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lovebugism · 11 months ago

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HI BBY COULD U WRITE A grumpy!steddie x sunshine!reader , they are all moved in together & its nearing christmas SO reader is the one whos decorating , maybe the boys neglect to see how excited she is & they end up feeling really guilty cuz they just see her putting all of it away 🥹🥹

ty for requesting :D — the boys catch you taking down christmas decorations after not being supportive about your love for the holidays (ditzy!reader, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.3k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie rouses in the early morning, weightless and unusually cold. The first thing he notices is that you’re not wrapped around him like a koala and snoring softly in his ear. How could he not? The lack of you has always been innately palpable.

With his eyes still closed, he reaches across the mattress in search of you. He figures Steve must’ve pulled you into him at some point during the night. The two of you are probably tangled together and hogging all the covers at this very moment.

“Ow,” Steve winces groggily when Eddie accidentally smacks him in the face.

The boy turns towards the voice and squints through the haze of leftover slumber. He squishes Steve’s scruffy cheeks together with a pale hand. “You’re not Sunshine,” Eddie observes gruffly, still playful despite being half-asleep.

Steve swats him away with his eyes still shut. “Obviously not.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” the honey-haired boy slurs, right before leaning forward to shove his face into your pillow. His next words are muffled and nearly inaudible. “Bathroom, maybe?”

Eddie goes to call for you. His chest inflates with a deep inhale, prepared to shout for you like a needy child. Something clatters distantly in the living room before he can. It’s so obviously you — clumsy, well-meaning you. The always doing things you shouldn’t be doing on your own because you’re too sweet to ask for help you.

Both of them know this, so they rise from their sleep without a word shared between them. They find you trying to steady yourself on a rickety step stool, halfway crouched on the highest level with sparkling tinsel in your hand.

The two boys catch your eye, one as equally sleepy as the other.

Eddie’s hair has been extra fluffed by the cotton of his pillow. The wild curls halfway conceal his swollen features. He’s in one of Steve’s sweatshirts and a pair of thin boxers. Steve, meanwhile, is in a shirt so tight you’re almost sure it’s yours. The fabric has risen with sleep and his plaid pants hang low accordingly. The bottom of his tummy and the tip of his happy trail are on display for you.

They’re effortlessly beautiful. Both of them. But their presence makes you grimace.

Your attempts to do all this quietly have obviously failed.

“Did I wake you?” you whisper, just in case.

“Yeah, you woke us— what the hell are you doing?” Steve wonders as he rushes to you, very suddenly alert. He helps you off the old, uneven ladder with hands that are impossibly warm, even over your shorts.

Eddie stands ahead of you and takes the tinsel from your hands.

“I was un-decorating,” you shrug.

“Un-decorating?” Eddie scoffs.

Steve squints at you, features swollen and lined with indentions of sleep, still not quite understanding. “Okay… Why?”

“’Cause you guys said you hated it.”

“Hated what?”

“All of it!” you retort, still a bit vaguely, and gesture all around you.

The living room looks a little like the North Pole puked all over it. There’s an intricately decorated Christmas tree in the corner, perfectly fluffed and packed to the brim with vividly-colored ornaments. String lights are draped over the ceiling, and you’ve hooked ornaments over them, too. Every doorway is lined with sparkling tinsel and lit-up stars and ribbons tied into bows.

It was beautiful. Well, you thought it was, anyway. No one else seemed to agree with you.

You try not to let it hurt you too much, but the subtle ache in the pit of your chest is almost impossible to ignore.

“We didn’t say we hated it!” Steve insists with a wavering voice. “…Did we?”

Eddie makes a vague I don’t know type of sound. He leans his wild head to the side and shrugs once. “I’m pretty sure you did call it tacky, actually.”

“Well, you said it looked like a Hallmark movie threw up in here!” Steve argues without thinking twice.

The older boy squints his puffy, chocolate eyes. “Shut up, dude.”

“You shut up!”

“See, this is why I’m taking it down,” you laugh over their bickering. You smile despite your distant hurt. “You obviously hate it. Both of you.”

Steve sighs. He stops being annoyed with Eddie for a second to give you his full attention. He goes distinctly soft when he looks at you, structured and sleepy features visibly melting. His long fingers give your sides a squeeze.

“We don’t hate it, babe. I promise. We’re just not, like, as into it as you are.”

“And that’s okay! Right?” Eddie blurts from beside him. He crosses two arms over his chest and shrugs. “I mean, we don’t have to like all the same things as each other, you know? What’s important is that we all support each other…”

Steve glances over his shoulder and sends the boy an incredulous gape, half confused and half impressed.

Eddie cowers beneath it. “…Or whatever. I don’t know. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Well, I feel super supported right now.” You laugh but it’s a little bit forced, weighed down by hidden emotion. You’re obviously still upset about the whole thing — even if you’re trying to pretend that you’re not.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” Steve sighs and wraps you up in his arms. He presses you into his chest, palms spreading over your back and rubbing gently along the length of it. He buries his nose at the crown of your head — you smell like a mixture of your shampoo, his hairspray, and Eddie’s body wash.

You hold him back but shake your head at his affection.

“No. It’s okay. It’s just Christmas decorations— it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not stupid,” Steve insists before the words can properly leave your mouth. He pulls back from you, just far enough to hold your face between his palms. He smiles softly down at you, so quiet it’s barely there. His thumb swipes over the sleep lines pressed into your cheek. “You were really excited about it, and we were assholes. And we’re sorry… Right, Eds?”

Eddie’s face scrunches from where he stands beside you. “Hey, I was preparing my own I’m sorry speech over here, Harrington.”

Steve’s hands drop from your face when you turn around to smile at the wild-haired boy. “Yeah? Let me hear it.”

Eddie brings you into his arms next. His hug is tighter than Steve’s, borderline smothering as his arms cross over your shoulders rather than your back. He hides his face in your hair when you tuck yourself into his chest.

“I love you,” he starts, muffled from where he’s pressed against you. The end of each sentence is followed by a soft kiss to your head. “And it’s not stupid. And we’re sorry for being assholes.”

Your laugh is stifled by his t-shirt. He smells like smoke and Steve’s body wash and your perfume.

“That’s exactly what I said,” Steve whines, his pout evident in his voice.

“Yeah, but I said ‘I love you,’” Eddie argues like a child. “So I win.”

“Well, guess what— I love you too, babe.”

You laugh again. It’s more audible this time when you pull away and turn to Steve, grinning all stupid as you grab his arm to drag him over. “I forgive both of you, so you both win,” you assure when the honey-haired boy towers over your back to join your embrace. With both of them holding you like this, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so safe.

“Ha!” you hear Steve scoff, followed by a smacking kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

The wild-haired boy rolls his eyes and pulls slightly back to look at you. “Want us to help you hang all this stuff back up?” he wonders, then cuts himself off. “Actually. Nope. We’re gonna help you hang all this stuff back up. Whether you like it or not, Sunshine.”

He’s always called you that. He said it was because of your smile, but when you beam up at him, he realizes he might’ve gotten it all wrong. You’re brighter than the sun — than a thousand suns — and if he had to choose between sunlight and the way you’re looking at him right now, he’d choose you in every lifetime.

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imbored1201 · 11 months ago

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hi! would you be able to do a teen reader x barca/arsenal (or like an individual) where they spend christmas alone without anyone knowing until they comeback, and when people realise they make it up to reader?

thanks! (and happy christmas and new years)

Mapi’s Huge Surprise

Warnings: Neglectful parents

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader

Word Count: 1,383

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!

You looked at the time, 11:55 pm. About to be Christmas Day. You sighed, getting up from where you laid, to eat the rest of that gingerbread house that you built.

You hated and loved Christmas. You loved the lights and how joyful the people got, but you hated how alone you felt every year. Your parents had never acknowledged it, but they let you walk around the neighborhood to see the lights while they partied at some coworkers place.

Now that you were far from them, you wanted to do something big, but then you realized you didn't have any friends outside of the team, and the whole team were busy with their families.

You were completely alone again. When midnight hit, you decided to watch some classic Christmas movies.

—————

New Years was the same; you had also drank some wine, hoping Alexia wouldn't notice, but overall, you just enjoyed watching all your teammates stories to see what they were up to.

Your parents had called you, wishing you a great holiday and hoping it went well for you. You just asked them what they did, and as usual, they went to a party, not bothering to ask what you did for Christmas or New Years or if you would even visit them.

—————

When Alexia came back home, you were excited and clingy. You wanted to watch a bunch of Christmas movies with her. She found it cute and agreed; even though Christmas was a week ago, she even brought up the idea to make Christmas cookies.

It was probably the happiest Alexia had ever seen you. Apart from the mess, it was a fun day. A day you hated to see end, but at least you finally got to experience a Christmas tradition with someone that you knew cared about you.

—————

"So, what you do for Christmas?" Lucy asked as she bumped your shoulder. "Nothing," you shrugged, drinking some of your water. Lucy frowned at that.

"What do you mean nothing?" She asked, grabbing the water bottle from you. "I didn't do anything Lucy. I just stayed home and watched movies."

"You didn’t see your parents?" She pushed more. "Come on ladies!" Jona yelled at you guys. You quickly jogged to where the other girls were for sprints.

————

When training was over, as usual, you were the last one out the locker room, taking your sweet time. Alexia waited for you patiently, knowing if she rushed you, it wouldn't be a fun car ride for either of you.

You had lied to Alexia about your parents coming to Barcelona, telling her that they were getting a rental where you guys would stay and that they would leave after New Year's Eve. Alexia was going to her mama's house, so you weren’t worried about getting caught lying. You felt bad for lying, but you didn't want her worrying about you.

You noticed her expression, like she was thinking hard about something. "You okay?" You asked her, packing your bag. She nodded.

"We have to talk." "Did I do something? I swear, I've been on top of my work, so if my teachers told you something again, they're lying," she shook her head.

"I know you're doing good in school; your teachers have been praising you a lot lately." You smiled and followed her out to the car. She wanted to press you, but she also didn't want any awkwardness during the car ride, so she waited until you guys got home.

—————

Right when you got into the door, you tried to hurry to your room, knowing an awkward conversation was about to happen. Of course, it didn't work out.

"How was Christmas with your parents?" You froze. "Good." She looked at you, and you knew from that look that she knew you were lying.

"Don't lie to me," you winced at her tone. "Were you here alone?" You knew you couldn't lie yourself out of this one; you nodded at her question.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, "I didn't want to be a bother." "You're never a bother Bebe. My mama loves you, you're practically another daughter to her." Alexia pulled you into a hug.

"It's okay Alexia, I'm used to being alone on holidays, we never do anything anyway," she shook her head. "Next time you're coming with me, okay?" You nodded, and she kissed your forehead and let you go to your room.

