sorry about Gojo” he says.  

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”  

“If you’re too cold, I can call you a taxi, instead.”  

“No worries, I’m fine. Are you cold, Rudolph?” you snicker.  

He unconsciously touches his nose with pinkish fingers. “Is my nose red?”  

You stop in your tracks, “Come, I can fix it for you.”  

Nanami obeys and kneels down to your height, eyes fixed to the concrete gradually collecting more snow. Flakes dance around you, towering amongst his hair and sinking in the woolen scarf. You gently bring your hands around the fabric and loop once around his neck. Your knuckles graze his winded jaw in the process—soft and cool, a bit of stubble you barely noticed. You tuck the fringed end pieces into the loop, close to his nose where hot breaths warm your hand. The back shimmies over his head in a balaclava style to hopefully shield him from the icy onslaught.  

“Done. You should get warmer now.” He stands straight with a soft mien. Nanami always shared an easy stare. Yet the same easygoing stare now causes your face to burgeon unimaginable colors.  

“Thank you.” The ghost of a smile sweeps his lips, so quick you can’t decide if it’s a fluke or not.  

You continue treading through the snow, hands stuffed in coat pockets, legs stiffly shuffling together to preserve any heat. It’s quiet for some time—you’re afraid you’ll overstep. In-depth conversations weren’t often had, and you’re unsure of how to proceed without being pushy.  

“Is work getting easier for you?”  

“Yes. The workload is manageable and I’m making good progress with reports this month. I can get ahead of next month’s fiscal documentation.” Refined and straightforward. A natural born salaryman.  

“You’re always talking about work” you glance at him, “I’m curious, what are your hobbies?”  

When he doesn’t speak, you immediately go into damage control. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”  

“I bake…” he mutters, a discovery that persists in the space. Nanami is the last person you’d expect to enjoy baking. You half expected him to reply with something mundane like filing taxes. It warms your heart to imagine him in an apron pressing cookie dough through gingerbread molds. He had that endearing quality about him.  

“Really? What’s your favorite thing to make?”  

“Double chocolate chip cookies.”  

Your mouth gapes, “Wait…remember when I stole those cookies from you on your break? You made those?” You recall the confectionary treat and the way it melted in your mouth. You practically stalked his lunchbox for days hoping he’d bring more.  

“Yes.”  

“Oh my god, they were so good!” you chirp, “why didn’t you say you made them?”  

“…I’m not too confident in my abilities yet.”  

“They were amazing, you should be proud” you say, gazing up at him. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the lack of space between you two—arms brushing, shoulder leaning on him a bit. You’ll tell yourself it’s because of the cold. Just this once.  

“If you enjoy them so much, I’ll bring some next time.”  

“I’ll hold you to it.”  

He gives you a faint nudge, calling your attention. He doesn’t seem bothered by the extra weight on his body. “And what do you like to do outside of work?”  

“I read a lot. I write occasionally.”  

“Any specific genre?”  

“No, not really. I’ll read anything if it interests me.”  

“I’d like to see what you write sometime. You have a creative spirit.”  

You recognize it clear as day. The upturned curve of his dry lips, wrinkled eyes sweet and gentle in the dim amber lighting of a street lamp. Freckled by the reflection of steady snow, they appear sparkling as they bore into you.  

“Thanks” is all you manage to choke out.  

“I didn’t know you walk this way.”  

“‘Cause you’re always doing overtime”, you hesitate before you add, “you should give yourself a break once in a while. Take care of your health more.”  

“It’s nothing to worry about.” But I’m worried. It’s meant to be reassurance, but reassurance can only go so far when there’s noticeable eye bags. You step in front of him, spinning to make eye contact.  

“Before we split, don’t go. I want to give you a present.”  

“You don’t have to do that.”  

“Of course I do! We’re friends, aren’t we?”  

Nanami sighs a laugh. “Yes, we are.” He holds the sides of your earmuffs, pressing them tight to your head. Almost as if he’s ensuring you don’t get too cold. “I feel bad now. I haven’t gotten you anything.”  

“That’s okay. Walking with me is enough.”  

“Then could I walk you all the way home?”  

The answer leaves your mouth before you can think, “Sure!”  

You pause, deliberating on your urge to extend the invitation. Nanami regards you closely, watching the minute muscles in your lips twitch as your words come to fruition. You avert your eyes. If only he knew the effect it had on you.  

“It’s p-pretty cold out here. Maybe if you want, you could come inside. Just to like, get warm, y’know?”  

Something flashes in Nanami’s gaze. Brief like other times, yet this one feels darker—full of incomplete emotions you’re not ready to decipher yet. He’s generous with smiles tonight.  

“If you’ll have me.”  

Back at your apartment, you’re fishing for the key in your never-ending purse. You’re somewhat thankful for its disappearance since it gives you time to compose yourself. You’re hoping the state of your home is acceptable to his standard. You hook the key ring under your pinky and pull it out.  

The door, embellished with a Christmas pinecone wreath, creaks open into the narrow entryway. 

“Please come in.” He obliges, following after you as you drop your bag on the cluttered hall tree. You’re too distracted tucking your shoes properly in the rack, aligning them meticulously where it doesn’t count. Then you notice his footsteps came to a halt.  

Unlucky for you, you forgot about the shiny object you’ve had dangling at your entryway since December arrived. It slips your mind sometimes when it’s so out of reach, inches above you. But for Nanami’s height, it draws his attention instantly.  

A pine and cedar mistletoe sprouting red berries hangs from the ceiling by a red ribbon. Meant to be a joke for Shoko when you smother her in excessive love. Meant to complete the other holiday decorations littering your apartment.  

What it wasn’t meant for, was the impulsive invitation to your crush. You stare at it, to which your eyes wander to Nanami, also staring at it. He’s lingering, then he looks at you, amused grin tugging at his lips.  

“Uh, ignore that!” you stammer, a nervous tick in your tone.  

“Were you expecting someone?” He’s already removing his hat and scarf.  

“No, it’s just a silly joke between me and Shoko.” He watches you intently. You have to get used to the laidback version of Nanami, for the sake of avoiding a heart attack.  

“I can take your coat!” you divert, but he dodges your grasp. “No need. You’ve had a long day.” He places it on one of the pegs.  

“Well, make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything to drink?”  

“I’m fine for now, thanks.”  

You quickly scuffle to the kitchen. A tall glass of water to subdue your pounding heart. It’s the fault of your own body, psyching you up to believe that for a second, Nanami might be reciprocating your interest. In a way, conversing with him was easier when you had no expectations, no indication of “like” on his end. You aren’t even sure what like means from his perspective.  

When you leave the kitchen, he’s sitting on the couch, legs spread with an arm resting on the back of it. He shifts in his seat, beige slacks taut on the fat of his thighs. You run to grab the cyan felt gift box from your bag and return to the living room.  

Plopping down, it’s pretty cramped for the span of two people. It's not this crowded when Shoko comes over, but what did you expect when Nanami’s wingspan is twice the size of yours. With your back on the armrest, your knees are inches from his.  

You hold out the box towards him. “Here you go, I hope you like it.”  

He grabs it, feeling the material. Then he glances at your giddy face before opening it. It displays a polished gold chronograph watch with brown leather trim. The ivory velvet interior contrasts against the gold-toned dials, and he marvels it with shock.  

“This was expensive” he says, examining the sub dials like fragile glass. It definitely was, and you did a few overtimes for it, but you won’t tell him that. “I hope you didn’t go through any trouble to get this.”  

“You deserve it. You do a lot for everyone. And you’ve tolerated my nonsense all month.”  

“Thank you isn’t enough for something like this. I’ll do what I can to repay you.”  

You splay your palm. “Aht aht, don’t even think about repaying me.”  

“I’m covering your lunch for the rest of the year” he states, matter-of-fact. You don't correct your touching knees. 

“I won’t let you.” A chuckle escapes through his nose, features softening along the edges of his chiseled cheeks. 

“Then how about those cookies?”  

“…I’ll take that” you beam, “and, I want to be your test subject for any desserts you make in the future.”  

“Whatever you want.”  He slides the watch out of the display and gives it to you. “Would you like to put it on?”  

You unlatch the gold buckle and align the brown straps on his wrist. Fine blonde hair covers his forearm and you couldn’t fit your hand around his wrist if you tried, but you manage with two. “It fits perfect.” 

“How’d you figure out my wrist size?”  

“Remember when I asked for your help with a friend’s surprise gift?”  

“Ah, so that was a lie?” he grins. 

“Just a little one.”  

“Lying's bad for company morale.”  

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not at work right now, huh?”  

“Mhm.” Nanami reaches for his tie, drawing it loose with a finger. “Very good.” 

You slide your shoes off, perching your foot on the other one before sliding that one off, as well. There’s a numbing pressure eating at your heels. You rub the balls of your ankles, persistent aches from the nonstop dancing you’ll sooner feel tomorrow.  

“Does it hurt?”  

“I should’ve taken my shoes off when I danced” you sigh. 

He pats his thigh. “Let me help.”  

You blink. Once. Twice. Does he want me to...? You don’t have the heart to question it. Not when it’s working in your favor. 

“If...that’s okay.” You’re startled a bit when he immediately scoops your leg and hikes it over his thigh in a single motion. You stare at his solid, vein-woven hands encompassing the surface of your ankle.  

“By the way, I don’t ‘tolerate’ you. I had fun when we were decorating.”  

“Oh, really? It didn’t seem like it, haha.” You’re nervous laughing. Between the small confession and the affectionate thumb swaying back and forth, you’re flustered beyond belief. 

“I look forward to our conversations. I’ve never thought of you as a bother.”  

You’re sure he’s talking at this point. You know he is. Yet, the series of firm, delicate touches along your ankle dull your ears to everything besides the sound of rough pads moving rhythmically along nylon.  

“…Do you give massages often?” Nanami doesn’t look at you, transfixed on catering to your calf. He’s passed your point of soreness, traversing up your leg for the massage. His kneading sends your skin aflame. It’s a fervent intensity that starts at your trembling voice and ends in an embarrassing mess between your thighs. You can’t bear to meet his face. A pinkish tint to his knuckles, brushing the back of your thighs and scaling higher. 

“No. I’m practicing for you” he says, breathy and caught in a sharp wind. That’s when you notice his wrinkled collar, buttonholes straining from his tight breathing, and a burning glow poured over his ears and neck. His touches grow impatient, out of sync as if he’s trying to dig under the material to palm raw skin. “I’ll owe you more in the future.” 

The watch reflects bright in the headlights of your Christmas tree. Like you’ve laid claim to him. He’s wearing you on his arm.  

“You look great.” He pauses, finally turning to gaze at you. His glasses are off center, and his eyes—blooming and almost black—crave a certain unsatiable hunger, gnawing at his stomach with a feast just out of reach. He wouldn’t dare eat without permission. 

“It looks great…on you.”  

“You look great too” he whispers through a clenched jaw. Your breaths mingle in the space, thoughts going unsaid while somehow tainting the air with insistent need. You can't stand it. Can’t stand the way your thighs clench, searching to stave off desire. 

Nanami parts his chapped lips, then closes them. He swallows nothing, Adam’s apple bobbing. Restless. 

Every little action he performs elicits a sense of longing once buried in an unattainable sector of your heart. 

“Hah…please don’t look at me like that” he says, tense and on the verge of begging. 

“Like what?”  

“Like you want me.” It leaves his mouth. Another confession, syrupy and coated in a deep desire, pulsing in the very core of you. He relieves a shaky breath, a ticked jaw struggling to relax.  

“I do.”  

Nanami’s restless demeanor shifts fast, and the air he’d been saving escapes him entirely. He smoothly tucks his grip under your knees and pulls you close. You settle on his lap, chest to chest, hovering over him. Noses ghosting, threatening to concede. Boiling heat coils in waves in your gut, and your heart skips across your ribcage. He’s equally flustered, if not more. You feel the heavy bulge prodding your tights, enough to earn a muffled sigh. 

“You’re giving me false hope.” 

“I want you.” He places a hand behind your neck, another trailing up your curves. 

“Say it again” he mouths into you. They’re soft, languid with your own. You caress his face, enduring the way he tests your lips, nudging just to pull back. 

“I want-”  

Before you can finish your sentence, he crashes onto you. The well-mannered Nanami you knew stalks your tender lips with unbridled yearning. Chasing your mouth as if you’d vanish if he released. His lips turn slick from a succession of sloppy, uncoordinated kisses and you’re nearly suffocating. He doesn’t falter, though, choosing to devour your moans, your body, anything relating to the idea of you. He attempts to be gentle with the pace of a lover—but judging by the way he hurriedly hunts your mouth when you part for air, he’s missing the mark.  

His hands snake over your waist to the fat of your ass. Fondling through your clothes, you feel the true nature of his grip as pillowy indents fill the space between his fingers. You’ve found purchase in his golden locks, carding through his hair to pull him impossibly close. You’re light-headed, drunk off the pressure of his kiss, his touch refusing to leave your body. The only thing separating your embrace are the tiny moans and whimpers that follow them. Your body betrays you, clenching around nothing like a virgin having her first kiss.  

You’re both huffing once you break. Nanami licks his lips, savoring the taste, a crude groan beneath it.  

“You give me mixed signals” you pant.  

“Then allow me to make it clearer.” He throws his glasses to the side, skittering somewhere on the floor.  

Nanami dives back into your mouth, gliding his whiskey-singed tongue against yours. Unrefined, messily exploring your mouth in a manner of wet smacks. The sound goes straight to your sticky underwear, and you’re shifting uncomfortably in his grasp, to which he holds you sturdy on his lap.  

“Don’t go” he whimpers, drawing a fleeting breath. Blown-wide pupils bore into you, “I need you.” He licks a stripe up your tongue, allowing a trace of drool to slip amid you as he smothers you in French kisses. His mouth is hot, laden with a dizzying mix of alcohol and zeal, yet he cups your cheek lovingly. You’re slinking under his shirt, fumbling with the fasteners until they pop. Your one-minded focus ignores the buttons scurrying across the rug to enamor his ample pecs, flushed and plump in tandem with his husky build. 

You’re alternating against each other’s tongues, neither one of you willing to depart. Gorged on the whimpers you evoke as you cradle his plump chest. 

“Darling, please” he whines. 

He guides your ass along his aching bulge, stealing a satisfied moan from the depths of your mouths. You’d mistake it for a thermal water bottle if it didn’t twitch. Back and forth on his slacks, the seam bumps your clit each time you roll your hips, smearing the dribbling mess from your pantyhose. He leaves you to oscillate on the tensing fabric, pursuing a semblance of relief, jolts of frisson enveloping you.  

You withdraw from him to occupy the space on his neck. Splotching rough, spit-soaked kisses in blurs of red to match his tumid lips. He has a pretty, desperate voice, cracking when you suck on his pulse point. “Uhn, just like that—god.” He lets his head fall a little further, steering you in cycles. “Want more of you.” 

When he pulls you up, an evident gloopy trail follows the score of your tights, and you shy away from the scene. He kneads your plush thighs as he spreads them apart, pecks dotted on your cheeks. “Don’t be shy. You’re gorgeous.” 

Nanami supports your lower back while picking the buttons from your blouse. Or at least he’s trying to—his desperate limbs can’t latch on properly, and he inevitably snaps it down the middle. You discard it and he’s instantly on your breasts, licking and biting as he reaches for the bra clasp. You take it off yourself in fear of him breaking that too. 

His kisses linger on the swell, even when he talks through it. “You don’t know how long”, he gradually raises your skirt to your waist, “I’ve been waiting to touch you like this.” 

Nanami takes a nipple in his mouth, circling it recklessly. He indulges in the parts he’s desired for months, indecent with the tug of his teeth on your bud. A lewd stare, misted and still greedy for seconds. And it’s overwhelming; the constant pounding in your cunt, slobber coating your mound with him groping the other. It’s like he has multiple ravenous hands surrounding you, dancing over every crevice he can manage. Consuming you.  

And when the soft moans begin to leave you again, it’s driving him crazy. He picks you up and flips you to lay on the couch. He doesn’t back off for long, only to shimmy his shirt off and rend the belt from its loops. You forget to remove your own clothes, too busy gawking at the remaining attire—a loose tie, sock suspenders, and black briefs drenched in milky precome. He drops to his knees in a heartbeat, sharing a warm smile. Nanami really is adorable, and you’re facing a whirlwind of emotions from the contrast of his brimming underwear, and the hold that manhandles your legs on either side of his shoulders. 

His brows furrow, agitated with the nylon clinging to what he's lusting after. He grabs the front of them and easily tears it into elastic shreds. He doesn’t apologize this time. You aren’t bothered by it—if anything, it removes some of the pressure from your throbbing muscles. He promptly soothes it, wrapping around your inner thighs to feed his hands into the rips. 

“You’re so soft” he moans against the surface just as he paws it. A sigh and he’s immersing his face in the groove of your pussy, smudging open-mouthed kisses over your sensitive clit. The unfiltered contact sends a thrum through your body, though clamping your legs proves futile. 

“Ah, be patient” you joke, playing with his hair. He doesn’t spare a glance, webbed mess coating his lips, a thread from him to you.  

“Can I eat you? Please?” It comes off more like a formality than an actual question as he nuzzles into you, breathing in with a guttural groan. He slides the soaked cotton halfway, full range to admire your dribbling slit. You can tell he strives to pamper it slow, but Nanami doesn't possess the strength to tease or be composed. 

He treats your pussy as if it’s a separate entity from you, indulging and dragging his tongue in long, flat stripes. Nanami eats you for his own enjoyment, eager like a man starved. Slurping and swilling in loud, gratifying squelches. Low mmf’s vibrate against your arousal, but it’s hard to hear when you’re anchored to his face and he refuses to let go. A desperate tongue drinking your heady scent, oblivious to the honeyed fluids sluicing down his chin. He repeats small, calculated licks and continues to treat your squishy flesh like a pliable stress ball.  

“Fuck, it’s s'good—so, so good.” You learned something new about Nanami today: he can curse. 

Nanami embeds his fingerprints in your skin. Toying with the taste of you, stopping to swirl the relentless appendage around your swollen clit. The tip of his nose does part of the job for him. Your utmost efforts rely on the yank of his scalp, knot after knot collecting in a burning surge through your quivering abdomen. Cries croak in your throat, unable to emerge while he’s having a personal, filthy make-out session with your pussy. He fits perfect sandwiched between your juicy folds and he’ll make sure you know it. 

“’M so close” you moan. That’s something he does hear, because he instantly holds tighter, all attention directed to the trembling bundle of nerves. Pleasure builds quick, and when your legs start to shake, he takes that as a sign to delve deeper, sucking aggressively through the shudder. Your body caves and you’re reduced to ecstasy, rutting against his mouth with no control. He gladly accepts in kind. “Nanami.” You’re calling for him, and he hums inside, satisfied as he laps at the spasms. 

He comes up for well-deserved air, sweat sheen from his matted hair to the blonde tufts sitting below his bellybutton. Dopey, glossy grin on his face, he shirks out of the tights and places a kiss on the lips he missed so much. You taste yourself on his tongue. Then you feel a finger glide against your syrupy entrance. 

“Nanami, wait.” He peppers kisses down your torso where he returns to his knees.  

“I have to make sure you can take me, baby.” Another grazes, soaking in your essence with a few languid drags. One dips inside, quickly finding a home in your gooey walls. Tiny aftershocks mimic the slow drawl of a curling finger and you’re keening.  

“Mm, too much.” 

“I’m sorry.” He pumps a tolerable, sopping stretch. Adding a finger, “Be a good girl, okay?” 

You’re clinging to him, sucking him in hopes for more. Your pussy greedily eats it up despite the overstimulated smolder, a melting thump thump that contracts around him. He’s twisting his fingers in a c-shape, looking for little hints that he’s in the right direction, and you’re giving him everything he needs.  

His tender, loving stare settles on you. Lapping at your clit and pumping your g-spot while you succumb to the hazy pressure thawing your head. You’re melting in a frenzy of cries, simultaneously reeling and pleading for him. Nanami’s determined; imbibing the juices gushing from your vulva and tailing the frenetic buck of your hips. 

“Uh, oh shit, right there” you moan, and he speeds up.  

“Yeah? Right here?” You’re nodding nonsensically, whine peaking. Your back arches and he moves to your breast. “Let it out, darling. I got you. Come on my fingers baby.”  

The second he latches onto the nub you’re rendered silent, mouth shaped in an ‘O’ as you come hard around his fingers. He slows, milking your orgasm for all it has, careless of your shaking legs and tears gathering on your lashes. He pecks the corner of your eye, and you’re too caught up in your own sobs to see him lick his lips. 

“Such a good girl for me.” You’re showered in kisses and he rubs circles on your waist. You blink back the tears, meeting tongue and teeth in a carnal exchange. But you’re craving more, him and nothing else. You palm his erection and he groans. You can see the painful print of his entire cock through his briefs, angry tip peeking out ever-so-slightly. 

“Take it off” you whisper. You watch his eyes flicker, a moment of hesitation—you won’t let him. “Stand up.” 

Nanami obeys your command and quickly stands. You hook under his waistband and yank them off. His thick cock stands at attention, nearly smacking you across the face. It’s a bashful red to base, glazed fat head dribbling precome down his heavy balls. He looks like he’ll unravel at any second. You bring a digit to his balls and it twitches. Dragging it up the veiny shaft, gathering his salty mess to spread it over your held out tongue. He stifles a faint shudder. 

“Baby, let me put the condom on.” At least you didn’t have to worry about bringing your own. You wrap your hand around his head, enough tension to be sure he doesn’t find comfort. You rub a thumb over it and his breaths yield shallow. 

“Hm? Why?” you ask, batting your eyelashes as you deliver a small lick. He hitches. 

“D-don’t.”  

“You don’t wanna feel my mouth?” He bites his lip, probably thinking about your pretty face gagging with a mouthful of him. You know the real reason why he won’t, and it’s rather cute that he’d save his release. 

“I-I do. God, I really do. But I-” 

“But what...?” You swirl it once, and he can’t even handle that.  

“C-condom” he whimpers, almost pleading. “Condom...what?” 

“Condom please. Please.” 

“Go get it.” He makes sheepish haste to his coat, returning with a gold wrapper. He’s about to rip it but you stop him. 

“Give it to me.” You tear it open with your teeth and position it over the head. Rolling it over, pursuing it with tantalizing, soft kisses. You feel him pulsing against your lips until you’ve secured the condom at the base. He swallows dry and his stomach recoils on nothing. You enjoy his needier display. 

“C’mere sweetheart” you tempt, luring his body to loom over you. He pushes your legs back and spreads you wide. “I’ll take it slow.” 

His brows crumble, jaw wedged, angled at your pussy. It’s already soaking him and he hasn’t put it in yet. You do your best to make him ease up, a hand placed over his. But as it dips into you, Nanami’s chewing his lip, going haggard before it ever started. He stops completely, an effort to compose himself even when he’s growing stiff and melty at merely the tip.  

“Just g-give me a second” he stammers, and you stay still while he slides the first inch into your creamy, chubby cunt. Stretching and clenching around him in a sappy sluice, he has to pause again, quivering in place. “Fuck-“  

Nanami moves a few inches and his hearts beating out of his chest. Foggy, sensual weight sticks to the edges of his brain and coils in his leaden sack.  

“I-I don’t know if…” A mouthwatering, snug fit, pulling him deeper. He’s grinding the rest in, but every time he gets a little further his throat bobs and he tenses. You’re molding to his length, encapsulating him in squelching fire, and he’s never felt anything like it in his life. Once he’s flush with you, he sighs, beating a fraction of the battle. 

He starts at an agonizing pace. It’s not doing him any favors—now he has to suffer through every sloppy drag, walls committing his veins to memory in a tight, addictive grip. He caresses your face.  

“I’m sorry. Bear w-with me” he whines, and you hold your hand over his. You’re not doing it intentionally, but watching him fall apart is truly a sight to behold—strands glued to his forehead, pussy-whipped fawn eyes lost in your warmth. You guide his fingers to your mouth and deliberately suck on them. Cruel of you, but it’s worth it for his wobbly whimpers, his delirious, thrumming cock. You know he won’t last.  

“No- Haaah, I can’t yet.” His hips lurch, and he holds back yet again. You lock your ankles around his back, giving him no room to fight it. He’s buried deep. “It’s okay, Ken. You can come.”  

Ken. Nanami loses it on the spot, coming instantly in a string of curses and delicate moans.  

“Shit- oh my god. Baby- oh, haa-ah-“ he cries, but his other thoughts spill out of him in soupy babbles. His movements stutter and you still milk him dry. He’s throwing his head back shaking and you gently massage his waist until he comes down. It takes some time.  

“You okay?” You feel him half-flaccid inside, and he’s panting on the shell of your ear.  

“I’m sorry” You brush the hair from his face.  

“Don’t be sorry about anything.” You kiss his forehead when suddenly your legs are being forced back.  

“Wanna keep going” he says, a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth.  

“Take a breather first.” He’s stuck in the irrational corners of his thoughts—every waking idea engulfed in the thought of you. He’s mumbling to himself, beginning to swing his discordant hips again. His voice cracks, body pushed past overexertion.  

“Call me Ken” he whimpers, sticky squelches meeting your bodies in a tangled, milky net.  

“Ken” you whisper, a flirtatious tint in your tone. He’s entranced by you. You’re touching foreheads, and he shamelessly mewls like a slut in your ear through every gooey plap.  

“How long have you liked me?”  

“Since we’ve m-met” he drones, finding a sopping rhythm. “I was scared. I thought- ah- you might not like me.”  

“So, you’ve been waiting for this?”  

“F-fuck, yeah. Ah- feels so good. Even better than my dreams” he prattles.  

You cup his face. “You dream of me?”  

“Uh-huh. Makin’ a mess of this pretty pussy. It’s so much better. So, so fucking good.”  

“Hold on.” He leans on the couch, legs bent on either side of you as he positions you like a pretzel.  

“Need it” he moans, slathered in your cuddly embrace. He’s hardening again, quick, and already skirting an addictive torture.  

He pulls out and drives his sack flush. It knocks the wind out of you, and you claw his back as he fucks with reckless abandon.  

Slurring a plethora of unhinged ‘more’s, he pistons inside, base to head, ass rippling against his savage thrusts. Every vast, violent stroke sends an intoxicating burn to your sweltering cervix. A while film bubbles at his sack where he’s pummeling, jaw slack and doe-eyed.  

Your toes curl, hypersensitive nerves teased and flipped, ruined by his adamant cockhead kissing your g-spot. You’re stretched past your limits, fluttering helplessly around him. His corrupted smile curves against your neck bursting with need.  

“Taking me so well, darling. I might come. C-can-hah-can I baby? Can I come for you?” He’s impossibly fast, funneling whines and nasty slaps. The rabid force bangs the couch against the wall and you’re at his mercy.  

“Mhm, g-go ahead Ken.” Waves of white-hot pleasure fizzle and spark on your skin, and you’re putty with the weight of him bouncing you.  

“Thank you, t-thank you-you’re so good t-to me.” He’s ragged, plummeting to the hilt. Your spasms sap him as he trembles, succumbing to your own orgasm. He grapples heavy, mean strokes, sticky laces bonding his tightening balls. Then he sobs, quaking until he comes.  

He doesn’t pull out. You’re both quiet for a while. On a descent, simply delighting in the comfortable silence. You join in another smooch.  

“(Y/N).”  

“Hm?”  

“Merry Christmas.” You glance at the time; way past midnight. He meets your gaze. After everything you did, you’re worried over one question.  

“Can we get to know each other?”  

He smiles, a kiss to your neck.  

“I would love to.” 

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[dreamescapeswriting]

You Make Me Feel Like Christmas || BC

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader

GENRE: Seasonal piece, drabble? cute, fluffy, reader not feeling the season and chan does everything he can to fix it, established relationships

SYNOPSIS: Struggling to find the Christmas spirit, you feel disconnected from the holiday magic you once loved. Bang Chan notices and spends a day dedicated to rekindling your joy, from decorating a tree to making Christmas s’mores under the stars. Through his unwavering care and creativity, he reminds you of the warmth and magic of the season, culminating in a tender moment by the fire.

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - December 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The chill of December had settled firmly in the air, snow gently blanketing the streets outside the window. Twinkling lights adorned every corner, the world around you buzzing with Christmas cheer—except for you... You sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, staring at the television playing yet another holiday movie. You forced yourself to watch it trying to push through your mood as the same storyline played out right before your very eyes.

It wasn’t that you hated Christmas, but this year, the magic seemed distant, leaving you feeling more like a spectator than a participant. Chan noticed. He always noticed, he noticed every single thing there was about you so you weren't sure why you thought you were going to get away with hiding this from him.

“Not even a smile for your favourite holiday movie?” he teased gently as he entered the living room, carrying a tray of cookies he’d baked earlier. The sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon wafted through the room, but it wasn’t enough to lift your spirits. You shrugged, offering a small, apologetic smile.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it this year.” You stared back at the screen as the couple finally got together at the end of the film. Something that had once brought you to tears but this time it didn't even bring a lump to your throat.

Chan’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a determined line. He set the tray down and sat beside you, pulling you close. His arm wrapped around your waist and he sighed a little,

“That’s not like you,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. Every year you were usually going over the top for Christmas, sometimes even counting down to it from July onwards but this year he'd noticed you hadn't. He'd put it all down to stress but as the date crept closer he was starting to worry.

“Christmas is your thing. Remember last year? You made me dress up as an elf for your Instagram post.” A small laugh escaped you at the memory, but it quickly faded.

“Maybe I’m just tired.” He leaned back, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Tired or not, I’m going to fix this,” he declared. “You deserve a Christmas that feels like Christmas.” Before you could protest and tell him that he didn't have to do that he was on his feet, his mind clearly already buzzing with plans.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of cheerful Christmas music blaring from the living room. Still groggy, you shuffled out of bed to find Chan dancing around in a Santa hat and a ridiculously festive sweater adorned with blinking lights. He was decorating the tree, which, until this moment, had stood bare in the corner of the room. The two of you had been to the tree farm a few days ago and picked out the short tree together.

You'd done it thinking that picking out a tree would put you in the mood but it had done nothing but stress you out more.

"Good morning!” he called out, twirling around with a strand of tinsel.

“I’m making breakfast in a bit, but first, come help me with this tree!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if your Christmas spirit hadn’t fully returned yet. You joined him, and together you started adorning the tree with ornaments.

Every few minutes, Chan would hold up a particularly ridiculous decoration, like a sparkly reindeer, and insist on putting it front and centre.

“This one’s perfect,” he said, his grin wide as he placed it on a branch. “It’s so ugly it’s cute.” He told you before kissing your cheek softly and giving you a soft squeeze.

By the time the tree was finished, it was a masterpiece of mismatched ornaments - ones you collected every year you were together, a small tradition that the two of you had together - twinkling lights, and an impressive amount of tinsel. Chan stood back, hands on his hips, looking proud.

“There. A proper Christmas tree. What do you think?” He nudged your arm softly as he wiggled his eyebrows in your direction, you took in the sight and bit down on your lip, it might have been the worst decorated tree in the world but it was YOUR worst decorated tree.

“It’s... perfect,” you admitted, your smile growing little by little as Chan smiled, pretty proud of himself for what he'd managed to do.

“Told you I’d fix this,” he said, dropping his lips to yours for a quick chaste kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

The day didn’t stop there though, no. Chan had an itinerary, and he wasn’t about to let you escape it. First, he dragged you outside to build a snowman, complete with a carrot nose and a scarf he insisted was stylish and something he'd seen all over Pinterest.

When your hands started to go numb, he'd been quick to whisk you back inside, wrapping you in blankets and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. Claiming he'd found the recipe for Judy's hot chocolate from the "Santa Clause" movies and wanted you to try it.

“Now, the most important part of Christmas,” he announced, holding up a stack of Christmas cards and a box of pens.

“Spreading cheer.” You groaned playfully but took the markers, letting him guide you through writing cards for friends and family. Each card turned into an art project, Chan doodling little snowflakes and stars in the corners while you added heartfelt messages. He even decided to add his little snake doodle but instead of a crown above it's head, he added a Santa hat instead.

The day went by pretty quickly and as it started to get dark outside, Chan still wasn’t done yet.

“Time for the finale,” he said, holding out his hand to you. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes looking at his outstretched hand as you wondered what else he had planned for you.

“Finale?” You questioned, still not moving yet.

“You’ll see.” He smirks and you giggle taking his hand and jumping up with him.

He led you outside to the small backyard, where he’d set up a little fire pit. The flames crackled warmly, and next to the fire sat a basket filled with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. There were blankets set up on seats so that the two of you wouldn't freeze to death in the snow or get sick.