—————

All you wanted to do was sleep; you were a teenager, so of course it was your top priority. You groaned and shoved whoever was on top of you. You heard them laugh and smack your cheeks a bit.

You finally opened your eyes and saw Patri and Claudia with mischievous smiles. "What are you doing here?" You mumbled sleepily, closing your eyes once again. "Alexia sent us here to wake you; we have a surprise," Pina said excitedly.

"I'm too tired to get up," you told them, shoving Patri again. You felt her get off you; you got happy, thinking they would leave you alone, but of course, with this team, you would never get your way.

"Hey!" You yelled as Pina grabbed your legs and dragged you off your bed. A huge thud sounded through the apartment as you fell. Patri quickly grabbed your arms, and they lifted you up. You tried wiggling away, but it was no use. You gave up and let them carry you.

They set you on the floor in the middle of the living room, and there you saw all of your teammates crowded around the front door and the couch.

"Alexia they hurt me," you whined to her. "I told you guys to get her out of bed nicely for once," Alexia scolded them. "She wouldn't get up," Patri defended, and Pina nodded along.

"You didn't tell me we were going to have a team bonding night," you looked at Alexia offended that she didn't warn you. "It wasn't planned,” Mapi told you.

"We got these for you" Frido told you, and you looked around and realized they all had gifts. "For what?" "What do you mean for what? For Christmas kid" Lucy told you as she threw her gift at you.

You looked at her suspiciously, "go on, open it" She was way more excited than you. "New headphones!" You said excitedly, "Because you broke your other ones and cried about it the whole bus ride," she said.

Aitana was about to give you hers but got shoved out of the way by Mapi. "Trust me, when you see mine, you won't want the other ones." Everyone rolled their eyes at Mapi.

She grabbed you, and put her hands over your eyes, and led you outside. "Alexia!" You shouted, scared Mapi would pull some dumb prank on you. "I'm right here bebe" she reassured you, giving Mapi a look of confusion.

"What did you do Mapi?" Alexia told her, seeing what she got you, but Mapi just smirked. She finally let you see, and your jaw dropped. "Holy shit" you cursed. Alexia was also too shocked to even tell you off for your language.

A dirt bike.

"No" Alexia told Mapi sternly. "Yes" Mapi said back. "I love you!" you shouted and tackled Mapi into a hug.

"We can go to a trail this weekend; I have a buddy that will teach you; we just have to get you gear" she smirked and turned to Ingrid, who handed you a box.

Your smile got bigger when you saw there was all the gear you needed. Ingrid noticed Alexia's glare. "I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she is when she's set on something."

"Come on Alexia. Look at that smile." Mapi points to you, all happy on your dirt bike, showing it off to Patri and Pina.

"If she gets hurt-" "she won't; trust me, in a week she'll be wanting to be competing" Alexia sighed, but let it be; there was no changing Mapi's mind, and you already seemed attached to the bike.

—————

Mapi was right though; you were only paying attention to the bike all day. Completely forgetting you had everyone else lined up to give you their gifts. It was truly a Christmas you would never forget.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #mapi leon #ingrid engen #alexia putellas

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munson-blurbs · 10 months ago

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall.

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place.

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long.

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train.

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive.

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles.

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus.

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear.

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories.

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk.

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?”

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone?

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape.

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93.

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.”

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar.

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two.

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors.

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work?

That was sure to go over well.

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift.

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils.

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar.

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility.

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one.

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier.

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn.

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire.

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase.

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet.

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot.

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile.

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you.

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended.

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back.

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.”

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line.

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you. Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again.

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied.

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions.

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again.

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

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vivwritesfics · 1 year ago

Text

Lando Norris HC's

I'm burnt out and exhausted and I just want someone to love me haha

Masterlist

Lando

Where to begin?

He's... something else

Don't get me wrong, he's amazing

What's not to love?

High performance athlete who also streams on Twitch

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend everybody wanted

Every bit the golden retriever boyfriend Y/N got

This man? Attention WHORE

He doesn't stop

Comes out with the weirdest stuff

It's so much fun

Wants his girlfriend with him for race weekends

Because he hates going a long time without pissing her off

Very important that his girlfriend gets along with Carlos

She's there when they're pissing about

During their McLaren days?

Mayhem

You kind of have a love every minute of it if you're dating Lando

Sitting in while he streams sometimes

Not every time

But being in the room, doing something while he streamed

Y/N could be doing her own work while Lando gamed and streamed

Chief cuddler

But can't sit still long enough for them to properly cuddle

Loves getting his hair played with

Oooooo running your fingers through Lando Norris' hair? Literally can't imagine anything better

Stealing hats and hoodies purely because they smell like him

Lando loves snogging

Kissing by lamp light, hands on her hips, grip almost bruising

Or his hands would be on her face, pushing away her hair

Man loves marking up

Marking up his girl and being marked up

Aka, hand prints, hickies, scratches down his back

Lando loved that the most

Feeling her nails raking down the skin of his back

Plus, it was easy to hide

Unless he was participating in an ice bath

Then he'd mark her up twice as good, since she couldn't leave marks on him

Out in the club, Lando is very touchy

Aka, doesn't let go of her

Holding her hand

Holding her hips or her ass as they danced

Y/N becoming one of the more photographed WAG's

Simply because she didn't want to stay hidden

She wanted the world to see her with Lando

She wanted the world to know how much she loved her man

After a race, when Lando was in the top three, he'd climb of the car, wave to the crowd, run over to the McLaren team at the barriers to celebrate

And then he'd pull Y/N against the barrier and she'd kiss his helmet, where she'd think his lips would be

Holidays with Lando!!

Oh my god, literally the best

Fancy hotels and Yachts

Adventuring together

Holidaying with other drivers

There was one particular holiday

It was very spontaneous, they hadn't booked anything

Just hopped off a plane and off they went

To the Canary Islands

It was difficult to get a hotel

When they landed, they could only get one

It was... hell

Kids everywhere, booming music like baby shark playing around the pool all day

It was all inclusive, with drunk, neglectful parents spending every minute getting burnt on the sun loungers or around the buffet

Y/N and Lando found themselves as far away from the pool and buffet as they possibly could

Y/N would be reading her book as Lando did... something

When parents came and took their kids for dinner, they got a break from it

They could go in the pool without kids swimming into them

The hotel had crazy golf

Happy Lando

Happy Lando dragging Y/N around the crazy golf course, giggling like a child

Driving with Lando

Ugh, simply the best

Driving around Monaco in the Fiat Jolly (before he sold it) with his hand on her thigh

Driving in any vehicle with Lando's hand on her thigh

Hitting every red light

Kissing at the stop signs (darling)

Lando belting out the lyrics to any song that comes on

Having a car playlist so that the both of them could sing along

Going to Lando's parents for Christmas

Traditional British Christmas

Aka, roast dinner, pulling crackers, drinking, playing board games and ending the night with a cheese board

Taking his girlfriend around Guildford while they're in the UK

(I'm pretty sure it's Guildford - a youtube video from five years ago just popped up which said Guildford)

(Guildford is the halfway point between where I live now and where I actually live)

After a year and a half, Lando asks her to move in with him

Six months after that, they get a dog

A Doberman, collie, or golden retriever, I think

The name? Badger

Why? Daniel

Aka, Daniel knew the couple were going to adopt a dog

He had to get himself involved somehow and

He placed a wager - if Lando finished below P5 he'd get to name the dog

Y/N readily accepted

Lando DNFed that race

And so, the dog was named after the honey badger himself

To this day, Lando doesn't know

Lando is such a good dog dad

The dog doesn't come to the race weekends like Roscoe does with Lewis

Either Y/N stays home or the dog stays with a trusted friend if they had both gone

Lando's social media becomes a fan account for the dog

Having oh so many pregnancy scares with this man

Who doesn't love a late night run to the shop to get a pregnancy test or two?

They do eventually get pregnant

Y/N finds out on a race weekend

She was at home with Badger when she saw the pregnancy test in her bathroom cabinet

Video calling her best friend, Y/N took it

She waited the mandatory couple of minutes before she checked the little stick

She had to hang up on her friend

It was just meant to be for fun

Nothing serious

But then it turned serious

What the fuck was she going to do?

When the fuck would she tell Lando?

Should she tell him now, before he's about to go and race?

Yeah no, not a chance

Not with how much she was currently freaking out

She waits until he gets home from the race weekend

The test (and all of the others she'd done) had been thrown in the bin

All she had was herself

This was fine

She wasn't freaking out

(she was freaking out big time)

Y/N stayed up, waiting with Badger for Lando to come home

As soon as the door opened, she jumped up and faced him

Lando dropped his things when he saw her

He'd assumed she'd been asleep when he got in

But no, she was still awake

And he'd been waiting for him

Warmth spread through him

Normally, when Y/N waited up for Lando, she'd jump into his arms

But not this time

She just stood there, staring at him

"I've got something to tell you"

Anxiety spread through Lando

Y/N told him

He dropped to his knees

Well, his one knee

For the longest time Lando had been looking for a sign that he should propose

He wanted to, he desperately wanted to

He was just looking for some sort of sign

This wasn't a sign, it was a slap in the face

With all of the racing, Lando hadn't yet managed to buy her a ring

He'd really meant to

When he got down onto one knee, it was at the very back of his mind

"Marry me?"

Yeah, that was how he asked

Of course, Y/N said yes

Lando began running around, looking for some rope or yarn or twine that he could wrap around her finger until he got a proper ring

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vqlluna · 11 months ago

Text

CLOSURE ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

summary: it's been years since you confessed your love to Remus, and he couldn't reciprocate it. It's been years since your days at Hogwarts ended, and you're now recouped back with your schoolmates for a holiday party. What could go wrong?

pairings: f!reader x remus lupin, angst, fluff,

a/n: ngl this is partly based on the beginning of my parent's little love story, and of course, this is based on closure by taylor swift (and basically the whole evermore album)

❝ IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, and seeing the shape of your name just spells out pain. It wasn't right the way it all went down, looks like you know that now... ❞

You quickly ran down the stairs of your apartment, trying your best to fit the silver hoop through your ear without harming yourself. You tripped your way into your incredibly small kitchen, shuffling at the island counter, which only was filled with months-old letters, bills, and notices, trying your best to find a specific invitation.

Mary Macdonald had been your best schoolmate during your years at Hogwarts, and despite, by now a few years, of barely speaking to her or anyone in her crowd, she'd been so kind as to invite you to a wonderfully large and fancy Christmas Party.