“S’mores?” you asked, smiling as you noticed just how much effort he was putting into all of this for you.

“Christmas s’mores,” he corrected, pulling out a bag of peppermint-flavoured marshmallows and waving them around, smirking at you. “Trust me, they’re amazing.”

You sat by the fire, the two of you roasting marshmallows and laughing as Chan’s first attempt caught fire and eventually dripped into the firepits below. When he finally got it right, he made a s’more and held it out to you with a grin.

“For you. The honorary first Christmas s’more.” You took a bite, the mix of chocolate, graham cracker, and peppermint melting in your mouth, you shut your eyes and let out a moan. It was surprisingly good.

“Okay, you were right,” you admitted. “These are amazing.” Chan’s grin grew even wider.

“Told you. I’m always right.”

As the fire burned low, you leaned against Chan, the warmth of the flames and his arms warming you up fully. For the first time all season, you felt a spark of that Christmas magic that you'd been yearning for. Maybe it was the tree, the s’mores, or the fact that Chan had spent the entire day making sure you smiled. Whatever it was, you were grateful.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft and shaking a little as you looked up at him. Chan looked down at you, his eyes warm and filled with affection as he ran his hand over your cheek and rubbed his thumb over your skin.

“For what?”

“For this-" You gestured around at the fire and over at the house,

"For everything. I needed it more than I realized.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“Anything for you. Always...So are we feeling festive?" he questions softly as he holds your face in his hands. Your only response was a shy nod, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the kind that made time seem to pause and the world fade away. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he pulled you just a little closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your stomach was flipping in all kinds of directions as you let out a small giggle,

“How’s that for Christmas spirit?” he whispered, his eyes twinkling mischievously. You laughed softly, your cheeks warm from the fire and his touch.

“Alright, alright. You win. It’s definitely feeling like Christmas now." Chan beamed, pulling you into a side hug as he cuddled you into him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” And as the fire continued to burn, you realized maybe—just maybe—Chan was your favourite part of the season.

A/n: Still on hiatus but wanted to write something cute for the holidays <3

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.4k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : a cozy christmas gateaway turns magical as you and quinn escape to a snowy cabin filled with festive traditions

「 author’s note 」 merry christmas eve and merry christmas! 🎄 here’s another quinny christmas fic <3

the snow was already knee-deep when you and quinn pulled into the driveway of the cabin. it was the perfect little escape from the chaos of the city—a cozy wooden retreat nestled in the woods, surrounded by towering pines dusted with fresh powder. you couldn’t help but grin as you glanced at quinn, his dark beanie tugged low over his ears and his cheeks rosy from the cold.

“this is perfect,” you said, stepping out of the car and immediately sinking into the snow. you let out a laugh, and quinn followed, shaking his head but smiling at your antics.

“better than spending christmas in the city?” he asked, grabbing your bags from the trunk.

“way better,” you replied, brushing the snow off your coat. “no traffic, no noise, just us and the wilderness. and…” you trailed off with a mischievous grin.

quinn raised an eyebrow. “and?”

“you’ll see,” you said, keeping the surprise to yourself for now.

⋆˙⟡

once inside, the cabin was even cozier than you’d imagined. the warm scent of pine filled the air, and a stone fireplace stood at the center of the living room, already stocked with firewood. you immediately set to work decorating, pulling out string lights and garlands you’d brought along, while quinn carried in the rest of the bags.

“are you trying to turn this place into santa’s workshop?” he teased, watching as you hung a wreath on the front door.

“obviously,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him. “you’ll thank me when it feels all festive in here.”

⋆˙⟡

by the time night fell, the cabin was glowing with soft, twinkling lights, and you’d both settled onto the couch in front of the fire. quinn was flipping through a christmas movie playlist, his legs stretched out across the rug.

“elf or home alone?” he asked, holding up the remote.

“neither,” you said, jumping up suddenly. “i have something for you first.”

quinn’s brows furrowed as he watched you dart into the bedroom. you returned moments later holding a neatly wrapped package, your grin almost as bright as the string lights draped across the mantel.

“what is this?” he asked, sitting up straight as you handed him the box.

“open it,” you urged, plopping down beside him.

quinn peeled back the paper, revealing two pairs of matching plaid pajamas—one in his size and one in yours. his laugh was soft but genuine as he held them up.

“you didn’t,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“oh, i absolutely did,” you replied. “it’s christmas! matching pjs are a requirement.”

“i don’t think that’s a real rule,” he said, but the playful glint in his eyes gave him away. “are we really doing this?”

“yes,” you said, pulling your own pair out of the box. “and you’re going to look handsome, so don’t even try to argue.”

quinn rolled his eyes but didn’t protest further. minutes later, the two of you stood in front of the fireplace, now fully decked out in the matching red-and-black flannel pajamas. you couldn’t stop giggling as quinn glanced down at himself, clearly feeling a little ridiculous but also oddly endearing in the cozy outfit.

“okay, i’ll admit it,” he said finally. “these are actually pretty comfortable.”

“see? i told you,” you said, kissing his right cheek.

quinn laughed, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, flopping back onto the couch. “now, let’s watch a movie.”

but before you could hit play, you gasped, springing to your feet. “wait! i forgot the most important part.”

quinn looked after you curiously as you darted into the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients for your signature hot chocolate. you pulled out milk, dark chocolate, cocoa powder, sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. while the milk warmed on the stove, you chopped the chocolate into fine shavings, your movements quick and precise.

“what’s going on in here?” quinn asked, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work.

“only the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “i’m not just throwing some powder into water, baby. this is the real deal.”

he smirked. “should i be scared or impressed?”

“definitely impressed,” you shot back with a wink.

once the milk was steaming, you whisked in the chocolate, sugar, and cocoa powder, the mixture turning into a velvety liquid that smelled like heaven. you added a touch of cinnamon for warmth and poured the finished hot chocolate into two mugs. for the final touch, you topped them with whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder.

“here,” you said, handing quinn his mug as you joined him back on the couch. “try it.”

he took a tentative sip, his eyes widening as the rich, creamy flavor hit his taste buds. “wow,” he said, looking at you with genuine admiration. “okay, i take it back. you really weren’t kidding. this is delicious.”

“told you,” you said smugly, curling up beside him with your own mug. “christmas movie night isn’t complete without good hot chocolate.”

he took another sip, his expression softening. “i think this might actually be the best hot chocolate i’ve ever had. you’ve set the bar pretty high now.”

you grinned, leaning into him. “guess that means i’ll just have to make it every year.”

“i wouldn’t complain,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

he pulled a blanket over the both of you as the opening credits of elf played on the screen. the fire crackled softly in the background, and the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the cabin in a peaceful stillness.

halfway through the movie, you felt quinn shift beside you. when you looked up, he was already gazing at you, his expression soft and full of something that made your chest tighten.

“what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“nothing,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m just really glad we did this. it’s… nice, spending christmas with you like this.”

your cheeks warmed, and you leaned into his touch. “me too,” you said.

for a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply enjoy the moment. the movie played on, but your attention was entirely on quinn—his steady heartbeat, the warmth of his arm around you, the way he seemed completely at ease.

the two of you stayed curled up under the blanket as elf played on the screen, the warm glow of the fire making the cabin feel even cozier. but once the movie ended, you looked up to the window and you sat up with a sudden idea.

“let’s go build a snowman,” you said excitedly.

he raised a skeptical brow. “you serious? it’s freezing.”

“exactly. perfect snowman weather,” you said, already hopping up and tugging him off the couch.

⋆˙⟡

bundled up in your coats and scarves, you stepped out into the chilly night, the snow glistening under the light of the full moon. you knelt down and began rolling a ball of snow, packing it tightly. quinn joined in reluctantly at first, but his competitive nature kicked in quickly, and soon the two of you were working together to build the perfect snowman.

“you’re competitive about everything,” you laughed as he adjusted the middle section with precision.

“gotta make it structurally sound,” he teased. “our snowman’s not collapsing on my watch.”

eventually, the snowman came together, complete with twigs for arms, a carrot nose, and quinn even used a few stray rocks to give it a lopsided grin. for the final touch, you sacrificed your scarf for the cause. quinn immediately took off his own and he wrapped it around your neck, refusing the thought of you catching a cold on christmas.

“it’s not bad,” he said, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

“not bad? it’s amazing,” you said, laughing as you flung a handful of snow at him.

quinn dodged easily, grabbing a handful of his own and tossing it at you. the snowman stood proudly as the two of you chased each other around the yard, laughter echoing through the stillness of the woods. by the time you both collapsed into the snow, breathless and grinning, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this carefree.

“that was fun,” quinn admitted as he layed on top of your body, making sure he didn’t put too much weight on you.

“told you,” you said, cupping his face and giving a passionate kiss. “merry christmas, q.”

“merry christmas, pretty” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

© amourquinn

[xnalux]

I’d love love love pt3 of streamergfvi! You write her so well <3

streamer!vi hcs christmas special

part 1 part 2

warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader

pictures are from pinterest and they're not mine

author’s note: I had to rewrite it twice because my shitty computer was acting up so i'm not fully happy about how it turned out but i really hope you like it. merry christmas pretties ♡

streamergfvi: who didn't really care about christmas decorations but found herself following around an hyper excited and bouncy powder,arms full to the brim with boxes, each one threatening to spill over with the glittery treasures it contained

She found herself trying to balance her weight as powder sat on her shoulders in front of the christmas tree hanging the decorations to it.

''pow the tree is gonna fall over if you add another one''

vi groaned wrinkling her nose as she tried to get one of powder's braid out of her face.

''shut up you grinch''

powder just huffed focused on the task of putting the little elf on top of the tree, the younger sibling stretching out trying to reach the highest part of the fir making vi almost lose balance stumbling a little to the side

''stop moving so much!''

''well if you weren't so short...''

''you are shorter than me''

the two bickered as vander stared at them leaning agaist the kitchen's door frame, arms crossed and a fond smile on his face.

streamergfvi: who is incredibly competitive about snowball fights. her and powder have a little feud. their backyard, a canvas of white, is a battleground of strategically placed forts made of snow and colorful winter gear scattered about like the aftermath of a whimsical blizzard.

Their rivalry is legendary, a spectacle that has been the highlight of winter for the past few years. The neighborhood kids gather around the fence, their breaths forming clouds of anticipation as they whisper about the impending clash of the snow titans.

This year, you've decided to join in the fun, throwing your hat into the ring with Powder. You've been watching their snowball battles from the sidelines, sipping on hot cocoa and offering moral support, but the time has come to immerse yourself in the frosty fray.

The moment the fight begins, it's clear that Vi isn't going to go down without a fight. She charges towards you and Powder, her snowball arsenal at the ready. As she hurls the first volley, you both dodge and retaliate, sending your own icy projectiles flying in her direction. The snow crunches under your boots as you run and duck, the cold sting of the snowflakes on your skin only adding to the thrill.

"Hey, pretty''

vi calls out, her voice a mix of teasing and challenge as she aims another perfectly-formed snowball at you.

"You think you can beat me with those little snow pebbles?"

"Oh, this year you are going down, shortie!"

Powder shouts back, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the crisp winter air.

But vi isn't one to be outdone. She takes advantage of your momentary distraction, and before you know it, she's sneaking up on you from behind.

"Gotcha!"

she exclaims as she tackles you to the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of powdery snow that surrounds you both.

You're laughing too hard to protest as she straddles you, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Surrender, darling,"

she says, her breath warm on your cold cheek as she holds a snowball over your head.

"You know I'm the king of snowfights"

"Never!"

you reply, trying to push her off, your laughter turning into a playful growl. You wiggle and squirm, trying to break free from her firm grip, but she's too strong.

Powder, noticing your plight, hurls a snowball at Vi, which hits her square in the back.

"Cheap shot!" Vi yells, releasing you to retaliate.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to escape her grasp. You jump to your feet, a snowball in hand, and throw it back at her. It hits her right on the forehead, leaving a perfect white imprint.

"Oh, it's on now!"

she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She wipes the snow away, her grin unyielding. It ends up with you straddling her lap asking her to ''beg for mercy'' as powder fill her jacket with snow.

streamergfvi who never lose the change to push her hand in the back pocket of your pants even when you are out in public. And when you playfully glare at her she just

"What?" she give your ass a little squeeze feigning innocence.

"It's cold out here!"

"Well, if my pocket is such a warm sanctuary, I might just have to charge rent,"

you tease, giving her a sideways smirk. She rolls her eyes dramatically, but the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth betrays her feigned annoyance.

"Rent, huh?"

she says, her voice a low purr as she leans closer, her breath ghosting against your cheek.

"What's the going rate for such prime real estate?"

"Oh, I don't know," you muse, playing along.

"Maybe a kiss for every squeeze?"

Her eyes widen for a moment, as if surprised by my boldness, before she laughs heartily, her whole body shaking with the sound.

"Is that a deal, then?"

The crowd bustles around you, a mix of laughter, chatter, and distant car horns.

"Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself in public,"

you say, though your voice is laden with affection.

Her hand retreats from your pocket, but only to slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

"You drive a hard bargain," she murmurs, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I can hear. "but it's worth it for that ass."

your laughter rings out again, a sound that never fails to make vi smile. She presses her cheek against your shoulder, her arms tightening around me.

"I'll be good," she promises, her breath warm against your neck.

"For now."

streamergfvi: who hates christmas songs but always ends up humming them whenever she gets lost in thoughts. When the two of you are alone, you can't help but laugh at the sight of her mouthing the lyrics. It's like watching a grumpy cat wearing a Santa hat. And when she catches you watching, she'll blush, a little embarrassed.

So, you lean in and whisper,

"You secretly love it,"

and she rolls her eyes

''shut up''

streamergfvi: who never lose the chance whenever the first notes of "All I Want for Christmas is You" waft through the air from some distant holiday playlist and you two are together, to mouths the words "All I want for Christmas is you,", a smug grin on her face as she points at you

streamergfvi: who is addicted to hot chocolate, it gets to the point it's almost concerning, the moment the first snowflake graces the ground, she's in full-on hot cocoa mode. She has collection of mugs that would put Santa's workshop to shame. marshmallows of every shape and size, whipped cream in canisters, and an assortment of chocolate chips that could fill a stocking.

But what she love even more is drinking it with you (she secretly adds more whipped cream to your mug just to make it more difficult for you to drink it without getting some on yourself)

You took a sip, trying to be dainty about it, but the whipped cream was just too tempting. It clung to your upper lip, a sweet little mustache that vi found absolutely adorable. She couldn't help but let out a soft giggle as she set her own mug down and leaned in. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her warm breath brushed against your skin as she tenderly licked the whipped cream from your nose. Her smirk widened into a grin, and you felt your cheeks flush.

You decided to play along, you leaned in closer, your sweet breath mingling as you looked at her battling your eyelishes

''thank you baby''

you whispered and you knew you've got her where you wanted by the way her breath hitched and her eyes gazed hungrily at your shiny lips. you let her almost close the gap but as soon as her lips brushed against yours, you pushed your finger, that you previously used to scoop some whipped cream, against her cheek pulling yourself back

"Two can play at this game,"

you whispered, a mischievous glint in your gaze.

gently, you traced the line of the whipped cream from her cheek to the corner of her mouth, painting a sweet path that you couldn't wait to follow. Her eyes still locked on yours, as you slowly briought your finger closer to your own mouth. With an exaggerated show of temptation, you sucked the whipped cream off, savoring the taste as it lingered on your tongue.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet''

her eyes flashed with need and you suddendly found yourself pulled onto her lap as she kissed you passionately

''i'm gonna cover you in whipped cream and lick you clean''

she whispered in your ear

streamergfvi: who let you convince her to wear matching christmas hairband for her christmas stream special.

You were casually lounging on her bed, your fingers dancing across the screen of your phone, searching for some holiday inspiration to sprinkle onto vi's upcoming Christmas stream special when a pop up advertisement caught your eye, a picture of candy cane-themed hairbands.

you looked at vi seated across from you, her back against the bed's headstand while she edited a video for her youtube channel on her lapton perched over her lap, you couldn't help but giggle imagining how she would look wearing it.

vi tore her gaze from the screen of her laptop and arched an eyebrow at you, a small smile curling her lips

''what's so funny?''

she asked as you pulled yourself up to sit on your knees in front of her and held the phone up in front of her. She let her eyes roam over the screen before a smirk formed on her face.

''Yes''

she said without even thinking about it

''yes?'' you asked surprised

''yes you would look incredibly cute in one of this, you want me to buy you one?''

you rolled your eyes

''I want us to wear it, for your christmas stream special''

Vi couldn't help but chuckle at the suggestion, a playful glint in her eyes as she took in the image of the candy cane hairbands.

She leaned forward, setting aside her laptop, and reached for the phone to get a closer look. "You want us to match?" she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

"Come on," you said with a grin

''what about my reputation? the chat is gonna give me hell about it''

you just pouted knowing full well she couldn't resist you ready to hit her with your secret convincing weapon

''please violet? please please please'

you looked at her battling your eyelishes and pushing yourself closer to her

''not fair'' she mumbles trying not to look at you as a blush painted her cheeks.

and that's how she found herself in front of the camera, a pair of candy cane-themed hairbands on her head and a scowl on her face as she read the chat. You giggling seated on her lap.

@/Ekk0: man bat your eyes three times if you are in danger

@/piltiespinerc: vi looks like an evil elf

@/sevikunt: she is also as short as an elf

streamergfvi: who runs as hot as a radiator and streams in a pair of grinch boxer and fuzzy socks set you gifted her and her hoodie. whenever you sleep together during winter it's like a battlefield because she pushes the blankets away in her sleep and you always need to pull them back up.

As the night wears on, the dance of the blankets continues. You, the recipient of her warmth, are engaged in a silent tug-of-war as she unconsciously kicks them off, leaving you exposed to the cold. Your limbs, accustomed to the warm sanctuary provided by the blanket fortress, scurry to pull the covers back up. The fabric whispers and shifts as you both adjust, trying to find a balance between your thermal preferences.

With a sleepy groan that is both endearing and exasperated, she rolls over, her eyes fluttering open just enough to reveal a sliver of hazy awareness. In one swift movement, she abandons the battle of the blankets, opting instead to use her own body as a human comforter. Her form, now a warm, heavy weight, settles over yours like a contented cat. Her head finds its place in the crook of your neck, her breath a gentle warmth against your skin.

Her words, muffled by the pillow and the weight of sleep, are a declaration of warmth and affection.

"Fuck the blankets,"

she murmurs,

"I can warm you up just fine."

And with that, she wraps her limbs around you, effectively trapping your body in a cocoon of love and heat. The battlefield of blankets is forgotten as you both sink into the warm embrace she offers, the chilly winter night outside now just a distant memory. The room feels smaller, but the bed feels infinitely cozier with her sprawled over you, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against your chest.

streamergfvi: who can't keep her hands to herself when you surprise her opening the door of your apartment in a elf costume. Vi mentioned to you once that she thought you would look really fucking cute in an elf costume and today you decided to surprise her. As the door to your apartment swings open vi's eyes widen in surprise and pure, unadulterated lust as she takes in the sight of you. Her gaze lingers on the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts peeking out from the tight green fabric, and the playful jingle of the bells adorning your hat and shoes.

"Look what Santa left me,"

she murmurs, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a knowing smile.

Before you can even answer, she's already closing the distance between you, her hands finding their way to your hips as she pulls you in for a passionate kiss. Your heart races as you feel her strong arms around you, the warmth of her body pressing against your own. The kiss deepens, her tongue exploring your mouth as if it's a place she's missed dearly. You melt into her embrace, letting out a content sigh.

Breaking the kiss, she looks into your eyes, a playful glint in her own.

"I think someone's been a very naughty elf," she whispers, her voice thick with desire.

Without another word, she scoops you up and carries you into the kitchen, setting you effortlessly onto the cool kitchen counter. The suddenness of it all makes your heart race and your breath hitch in your throat. Your legs instinctively part to allow her closer, and she takes full advantage, stepping between them. Her eyes never leave yours as she leans in, the heat of her breath ghosting over your skin. Her voice is a low, seductive growl,

Her hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a familiarity that sends shivers down your spine. She runs her thumbs along the hem of your costume, pushing it up slightly to reveal more of your bare thighs. You can't help but whimper at the sensation, your body already responding to her touch.

Her mouth is a searing brand as it trails down your neck, leaving a path of kisses and nips that make you arch into her.

You lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows as she works her way down, her mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You can feel her hot breath against your skin, and it makes you squirm with anticipation.

''fuck violet please''

you moan throwing your head back

Her mouth finds its way to the apex of your thighs, and she kisses you through the thin barrier of your costume, making you squirm with need. The sound of the fabric tearing is music to your ears as she decides she's had enough of the foreplay and dives in, her tongue meeting your skin with a hunger that matches your own.

You grip the counter's edge, your knuckles turning white as she works her magic. The world around you fades away, replaced by the feel of her tongue swirling around your clit, her fingers pressing inside you, and the sweet, sweet friction that builds with each movement.

Your hips buck against her mouth, and she chuckles against your skin, sending vibrations through your core that make you shiver.

You're lost in a haze of pleasure, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the desperate need for more.

Her rhythm is relentless, each stroke and suck bringing you closer to the edge. You're panting now, your hips rocking against her face as you chase that elusive peak. And when you finally reach it, it's like a starburst of sensation, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. She doesn't stop, though, continuing to kiss and lick until you're a boneless, quivering mess, your legs wrapped around her neck, holding her in place.

she smiles as soon you free her from the hand that had been gripping her hair, your legs relaxing allowing her to push her head back.

''I didn't know we were going for a naughty North Pole theme tonight."

streamergfvi: who asked you to celebrate christmas eve with her, vander and powder knowing you haven't talked to your homophobic family in years and would have probably spent christmas in your apartment alone.

After the icredibly delicious dinner vander cooked, for the first time in your life you felt like you finally belonged as you watched vi and powder wrestle over the remote cotrol of the tv while they bickered about the movie to watch.

''powder we are watching gremlins''

powder tried to reach the remote as vi stretched her arm in the air to prevent her from taking it.

''I'm not watching that stupid movie again''

violet smirked watching powder struggle

''why is that? you think you'll get scared and snuck in my bed in the middle of the night like when you were five''

powder jumped glaring at vi offended

''shut up that was one time''

as you watched them bicker some more you felt the tears fill up the corners of your eyes. ''maybe christmas isn't so bad'' you thought to yourself offering a small content smile to vi when she glanced at you.

streamergfvi: After you watched ''Home Alone'' (yes you teamed up with powder against vi) you and vi went to vi's room to exchange presents.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as you fumbled in your bag, your hands slightly trembling. You had been carrying around the little blue box for what felt like an eternity, the weight of it feeling heavier than any burden you had ever known. Inside was a set of shiny silver keys, attached to a keychain that had a tiny, delicate heart.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pulled out the box and placed it in her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Violet"

you said, trying to keep my voice steady, your heart thudding in your chest like a drum at a parade. She looked at you, a hint of curiosity playing at the corners of her mouth, her eyes searching myours for a clue of what could possibly be hidden within the wrapping.

Vi gently tore open the paper, her movements deliberate, savoring the moment. The box revealed itself, and she lifted the lid with a soft gasp. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the keys, her thumb tracing the heart-shaped charm.

"What's this?"

she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and hope.

"It's… it's a spare set of my apartment keys,"

You began, the words tumbling out of my mouth faster than you could control.

"I want you to have them because… because I want you to move in with me. I know it's a big step, but I can't imagine my life without you in it, and oh god i had this speech prepared but i don't know i just I love you and i guess a want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep together every night...''

The room seemed to hold its breath as she looked at the keys, then back at you.

The silence stretched out, feeling like a tightrope walk over a canyon. And then, she broke into the most radiant smile, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Holy shit, really?"

she asked, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"Really,"

you affirmed, taking her hand in yours.

"I want to come home to you every night, to wake up to your messy hair and the smell of burnt toast in the morning. I want to share our lives, our space, and our future."

Vi looked at you, her gaze unwavering, and then she threw her arms around me, the keys dangling from her hand as you hugged tightly.

"fuck yes,"

she murmured into your neck.

"I'd love to move in with you."

you spent the rest of the night cuddling in her bed, hands interlocked as you talked about your future together, a pair of silver matching rings she gifted you glinting in the dim light of her room. And as the snow continued to fall outside, painting the world in a fresh coat of white, you knew that with Vi by my side, this was going to be the best Christmas yet.

[blushk1tten]

12 days of kinkmas 2024 ꨄ day 6

santa and his elf (size kink + roleplay)

it started with schlatt’s family needing omeone to dress up as santa for the children. it was a christmas eve tradition, but their usual santa and family friend ended up getting sick. with nobody willing to volunteer, they picked a name from a hat, and schlatt ended up being the lucky winner. however, he had one condition to being santa: you had to dress up with him as an elf.

the whole thing had been a disaster, to put it lightly. the older children had all recognized schlatt, while the younger children ended up crying and being scared of the two of you. you ended up passing out gifts early, and leaving the party altogether. it wasn’t like you weren’t going to see them again tomorrow.

when the two of you got home, schlatt parked his car and leaned back in his seat, ripping off his beard. “that was fucking horrible.”

you nodded, shuddering slightly at the memory. “we’re never doing that again.”

schlatt looked over at you and cracked a smile. “at least you look cute in your costume.”

“an elf? that’s what does it for you?” you teased, albeit hypocritically. you’d be lying if you said schlatt didn’t look good in his santa costume, especially now that the fake white beard was off.

unfortunately for you, he seemed to have noticed, and scoffed. “yeah, like you haven’t been looking all night.”

“it’s not my fault you look so attractive,” you protested, though you caved and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “you look even better with the beard off.”

your boyfriend seemed to perk up slightly at that, and a cocky grin appeared on his face. “well, would you like to come up to santa’s private workshop and get up to somethin’ that’ll put us on the naughty list?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you nodded and teased back. “they call me santa’s little helper for a reason,”

with that, schlatt practically dragged you up to your apartment and to your room. once you were pinned beneath him on the bed, he began to peel off your elf dress and underthings. however, he kept you in your candy cane thigh highs and jingling elf hat.

“then you’re keeping your hat on too, mr. claus.” you teased, watching him sit up and throw the rest of his costume in the corner of your room.

“works f’ me,” he grunted once he was finally naked, diving in to kiss you. “shit, toots, you really are so damn small under me. you’re like a real elf.”

you couldn’t help but giggle into the kiss, making him look down at you, puzzled. “i’m like a real elf, not like those fictional elves.”

“you know what i mean, brat,” his hand came down to slap your ass in retaliation, making you yelp. “santa was gonna give you a treat for being on the nice list, but i’m gonna have t’ rethink that now.”

“wait, no,” your eyes widened “please! i’ll be nice.”

it was schlatt’s turn to chuckle, pressing another firm kiss to your lips. “good. you’re my nice little elf, and nice little elves get rewarded.”

he moved down your body, holding your hips in place until he reached your lower half. then, he gave you one final smirk before licking a stripe from your core to your clit. instantly, a bolt of pleasure ran down your spine, making you gasp and schlatt chuckle once again.

“now keep your hands to yourself, good girl.” he commanded, then dived back into your pussy to eat you like a man starved.

your hands tangled into the bedding instead, a mixture of moans, whimpers, and whines coming from your mouth as schlatt worked you to your peak. when you finally came against his face, you barely had time to process it before schlatt pinned you beneath him again.

“how was that, my sweet little elf? did you like your christmas gift?” schlatt grinned, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips.

you nodded, faintly hearing the jingling of your elf hat in the afterglow of your orgasm. then, you snapped out of it with a whimper as schlatt’s cock began to nudge at your soaked folds.

“it’s okay, toots,” schlatt leaned down to give you a kiss, this one more tender than the others he’d given you that night. “i know your tight little pussy can handle it.”

you’d been together long enough for you to know he was right. still, it was always a stretch. as your boyfriend carefully pushed in, you squirmed under him and dug your nails into his back.

“shit, jay,” you squeezed your eyes closed as he bottomed out. “you’re so fucking big.”

“i’m santa, baby,” he reminded you, pressing more kisses to your face until your eyes fluttered back open. his face immediately turned into a soft smile. “there’s my sweet little elf.”

“hi, santa,” you smiled back, reaching up to play with the white puff at the end of his hat. “your sweet little elf would like you to split me open on your fat cock.”

schlatt laughed, kissing you one last time before adjusting his position over you. he made it so his huge form caged you beneath him. however, rather than feeling trapped, you felt protected beneath him. “i can do that.”

slowly, schlatt began to move, his cock already pleasuring you just from its massive size. soon enough though, he began to speed up and increase the force of his thrusts. every time he pistoned his hips into you, you couldn’t help but cry out your pleasure. your hate kept jingling too, since each movement jarred your whole body.

“look at you, ya tiny little thing,” schlatt groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “takin’ me like a champ, and i’m twice your size.”

a hiccup slipped from your lips, overwhelmed by pleasure as you babbled to your boyfriend. “i’m your tiny little toy, santa.”

“that’s just what i like to hear,” he grunted, finally hitting your sweet spot, and perking up at your answering cry. “i like hearin’ that too.”

he continued aiming for your sweet spot, his mouth constantly running as he talked about how small you were under him, and how tight you felt around his giant cock.

“jay— santa—” you finally cut him off, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. “gonna come.”

“do it,” schlatt grunted again, nipping at your ear. “i wanna feel you milkin’ my cock, and i wanna watch your cute little belly get a bump from how much i come.”

his words were the final trigger, and the coil inside of you snapped. waves of pleasure crested over you as you came, and sure enough, you could feel schlatt coming inside you as well.

by the time your orgasm finished, you were too exhausted to do anything other than lie there and pant, your arms still wrapped around schlatt the best they could. it was schlatt’s surprised voice that drug you from your exhausted haze.

“— didn’t think i could actually do it, holy shit. you look so good like this—”

you blinked a few times to focus your vision, then looked up slightly at schlatt. “do what?”

schlatt still looked stunned as he pulled his softening cock out of you. “i really gave you a little bump.”

“did not,” you huffed, sitting up to look. “there’s no way the first time you bring it up—”

your mouth snapped closed as, sure enough, you saw the faintest bump on yourself. you were stunned for a moment, then flopped back against the bed and looked up at schlatt with a glare. “you just get everything you want, you lucky bastard.”

he shook his head and chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. “call it the magic of santa.”

you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up. “okay, santa. can you get a washcloth and clean me up?”

“anything for you, my little elf.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

santa's sister in law ~ bernard the elf;the santa clause

word count: 4292

request?: no

description: in which he is adamantly against the in laws coming to the north pole, until he meets santa's sister in law

pairing: bernard the elf x female!human!reader

warnings: christmas fluff, sylvia sucking a little bit but that's just canon

masterlist (one, two, three)

Merry Christmas everyone! 🎄

a special christmas gift for @omeletdreamer 😌

Bernard was firmly against Carol's family coming to the North Pole. He liked Carol, don't get him wrong. She was a fantastic Mrs. Claus, and he loved her idea to start an elf school at the Pole. He understood that it was hard to adjust to life at the Pole, especially while she was pregnant. But bringing outsiders there was a big no-no. They were already pushing things by letting Laura, Neil, and Lucy in on the secret of Santa.

But all of his protests fell on deaf ears. Santa wanted Carol to have her family while he was going to be busy, and the other elves just wanted Carol to be happy. It was a thousand against one. So, Santa got into his sleigh and flew to get Carol's parents while the elves fixed up the Pole to look like Canada.

"This is never going to work," Bernard said to Curtis. "There's no way they're going to think this is Canada. Even if they believe these ridiculous store signs, they'll never believe Canada is inhabited by a bunch of children."

"Can you not be so negative for once?" Curtis asked. "It'll be fine."

"We are seriously pushing it with how many people know about the Pole and Santa. You can't blame me for being stressed out over it."

"Everything will be fine, Bernard. We have a plan. We got this."

Bernard huffed a sigh and walked away. He was tired of being brushed off like this. He didn't become head elf for nothing. He knew what he was doing. If only someone would just listen to him.

As he was walking away, he heard something in the distance. He looked up to see Santa's sleigh breaching through the entrance to the Pole. He couldn't see them yet, but he imagined Carol's parents in there, asleep from Sandman's magic, expecting to wake up in "Canada". He cringed to himself. There's really no going back now.

"I need a hot cocoa," he muttered to himself.

The kitchen elves were busy baking away when Bernard walked in. Carol had told them her mom's favorite cookies so they were hard at work making a batch to welcome Mrs. Newman. They were wearing comically large chef's hats pulled down to cover their pointy ears, which made Bernard glad his hair was long enough to do that naturally.