And it was for this very reason as to why you stood in your most expensive dress, dug out from the back of your closet. You wiped your sweaty hands on the velvet fabric before delving back into the mountain of parchment searching for the envelope that held every single piece of information you neglected to put to memory that would get you into that party.

You were desperate to spend your Holidays not stuck in your parent's home for once. But it was only once you accidentally stumbled into a large stack as every single piece of paper collapsed on the floor, that you realized who might actually be there. You carefully picked up small clumps, replacing them back on the counter as you eyed the very last one.

It was quite dusty with small water stains sprinkled and it was extremely crumpled. Your jaw clenched as you picked it up and placed it at the edge of the counter. You inhaled a large breath before snapping your head in a different direction as you finally saw the invitation in your peripheral.

You ran to your living area grabbed your purse and ran back as you gripped the envelope. As expected, you've managed to make yourself late. You waddled on over in your heels to the small entranceway and picked up your coat and wand from the coat rack.

Maybe in a moment of weakness or a flood of memories, you looked back to the dirty crinkled piece of parchment in your kitchen. It was a big party, there would barely be any chance you'd see him, you assured yourself. And in fact even if you do, you can do you best to avoid him, you planned.

You shook your head and stepped back towards the island. Gripping the envelope tightly you shoved it into the pocket of your coat.

But if by any chance you ended up speaking with him tonight, you'd surely give it back, you couldn't possibly bear the weight of that note anymore, and you surely had no use for it now.

Taking a deep sigh you adjusted the collar of your jacket, patting now your hair in the mirror before exiting your old townhome. You locked the door behind you and shoved your hands into your pockets. You squeezed the envelope inside it almost in comfort before you apparated yourself away.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know ya', right to the bone... ❞

After you found yourself apparated to an area which you knew was near your designation you crunched the snow beneath your heels as you walked, almost aimlessly, to the party. Upon seeing the large estate you felt wildly unprepared and under-dressed. Least to say it was a luxurious event.

You stumbled up the steps, nervously searching through the vast halls, filled with fishes of people, to find a pair of, wanted, familiar eyes. You found yourself in the gigantic main room, as witches and wizards conversed among themselves, grabbing the treats and drinks off the trays of staff.

You were stopped as one of the waiters offered you a truffle, interested in the beautiful dessert you picked it up and turned around as you shoved it in your face, only to accidentally bump into another figure. The woman you'd crashed into turned around, their bright red hair flashing your eyes. As you got a good look at the person your face fell.

"Oh my—Merlin! y/n is that you?" she excitedly asked, disregarding your muttered apology and quickness in trying to whip back around. You cringed and turned back around on your heel giving a fake smile.

"Lily—my Godric, hi," you breathed.

Lily slowly parted from her current conversation to partake in one with you. "Well I haven't seen you in forever! Where are you, what do you do now?" she questioned.

You wiped your sweaty palms once again on the fabric of your dress, "I, uhm, I live in Chudley now," you chuckled nervously "I'm an artist, a painter actually."

The red-headed girl looked at you in such awe, and you were certainly in disbelief as to why. "Wow y/n, have you sold much? Featured in a gallery ever?" she was completely interested. It was then that you remembered that she was always like this, but it'd been so long that you'd forgotten what it was like to have someone engaged in what you had to say.

Your smile finally picked up a bit, "Yes, actually, got my first gallery showing about a week ago, it's still up for a couple of months! But uh, regarding sales, it's enough to keep the lights on, y'know?"

"Well I think it's absolutely lovely that you're working your dream, that's really great," Lily appreciated, "I'm assuming you're trying to find Mary, come along this way, she with the rest of them!" she waved on, but your feet were planted in the ground.

You gulped down the last tiny bit of your truffle, you eyebrows knitted together as you stuttered, "The—the uhm, the rest of them?"

Lily's excitement softened at your mutters, "Oh you're still—" she said slightly surprised but she cut herself off in fear of saying something offensive, "He hasn't arrived yet," she assured, then lowering her voice in a whisper, "We're not sure if he's coming, it's around that time."

You grew a small frown, "Ah," you hummed, "He uh, well," you dug out the letter from your pocket, waving it in front of Lily as she read the senders name printed in the corner. Her lips pressed together as she nodded, giving you relief as she disregarded it and intended to act like she didn't see the letter, nor knew anything of the situation guiding you through the nets of attendees.

You took a large breath of bravery through your nose as you slowly approached the circle of very familiar faces. You first caught Marlene Mckinnon's attention, catching you in her view her eyebrows lifted as her mouth formed a small O.

Following her gaze, Sirius finally saw you, his eyes widened in utter shock as he absentmindedly nudged James beside him. Looking at the disturbance James' cheeks puffed up with air before exhaling it out. Dorcas, who stood at the other end beside Marlene watched the scene and you could see her mouth the word "shit," at everyone's upset.

How were you to approach a group of old friends who now semi-hated you but yet felt incredibly sorry for you? Instead of stressing over the others, you focussed on how Mary squealed with joy upon seeing you. She slightly waddled a run in her heels over to you as she embraced you warmly. "You came!"

You scrunched your face with a grin as you pulled back, "Of course, Mary! Needed to get out of the house anyways," you smiled, she put you at ease even while Marlene looked at you so skeptically and as James and Sirius exchanged glasses before downing the rest their glasses of champagne in their hands.

"Well if it isn't y/n y/l," Marlene smirked, it completely confused you because while the rest of her face seemed elated to see you, her eyes seemed to almost be throwing daggers at you. The rest of the women quickly warmed up to you as you entered the conversation, though James and Sirius kept almost unnervingly quiet. Above all, you noticed the absence of Peter and him.

Finally, the conversation began to smooth, the group being able to get quite a few good hearty laughs from you. Though the ends of your Hogwarts days were a touchy subject that everyone mindlessly agreed not to talk about, you all got caught up in reminiscing on events previous to it.

But it soon came to a close as Peter ran up, "I've got a surprise f'you all!" he exclaimed gripping the back of James' shoulder as he squeezed himself between the pair of men before he looked across the circle to you. He opened his mouth to say something before tightly shutting it closed.

Behind him followed another man. He was tall, dressed his best scraggly black coat, a white undershirt, and black slacks all tied together with a matching black tie. His ruffly brown hair didn't match his attire, and neither did the deep scars that lined his face, some old but some fresh and new, but either way he was undeniably beautiful.

He slowed to a stop in the small opening between Peter and Sirius as his half-lidded eyes and warm smile turned into repetitive blinking of disbelief and lips in awe.

And for a moment, the rapid growing beat of your heart, as you saw his figure coming, came to a complete stop.

And everything was deadly silent.

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure... ❞

The group stood still and quiet for seconds as their eyes flickered between the two of you, itching to see the reactions. The awkwardness between everything grew to a hot before Sirius shut it down, to the relief of everyone except you.

"So who needs a drink?" he asked, and like a pounce of a tiger, everyone utters their Yups and Yes's and Count Me In's, scurrying away quickly. Mary was the last to leave, fighting with herself in her head if it was better to let you deal with it for once or keep you safe from this horror you desperately tried to stay away from.

You dipped your head down staring at your shoes trying to avoid his eyes. It was only when he cleared his throat that you snapped ur attention back up to him. "Remus," you greeted quickly with his name, flashing a fake, uncomfortable smile.

He grazed your figure with his eyes for a beat before he muttered your name, "y/n."

The air felt cold and thick against your exposed skin, your necklace and dress growing tight on your skin from hearing your name from his lips again. "How are you—"

"Cut it with the niceties Moo—Lupin," you stopped him, "You can have your letter back," you growled digging the letter back out of your pocket and shoving it in his hand, "I've gotten all of them, but this one... you need to take this one back. I don't want it," you gritted.

"Y/n, I just. You wouldn't talk to me, I needed you to know—" Remus changed, not wanting your disacceptence.

"So filling my mail with your stupid words would get us through to each other? You did all this to yourself."

"I didn't know you had—Look I'm sorry but I was scared—"

You scoffed and laughed in his face adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder, "I'm not doing this with you right now, here, after all this time. I'll send the rest of your letters over another day, K?" you ended turning around walking out of the grand room and through the halls.

Remus' heart clenched in love of hearing your laugh but hated the circumstances it was under, begging for this conversation, to clear up every single miscommunication and wrong step, he followed you out.

You crossed by the open bar finding Mary and everyone else downing drinks. You took her hands into your own, "Thanks for inviting me Mary, truly, but I best get going now," you thanked quickly, ignoring Remus behind you with his open mouth with empty words. He only flicked his eyes to the group for a fraction of a second before landing back to you, still closely following you out as you grabbed your coat at the door and exited the mansion.

❝ Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I'm fine with my spite, and my tears, and my beers, and my candles. I can feel you smoothing me over... ❞

You were halfway across the large courtyard as Remus scurried down the steps, "I loved you!" he exclaimed. You froze and a sharp breath filled your lungs as you whipped around, and you let yourself fully remember what happened for once.

It was the start of your seventh year at Hogwarts. Everyone knew something was brewing between you and Remus. The strong tension, the back-and-forth banters, subtle compliments, and executing favors with no question.

It felt like a silent agreement between you two as the flirtations grew more obvious. Every sight of him caught you winded, and every touch had you melt to the floor, when he finally kissed you, you couldn't help but feel yourself explode with your own personal fireworks. Until he pulled away.

Rumors that he started talking to someone new shattered you. Soon your heartbreak filled with rage, he'd lead you on only to crush you and leave you stranded. And where once, he helped you captain your ship, you soon found him drowned away as you frantically steered yourself into an iceberg.

Your anger so strong you couldn't even look at him, and so you left anything related to him altogether.

Because you thought you had something, only to be made to feel like you meant nothing. Your graduation day only led to more despair as Remus sought you out once again, with the courage to confess. You shut him down and locked him out. It was the loudest and yet most silent, lonely, train ride home.

You blinked back to the present, Remus and you still in the exact moment and positions. Your jaw clenched as his next words came out so softly, so slowly, like a whisper only you could hear across the courtyard. "I still love you."

❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know you right to the bone. Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure. Your closure, your closure, your closure...❞

The fire in your stomach was lit again, "Don't. Moony, just don't. What was that letter? Huh?" you begged, "'I'm letting you go. I hope you're life is swell'? What was that bloody shit? Because it sure seemed to me like a let's-catch-up-like-good-old-friends type of letter! Not a I've-loved-you-after-all-these-years!" you shouted angrily stomping your way up to him.

"You didn't even try! In any of your letters! All you do is act like it's fine or give empty apologies. So please, explain now, give me a real reason for everything, but don't give me this shit."

He stared at you in worry as your bottom lip quivered, eyes glazed in gloss. "I was trying to stop loving you."