"Hi Bernard," Abby said, giving him a bright smile upon noticing him. "Want a hot cocoa?"

"I'd love one, Abby," he responded, sitting down at one of the tables.

She rushed off to make it for him. He picked up a cookie from a plate in the middle of the table to eat while waiting. Abby returned with his hot cocoa. He blew on it, disturbing the steady steam coming from the drink. He hoped that escaping to the kitchen would give him some time to prepare for Carol's parents.

He was taking his first sip of his hot cocoa when the kitchen doors opened again and in walked Santa, Mrs. Claus and her family in tow. Bernard nearly choked on his drink.

"And here's our kitchen," Santa was saying. "Oh, and Bernard's here too! Bernard is my, uh, he's my...assistant."

Bernard tried not to roll his eyes at the title.

He reluctantly stood and plastered a smile on his face. "Hi, nice to meet you...eh."

Carol's dad shook his hand while her mom pulled him in for an embrace. Bernard wasn't prepared for a third person to approach; a young woman with a smile so beautiful it left him speechless.

"This is my sister," Carol said. "We didn't know she was coming too."

"I'm (Y/N)," the woman said. "Mom and dad mentioned they were coming for a visit, so I asked Scott if it was alright for me to tag along."

"Of course it would be alright!" Sylvia cut in. "Scott's already had Carol from us for so long, he'd never say no to bringing Carol's loving sister with us to finally see her again."

Sylvia had a smile on her face but there was venom in her words. (Y/N) cringed and tried to ignore her mother's comment. "It's really lovely here so far. I'm glad I could come."

Bernard was still tongue tied. He kept opening and closing his mouth like an idiot trying to figure out something to say. (Y/N) was watching him, waiting, while Scott and Carol shared an amused look.

"Let's show you the rest of the place," Carol said, putting an arm around her sister. "We'll meet up with Bernard again later."

(Y/N) smiled and waved goodbye as the group left the kitchen. Once they were gone, Bernard felt like he was freed from a spell. He let out a long breath and slumped back down to the table. His hot cocoa had cooled down enough that he finished the rst of it in two gulps.

~~~~~~

Bernard was up late that night doing his rounds of the workshop. All the other elves had left for the night, but Bernard was often the last one up making sure everything was shut down and nothing was left out of place. With the in laws visiting, he was also making sure the workshop was locked up so no one would accidentally wander in and discover everything.

He was preparing to leave when he noticed the door to the kitchen was slightly ajar. He was sure all the baker elves had left for the night, but maybe someone had stayed behind. He poked his head into the room and almost gasped aloud when he saw it was (Y/N) who was leaning against the counter, a mug of hot cocoa in her hands. She was in her pajamas, clearly preparing for bed. Bernard was about to back away and leave her be, until she looked up form her mug and caught him. She smiled and waved to him.

"Good evening, Bernard," she said.

There was no escaping now. He stepped into the kitchen and cleared his throat, trying not to seem as weird as he had earlier. He discretely made sure his ears were tucked away under his hair.

"Hi," he said. Simple, easy. You can't mess up a "hi".

"What are you doing up so late?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

She giggled. "Touché. I was having trouble sleeping so I decided to come out for a hot cocoa. That nice baker, Abby I think? She offered to make me one before she left. I was told she makes the best hot cocoa in all of the town."

"Oh, she does. She's the one you go to when you want a good hot drink made."

"She works magic, I'm sure."

Bernard tried not to let his smile falter. "You have no idea."

A silence fell over them. (Y/N) softy blew on her hot cocoa before taking a sip from it. A small trail of foam stuck to her upper lip as she pulled her mug away. Bernard couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"What?" she asked.

"You just...you have something..." He gestured to his top lip.

She ran a thumb along her top lip, only smearing the foam more.

"Here, let me." Bernard reached up and wiped the foam off with his own thumb. He was suddenly very aware of their closeness when he looked into her eyes. Any words he could ever say were stuck in his throat yet again and he could only imagine how insane he looked, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "And thank you for having us here, too. I know it's a busy time of year for you guys. We don't mean to impose."

It took Bernard a moment to remember the story they had been telling Carol's parents: that Scott was a toy maker in Canada and that's why he would be so busy this time of year and needed someone to be there with Carol while she was pregnant.

"It's not imposition," Bernard assured her. "If anything, I think it's going to make Sa - Scott feel better to have you guys here for Carol while he's working."

(Y/N) nodded. "It's very nice of him to have us here considering how my parents tend to treat him."

Bernard thought back to the comment Sylvia had made earlier. The strained relationship between Scott and his in-laws wasn't anything new to him. Scott had mentioned it a few times before, most recently when he was voicing his concerns about bringing Bud and Sylvia to the Pole with Bernard in private. It was evident that both Newman sisters also noticed how their parents treated Scott, and it seemed neither of them were too happy with it.

"I understand why mom and dad get upset," (Y/N) continued. "One minute Carol was a proud principal at the local middle school, and then the next thing we know she's writing us to tell us she got married to a guy we've never even heard of and moved off to Canada to be with him. I mean, even I was skeptical then. But when she'd write to me about Scott and about being here, it was clear that she was so happy and she found the man of her dreams. Who are we to judge the quickness that they got married? As long as she's safe and happy, which she clearly is. But mom and dad don't see it that way. Dad is still convinced that Scott is a cult leader who stole Carol away or something."

(Y/N) paused and looked at Bernard. He had been listening as she spoke, just nodding along and not saying a word. She chuckled a little and shook her head. "Sorry, I'm rambling on about my family drama."

"No! It's-it's fine. Trust me, I've heard similar stuff from Sa - Scott."

She gave him a look. "You keep stuttering on Scott's name."

"Yeah."

He couldn't think of a better explanation besides that. He felt an unfamiliar burning sensation in his cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or just from being so close to her that made him feel that way. She giggled, though; a sound more beautiful than any of the twinkling bells that were often heard around the Pole.

"I'm just glad to be here," she said. "And I'm glad mom and dad can be here for when the baby is born. Maybe that will help them be a little less harsh on Scott."

She finished what was left in her mug and looked around the oversized kitchen. When Bernard realized she was probably trying to figure out where to put the dirty mug, he said, "Oh, I can take care of that for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. You're our guest, and I can handle this."

She smiled and passed him the mug. "Well, thanks for talking to me, Bernard. I guess I should try to sleep again."

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Bernard." She started towards the door, but then paused to turn back to him. "I hope you're not too busy tomorrow. I'd like to spend more time with you."

His face was on fire as she left.

~~~~~~

For the first time in his thousands of years as the head elf, Bernard wasn't concerned with his head elf duties. Of course he was still there if Santa needed him, but he decided not to spend the entire day in the factory and to seek out (Y/N) to spend time with her. She was delighted to see him and was more than happy to accept his offer to show her around "Canada" for the day.

This became a regular occurrence for a few days. Bernard would make sure to check in often to see if he was needed, but if he wasn't he was with (Y/N). He would feel bad about taking her away from her time with her family, but it seemed her parents were more concerned with fussing over Carol than they were about all four of them spending time together. And (Y/N) also assured Bernard that she was making time for Carol and her family as well as spending time with him.

Bernard was more than well aware he was falling in love with (Y/N), and he was also more than well aware of how bad that was. Elves falling in love was nothing new; he had officiated quite a few elf weddings in his time. But falling in love with a human was out of the question. Elves were immortal, humans were not. Scott and Carol were different - upon becoming Santa and Mrs. Claus, their aging processes had slowed down considerably. They weren't completely immortal, but they weren't aging as fast as normal humans did. But that wasn't possible for a human that an elf fell in love with. Even if (Y/N) felt the same way towards Bernard, she would still continue to age while he would stay the same for the rest of time.

But he couldn't stop himself. He was falling fast and hard. Carol's due date was creeping closer, and once it came it would only be a matter of time before the Newman family would have to go back home, meaning that (Y/N) would leave and likely would not come back. That thought hurt Bernard.

Bernard was approaching where (Y/N) was staying one day when she slipped out of the house instead. He was surprised; she had never left before he had gotten there before.

As he got closer he realized that her face was tearstained.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

(Y/N) jumped and turned to look at him. "Oh, Bernard. Sorry, I didn't see you coming. Nothing's wrong."

He was about to point out that she was very obviously upset over something when the door opened again and Sylvia slipped out. She looked like she was about to say something, but she noticed Bernard and gave him a tight smile, one that he had come to learn was very much her fake smile.

"Hello, Bernard," she said. "I was just having a conversation with my daughter. We were talking about spending the day with Carol. We haven't had an all girls day since we arrived. So, unfortunately, I don't think she'll be able to spend time with you today."

"No mom," (Y/N) said. "I said I would join you later for girls time. Besides, you know Carol has an appointment with the doctor. She won't be ready till later."

Her mother was smiling but her eyes were glaring daggers into the younger Newman girl. (Y/N) held the glare before turning to Bernard and taking hold of his arm. She didn't say anything as she dragged him away. He followed anyways, wanting to get as far away from Sylvia as he could.

"God, I don't understand what is wrong with her," (Y/N) said, letting go of Bernard long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I swear she just doesn't want Carol and I to be happy."

"What was she saying?" Bernard asked.

"Oh, she was going off about the fact that I spend so much time with you. Had her usual rant about Scott taking her precious daughter away from her and dad, and then said she'll be damned if she lets it happen with me too. Basically tried to guilt me into not spending time with you today by saying that Carol was upset that she didn't get to see me much, which I know isn't true because just the other day Carol was saying how happy she was that you and I were getting along."

She shook her head. "I'm so sick of it. It's like she can't wrap her head around the fact that maybe, just maybe, life is so busy here that Carol doesn't always have time to visit. It has nothing to do with Scott being manipulative or a cult leader or whatever conspiracy her and dad have cooked up on a certain day."

Bernard listened in silence. He felt bad that (Y/N) had to have these issues with her mother. Carol was hearing it all now, but he was sure (Y/N) heard much more of it when she was back home with her parents.

None of the Newmans could ever understand the way things were with Carol and Scott. They could never know why things were like this, but they likely wouldn't understand even if they knew.

Unless...

It was an idea that shocked even Bernard that he had it. Head elf of the North Pole, Santa's righthand man himself, considering such a thing? After being so against Carol's family coming to the Pole? It was preposterous. But his brain was so clouded by love for (Y/N) that he wasn't thinking proper.

"Come with me," he said. He didn't wait for an answer, just took hold of her hand and pulled her towards the workshop.

His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in hips pointed ears. He had to remind himself there was no going back. This was going to be huge, and it could likely get him into a world of trouble.

He opened the doors to the workshop and (Y/N) stepped in. She looked around in awe at the working elves, most of which were not hiding their ears as the workshop was supposed to be off limits to the Newmans. None of them seemed to notice the two of them enter, and if they did, nothing was said.

Bernard watched (Y/N), nervously waiting for her reaction.

"Is this...what I think it is?" she asked him. "No, it can't be. I must be dreaming. I fell and hit my head and now I'm in a coma having a very vivid dream that all of these small people who are supposed to be Canadians have pointed ears like they're elves."

When she looked over at him, Bernard had taken off his hat and allowed his ears to peak out from under his hair.

"I've lost it," she decided.

"You haven't," he assured her. "All of this is real. It's why Carol hasn't been able to visit as much, or why you couldn't visit until now. Look, there's so much to know about all of this. So much that I want to tell you but technically I can't because there are strict rules about humans knowing about the North Pole."

(Y/N) had another quick moment of shock that she was able to very quickly recover from. "Rules that you're currently breaking by showing me...Santa's workshop. By admitting that you're an elf, these are all elves...oh my God, my sister is Mrs. Claus."

"It is all very complicated," he said. "But you deserve to know that Carol is truly happy here. She's not being held against her will, Santa isn't manipulative or holding her captive. He loves her so much that he risked you and your parents finding out about him - about us - so that all of you could be here for her while she's pregnant."

(Y/N) still seemed to be stunned. She looked around the bustling factory again, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Wait," she said. "But...if you all went through so much to make us think this was Canada, to keep who Scott is a secret...then why are you telling me now?"

Because I love you. Because I want you to stay. Because I want to be with you more than anything, even though I know that will never happen.

"Because I want you to know the truth," he replied. "About all of this. About...about me."

She was looking at him. He didn't know what else to say, so he just looked back. He waited for an answer. He willed her to say something, anything.

She didn't say anything, though. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Bernard. It was quick, almost hesitant, and when she pulled away she looked embarrassed.

"Sorry," she said. "I...should I have done that? I should've asked first. Was it okay that I did that?"

He smiled. "It was more than okay."

"Okay. I'm...I'm going to do it again, if that's still okay."

Bernard chuckled and moved in to kiss (Y/N) first. He had only ever kissed one person before - when he was young one of the other elves had gave him a quick peck on the lips and ran away afterwards. Not exactly something glamorous or anything like that. So he was a little worried about whether or not he was a good kisser. Although, something felt so natural about kissing (Y/N), like he could never do it wrong even if he tried.

He paused when he realized a slight hush had fallen over the workshop. He and (Y/N) pulled away to see that all the working elves had stopped what they were doing to look at the two of them.

"Back to work!" Bernard commanded. They all quickly fell back into what they had been doing before. "Bunch of gossips, all of them. Everyone in town will know about this by nightfall."

"I don't blame them. I'd assume it's not every day that they see an elf kissing a human."

He chuckled. "No, I guess not."

They decided to step out of the workshop to talk more in private. (Y/N) looped her arm through Bernard's as they walked, a gesture that suddenly felt much more intimate than it had before.

"I guess it goes without saying that I can't tell anyone about this," she said. "Not even my parents."

"No. Which I know is a big ask, but we can't have the secret of Santa going around," Bernard explained.

"Not like anyone would believe me. They'd think I was crazy if I went home talking about how my brother in law is Santa and how I started crushing on one of his elves. They'd sent me to an institute for sure."

Bernard smiled at her word choice. So she had liked him this whole time, too. Had it been obvious? Or had she been trying to contain it just as much as he did?

"How...would things work...for us then?" she asked.

It was the question he was dreading. The one he continued to ask himself despite knowing the answer to: it wouldn't. He couldn't let (Y/N) hold on to him when she left the Pole. She'd likely never see him again, which was for the best.

Seeing the look on his face, (Y/N) stopped. "No, do not tell me it's not going to work."

"It can't work, (Y/N). There's too much complications between a human and an elf being romantically linked. It's never happened before, and for good reason."

"There's a first for everything."

He shook his head. "No, there can't be a first for this. I can't let you throw away any other romantic opportunities you have for me. We may never see each other after this visit."

"My sister is married to Santa. There's no way I'm not coming back after this. And besides, long distance relationships are a thing."

"This one would be...very long distance."

She slid her arm from his and took his hand in hers. "I'm willing to try. I like you too much to give up without a fight."

Every rational part of his brain was screaming for him to stop. He could not let things go further. It was better for her if they ended everything after that first kiss and went hteir separate ways.

But the less rational part of his brain was louder than the rest, telling him not to give up this chance at happiness outside of work. He deserved to love and to be loved, just like anyone else in the world. If it worked for Scott, it had to work for him too, right?

He sighed and squeezed her hands. "It won't be easy."

"I don't expect it to be."

"You won't be able to be here a lot unless you're willing to give up everything the way Carol did."

"That's fine, we can make that work."

"And if you do end up coming here permanently, you can't tell anyone who I really am, or who Scott and Carol really are. You'll have to lie to everyone in your life. Is that something you can be okay with?"

(Y/N) stepped closer to him so that their noses were nearly touching. "I'm already lying about Scott and Carol. What's one more lie about the man I love?"

Love.

It was enough for him to abandon all hope at resisting her. He closed the space between them, kissing her again so passionately that it made her head spin. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, while he wrapped his arms around her waist.

He could've kissed her forever. He could've stood there, wrapped around her and her wrapped around him, the cold nipping at them but barely bothering them, forever. He wanted to take this moment and freeze it, to never have to go back to his busy life as Santa's right hand elf ever again.

But she pulled away first, resting her forehead against his.

"I did promise my mom a girl's day," she said with a sigh. "And I think if I blow her off for this, she'll probably actually kill me."

"I guess I'll have to let you go then."

But he didn't, and she didn't let go of him. They laughed and kissed again.

It would be another several minutes before he would finally (and reluctantly) let her go.

[thesassypadawan]

Last Christmas (Sam x GFReader)

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and FINALLY your family has all gone to bed.  Letting you and the bf  have the opportunity to share a private moment together…something you both have been craving since the start of your vacation.  To be extra ‘close’ and unwrapping all kinds of ‘gifts’.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Make-out sessh, bit of bumping n grinding, slightly subby emo boy, cold hot chocolate, corny puns, life-changing gift, possibility of being ‘whamed’, and…Sam’s chubby, pierced dick.

Notes:  Happy Holidays, lovelies!  Welcome to track three of my special holiday mix, Last Christmas! ❤️💚

(Merry Christmas, @t03soup! 🎅)

- 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house…  Not a creature was stirring, not even a…  Wait, correction!  Not a creature was a stirring, except for you and your best friend, recently turned boyfriend…

- Sam was so hard, probably the hardest he’s ever been.  At least that’s what you think as you sit there ‘snuggled up’ with next to the fire, all ‘cozy’ underneath a fuzzy blanket.  Thick thighs against, straddling him.  Small hands resting on his chest, his bigger ones holding onto your waist.  Plush lips pressed to chapped ones.

- Quiet moans, the sound of needy whines fill the cinnamony scented air.  Mingling, drowned out by the Grinch’s zany antics playing out on the tv.  Which has been long forgotten, along with your now cold mugs of cocoa that sit abandoned on the end table. In lieu of your own private ‘Whobilation’.

- “Come on, babe…relax,” you coo, mutter in between kisses.  Palms gently groping, massaging his soft pectorals.  Teeth nibbling, biting lightly at his bottom lip.  Trying your best to coax Sammy to open that adorable mouth of his.  “Let me…in.”

- “What about your…mmph!”  Taking the opportunity, you slip past those two perfect poinsettia petals.  Tongues tangling, intertwining heatedly.  Chocolatey, pepperminty saliva mixing.  Forced down his throat with those cute, muffled gasps when you swirl the tip around his candy cane striped stud.

- Parting, iridescent string of spital still connecting.  He pants, huffs quietly.  Gazes at you with glassy, blue eyes.  Faint dusting of pink on his sugar plum cheeks.  “Sssh, don’t worry, they’re all asleep.”  Festive nails trace, creep up his chest…neck…jawline.  Dig slightly, leave crescent shaped imprints in his smooth skin.  As you keep his face still, from shying away.  “Just you and me, a little elf.”

- Before he can protest or question that last remark, you crash your lips together once more.  Scooting closer, pressing your ample bust and tiny tum firmly against his sinewy yet strong body.  Chubby cock twitching, trapped under those vixen panties of yours…that barely peek out from beneath the hiked hem of his ‘borrowed’, ‘not so oversized’ shirt.

- Hand ascends higher, finds and rests on the nape of his neck.  Lilith fingers lace through, tug at his raven locks.  Deepening the kiss; tongues reuniting, meshing.  Dragging him further down into a haze, a trance.  His grip on you only tightens, doesn’t loosen.  In fact, Sam’s palms migrate ever lower…

- Full hips rock, cant back and forth.  Movements sloppy, almost frantic…not your own.  Guided instead by his hands kneading, squeezing your round bottom.  His desperate moans echoing, swallowed up by your mouth.  While he teases himself, grinding and dragging your cunny across his straining erection.  Treating you like his new favorite toy.

- Breaking for air, gasping and puffing desperately.  Chest rises and falls steadily, erratically.  “Feels so good…”  Head tilts and slumps, sinking into the couch cushions.  Orbs blown wide, filled with the fire in his heart.  “So close, sweetheart…”  Maw agape, trickle of drool leaking from the corner.  Wet, snowy spot on his polar bear pj bottoms only growing larger and tackier with each pass.  Snag and pull on his matching piercing.  “Gonna…fuck…I'm gonna…”

- Then suddenly, there arose such a clatter…footsteps starting to pitter and patter on the floor above you.

- Without a second, you capture his lips one finale time.  Silencing his sweet whimpers, cries of resounding joy.  His hips bucking, rutting up weakly against you the whole time.  Only pausing and ceasing when the steps fall silent…when you feel the telltale warmth spreading and seeping completely through.

- “Fuck…fuck…”  He stammers, stutters, sputters.  Slightly pointed ears tinted red, swollen lips turned up in a jolly grin.  Despite the naughty mess splattered all inside his pants.  “Wa-Way better than las-last Christmas…”

- Giving him a more nice peck, you carefully climb off his lap.  “Yeah, because this year…”  Slowly sliding onto the carpeted floor; settling in between his now spread open, still trembling, legs.  “…you gave your heart to someone special.”

- Rubbing his thighs, his twitching bump.  “Now, do you want me to help clean you up?”  You fiddle with his flannel flap, while stealing a glance over at the end table.  At the small, thin box that sat beside your abandoned mugs.  “Or do you want to open your special gift from us…I mean, me?”

- Eyebrow cocked, Sammy follows your line of sight.  “Sure, I'll go with that…”  Reaching for the wrapped present, turning it over and over in his hands.  Weighing it, giving it a gentle shake.  Unknowingly listening to the soft rattle of something that would change his life forever, for the better.  “Probably won't wham too much as the other…right?”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @jameskellysgirl,  @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @laoif, @xhunnybeeex, @morganellison2007, @vaderswifey, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @fuckmyskywalker, @these-travels, @valyna27, @shadowycollectionpuppy-blr-blog, @paechyx, @bimbo-doll1206, @supernatural-lover, @bigaoibhe2024, @kllyslutz, @og-baby-ob14, @piastricentric, @elcaballerodragon, @byunnue, @doesntmattert, @soooooohyuk, @sassyenthusiastfart, @gaynslay, @abbygailparish08, @caro-pozos02, @marauder2sstuff, @cjlovesreadingxx, @ala2ilas-s, @rhiluvzani, @cocobear18, @pumpkinpiefilling, @polly-xo, @neymvrz, @jennasco, @lotte08, @roryheartz, @ahszcoven, @mrschristensen13, @anakinstwinklebunny

@hearts4sammonroe, @pitas-star, @sythethecarrot, @naberriess, @steven-grants-world, @valyna27, @elcaballerodragon, @yayyy5678, @anakinsrilgirlfriend, @padme-urlove,  @brattyyybbg, @mrschr1stensen, @rosie-chan92, @beresfordsgirl, @darthdaddi, @icosmiclou

[m00neroni]

@wolfstarmicrofic || 2nd Dec || Father Christmas || 626 words

"Da! Come on!" Hurry up! Teddy shouts, tugging his father's hand so they can reach Father Christmas' stand faster. If they don't move quickly, the other children will ask for the best presents before he has the opportunity to do so.

And that simply can't be!

He is a man on a mission!

"Teds! Slow down!" Da protests, but Teddy ignores him, because he can already see Santa's House and there is no queue!

Without listening to the adult's complaints, the child frees himself and sprints as fast as he can, stopping right at the entrance and looking up so he can greet the elf.

"Hi!" Teddy pants as he tries to catch his breath. His cheeks are too warm and he is sweating under his jumper, but he doesn't care. "I'm here to see Father Christmas!"

"Of course you are, sweetheart." The pretty elf chuckles and extends her hand so he can hold it. She has bright red hair under her green hat and looks around his Da's age, even if he knows she is magic and probably way way way older. Her smile is very pretty too. "You're very lucky. Father Christmas was about to take a very long break, but he's gonna make time just to see you!"

"Excellent!"

It's not ideal, because he would've liked to be the first one who spoke with him, but having Santa's undivided attention sounds good too!

Teddy grins excitedly as he approaches him, and wow, who knew Father Christmas was so amazingly cool! Because he has tattoos! Teddy can see them under the big white beard, right on his neck. And he is so tall! More than his da! And that's a lot! Oh, Vic is not gonna believe him when he tells her how cool Father Christmas is!

"Hello, little man!" Santa greets him as Teddy sits on his lap, feeling really excited. The man's voice is low and strong and it would scare Teddy if it wasn't because he is smiling broadly at him. "What's your name?"

"Edward Remus Tonks Delacour Lupin!" He announces, solemnly. "But you can call me Teddy!"

Father Christmas laughs loudly at that, almost like a barking sound, which makes Teddy's smile broaden even more. "That's a very amazing name, Mr Teddy."

"Thank yous!"

"Alright, you're my very special guest today. What can I do for you?" Father Christmas finally asks the most important question. It's his moment!

"This year I just want one present! Because it's very very big and Mami says I can't ask for many big things even if your elves can do it because if I do it other children won't get their presents!"

"Yes, Mami is definitely right." Santa nods, and Teddy notices he likes to smile a lot, like his da, because he also has those lines around his grey eyes. It is so cool! "So, tell me, what do you want?"

"A second dad!" The child announces very loud. "Mami and Mum are already together and Da is very very very lonely. He just reads and reads and reads, and watches films with that red drink Teddy can't have because it's for grown-ups! But Mami and Mum are very happy together, so I think I should get another dad so Da doesn't feel lonely and sad."

"Oh…"

"Look! That's him!" Teddy cuts him, pointing at where Da is waiting for him with that expression he also wears when he is constipated and his tummy hurts. His ears are very red and they can even see it from here. "I think another daddy would make him super super happy, don't you agree?"

"Well," Santa replies, tilting his head to one side as he looks at his Da. "Maybe I can do something about it."

(When I finished writing it, I've realised I had been very inspired and influenced by Teddy in @languagelessonswolfstar's latest fic, so credits where they are due! and please, go and read it!)

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i hope im not too late but can i request lost holiday spirit for loki x female reader?

maybe it could go something like loki and (avenger) reader both live at the tower and aren’t that close but reader hears about lokis lost holiday spirit and tries to get him to celebrate christmas in really cute ways and they end up together at the end? maybe due to some mistletoe and loki ends up celebrating christmas with the rest of the avengers. thank you!!

MR. GRINCH - part I

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 3.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part II

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Avengers Tower sparkles like a snow globe come to life. Twinkling lights are draped over every railing and banister, a giant Christmas tree dominates the common room, and stockings hang above the roaring fireplace, despite its purely decorative function. You flit around like a sugar-fueled elf, adjusting ornaments, humming along to Mariah Carey, and basking in the glow of your favorite time of year.

Your enthusiasm is infectious to most. Tony grumbles about the electricity bill but still orders another dozen boxes of lights. Steve pretends to roll his eyes but secretly joins you for late-night cocoa sessions by the tree. Even Natasha doesn’t protest when you drape a little tinsel around her chair.

Loki, however, is a different story.

The resident God of Mischief is an enigma at the best of times. His presence at the Tower is still a relatively new and tentative arrangement, a diplomatic olive branch between Asgard and Earth. You’re not sure if he’s here to redeem himself, learn from Thor, or just avoid Odin’s wrath. Either way, he’s the ultimate Grinch in your holiday wonderland.

You first notice it when he steps into the kitchen one frosty morning. You’re perched on a stool, munching on gingerbread cookies and debating whether the kitchen needs a wreath (it does). Loki glides in, all dark robes and haughty demeanor, and pauses mid-stride when he spots the garlands you hung around the cabinets.

“What is this excessive display?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain.

You blink. “Christmas decorations.”

He narrows his eyes as if you’ve just declared your allegiance to an enemy kingdom. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeat, incredulous. “Because it’s Christmas! It’s festive and joyful and magical. Why wouldn’t you want decorations?”

“Because,” he says slowly, as if explaining to a child, “it is frivolous and nonsensical. A mortal invention to distract from the bleakness of winter.”

You gasp, clutching a cookie to your chest as though he’s just insulted your firstborn. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“I don’t dislike it,” he replies coolly. “I am indifferent.”

Indifferent. To Christmas. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. It’s not just an opinion—it’s an affront to everything you hold dear.

“Loki,” you say, your tone turning serious. “You can’t live here, surrounded by all this cheer, and not feel even a tiny bit of joy. I won’t allow it.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I was unaware my emotional state required your approval.”

“It does now,” you announce. “Because I’ve just decided that you’re my new project.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a smirk. “A project?”

“Yes. I’m going to make you fall in love with Christmas.”

“And how, pray tell, do you intend to accomplish such a feat?” His voice drips with sarcasm, but you detect a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

You grin, undeterred. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Day One

The next morning, Loki walks into the living room to find you perched by the stereo, scrolling through your phone. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing—Bing Crosby croons “White Christmas” as your grin widens.

“Ah, perfect timing,” you chirp. “I’ve made a Christmas playlist for the Tower, and I’m sure you’re going to love it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ignoring him, you press play, and the room fills with the unmistakable harmonies of Wham!’s Last Christmas. Loki sighs loudly, but you’re already dancing around him, singing off-key and attempting to get him to join in.

“You might as well embrace it,” you say. “There’s no escaping Christmas music in December. Resistance is futile.”

“I am not ‘resisting.’” He makes air quotes that somehow look aristocratic. “I simply fail to see the appeal.”

“Come on,” you coax. “Even you must have some fondness for a holiday that inspires such happy tunes.”

Loki regards you as if you’ve sprouted antlers. “My ‘fondness,’ if it exists, is reserved for silence.”

You pout dramatically. “Not even a little head bop?”

He ignores you, sweeping past toward the library. But later, when you catch him humming faintly under his breath—whether to mock you or not—you count it as a small victory.

Day Two

Your next strategy involves decorating the massive tree in the common room. Everyone else is busy, so you commandeer Loki, much to his chagrin.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, holding a string of lights like it’s a venomous snake.

“You’re tall,” you counter. “And I need help with the top branches.”

With great reluctance, he levitates to reach the higher sections. His magic comes in handy, and despite his complaints, you catch him inspecting the ornaments with genuine curiosity.

“What is the purpose of these trinkets?” he asks, turning a glittery bauble over in his hands.

“They’re not trinkets—they’re memories,” you explain. “See this one?” You point to a slightly crooked star. “Steve made it during his first Christmas in the Tower.”

Loki snorts softly. “It’s hideous.”

“Hey! It has character.”

You work side by side for an hour, and though he pretends to hate every moment, you catch him smirking when you struggle to untangle a particularly stubborn string of lights. By the time the tree is finished, it’s a masterpiece of shimmering ornaments and warm golden lights.

“You did good, Mischief,” you say, nudging his arm. “Admit it—you had fun.”

“I did no such thing,” he replies, but his tone lacks its usual venom.

Day Three

You escalate your efforts with a Christmas movie marathon, complete with a platter of cookies and the richest hot cocoa you can muster. Loki takes one sip and eyes you suspiciously.

“What is this concoction?”

“Hot chocolate,” you say, waving a candy cane for emphasis. “A Christmas essential.”

He takes another cautious sip. Then another. When the cup is empty, you wordlessly slide him a second.

You spend the evening watching Home Alone and Elf. Loki scoffs at the absurdity but doesn’t leave the room. You can’t tell if it’s the cocoa or the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell that keep him seated, but you’ll take it.

By the time December 5th rolls around, you’re cautiously optimistic. Sure, Loki still rolls his eyes at your caroling and glares at mistletoe like it’s cursed, but there’s a softness in his demeanor. A flicker of something you can’t quite place.

And if he lingers a little longer by the tree at night, bathed in its golden glow, you don’t mention it. Not yet, anyway.

Day Four

You’ve discovered Loki’s Achilles’ heel, and it’s not his ego or his penchant for dramatics. It’s hot cocoa. Rich, creamy, decadent hot cocoa. Since the movie night, he’s been making increasingly frequent appearances in the kitchen whenever you’re whipping up a batch.

Today, you’re prepared.

You’ve set up a veritable hot cocoa bar: steaming milk, bowls of chocolate shavings, marshmallows, whipped cream, and even a jar of crushed peppermint. When Loki strolls in, feigning nonchalance, his gaze lands on the spread and narrows suspiciously.

“What is this?” he asks, though his tone betrays faint curiosity.

“It’s called variety,” you reply, grinning. “I figured if you’re going to keep stealing my cocoa, you might as well have options.”

“Stealing is an exaggeration,” he counters, but he steps closer, eyeing the setup. “What is the purpose of… these?” He gestures at the candy canes like they might attack him.

“Toppings! You can customize your drink.”

You demonstrate by ladling hot cocoa into a mug, adding a mountain of whipped cream, and delicately balancing a candy cane on the rim. Loki watches, his expression unreadable, before taking the ladle himself. He prepares a cup with precise movements, eschewing the whipped cream and opting instead for a sprinkling of chocolate shavings.