You sobbed a wolfish laugh, "Bull. Shit." you said, pushing his chest away, "You knew I was interested! You knew! So don't give me that absolute fuckery because it makes no sense!"

"I couldn't burden you with—everything—all my...problems," he whimpered, "You needed, you need someone stable. You need someone who can give you a home and family like you wanted."

You parted you lips at his confessions of insecurties, "Remus, I'm a full time artist, barely making it to keep my water on—" you tried explaining back to him.

"I saw your gallery, you know! You need someone who's going to help you show off more of your talent, not hold you back! So why haven't you found someone yet? Stop sitting around hung up on me—" he rambled on, getting angier as you tried driving him away, but bits of every sentence he said added fuel to your burning fire.

"I am not hung up on you!" you exclaimed.

"So why are you here begging me for reasons why I didn't want to be with you? Why do you have to freeze every damn time you look at me, and for Merlin's sake, why've you kept all my letters?"

Your face blackened while you glared into his eyes. And while your fear of confrontation was afraid of confronting what went down, it was the fear of confronting what still lingered. You still loved him. That's what you wrote in the only letter you ever wrote back, the letter you never sent.

And maybe that's why his letters stopped coming. When he was finally ready to let go and take his risks to have you, you neglected to accept his grasp.

❝I know I'm just a wrinkle in your past life. Staying friends would iron it out so nice. Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me. But it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary...❞

You didn't know why you did it, well you knew why you did it, but you didn't know what came of you. Because instead of pushing him away, you gripped tightly onto the collar of his white shirt, dragging and pulling him to you as you crashed your lips onto his.

And when he, very quickly, kissed you back, your hands skidded up grasping the sides of his face, his own hands pressing your back closer into him. Your lips toppled over each other fueled with passion, craning his neck down just to feel more of you.

You didn't mind that the chilly air froze your cheeks because when the snow came falling you knew it was for the two of you, hoping that it'd freeze you in this moment. You panted lightly through your nose as Remus finally pulled back from you, dashing his eyes all across your face trying to read you.

"Because I don't want you to let go, Remus," you whispered your answer back, Remus shaking his head sofly and rapidly in assurance of your words, "I'm fine with your problems, I'm fine if you can't give me a family, I'm fine if you can't give me a steady life." you scrambled tripping over your own words.

After avoiding his gaze you finally let his chases of finding your eyes catch up with you. "I don't want just a life, Rem. I wanted a life with you. You can't just try to let go of me, can't just stop loving me because you're scared of that," you scolded, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

"You need to let yourself love someone, you've— you need to give me a chance so I can love you." you pressed. Your stomach fluttered as he gave you a soft kiss as your lips once more, and this time when he pulled back he kept his eyes on yours, not letting you look away. You didn't want to look away, you were hanging on waiting for him to say something, anything.

"I will."

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supernovafics · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness.

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch.

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan.

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock.

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be.

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him.

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.”

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words.

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other.

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance.

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.”

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.”

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.”

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?”

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?”

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs.

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be.

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday.

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door.

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care.

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.”

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve.

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth.

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve.

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies.

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.”

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door.

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.”

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful.

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that.

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible.

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you.

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again.

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different.

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year.

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning.

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him.

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.”

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.”

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.”

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously.

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.”

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?”

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.”

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided.

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.”

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

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writesleah · 11 months ago

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christmas headcannons ౨ৎ m. riddle

౨ৎ mattheo riddle x reader

౨ৎ pure fluff

౨ৎ mentions of childhood neglect if you squint, nothing else just super adorable, fluffy mattheo

౨ৎ I ADORE THIS MAN these might just be projections of my feelings towards christmas but i swear he loves it too

this man adores christmas

he always denies it, but he always looks forward to it

every. single. year.

when you two are just starting to speak, he might mention how he enjoys the 25th, but nothing more than that

the second he gets comfortable with you, it’s non stop rambling

“two months until christmas”

“it’s almost december”

it would be annoying if you didn’t adore him so much

it’s not just christmas day, it’s the entire month of december, the entire season of winter

he’ll always be begging you to do some sort of christmassy activity with him, thinking you’ll say no because it’s stupid

he feels like it makes him seem childish, so you have to reassure him that you love his enthusiasm and adorable date ideas

from december 1st, the two of you will be ice skating on a lake, or drinking candy cane flavoured hot chocolate whilst watching the snow fall

every single day is a new opportunity to do something vaguely related to christmas or the winter months with him

if you ask him what he wants for christmas, he’d either give you the biggest list you’d ever heard, or he wouldn’t ask you for anything and just say he didn’t know what he wanted - one extreme to the other

i think his obsession comes from the constant craving of a good christmas during his childhood

i don’t think his parents would’ve been interested in christmas at all, so it left him always wishing he could enjoy it

when he found you, he realised that there are people who do actually care about his interests or his favourite time of year

he was utterly grateful for your understanding, even if it seems incredibly simple to you

the second you ask him if he wants to watch a movie with you, he decides it has to be a christmas movie

no matter what time of year it is, always a christmas movie

his favourite movie is the grinch, you watch it every year

he also likes the polar express, but just because he can laugh at the animation and tease you for not liking its uncanny valley effect

he can’t watch home alone, it’s just a little too relatable, considering his childhood, but he never admits to that, he always says he thinks it’s boring

he would stay at hogwarts over christmas as long as you stayed with him

staying at school meant that you could have the slytherin boy’s dormitory all to yourselves, without any of the boys he shared with blabbing on and ruining your peace

on christmas eve, he likes to get all cozy in bed with matching pyjamas and a mug of hot chocolate each

christmas morning is his absolute favourite

he goes above and beyond with your presents

you always feel like he shows you up, considering that he always tells you to either pick one thing from his extensive list, or not to get him anything at all, leaving you scrambling to figure out what he wants

he reassures you that he loves whatever you get him, and makes sure that you like your presents too

the entire morning, he’s rambling on about how excited he is for the food

he loves brussel sprouts, even though you can’t stand them

he hates pigs in blankets, thinks they’re the absolute scum of christmas dinner, much to your dismay since you love them so much

so when you have brussel sprouts on your plate and he has pigs in blankets, you’ll both give them to each other, so you have double the amount of the food you like

roast potatoes are common ground. you both like them

he’ll always pour the gravy for you if you want it, and he’ll always help you to fix your food onto a plate

he can’t ever stop helping you, even if he knows you don’t need it

when you finish eating, he immediately either wants to watch a movie or play some sort of game, depending on who else stayed at hogwarts

and yes, as much as he hates it, he will watch the eastenders christmas special with you

#fanfic #harry potter #benjamin wadsworth #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfiction #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #taylor swift #mattheo riddle #christmas #headcanon #christmas headcannons #mattheo riddle headcanon

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shalotttower · 11 months ago

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Sweetcheeks

Title: Sweetcheeks

Fandom: Black Christmas (1974)

Summary: You've been getting these odd calls for several months now.

Word count: 2000+

Characters: Billy Lenz x Reader (female)

Notes: Yandere!Billy (I'm not sure if there's a point to specify it, seems like his normal state), stalking, voyeurism, explicit and degrading vocabulary, some regular Billy perversions, NSFW, noncon touching, implied noncon by the end.

You've been getting these calls from a stranger for several months, ever since you moved into the sorority house. When the phone rings, what you might hear is easy to predict: creepy panting accompanied by lewd remarks. There's a breathy, slightly raspy voice on the other end; Hello, sweetcheeks, whatcha got down them pants?

He calls you that, "sweetcheeks". Says your name as if it were the loveliest word ever. "Naughty girl," he croons, "let me lick your hot cunt". Nasty bitch. Angel. He has an extensive collection of nicknames, and keeps expanding it with every passing day. Some of them are quite creative, others made your skin crawl at first, but eventually you got used to his bizarre expressions.

He never gets tired of these calls.

The sorority girls named him the Moaner, because he does it quite a lot - moans. Moans and says obscene things, which make your face flush in a hot wave of pink.

"Did you think of me?" he asks.

Do you ever think of me?

"I could-" he groans those filthy words, and you want to wash your ears with soap, "fuck your brains out. Dirty whore. Your... mmm."

You slam the receiver down. It always happens when least expected. In the middle of a conversation with other girls, during study hours, when you're cooking or getting ready for bed, he calls. There's no pattern, so it's impossible to anticipate; normally you just answer the phone when there's no one else around or let others tell him to fuck off.

Today is almost the same as usual, with the only exception that you don't pick up.

What follows can't be described: the unbearable, insane trilling of the phone ringing without a pause. You don't want to go downstairs, there're finals, tests and assignments weighing heavily on you and no time to indulge the ever-breathing presence behind the line. So you don't. Luckily, a set of ear plugs from the local pharmacy helps a lot.

***

You don't bother answering for the whole week, yet despite your neglect he still calls as if desperate for something you can't place.

***

If only Billy could tell you how sweet you look when getting ready for bed. Through the attic floor cracks he sees every small detail of your routine, the room which is nice and smells of a woman - clean, soft with the hints of perfume, it makes him want to bury his face in your sheets.

If only Billy could tell you how exhilarating everything about you is. From the way you move through the day to the sound of your bare feet padding on the wooden floors in the evening. His favourite part is when you shake off your jeans; it's a clumsy movement which makes your ass wiggle.

Billy has a small box where he stores the pieces of your life. There's a receipt from the bakery, two pencils, a silver chain that broke off from your neck and he grabbed it like a treasure, a lip balm. You are all his, every bit of you in those little things you leave behind, even if you don't know it yet.

He knows so many things by now. What time you usually go to shower (late at night when all other girls are asleep), what you are going to wear in the morning (he saw you ironing a blue fluffy sweater and a checked skirt). He knows what's in each of your drawers, from cosmetics to panties, soft cotton that smells like laundry detergent.

The box is hidden carefully in the dusty corner of the attic. Sometimes he opens it, caressing the items you left so carelessly on the desk or bathroom counter - they burn his fingers.

You have a mole under your left breast, a beauty mark on your inner thigh. He also knows that you haven't been answering his calls for a week.

Engrossed in your books with sticky notes, you don't even pay attention to the ringing when he's trying so hard. Too bad Billy can't read, letters dance before his eyes, mocking him with their squiggly shapes; maybe he'd know what exactly is keeping you so occupied if he could. He heard some girls talking about upcoming finals but didn't understand what that meant.

Billy knows how to handle a girl who doesn't answer the phone, a naughty, mean girl who ignores him and gets under his skin like the itch he can't scratch, irritating, driving him crazy.

Patience is a virtue - that's what they told him in the looney house, but it must've been a lie. Patience won't bring you closer, he thinks, sitting cross-legged on the attic floor with a phone clutched in his palm. Patience won't help him touch you, lick your soft skin and hear you moan for him. In the cramped space smelling of old wood, dust and cobwebs, patience only leads to days crawling by like sluggish worms.