He takes a cautious sip. His expression remains stoic, but the way his eyes briefly close in satisfaction doesn’t escape your notice.

“Good, right?” you prod.

He nods minutely, still cradling the mug. You bite back a triumphant grin and lean against the counter, watching him sip the drink like it’s an elixir of the gods. Which, to be fair, it might as well be.

“You know,” you say casually, “you’re starting to get the hang of this Christmas thing.”

He snorts. “Do not mistake my tolerance for enthusiasm.”

But there’s no bite in his words, and you’re certain you’ve won another tiny battle.

Day Five

You decide to escalate your plan with a baking session. After all, what’s Christmas without cookies? Loki is less than thrilled when you inform him of this.

“You expect me to assist you with… baking?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yes,” you reply cheerfully, tossing him an apron. “Think of it as alchemy. But delicious.”

He glares at the apron like it’s made of nettles. “This is beneath me.”

“Oh, come on,” you cajole. “You’ve got magic. Surely you can handle a little dough.”

He grumbles but ties the apron on with a dramatic flourish. The sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, wearing a plaid apron that reads “Santa’s Favorite Helper” is almost enough to make you collapse in laughter, but you wisely keep it to yourself.

The baking session is… an adventure. Loki’s “assistance” involves levitating ingredients and conjuring unnecessary bursts of green light for dramatic effect. At one point, he grows bored and attempts to enchant the cookie dough, resulting in a sentient lump that tries to crawl off the counter.

“Loki!” you shriek, swatting at the rogue dough with a spatula. “This is not what I meant by teamwork!”

He smirks, watching your struggle with barely concealed amusement. “You did say I should use my talents.”

By some miracle, you manage to wrangle the dough back into submission. When the cookies finally emerge from the oven, golden and fragrant, you plop one onto a plate and shove it toward Loki.

“Taste it,” you demand.

He takes a cautious bite, his expression neutral. Then he takes another, slower bite.

“Well?” you press, bouncing on your heels.

“Adequate,” he says, but the way he reaches for a second cookie says otherwise.

Day Seven

It snows overnight, blanketing the city in a layer of white. The morning brings a rare moment of quiet in the Tower. You’re staring out the window, a steaming mug of cocoa in hand, when Loki appears beside you.

“Do you often waste time staring at frozen precipitation?” he asks, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

“It’s beautiful,” you say simply. “Have you ever played in the snow?”

He looks at you like you’ve suggested he jump into the Hudson River. “Play?”

“Yeah. You know, snow angels, snowball fights, building a snowman?”

“You forget that I hail from Jotunheim,” he says dryly. “I am quite familiar with snow.”

“Great,” you say, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. “Then you’re already a pro.”

Despite his protests, you manage to drag him outside. The courtyard is pristine, untouched by footsteps, and you can’t resist flopping down to make a snow angel. Loki stands over you, his arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.

“You’re missing out,” you tell him, brushing snow off your gloves.

“Am I?”

You decide to take matters into your own hands—literally. Scooping up a handful of snow, you pack it into a ball and lob it at him. It hits him square in the chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then he looks down at the snow on his robes, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

“You dare?” he says softly.

“I dare,” you reply, grinning.

What follows is an all-out snowball war. Loki cheats, of course, conjuring multiple snowballs at once and launching them with precision. You counter with a combination of speed and sheer determination, laughing so hard your sides ache.

By the time you call a truce, you’re both soaked and breathless. Loki’s hair is damp, and there’s snow clinging to his robes, but his eyes are bright, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him look truly happy.

Day Ten

You’re sitting by the fire, sipping yet another mug of cocoa, when Loki joins you unprompted. He’s carrying his own mug, which you’re fairly certain he made himself—a small but significant victory.

“You’ve been unusually persistent,” he says, settling into the chair beside you.

“It’s called holiday spirit,” you reply with a grin. “And I’m rubbing off on you. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he gazes at the twinkling lights on the tree, his expression thoughtful.

“I will admit,” he says slowly, “that there is… a certain charm to this season. Though your methods are insufferable.”

You laugh, raising your mug in a mock toast. “I’ll take it.”

For the first time since you started this endeavor, you feel like you’ve genuinely reached him. And as you sit there, sharing the quiet warmth of the fire, you realize that maybe—just maybe—Loki is starting to believe in the magic of Christmas after all.

Day Eleven

The fireplace mantel remains unfinished—a glaring imperfection in your otherwise flawless Christmas wonderland. You’ve been putting it off, unsure of how to best arrange the garlands, candles, and lights. This morning, however, you find Loki standing in front of it, arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face.

“Are you admiring my handiwork?” you tease, stepping up beside him.

“I’m considering how to fix it,” he replies. “It’s… lopsided.”

You tilt your head, squinting at the decorations. “It’s supposed to look whimsical.”

“It looks haphazard,” he counters, glancing down at you with a faint smirk.

“Fine, Mr. Perfect. Show me how you’d do it.”

What starts as a playful challenge turns into a surprisingly intimate collaboration. Loki’s hands brush against yours as he passes you a strand of lights, his touch sending an unexpected warmth up your arm. He leans close to adjust a garland, his voice low as he critiques your “questionable” taste in ribbon colors.

By the time the mantel is complete, the room feels cozier—not just from the flickering candlelight but from the unspoken connection simmering between you.

“Admit it,” you say softly. “This was fun.”

Loki’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Moderately enjoyable,” he murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

Day Thirteen

You’re perched on a ladder in the common room, attempting to hang a sprig of mistletoe from the ceiling beam. The ladder wobbles precariously, and just as you’re about to lose your balance, strong hands grip your waist, steadying you.

“Careful,” Loki chides, his voice unusually gentle.

You glance down at him, your heart racing—not just from the near fall. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering as he helps you down from the ladder. When your feet touch the ground, you realize just how close you are. The mistletoe dangles above you, unnoticed, as you find yourself caught in his intense gaze.

“Traditionally,” Loki says, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper, “there’s a custom associated with this particular plant.”

You swallow hard, your cheeks heating. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”

His lips curve into a sly smile, but he steps back, breaking the moment. “Perhaps next time,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s teasing or serious.

Your pulse remains uneven long after he’s gone.

Day Fifteen

You can’t sleep. The glow of the Christmas tree calls to you, and you find yourself padding into the common room, wrapped in a blanket. To your surprise, Loki is already there, seated on the couch with a book in hand.

“Can’t sleep either?” you ask, settling into the armchair across from him.

He closes the book, regarding you with a softness you’ve come to recognize in these quiet moments. “I find the stillness… agreeable.”

The conversation flows easily, shifting from light banter to deeper topics. He talks about Asgardian winters, and you share memories of childhood Christmases. There’s an openness to him tonight, a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

At one point, you notice him watching you intently, his gaze tracing your features as if committing them to memory. “What is it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve met,” he says, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. “Your insistence on joy, your… stubborn optimism. It’s infuriating. And yet…”

“And yet?” you prompt, your heart pounding.

He leans forward slightly, the space between you charged with unspoken possibilities. “And yet, I find myself drawn to it. To you.”

The admission leaves you breathless. You don’t know what to say, so you settle for a soft smile, hoping it conveys everything you’re feeling.

Day Seventeen

A freak snowstorm traps everyone inside the Tower. While most of the team grumbles about canceled plans, you can’t help but see it as an opportunity. You organize a board game marathon, but when Loki declines to participate, you seek him out in his room.

“Too good for Monopoly?” you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

“I prefer my games to involve a certain level of sophistication,” he replies, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Come on,” you coax. “It’ll be fun.” But when you understand the won't give in you try another tactic, just sto spend time with him. "Teach me chess instead,” you say, pulling a dusty board from a shelf.

The two of you spend hours by the fire, the snowstorm raging outside, as he teaches you the intricacies of the game. His patience surprises you, as does the way he occasionally lets you win, though he denies it every time.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer focused on the game. Instead, you’re studying the way his hair falls over his shoulders, the way his lips curve when he’s explaining a strategy.

“You’re not paying attention,” he accuses, though his tone is amused.

“Sorry,” you murmur, feeling your cheeks heat.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps I’m more distracting than the game.”

You don’t deny it.

Day Twenty

The Tower is quiet after dinner, most of the team having retreated to their rooms. You and Loki are the last ones in the common room, the tree lights casting soft shadows across his features.

“You’ve done well,” he says, nodding toward the decorations. “This place feels… alive.”

“Thanks to you,” you reply, nudging his shoulder. “You helped more than you’d like to admit.”

“I admit nothing,” he says, though there’s a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

You fall into a comfortable silence, the air between you heavy with unspoken tension. When he reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, your breath catches. His fingers linger, his gaze dropping to your lips.

For a moment, time seems to stop. You’re certain he’s going to kiss you, and you lean in ever so slightly, your heart pounding. But then—

“Y/N!” Tony’s voice booms from the hallway, shattering the moment.

You both pull back, flustered, as Tony strides into the room, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I swear he has the worst timing,” you mutter after Tony leaves.

Loki smirks, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Indeed.”

Day Twenty-Four

The Tower hums with a warm energy on Christmas Eve. The team is gathered around the massive tree in the common room, the scent of pine mingling with the aroma of spiced cider and freshly baked cookies. You sit cross-legged on the floor beside Loki, the two of you half-listening as Thor attempts to recount a boisterous Asgardian holiday tradition.

Despite the chaos around you—Steve trying to untangle fairy lights, Clint stealing cookies from the tray, and Tony programming a robotic Santa to distribute presents—you feel grounded. Loki’s presence beside you has a magnetic pull, and you find yourself sneaking glances at him every few moments.

He looks relaxed, a rarity for the God of Mischief. His usual sharp edges seem softer tonight, the flickering glow of the fireplace highlighting his high cheekbones and the glint in his emerald eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?” you ask quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “More than I expected.”

The gift exchange begins, the room filling with laughter and playful banter as everyone tears into their wrapping paper. You watch with amusement as Natasha tries not to laugh at the gaudy scarf Clint has given her, and Bruce chuckles at the chemistry-themed mug he receives.

Loki remains apart from the main commotion, though his eyes sparkle with quiet amusement. As the night winds down, the others begin to retreat to their rooms, leaving the two of you alone by the tree.

“You didn’t join the exchange,” you say, turning to him.

“I prefer to give gifts with intention,” he replies, reaching into his pocket.

He produces a small, elegantly wrapped box and hands it to you. “For you.”

Your heart stutters as you carefully undo the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside lies a delicate silver charm bracelet, each charm meticulously chosen: a snowflake, a steaming mug of cocoa, a tiny chess piece, and a star. You recognize each one as a symbol of a moment you’ve shared this month.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, your fingers trembling slightly as you lift it from the box.

“I thought you might appreciate a memento of your… relentless holiday enthusiasm,” Loki says, though his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

“I love it,” you say, looking up at him with a wide smile. “Thank you.”

You hesitate for a moment, then reach for the small gift bag you’d hidden earlier. “I, uh, got you something too.”

He raises an eyebrow but accepts the bag, pulling out the contents with a curious expression. Inside is a beautifully bound leather journal, embossed with intricate patterns that remind you of Asgardian designs.

“For your thoughts,” you explain, suddenly shy. “Or plans, or whatever it is you write about. I thought you might like it.”

His fingers brush over the cover reverently. “It’s… thoughtful,” he says, his voice unusually gentle.

Before you can reply, a movement above catches your eye. You tilt your head back and groan. “Oh no.”

Loki follows your gaze, his expression shifting into one of amusement as he spots the sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his smirk returning. “The infamous custom.”

You open your mouth to say something witty, but the words evaporate as Loki steps closer, his gaze fixed on yours. The air between you feels charged, and your heart hammers in your chest.

“Wouldn’t want to break tradition,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

Before you can second-guess yourself, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, unhurried, and yet it sends a spark through your entire body. His hand finds your cheek, his touch warm against your skin, and you melt into him, forgetting everything else in the world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless. Loki’s hand lingers on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone.

“Mistletoe,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Convenient,” he replies, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.

The two of you stand there for a moment, the world around you quiet and still. You glance down at the bracelet on your wrist, then back up at Loki, and you can’t help but think that this is the best Christmas Eve you’ve ever had.

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[ao3-rex1223]

𝕿𝖔 𝕭𝖊 𝕬 𝕶𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞: 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: SFW, pure fluff, warm Christmas vibes, family photos, Leon being a good dad, raising a child, child's first Christmas, present opening

Summary: You and Leon have a lovely baby girl and she gets to experience her first Christmas. (This takes place in the same universe as my very first Leon Kennedy fic, To Be A Kennedy)

“Smile!” The chipper photographer directs, hoping that the simple word will be enough to get your one year old daughter to look at the camera and look even slightly happy. Her chubby cheeks bunch up even more as her mouth widens in an adorable grin, not at the direction of the well meaning camera man but at the jingling stuffed bunny with bells around its collar being dangled by the flamboyantly dressed elf. Jingle Bell Rock plays softly in the background and snow falls outside, covering the city in a fluffy, white, but frozen blanket. 

Click!

You relax your face and let out the breath you held. One good picture. You just want one good picture of your family. You, Leon, and Annabelle. Your husband nuzzles the crown of your daughter's head affectionately. “You did so good, pumpkin!” he coos, rocking her slightly in his arms. She's such a daddy's girl, always happy to have him holding her. Of course, she loves you, too; hell, you feed her with your body - at least part of the time since she started baby food. But when she's truly distraught, Leon is always able to soothe her. 

And Leon is wrapped so tightly around her tiny, little finger, you're surprised there's any circulation. It's hardest when he's away on a mission, though he does his best to only take ones that are a few days or less. You have pictures and videos of him so Annabelle can look at him whenever she wants. You even took one of his old T-shirts and fashioned it into a shirt for her teddy bear so it smells like him. You spray his cologne on it every time he leaves for an assignment.  

“Would you like to see?” The photographer asks gently, offering you the camera. You glance at the small digital screen, smiling at the sweet picture, Annabelle’s bright smile lighting up the entire image. You pay for a few nice prints to send to friends and family and continue perusing the mall. Annabelle babbles as she takes in the sights, Leon bouncing her occasionally. You both take note of the things that seem to catch her eye; ideas for her Christmas presents. Mostly, she awes at the big ornaments and lights decorating the walls and ceilings. 

Later that night, you and Leon begin setting up the Christmas tree while Annabelle plays with her toys. Eventually she crawls over by the tree and grabs a part of the string of lights, beaming at their bright colors. She makes an adorable babble and puts one of the lights in her mouth. You and Leon chuckle. “Ah, the unique methods of children for discovering the world and its flavors,” Leon comments. He hooks another ornament on the tree. 

“And textures,” you add with a chuckle. You gently pick her up, kissing her cherubic cheeks. She reaches for the glass balls decorating the tree but you quickly shift away, just out of reach. 

“Ah!” Annabelle cries in protest, reaching even further for the tantalizing orb. “Ball!” She adds, chirping one of the few words she knows so far. 

“Sweetie, that's glass. Not safe for you,” you gently explain, knowing she can't fully understand you. She starts to cry, reaching for the shiny, colorful ball so much, she's practically dangling from your arms. You bounce her gently, attempting to soothe her. Walking to her pile of toys, you pick up a baby safe ball for her to play with. She ignores it, continuing to scream and reach for the thing she can’t have. 

Leon walks over, sitting down next to the two of you. Annabelle crawls into his lap, needing her papa to make her feel better. “It's okay, pumpkin. Daddy's gotcha.” He lightly kisses the crown of her head. “You have so many nice toys here to play with!” He wraps his arms delicately around her, offering her the warm snuggles she wants. He gently rocks her and soon her cries begin to wane. “That's my brave girl!” he praises and nuzzles her forehead, eliciting a soft giggle from her. 

The beautiful scene makes you smile lovingly. Watching Leon be there for her, comfort her, and care for her is one of the greatest gifts you could ever receive. Crawling back down, she grabs her baby blanket and crawls under the Christmas tree, laying on her back and looking up at the faux fir. She giggles as she grasps the metal branches, securely in place, and the plastic green needles. Eventually, she grabs her toes and sways back and forth. 

Your heart swells with love and affection as you and Leon stop decorating and simply watch her absorb the world around her. Once her bedtime rolls around, you scoop her into your arms and feed her one last time, rocking gently in the recliner. When her tiny tummy is full and her eyes begin drooping, you simply hold her as she falls asleep. With a delicate kiss to her forehead, you gently lay her in her crib, tucking her blanket next to her. 

The weeks before Christmas fly by as you and Leon try to finish up everything at the D.S.O. and get all of the presents wrapped. On Christmas morning, you bring a sleepy Annabelle out to the living room where lots of shiny presents lay illuminated under the soft, inviting glow of the lit Christmas tree, just waiting for her to tear them open. 

“She's still booting up,” you joke as you and Leon both watch her rub her eyes and try to process the scene before her, expression blank. After a few minutes, she begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms, reaching for the brightly colored wrapping paper. You chuckle and set her down. She begins tugging and chewing on the smaller presents. 

You hand Leon a present to him from you. “Merry Christmas, my love,” you coo with a soft kiss to his lips. 

Leon smiles, happily returning your kiss. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He swiftly unwraps the box and reveals a beautiful, light brown, leather jacket with wool trim. His eyes widen in recognition, its appearance strikingly similar to the jacket he lost in Spain all those years ago. “This is…”

“I found it a few weeks ago while I was out shopping. I thought you deserved another one.” You wink playfully. Annabelle crawls into your lap and continues nibbling on wrapping paper. 

Leon examines every inch of the jacket, in awe. “Thank you, sweetheart. This is incredible. I love it…and I love you.” He kisses you tenderly and hands you a present from him. It's a gorgeous white gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a key, accented with small diamonds. Your eyes light up at its beauty. “Oh Leon! It’s perfect!”

“It’s the key to my heart,” Leon explains with a cheeky grin and a wink. His cheesy lines always were a favorite of yours. 

You brush the tears away from your eyes. “Corn dog,” you tease and kiss him lovingly. He chuckles. You turn your attention to the happy child in your lap. “Should we help you open your presents, now, sweetie?”

The rest of your morning is spent helping Annabelle open her Christmas presents; clothes, toys, books, and some winter wear. Sharing your first Christmas as a family brings you joy you never thought you’d experience. From the first day you stumbled into Leon’s arms at the office, your life changed irrevocably, an adventure you never knew you needed, never in your wildest dreams expected, but here with Leon and your precious baby girl, nothing could be better. 

[lay-z]

🧸 Day 17 – Christmas elf gone rogue

A continuation of Days 1 (All I want for Christmas) and 9 (Separated), which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: It’s been two years since your son, Colin, was born and three heavenly years of being married to the one and only, John MacTavish.

Pairing: John Soap MacTavish x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: No smut. | ex-military!Reader; time jump; tooth-rotting fluff; humour; domesticity; married life/established relationship; mildly suggestive content

Word count: 1.5k

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“There ye go,” John says while he tries to suppress his laughter at how ridiculously adorable his son looks. “Now ye look like a wee Christmas elf, laddie.”

Colin has been sporting a pout since his father pulled the red and green striped Christmas jumper over his little head, ruffling his dark curls and squishing his chubby cheeks for good measure.

“Itchy, papa!” The toddler protests, tugging at the fabric of the jumper as soon as John hoists him up onto his hip with practiced ease.

“Aye, I know,” John agrees with a dramatic sigh as he hooks one finger of his free hand under the collar of his matching jumper to scratch at his equally itchy neck, “–but it’s for yer mama and we want ta make mama happy, eh?”

Colin nods with determination, but his azure blue eyes sparkle with mischief.

Meanwhile, you’re still setting wine glasses on the large oak wood table, making the last few arrangements in the dining room while the Christmas dinner you’ve been preparing all day is slowly cooking in the kitchen.

You can hear John’s boisterous laughter and Colin’s sweet squeals coming all the way from upstairs.

“Hen, I’m tryin’ ta put socks on Colin’s feet, but he won’t let me!”

You freeze in your movements when John calls out to you while you’re in the middle of putting the matching knife and fork down next to another decorated plate.

“Trying?” You utter under your breath before you turn to the direction of the wooden staircase, narrowing your eyes as you strain your ears to listen better. “Did you say “trying”, Johnny?!”

Still hearing their laughter and squeals, you can’t help but laugh along with them quietly to yourself as you set the polished cutlery down to make your way upstairs after all.

“Do you need any help?” You call out as you make your way towards Colin’s bedroom.

At the sound of your voice and footsteps coming up the stairs, John’s head snaps up to look towards the open bedroom door while he continues to gently wrestle his toddler son on the soft, carpeted floor.

Sensing his father’s distraction, Colin squirms free of the loose headlock he’d been put in and takes off running out of his room, giggling and shrieking in delight when he realizes his sudden freedom.

“HOLD ON, YE WEE RASCAL!” John calls after him as he tries and fails to catch him again. The toddler is fast despite his little legs, he takes after his mother after all, and the pitter-patter of his small, naked feet on the hardwood floor echoes down the hallway.

Just when you reach the top of the stairs, Colin comes running out of his children’s room, down the hallway towards the stairs – and right into your quick arms.

“Oh, lookit this! Santa lost himself a Christmas elf!” You exclaim with laughter as you pick your toddler son up swiftly, perching him up on your hip before smothering his chubby cheeks with kisses while Colin giggles uncontrollably. “Mama!”

John can feel his heart swell with love and warmth as soon as he exits his son’s bedroom and watches how you effortlessly catch his boy to scoop him up into the safety of your arms.

John shakes his head as if to clear some thoughts from his mind as he approaches you two, chuckling to himself while his heart continues to melt at the sight of you, his beautiful wife, cuddling your son, his son, to your chest.

“He’s not wearing his socks yet, hen.” He sighs with fond exasperation.

“Eh, it’s alright,” you reply with a small shrug, grinning at Colin as you grab a hold of one small foot with your free hand. “The house is warm enough and we have underfloor heating, babe. He can run around without socks for a little bit.”

“Yes!” Colin exclaims happily as you kiss his forehead before putting the wriggly, excited toddler back on the ground.

Seeing John’s slight yet feigned frown and pout as you betray his authority, you act fast and kneel down to be on eye-level with your son.

“Hey, Coco,” you say overenthusiastically to get his attention once more. “Our house is toasty warm, because your amazing daddy built a fire in the fireplace for us. How cool is that, huh?”

Sure enough, the toddler looks up at his father, bright blue doe-eyes wide and glimmering with awe and happiness, making John feel a burst of pride swell in his chest at your words of praise and his son’s admiration.

“T-toastie?” Colin repeats your words with that adorable, soft little lisp of his.

“Aye, laddie,” John nods, a soft, warm smile spreading across his lips. “The house is toasty warm, ‘cause yer da made a good fire.”

“Gosh, you two are so adorable.” You utter with an affectionate sigh as you stand up again, clutching your fluttering heart as you listen and watch the sweet interaction between your husband and son. “Isn’t he adorable, Johnny? We have the cutest little son… and he looks exactly like you.”

Colin really does look like a mini version of his father. Same hair and eye colour, same mannerisms, the same cheeky smile and propensity to cause mischief. When Rosemary, your mother-in-law, had shown you a photo album of John’s childhood, you were almost creeped out by the resemblance.

John chuckles warmly as Colin shifts on his little feet, chubby cheeks blushing a rosy colour while you gush over him.

“Aye, he really is.” He agrees, his gaze wandering to catch yours again.

While you’re still focused on the toddler, John allows himself to let his eyes roam over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of his wife all dolled up for the evening with the 141 and their families. Your face, your body, your hair and pretty eyes… all of you so absolutely gorgeous.

How do you get more breathtakingly beautiful each day? And how did he ever get so lucky?

John sucks in a sharp breath through his nose when he feels himself heat up and stir inside his navy blue slacks. Oh, bloody hell…

Suddenly, the doorbell rings out downstairs and Colin immediately takes off running down the stairs, his bare feet cutely padding along the hardwood floor as he squeals again, knowing that his uncles and aunties will be coming over today.

“Careful, Colin!” You call after him before shaking your head with a soft scoff. “Ugh, that boy…”

As you turn around to face your husband again, his smoldering gaze holds something that you recognize immediately.

“Don’t, John. Not now, not… yet.”

The sound of your admonishing voice snaps John back to reality, making him blink a few times before clearing his throat while he tries to fix his face into a more neutral expression despite the heat that’s already pooling deep in his lower gut.

He quirks one dark eyebrow. “Wait, what? Yet?” His gaze drifts lower to your deep red-painted lips as he closes the distance between you two, big hands reaching out to cup and grope your waist. “What d’ye mean by tha’, hen?”

You quirk an eyebrow as you let your hands roam over his buff chest, feeling it puff out beneath your palms as he rumbles appreciatively before you starts tugging and adjusting the collar of his silly Christmas jumper.

“It means –“ You rub your lips together, feeling the smooth lipstick on them as you feel John’s vigilant eyes follow the movement. “It means that I have a very special surprise for you tonight, but you’ll have to wait for that until our dear guests have left.” You explain, lashes fluttering as you meet his curious gaze, and you can practically watch his pupils dilate like a cat’s catching sight of its prey.

He gulps, his voice now husky as he speaks, “A special present, eh?”

“Very special.” You nod, resting your palms on his broad shoulders and massaging them lightly.

“How very special are we talkin’ here, wifey? Care ta gimme a wee hint?” He murmurs as he slowly leans in, hands sneaking around to your backside while he bumps the tip of his nose against yours affectionately.

Your lips split into a cheeky smile at his obvious arousal and your own eyes go half-lidded; lips brushing against his as you decide to end the torturing suspense.

“You said you want another baby, didn’t you?” He nods, letting out a playful low growl while his hands squeeze your ass cheeks over your dress. “Careful what ye say next, lass, or I might throw ye over my shoulder and carry ye to our bed.”

You giggle softly, “Well, according to my cycle, tonight would be a great night to conceive.”

John snarls against your lips and you yelp with laughter when he picks you up by the back of your thighs with ease, hips slotting between your spread legs as he pins you against the hallway wall. He crashes his lips on yours while your arms wrap around his neck, fingers raking through his short Mohawk as you meet his kiss with equal passion, and you make out in the short hallway upstairs like a pair of hormonal teenagers, until Colin’s sweet voice calls out.

“Mooommy! Daaaddy! Uncy Pwice is here!”

[gothamslostboy]

The Lost Boys

Favorite Holiday

DAVID - New Year’s Eve

Not the actual day, but what it represents

Though he does like the parties

Particularly enjoys setting goals for the next year

Some of them have to do with murder but oh well

He fully writes out a little list and tapes it to a cave wall

He lets the others all submit a goal for him and he chooses one to actually do

He normally throws Paul’s out

“Stop being Michael’s little bitch boy”

They are less so about improving himself and more about what insane shit can he get away with in the new year

One year his only goal was to eat every person who protested during pride month

He got a stomach ache but he eventually tracked them all down

It’s the only holiday were you will EVER see him dress up

He does those glasses in the shape of whatever year it is and sometimes wears a suit

But only if he’s really into his next list

Won’t admit it, but also thinks the kiss tradition is romantic

Just the fact that the first thing someone wants to do after the clock resets is kiss him?

He’s a sucker for it

He doesn’t do a quick little peck either

It’s pretty much the only time he will give whoever it is a sweet, gentle, and sensual kiss other than in situations where he genuinely thinks he’s gonna lose them

Like when Marko got impaled in the stomach

His favorite memory of all time is when they all managed to do a group kiss as the countdown ended one year

It was kinda clunky and the least romantic kiss he’s ever had but he still loved it

MICHAEL - Thanksgiving

Doesn’t really care about the actual day and what it originally was

Just really loves spending time with the people he cares about

The boys all spend pretty much every second together anyways but this is the only day he can get his bio family and his boyfriends all together in the same place without one side trying to/ threatening to kill the other

It’s not as tense as you’d think either

They all love Michael enough to basically forget everything that has ever happened between them and pretend they’re all just regular humans

He loves to watch Sam and Dwayne geek out about comic books together

Even if he doesn’t know what half of what they’re saying means

It doesn’t hurt that Lucy is an AMAZING cook

He legitimately shoved Sam out of his seat one year when they were kids

He was NOT gonna let him get both legs of the turkey

Whenever it’s his year to do the wishbone he does the same thing

For everyone to get along like this more often

PAUL - Christmas

Honestly he loves all holidays

It’s just an excuse to be even more affectionate to everyone

ppl tend to be more happy and friendly during Christmas and he loves that

He’s a huge extrovert and during most the year ppl in Santa Carla are less likely to engage with strangers

But this time of year? Everyone is getting in the holiday spirit

He’s always wanted the boys to form a band and the comprise they came up with is caroling

They let him pick the song

If anyone slams the door in their face or is otherwise outright rude he gets SO sad

The rest of the pack hunts those ppl down through the next year and gives them to paul as a gift

He loves it

He also is a huge fan of decorating the tree

It normally looks like an elf threw up tinsel and joke ornaments but he’s very proud of it

Tries to convince everyone else to keep it up as long as possible

Plans a movie marathon on Christmas Eve

Actually BUYS candy canes, hot cocoa, & peppermint bark (stealing that would ruin the shop owners vibes and he refuses to do that near Christmas)

Sets up all the treats and picks 5 movies for them to cuddle up and watch near one of the caves barrels

The only movie he picks every single year is Die hard

Other than that one he has a rule that he can’t reuse a movie he picked in the last 5 years

MARKO - Halloween

Mainly enjoys the build up over the actual day

He takes a lot of pride in making his and all the boys costumes from scratch (except David -_-)

They turn out really high quality as well

Usually at least one of them gets stopped and complimented on it

Occasionally someone thinks they have the actual costume from the movie/show the characters from and they become invincible

Like marko refuses to let any of the boys eat that person for the rest of time

He takes it so seriously I’m not even joking

There’s a no kill list with names and updated pictures

David ignored it once and never made that mistake again

Marko genuinely was really hurt and didn’t hang out with him one on one for 4 months

And withheld any affection from him for 2 months

He made sure the body was found (made it look like a hit and run) and brings little trinkets to the grave every once and a while

LOVES horror movies

Especially the really gory ones

He’s a sadist and takes the really interesting kills as inspiration

It’s like his own personal Pinterest

Pulls a ton of pranks during the month of October

Toilet papers ~50 houses every year

Steals huge bags of candy and hands them out at the board walk

He loves Halloween so much and wants everyone to be able to enjoy it

There’s a family in town that loves it but can’t afford good quality costumes most years

He reached out to the parents and offered to make all the families outfits for free

He’s done it the past 3 years and loves it

When he drops of the costumes he leaves candy for the kids and a wad of money that definitely was acquired legally

Just trust him on that and don’t ask too many questions

Uses washable paint and decorates David’s bike

It’s the only thing David will let anyone else do to his bike bc he knows marko will take it seriously and make it bad ass

He also gets a free bike cleaning for Marko after it starts to peel/chip off so win-win

DWAYNE - Valentine’s Day

I personally see him as the most romantic of the group

But he’s also the one who has the hardest time showing it

Valentine’s Day is the day he feels the most comfortable showing love bc he knows all his boyfriends are in the mood for “all that mushy shit” (Marko’s words)

He does NOT hold back

Valentine’s Day is more like valentine’s week bc he gives each of them a special day leading up to the 14th

Then on the actual day he plans a group date

He spends the entire year stealing borrowing gifts from victims that he thinks the boys will love

He has a mini garden near the bottom of the cliff

He grows the other’s favorite flowers

He leaves them in random parts of their nests year round, but makes a huge bouquet of all of them for Valentine’s Day

His demeanor totally switches during this time

Normally he tries to be a chill, mysterious, laid back kinda guy

But during his favorite week?

He’s like an excitable puppy

He’s constantly giggling and being extra affectionate with the boys

Pulls out ALL the couples nicknames

Even in public he’s doing more than he usually does

Dwayne takes any extra flowers he has and if he sees anyone who looks sad or lonely on valentines night he gives them a compliment and a flower

Eats ppl who are being dicks to their partner that night

————

Hey yall! Haven’t posted in a bit so I finished this draft I started in October lol

Figured it’s the best time of year for it.

Gonna be so fr yall, I don’t think I’m ever gonna post as much as I used to. I was pumping out like 6 posts a month for 4 months which may not seem like a ton but it feels like it is lmao

But now I have more responsibilities than I used to and it’s killed my creativity a bit. That being said: I’m not giving up completely. I’m still keeping this blog and writing whenever I feel like it, just not at the speed or amount I used to do it. I’m setting a goal for at least once a month next year and I’m really gonna try to keep it.

Thanks to everyone who reads my hcs and fics, and a special thank you to anyone who sticks around:]

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