He knows how to handle the girl who doesn't answer his calls, but you do look tired, the shadows under your eyes are too heavy and prominent. Billy watches you rub your temples for the fourth time in an hour, yawning. He's seen this gesture before, saw you massaging the back of your head after reading for too long.

He likes watching you when you think no one's looking, because then you're most honest. Just you.

Maybe Billy will let you rest. Yes, maybe...But his hands itch so much. Itchy-itchy-itchy when he holds the phone. He wants to dial your number again, listen to your breathing and tell you something that will make your voice waver in confusion, just like that time when he asked what sounds you make when touching yourself.

He strokes the cord and imagines when you'll finally start picking up again. You'll say your name and ask, "Who's this?" and Billy will laugh, because you're silly, so silly and should've known it's him all along.

***

When did it begin to snow?

You remember the sun peeking from behind the clouds a few days ago and now there's nothing but whiteness outside. White paths, white street lights and white flakes melting on the glass windows. The kitchen feels quiet today, walls drip with the evening chill which crawls inside your veins; it's a week before Christmas and the radio is playing jolly songs about sleigh bells and presents.

Something's been off lately.

Another pair of your favorite socks is gone; you bought five, but three vanished without a trace. Maybe you lost them, maybe they got mixed up with others' laundry. Yet you distinctly remember washing the two and putting them away in the drawer. Usually you're not that forgetful, but perhaps it's finals stress shows.

You glance at the clock - past six - the sorority house is mostly empty, everyone's either in the library or went home for Christmas. The last few hours passed in decorating the living room area with tinsel and ornaments, you even put a wreath on the door. A festive mood is slowly seeping in, and all that's missing is a tree. You know that one should be in the attic, Allison told you there's a lot of stuff up there. The house is old, and whoever owned it in the past had a lot of things, from clothes and books to trinkets, all stored away in cardboard boxes and plastic containers.

Sturdy and narrow, the attic ladder is hanging down to the hallway, beckoning with its crooked wooden rungs. Allison mentioned some odd noises coming from there sometimes. Probably rodents. "Go take a look, girl," she laughed and made spooky sounds, wiggling her fingers. "But don't tell me if you find something nasty, I don't wanna know about it."

Your eyes wander over the ceiling and stop at a small trapdoor. There are rusty hooks holding it closed, and you wonder if it's safe to go up alone. It's probably dirty, a real mess, but the living room looks empty and unfinished without a Christmas tree.

Just a quick look. As long as there aren't spiders swarming the corners it'll be alright.

Everything's dark up there, nothing moves and the sound of your quiet breath is the only thing breaking the silence. You pull a flashlight out of your pocket. Flick. Nothing. Stacks of boxes crowd the space, pressing together, on the side of a particularly large container is scribbled: BOX 23. You look through the labels - toys, photographs, china, books - dozens and dozens of them, some haven't been opened for years.

Dirty. Stuffy-dusty, Billy's saliva gets sticky, leaving wet stains on his sleeves as he wipes his mouth. He can see you from where he's hiding. It's hard to breathe. Harder when you bend over to open a box with Christmas decorations; you've got nice thighs. Nice legs. It's so good to have you here, sweetcheeks, you won't leave soon, pretty kitty. Dumb bitch. Sweet angel. You really should've stayed downstairs, in the warmth and light of the fireplace, instead of crawling up here into the darkness.

Into him.

You go through the attic space looking for something, and Billy thinks that your soft slippers will be covered in dust after you're done poking around, all filthy, so messy. But it doesn't matter, Billy will clean you up later with his tongue, and you can sit on his blanket while he licks your hot cunt till you scream.

Billy knows exactly what kind of sounds you'll make.

He's heard them countless times already.

A sudden clank makes you jump. Your heart flutters, but there's nothing except for shadows dancing on the walls under the ray of your flashlight. Maybe a rat? Oh, there it is. A green plastic branch of a fake Christmas tree is sticking out from the nearest pile, just what you were looking for. You tug at it, trying to free it from the clutches of old furniture and junk, but the thing is stuck tight.

Billy wants to grab you. Wrap his arms around your waist, press his face to yours and whisper in your ear that you shouldn't worry about the Christmas tree anymore, because now you're going to stay forever and ever with him. He'll let you stroke his cheek and kiss him softly on the lips before carrying you down the ladder to celebrate together. Billy will take care of it, he's always liked Christmas; there was a time when everything was different, a man dressed up as Santa brought gifts, he even remembers what he got - a shiny red truck and a candy cane.

The flashlight slips from your grasp and rolls over the dusty floorboards. You curse, crouch down and reach for it though the hole between the boxes.

The trapdoor shuts close with a loud thud.

Your hand freezes.

There's a breath. Not yours, it tickles your fingertips and the skin of your palm like a feather; it shouldn't be there - you scramble away from the darkness. Or try to. Something warm catches your wrist in a vice grip, pulls and next you're tumbling forward, right through the hole with Christmas ornaments spilling everywhere.

"Nasty piggy," says someone's raspy voice, "why don'tcha pick up my calls anymore?"

In the dim yellow of your flashlight too far out of reach, you can barely see anything, only glimpses of dirty auburn hair, brown eyes and a green stretched jumper.

It's not a rat in the attic, you think. It's not a rat, he smells like a wet dog and has hot lips which press into your throat. His hands shake as they travel up your sides, touch your breasts through the sweater, squeeze, and then he moans.

You've been getting these calls for several months now, from a stranger who pants on the other end of the line and makes obscene remarks. And you know him by voice, the one who likes talking filth and making you blush every damn day.

"Santa brought presents," he whispers in your ear. A hand slides down between your legs and cups your mound through the fabric. "Merry Christmas, sweetcheeks."

#black christmas (1974)#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #shalott fanfiction #fanfic #slashers #slasher fanfiction #yandere #I'm late and I don't care #it's Christmas

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peterparkouryo · 1 month ago

Text

no way remedy | ꕥ

back to school. | ꕥ

warnings: angst per usual, and a glimpse of fluff :3

word count: 3.3k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

IT HAD BEEN TWO WEEKS SINCE PETER'S IDENTITY WAS REVEALED. Two weeks left of your summer break, tomorrow being the first day of school that you dreaded with each hour that passed by.

As expected, your dad limited your hangouts with Peter, not wanting you to face more trouble than you already ensued before, which, yeah was ultimately understandable, but you both knew he couldn't just deprive you from seeing your boyfriend. He opted to one hour phone calls instead.

You and Peter had broken that rule, going hours on end during the night while your dad slept soundlessly, oblivious to your loophole.

Currently, you were doing just that, chatting on FaceTime, paying no mind to the fact that it was a school night.

You had missed Peter these past few weeks, and you were finally glad you'd be able to see him tomorrow, but there was no doubt chaos would be awaiting you and your friends.

"Did you get a chance to send in your applications?" You questioned after your conversation about things you expected for Christmas died out.

"I literally just finished my MIT one." Peter tells you, the phone screen bright in your face, a stark contrast from the darkness that surrounded you.

You knew the chances were slim with getting into certain colleges, so you all had came up with a plan to apply to the same backup colleges if all goes wrong, or if miraculously none of you were accepted.

"You?" He retorted back.

"I did, few weeks ago." You admit, shuffling into a more comfortable position.

Peter hums out a response. "Could you imagine if we both got in? MJ and Ned too?" The boy wondered, to which you nod in agreement to. That was the plan after all.

"Yeah, but we'd probably have to get scholarships so that we could actually go." You say, a bit doubtful at your chances.

It's not that you didn't have hope, but with everything that's been going on, you knew your chances of getting in decreased, scholarship or not.

"Come on, you got the scores and the grades." Peter reassured you, dismissing your rational words.

You squint at him in scepticism.

"Are you trying to say I'm being too realistic?" You pondered, raising your eyebrow expectingly.

You probably were, but your question wasn't serious, just only teasing.

"No-, well, yeah, maybe." Peter stuttered out his reply carefully.

Peter shrugs as you let out a low chuckle, watching his face relax into relief, realizing the question wasn't to be taken serious.

"That's okay, though." Peter said after two seconds of silence, giving you a small smile.

"It's one of the many things I love about you." Peter confessed, and he could've swore your eyes got brighter at his sentence.

You smile, feeling the heat warm up your face at his disclosure. The boy seemed to always know what to say at any given time, one of the many things you loved about him.

"Really?" You amused, Peter giving you a small nod.

"What are the other things?" You wondered, rubbing your cold feet together in attempt to keep them warm.

Peter pretends to think about it for a second, and you roll your eyes at his stunt.

"Well.." He starts, with a smile plastered on his face.

"I love how brave you are." The boy tells you, looking back at the phone.

You hum, waiting for him to continue.

"You're also super nice to people." Peter jokes, to which you laugh at.

"Yup, I just love being nice." You agreed sarcastically.

"Your humour, which can be...really dark at times." Peter continued, you give him a grateful smile.

"It makes it more funny." You say nonchalantly, giving Peter a cheeky smile, watching the boy shake his head.

"And..." He trailed off.

"You make me really happy." Peter finalized, and your heart just about flutters in your chest.

You never really made it a goal to prioritized Peter's happiness, but you would never neglect it on purpose either. There was just this unspoken agreement that you had to always no matter what, make the most of what you had. There were going to be times and obstacles in your life that you would face, and you hoped in some way Peter would be there with you every step of the way.

You could say just about the same as well. You never had anyone in your life make you feel the way you felt when around Peter. His presence was enough to make you melt into a puddle, and you were glad you had found him.

You were truly thankful for him. If he asked for the world, you would give it to him in a heartbeat.

You open your mouth to express your reciprocation, but something, or someone snoring obnoxiously loud in the background breaks your train of thought.

"What's that noise?" You quizzed with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, it's Happy, look." Peter replies with a whisper, panning his phone over to a sleeping Happy in his recliner.

"Gave his room to May so he's sleeping down here." The boy adds informally, and you slowly nod before deciding to change the topic.

Since the unexpected situation at Times Square that happened, you had this nagging thought in the back of your head that always seemed to make a guest appearance when you were alone with your daydreaming.

You wanted to ask Peter for awhile now, but you never had the time, or chance to.

You figured now's a good time more than any.

"I have a..weird question." You start unsurely, your tone lowering with each word.

You didn't know how to ask it, really. It only just being a thought in your head, words jumbled together, not really making sense, but you thought it never the less.

"Does any part of you feel relieved about all of this?" You finally let out, watching your boyfriend's face twist in confusion at the lack of context you provided.

"What do you mean?" He questioned.

"Like, with the whole identity thing being revealed." You say more clearly, and his face pondered at your sentence.

A few seconds of silence creeps through the phone, the question still lingering in the air, awaiting to be answered.

"Ever since I got bit by that spider.." Peter starts, breaking the silence as he slowly answered the question.

"I only had one week where my life felt normal." He tells you and you couldn't help but feel bad.

"Or kind of normal, I guess." Peter adds and you nod in silence as he continues.

"And, that is when you found out." He says, gazing back at the phone.

You pout slightly, your sympathetic eyes staring behind your phone as you listened.

"Because then everyone that was in my life that I wanted to know, knew." Peter admits, and your eyes shift back toward the phone.

You understood where Peter was coming from, glad your question was answered. You really couldn't imagine the things your boyfriend had to go through after being bitten by a radioactive spider.

"And it was perfect."

You sigh in defeat, your face falls into a sad expression, at a lost for words or even a proper reply.

"But now everybody knows and I am the most famous person in the entire world." Peter states with a heavy sigh as he stared at the condo ceiling.

"And I'm still broke." The boy joked, making you let out a giggle.

You were silent for another minute, your heart beating at a steady rhythm against your chest, content with Peter's answer.

You couldn't bare another day without physically seeing him, the daily routined phone calls not enough.

"I really miss you." You tell him with a soft tone, your eyes looking at the carpet of your bedroom before looking back at the phone, seeing Peter's face gleam.

"Yeah?" He asked with a smile.

"Mhm." You hummed. "I also can't wait to see you at school tomorrow." You confessed, your eyes half lidded, tiredness hitting you like an ocean wave.

"I miss you, and I too can't wait to see you at school tomorrow." Peter retorts, his smile only growing wider with each word he says.

"Wrap it up." A voice demands from Peter's end of the phone, making the boy jump in alert, as you just furrow your eyebrows.

"You both like each other. We get it. Hang up." Happy countered sternly and you fight back a laugh at his annoyance.

"There's no new ground being broken. I need my eight hours." The older man says, his voice muffled by the ventilator.

"Have you been listening this whole time?" Peter questioned.

"Hi Happy." You greet awkwardly.

"Uh, not by choice." The man admits, to which you do laugh at.

"Y/N says hi." Peter tells the grumpy man.

"Hello." He waves, slowly drifting off back into his slumber.

You two suppress your giggles after Happy falls asleep again. It only got harder since the mere thought of poor Happy listening to you two talk all sappy to each other, tortured him, and you could take a few guesses as to why.

You yawn after you both stop your laughter, the action not going unnoticed by Peter.

"You should probably get your eight hours in." The boy teased, you snort at his joke, nodding in agreement.

"You as well." You tell him, stretching the lower half of your body, once again shifting into a cosier position.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, 'kay?" Peter agreed, and you could see the sleepiness in his eyes.

It was a wonder how it only took Happy breaking your conversation midway to make the two of you realize just how tired you were.

"Goodnight Peter." You reply, a lazy smile on your face.

"Goodnight." The boy says softly, the phone call coming to an end.

You stretch once more, putting your phone on the nightstand near your bed, turning over to get more comfier under your blanket, closing your eyes and picturing a world where you and your friends didn't have to go through the torment you were going through now.

Hopefully your school day wouldn't be as bad as you thought.

School was just as bad as you thought. As soon as you exit the car, there was a mob of either citizens or students swarming the front of the school.

You and MJ had to ride to school with Peter and Ned, via Happy's request because May feared the worst if you four weren't together when attending school. You were glad that she suggested it, because compared to how you imagined, it was chaos.

Chaos is probably a bit of a stretch, but when you were walking up to the school, there was people with homemade posters, claiming just how wrongly villainous Peter was, blaming the boy for Mysterio's death.

As mentioned before you weren't a people person, and you didn't do well in a large crowd, though this wasn't exactly your problem, you made it your problem because you knew Peter. You don't regret it one bit though. The one thing you wished for really was for the people to understand Peter's side of the story.

No one deserves to be wrongly accused for something they didn't do, but you knew how the world worked. People believed what they wanted to believe.

Your anxiety worsen as you walked side by side next to said person, Peter, your sister, MJ, and best friend Ned, closely behind the two of you.

You and Peter instinctively reached for each-other's hand, being one another's unsaid emotional support, guiding through the roaring crowds of people dreadfully.

People were either shouting your name, Peter's name, even Ned and MJ's. Some were saying things you couldn't quite hear, insults here and there, one civilian even asking you if you were going to have Peter's, "spider babies". You shivered at the thought.

Thankfully, a lady who guided you through the crowd, had made sure no one got too close to you or your friends.

"You know he's a murderer right?

"Peter. Do a TikTok with me."

"Mysterio forever!"

"Do a flip!"

Was all you heard as you walked by, your gaze worriedly going to Peter's who face was pinched with cringe, his strong urge to ignore the words being thrown at him.

When the four of you had finally arrive at the threshold of the front doors of Midtown, there was a few security guards waiting at the door, one with a body scanner.

The one with the body scanner, scans Peter, who after he was done attempted to wait for you and your friends, but obviously they wouldn't let him, and your face is evident in defeat.

"I'll see you inside, okay?" Peter reassures as a security guard body scans you, you give him a weak nod.

Soon after, MJ, and Ned get scanned as well, you waited inside the building patiently.

One of the front doors open, revealing MJ, who quickly goes over to hug you, her curly hair in a down do hairstyle, different from her common one you were so used to.

You quickly hug her back, embracing each-other for awhile before pulling back.

"You okay?" You ask her, she nods in response.

"Yeah, where's Peter?" She questioned.

"Class probably." You answer unsurely.

To be fair, you really had no idea where your boyfriend had went. You figured he'd be in class anyway, but not without going through expecting students that most likely lingered in the hallway.

It was your senior year you realize, this was supposed to be it. Instead you were doing everything but beaming with happiness as your final year finally rolled around.

"'S fine, we have him next period." She says, linking her arm with yours as the two of you wait for Ned.

You had no first period class with the two of them, but you decided on earlier in the car you all would walk each-other to your classes, but since the plan backfired, you just had to make do with what you got.

Ned arrives shortly, asking the both of you if you were okay, and you two tell him you were before dreadfully making your way to class.

When lunch finally came, Peter finds his way to you somehow through the expecting large crowds of people who lingered to gaze at him, some amazed that an actual superhero was attending their very school.

The boy had pleaded for the two of you to go someplace quiet, anywhere away from the pestering students inhabiting the school, it didn't take much convincing on your end.

Peter had taken you to the roof of the school, a place you knew was probably the most quietest the two of you had been to in what felt like forever.

"Can we just stay up here all day?" Peter asked from above you, you reading through a newspaper you had found on your way to school.

You two had been up here for five minutes, you resting your head in his lap as he relaxed above you, staring off thinking about only god knows what.

"It is so crazy down there." He tells you, and you hum in agreement, something in the newspaper article catching your eye, almost making you laugh out loud.

"Wait, 's one's good." You say with a small chuckle.

"Some suggest that Parker's power include male spider's ability to hypnotize females," You share with a more bigger chuckle, and from the corner of your eye you see Peter's face fall in disbelief. "Which he used to seduce Jones-Watson into his cult of personality." You finish in amusement, hearing Peter let out a groan.

"Oh, Come on. Stop, stop." He pleaded, and you mischievously smirk.

"Yes my spider king." You mock teasingly.

Peter shoots you a glare from above as you break out into a giggle, the boy soon chuckling as well.

Once the both of you stop your chortling, you sit up from where you rested in his lap, placing the newspaper next to your backpack, gazing at Peter who was already looking at you.

You notice the boy's stare shift from your eyes, trailing to your lips, and you can't help but do the same. Peter smoothly places one of his hands on your cheek, the warmth of it burning against your fair skin.

You already knew where this was going, you had been touched deprived from him for way too long, and you were finally happy the two of you got the alone time you deserved.

You close your eyes just as Peter does the same, both of you leaning in, your lips just inches away, you could feel his breath so close to yours, going in for what you needed most.

"Finally some privacy." Ned bursts through the exit door of the roof, MJ trailing behind him with her bag half on her shoulder.

You and Peter slowly pull away, the boy's hand falling from your face and you give him a sheepish look with a shrug, your eyes watching the two come sit across from you and Peter.

"It is so crazy down there." Ned says, shrugging off his backpack and you just nod in agreement as MJ looked in-between you and Peter.

"What were you two losers doing?" MJ questioned knowingly, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Talking."

You give Peter a look, which only made MJ grow more in suspicion at what you were really up to.

Truth was, you were doing nothing, the only thing about to be done didn't happen, and you were talking at first, so not much of that was really a lie.

But thankfully your sister decides not to harass the two of you anymore, pulling out a book from her backpack, blocking the three of you out for the mean time.

"So, I was thinking.." Ned trails off, grabbing his backpack and unzipping the bag to dig through it.

"When we get into MIT, we should live together." The boy suggested as he pulled out his school laptop.

You smile at his words, nodding in agreement as did Peter.

"Yeah, for sure." The spider boy verbally agrees.

"Yeah, love that." MJ deadpans.

You ignore her, focusing your attention on the laptop that Ned had pulled out, showing the front page of MIT.

MJ looks up in curiosity, glancing at the laptop that was held on display for the three of you.

"This is gonna be us." Ned smiles.

"Sure." You say, whole heartedly agreeing with him.

"Minus the Frisbee and the smiling." MJ added, her face cringing at the mere image.

"MIT's obviously the dream, but if we match our backup schools, then either way we'll be in Boston." Peter countered with hope laced in his tone.

"New school, new town. I can Spider-Man there." The boy suggested, getting approving nods from MJ and Ned, turning his gaze to you and you shrug.

"They have crime in Boston, right?" Peter asked you absentmindly, you once again shrug, giving a verbal answer as well.

"Totally."

"Wicked crime" Ned adds in.

"It'll be like a fresh start." Peter states, still expectingly gazing upon you.

You reluctantly nod, sparing a glance at MJ, who's face fell from her grimace to a much more dreaded look.

Peter noticed the lack of the both of your hopeful faces, furrowing his eyebrows in wonder.

"What's up?" Peter questioned, darting his eyes in-between the two of you.

You told MJ about your doubts of the two of you getting to the same school, well not just the two of you, all of you, really. You never had a single doubt before, but now that the knowledge of Peter's secret identity was revealed, you feared that with you knowing him your chances would decrease.

You just wanted all of you to be in the same place at all times, safe and happy. It was easier said than done unfortunately.

"Nothing, it's just..." You trail off, not knowing how to word what you were feeling.

"If you expect disappointment, then you can never really get disappointed." You hear your sister say, the three of you turning your heads to look at the girl.

You nod at her words. It was something she would rarely say, this being the first time she shared her words to anyone in a long time.

"No, hey, come on." Peter says, taking a hold of your hand, before looking back at MJ.

"Be a fresh start, and we'll all be together." Peter reassured, his hold of your hand only tightening, showing you a reassuring smile.

There was something that lingered inside you at his words, you couldn't pinpoint it but you figured you best drop the uneasy feeling still stirring in your gut, giving your boyfriend a nod in agreement.

"Yeah, fresh start." You mutter, giving him a weak smile.

"Fresh start." Ned also says, placing his hand on top of yours and Peter's and when MJ didn't, the boy's other hand dragged her free one on top of his.

You had only hoped Peter's words were right. You couldn't bare another disappointment ensuing.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #michelle jones #spiderman no way home #spider man no way home #spider man no way home x reader #spider man #spider man nwh #ned leeds #no way home

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year ago

Note

Reader giving santa ari a treat after hes stressed heheh he gets a bj with reader in lingerie . Little do they know thoes sneaky elves are watching the two

🎄christmas masterlist🎄

hello, thank you for sending this in, I apologise for taking so long to complete it, and I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - your husband has been working too hard, stressing himself out, and you decide to destress him by giving him some head.

warning - smut, oral sex, swearing, voyeurism.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

You walk into Ari’s office wearing nothing but a lacey black nightie and pout as you notice how stressed he seems. Bags linger under his eyes, his usually neatly kept hair all messed up from him running his fingers through it every five seconds. You slowly make your way over, standing behind him and massaging his broad shoulders. He leans back at your gentle touch. “Honey, you’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you come back to bed?”

Ari shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I can’t, my love. I wish I could, but this really needs to be done. Something went wrong, and now the naughty or nice list won’t work. How am I supposed to know who gets presents now? Hmm? I bet it was those darn elves. They always mess around in here during their breaks. I lock the door, but no. Somehow they manage to get in still and screw things up.” He rubs his face hard, the stress catching up to him. “Maybe, I should just get rid of them?”

You hum, moving around to the front of him and kneeling. “You don’t mean that. You love them even if they do cause you stress. You wouldn’t know what to do without them.” You rub your hands up and down his thick thighs, smiling when you see the bulge forming beneath his pyjama pants, his cock twitching as he peers down at you and takes in your clothes that hug your form. “Why don’t you let me take the stress away? Just for tonight.” You smile up at your husband, batting your eyelashes innocently.

Ari sighs, nodding and leaning back into his chair. “Okay.” He strokes your cheeks, smiling down at you softly, blinking his tired eyes. You grin, eyes landing on his thick bulge, sliding your hands slowly up his thighs and landing on it, beginning to rub and cup it gently. “My love, don’t tease. Please.”

“Anything for you, Mr Claus.” You hook your fingers into his waistband and gently pull the tightened cloth down, whimpering when your eyes land on his hardened member, licking your lips as you watch his angry tip leak with his delicious pre-cum. “You’re so hard already, and I bet you’ve been neglecting yourself too.” You pout up at Ari as he opens his mouth to answer you. You lean forward and swirl your tongue around his tip before wrapping your lips around it and sucking.

“Oh, shit!” Ari’s head falls back into the chair, gripping your head gently as you bob it up and down his thick length, taking him deep into your throat. Your eyes watch him as you continue to suck his soul out, swirling and flicking your tongue around and underneath his tip, sucking him harder and faster to the point you begin to drool from the sides of your mouth, covering him. “Feels so good, ah!”

You moan around him, your eyes rolling back as his pre-cum lands on your tongue. The two of you are so lost in pleasure that you don’t notice the elves peeking from behind the desk, watching with wide eyes as you swallow their boss's cock. Your hands move up, massaging Ari’s heavy sacks, tugging them gently and gagging as his hips thrust forward, causing him to go deeper down your throat.

“F–fuck, sweetheart. I’m close!” Your movements pick up, your head bobbing faster as you want to taste his sweet cum. Your eyes lock with his, and you suck even harder than before. Your hips move as you hump the air, giving the elves the best view. “Ahh! Fuck, I’m cumming!” Ari grunts, gripping the back of your head and pushing you further down until you are buried in his greying bush. His eyes roll backwards as you swallow him. His balls tighten, legs beginning to shake as thick amounts of cum spurt out of his mushroom tip, coating your throat. “Crap…” His eyes blink open, and his cock twitches as he watches you swallow every last drop, your tongue moving like magic as you clean him up. Ari pulls you up and places you onto his lap, pressing a heavy kiss to your lips, not caring if he tastes himself. “You’re the best fucking wife a man could ask for. You know that?”

You smile, running your fingers through his beard as you stare into his eyes. “I’m guessing you’re feeling a lot better?”

Ari nods, “so much. Thank you, my love. Now, I think it’s my turn to return the favour.” You squeal as he lies you onto his desk, grinning down at you.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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barleyo · 5 months ago

Note

Hii! Merry Christmas<3 Can I request some nsfw for sir nighteye please? He works late and doesn’t get home until really late at night and the reader is kinda sad because they’re lonely without him. Ty :))

All I Want For Christmas.

Sir Nighteye x F! Reader (smut)

A/N: As you can probably tell, I got the request last year during Christmas. Shame on me for taking so long, I truly apologize. You can beat me up if you wish, anon, I wouldn't blame you </3 (also if you noticed re-used writing of mine from other fics in this... mind your business)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Nighteye's real name used, smut, p, handjobs, oral (f receiving), established relationship

The holidays were always hard. Mirai was dedicated to his job, being Sir Nighteye and all, even as the winter months approached. He never forgot about them, per se, but he never made much room for them. He tried to get off of work earlier when he met you, making sure that he would at least see you before you went to bed every night. A call, a text, anything. He did his best, but no matter how hard he tried, work was his driving force in life.

You tried to not let it bother you, you knew the hardships that came with being with a pro hero. You kept that thought in your head as you stood near the oven, bending down to shove your last batch of cookies in.

You had been baking the whole day in preparation for Christmas. Hoping that Mirai would join you, you had an apron sitting on the dining room table for him, but that hope had faded out at around 9:30 P.M. when you realized it would be another late night of work for him. Your hands trembled a bit, the heat of the pans seeping through your old, worn oven mitts as you transferred a hot tray to your makeshift cookie decoration station.

You slapped icing on the warm cookies, blowing on them as the sweet frosting melted off of the tops. Your table had become cluttered and messy, with icing, sprinkles, flour, and crumbs dusting the tablecloth.

“Damn it,” you mumbled, slipping your thumb into your mouth after catching a scoop of icing on it. You took a whole cookie, hands fidgeting at its warmth as you struggled to hold it, and took a bite, trying to enjoy yourself as much as you could, despite your husband's absence.

“They look nice.”

“Hmph?" You spun around quickly, hand wiping quickly at the crumbs on your lips. Your eyes relaxed when you noticed the familiar green tufts of hair and golden eyes before you. “Yeah, I’ve been making them all day.” She held back from adding 'no thanks to you' at the end of her sentence.

“Do you need any help? I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. I can help out for as long as you need me to tonight.” Mirai offered his hand out to you, but let it fall down to his side when you coldly turned away from him.

“Most of the work is done already, I don’t think I need your help.” You winced at her own words, feeling the venom they were laced with. “I think you should just head to bed. I can handle this."

His stoney face didn’t budge, he clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer. “I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help you. I enjoy spending time with you, doing things that you enjoy.” Rolling up his sleeves, he began clearing the table of the cookie cutters and mixing bowls, placing them softly in the sink. “I will wash those later, do not worry.”

You ignored his words and tried to urge him away again. “Aren’t you tired from work? I really think you should go to sleep. Working for so long just to come home and do more work can't be healthy.”

“Is that what this is about then? Me working so long?”

“No, it’s not. And there is no ‘this,’ nothing is going on,” you scoffed, dripping more red icing onto a stray cookie.

There was silence for a moment before you felt arms wrap around your waist, firm but gentle. You placed the icing bag down on the table and tried to look, but your neck couldn’t crane far enough to see him. He slouched down, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“Mirai, no, it’s not like that, I know your job is Important. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a hero, but I just wish…” your voice fizzled out a bit when his large hands started to travel up and down your body, stopping at your chest momentarily.

“That I’d make more time for you? I hear you, dear. I’m not being fair, am I? Here you are, doing all of this alone, and during the holidays. Leaving you alone at a time like this isn’t considerate. Leaving you alone at all isn’t right on my part.”

He licked a stripe over your neck, sucking on the spot softly. His teeth edged the skin, leaving a small purple mark on it. After examining it once more, he let go of you and spun your body around to face him.

“I know you’ve missed me,” Mirai said softly, “I’ve missed you too. Being with you, feeling you, all of it. Can I show you how much I’ve missed you?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please.”

He used his long, thin fingers to untie the knot at the back of your apron, shooting it down to the floor. He made quick work of your pants too, leaving only your shirt on.

Before he touched you, you quickly made your move and unbuckled his belt, slipping his cock out swiftly.

Giving a few, testing strokes, you held as much of his cock that she could manage in your fist. You went fast, tip to base, knowing he would want to stop to please you instead. He shuttered a bit, hips threatening to snap into your hand.

“You spoil me," he said softly into your ear, jaw tensing with each stroke, "but right now is not about me. I want to apologize to you, to make you feel good. Let me.”

You didn't let go, instead you focused on the head of his cock, rolling it in your hands. “Not until you cum. I've waited too long for this."

Mirai took a breath through his nose and huffed at you. "Fine."

He stopped holding his composure and let himself sink into the pleasure that your hand provided. He could cum quite quick if he let himself go, but his tense nature let him last quite a while in other circumstances.

His breathing went ragged and sharp. He brought his hips back and forth, fucking into your hand desperately. He pulled your hand off of his dick before he could cum, not honoring your little agreement.

"Hey, you promised," you whined, frustration crossing your face while you looked up at him.

"I know. I am such a liar, aren't I?" His breathy laugh fanned your face, and the small smile he flashed was enough to erase any anger you had in that moment.

He placed his hand gently on your face, tipping your head to look up at him. "Do you want my mouth, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"Your mouth." You felt his hands manhandle you upwards, placing your body on the table behind you.

"Good. I always like when you choose that option."

His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding small circles around your clit.

"Stop moving," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound. Your legs kept pressing together, as if you were trying to push him away. He slipped one hand between your thighs and forcefully held them apart.

His large tongue slid through your wet folds, slowly teasing through, from your entrance to her pulsing clit. He stopped at your clit again and clasped his lips around it, sucking on the tender bud. He let dribbles of spit fall from his mouth onto your cunt, only slurp it back up again to keep you wet and messy.

Not hesitating, you reached your hand down and gripped his hair, holding him in place, and rolled your hips onto his face.

He didn't mind, simply letting a soft laugh escape his lips. It was cute, the way you took what you wanted from him.

Your legs stuttered as you moved, twitching while moans caught in your throat. Your hands still pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose nudging your clit sent you over the edge. A sweet wave crashed over you, making you practically vibrate with pleasure.

After your grip on his hair loosened, your husband stood up and looked down at you, eyes peeking past his fogged up glasses.

"So, do you think you can forgive me now?"

You rolled your eyes at the smirk that played on his lips and shook your head. Rolling over, you pushed your ass up against the tent in his boxers.

"Not yet."

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #x reader #bnha x reader #sir nighteye x reader #sir nighteye #Mirai Sasaki x reader #smut fanfiction #x y/n #mha #my hero academia

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— CITY GROWN WILLOW

SUMMARY : in which dean doesn’t die in 15.20 and he’s a stay-at-home dad (hot as hell) and the reader works at a company (vague as hell).

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dylan (OMC), andy (OMC), daphne (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, pregnant sex, oral sex, fluff, ANGST, sexual harassment

WORD COUNT : 7.1K

A/N : title from radio company’s song. I wrote this while rewatching the Winchesters 😭 god, I miss dean so bad. also, I edited this while watching she-hulk when it was airing. anyway, enjoy this long masterpiece since I’ve been neglecting y’all :( X

Y/N chuckled softly at her colleague Dylan. He’d been a good friend for two and a half years. Ever since he started to work for her, he’d been really helpful and cooperative, taking the lead when she wasn’t there to make sure everything was still as it should be.

They had a meeting to talk about a project he wanted to speak to her about and Y/N had accepted his request to hear him out. She was a little confused by the fancy place he’d chosen, but she’d gone anyway and left Dean with the twins and Mavis. He’d whined and pouted adorably before kissing her goodbye even though he knew days before she’d be busy that night.

She’d been nervous for a month. And yeah, maybe she accepted Dylan’s offer because she didn’t want Dean to see her naked, or more.. the bump that started to show which she hid beneath loose dresses like the current black kimono dress her best friend Daphne got her for Christmas.

She made multiple excuses the whole month to not be near Dean, either in the morning or the night, when he was still awake, but she made up for it by buying him gifts and having lunch with him during his break. Innocently, no funny business. And she’d told no one she’s pregnant, as if it made it any less real that she was carrying a baby inside her when the last one she and Dean had was barely five years old.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it or that Dean could—but mostly, she didn’t think she could.

So, she declined the red wine Dylan ordered for her—which irritated her a little because he knew she never drank in the first place. And she didn’t make a big deal out of it, chalked it up to his busy mind forgetting, and slowly started to eat her meal while listening to him talk about things that had nothing to do with work. She let him talk about whatever he wanted to because the more time she wasted at the restaurant with him, the less chance she had of seeing Dean—well, the less chance she had to spend the whole night lying to him about the fact that she was pregnant.

Dylan relaxed a little against the booth, but she remained tense, her mind racing about the thought of her being pregnant but also about how to tell Dean. That’s how she’d spent most of her month. Her mind was someplace else, but her body was still in reality, automatically being attentive so no one would ask her what was wrong. Although, she may have missed the hints Dylan had been throwing her way, comments about how she looked more beautiful than usual, and how she was the perfect woman a man could ask for.

She’d shrugged it off the way she usually did, not really wanting to deal with the fact that her friend was literally flirting with her. Mostly, not wanting to accept that the only reason he got close to her was because he had romantic feelings for her, knowing in full that she was married and had kids. But especially not wanting to think too hard about the way he’s tried touching her, knowing she was married, but also, knowing that she didn’t like to be touched. And though she should have paid more attention, should have talked to Dylan directly instead of saying ‘stop’ or ‘no’, after she recoiled from his touch and shoved him off of her when he’d go for it again with a little more force… she didn’t think she needed to say more since she had made it clear that his advances were undesired on her part.

When she dumped work and projects on him so he could take half of what she had on her plate—a clear sign that he was just a colleague and a friend to her, she’d imagined he’d hate her. Instead, he took it as her wanting to spend time with him. Even though when he got her to talk, all she could talk about was Dean and her kids. When he’d make unpleasant comments about Dean’s job or the way Dean dressed, she’d defend her husband with a little confusion and ferocity while Dylan just laughed it off and claimed he was joking.

If she thought about it too hard, it hurt so bad on top of the fact that she was too stressed with being in charge of the Space Technology and Exploration section of Morningstar Industries, making sure her kids were doing good in school and knowing she was present in their lives, but also making sure she wasn’t fully neglecting her wonderful husband who truly didn’t deserve that she was lying to him.

Then, she’d been afraid for a while when she’d spoken to the board director, Andy, her close friend, and blurted out how uncomfortable Dylan had been making her feel with his words and his actions. He’d stared at her worriedly, anger darkening his eyes which she’d nearly missed, and then she forgot about it in between all her work and the mess in her brain.

But it all seemed so much worse at night. When she’d return from work, when she’d cry in the shower, and then laid in bed with her mind racing endlessly so she’d wake up as exhausted as she’d been before she slept.

There were too many things and her temper was short, overstimulated by all the tiny things that she could usually handle a little better than she had recently. And she dreaded to think of the possibility that she’d hurt Dean’s feelings, or Wanda’s, or Bruce’s, or Mavis’. And she worried about having done something wrong when she signed off on projects or something else because she simply wasn’t retaining the information on the endless sheets of paper.

She even had a copious amount of work and projects that she left half-finished, which was mostly normal, but it had now piled up to being too much, and when Dylan offered to help her, he’d been like a hero to her. He took most of the weight, but clearly expected something from her that she was never going to give.

When he’d finished and she’d abandoned her plate of food, only capturing the first and last topic he’d spoken of—which was typical as well—she’d smiled at him tightly. She was so good at pretending she’d listen because she usually could. Typically, she missed a few bits and pieces of information—since her mind went off to think of something to add to what the other person said, where she’d stop herself outwardly, but internally continued her own monologue and completely forgot about what the person was saying, which was never her intention.

Dylan leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly different, his soft and slightly moist hand landing on top of hers—specifically the one that had the white gold wedding band and engagement ring Dean picked out. She froze, stared into his icy blue eyes with her breath caught in her throat, suddenly all her thoughts were silent, but just for a moment before they started up again thinking of all the things this could mean.

“I didn’t just want to talk about work…” he started, his soft voice made her stomach churn and she didn’t know if it was the fact that she was pregnant, stressed, if it was the food she partially ate, or simply the disgust she felt knowing where this was going. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I.. well, I always thought you were breathtaking and.. I think you feel the same about me… you know? I.. I’m in love with you…”

She had to swallow the bit of bile that raised up her oesophagus, sweat breaking out on her hairline, her heart beating fast. She moved her hand out from under his and his cheek twitched with irritation when she reached for her glass of icy water and downed all of it. The cold liquid swished around her insides and she felt too suffocated, grateful that people were mostly quiet, that the tables were separated from each other, and that the lights were mostly dim because she would have had a fit and left dramatically from overstimulation.

He cleared his throat and she looked up from the white cloth that covered the table, his long dirty blond hair fell over one half of his face and he chuckled nervously, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’m married,” she reminded him lamely, recoiling at his touch. His hand froze midair and he wrapped it around her wrist where her electronic watch rested. He played with the magnet of the steel band and scooted forward across the table until she could smell the wine in his breath.

She really had been so oblivious all this time.

When the watch turned on to reveal a picture of Dean carrying both Wanda and Bruce when she’d given birth to them, he glared at it. Guilt from lying to Dean and shame from having missed all the signs of harassment burned up her throat to the tips of her ears.

“Lots of married people have affairs,” he commented offhandedly. Her lips parted in shock, her brain moving slowly when he slid around the booth to sit next to her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, fearful when his hand appeared on her knee, his thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. He froze, staring at her in surprise, but he had something for that too somehow. While she felt a sense of relief saying it out loud, the fear that had frozen her in her seat still hadn’t dissipated.

“That’s not a problem,” he said calmly, leaning forward, but she moved back until his hand stopped her by covering the back of her neck to pull her towards him again. “People can still have sex when they’re pregnant.. Stop playing hard to get, I know you want me.” Suddenly all her weakening emotions flew out of her body until anger boiled over her blood. She got up abruptly and glared at him, shoving the table into him, trapping him from escaping and also making her neglected wine glass tip over to stain his suit in red. “What the fuck?!” He hissed angrily, failing to even budge the table away from his body.

“I’ve told you over and over again not to touch me,” she spat, “and if the way I always moved away from you wasn’t a fucking obvious sign that you disgust me, I hope this helps: you’re fucking fired.” She picked up her bag and shoved the chair she’d been sitting in with the back of her knees until it nearly fell over. Suddenly people looked at them and Dylan looked away from her, smiling as if everything was okay, but there was anger in his eyes when he looked up at her.

“You liked it, you whore,” he growled, shame wrenched her heart and tears pooled in her eyes, “stop victimising yourself when you’ve been leading me on for two years.” Instead of saying anything, her tongue heavy in her mouth, she turned quickly and made her way out of the restaurant. His words stabbed her chest until she couldn’t breathe because she suddenly felt like she should have done so much more to stop him and she began imagining all the times she’d shrugged him off but should have been more clear and assertive about not wanting his touch.

Maybe it was her fault after all and she shouldn’t be complaining.

“Miss!” A woman’s voice stopped her as she shoved the glass door open, a sob tearing its way out of her throat when the cold air pricked her hot skin. “Are you okay, dear?” The lady asked softly, keeping a safe distance as Y/N cried quietly, looking at the ground in shame and embarrassment. “Honey, pass me your handkerchief,” she ordered and footsteps came closer and Y/N only felt the soft cotton collect and absorb her hot tears.

“I need to get home,” Y/N whispered, trying to smile, but she knew not a muscle in her face relaxed as she looked at the older woman and her husband.

“You shouldn’t be driving right now,” her husband spoke up worriedly. Y/N glanced over at him and felt another wave of pain pour through her eyes with heat and salty stings just from the kindness that seemed to crack and burst out all the emotions she’d been pushing down for a month.

“Oh, darling,” the woman spoke softly, gently taking Y/N’s purse from her tight grip and fishing her phone out easily. “Is this your husband?” She quickly accessed Y/N’ contacts and went to the emergency list with Dean’s name at the top, with a squirrel and a green leaves emojis. Y/N nodded, embarrassed, and took the handkerchief with the initials H.H. to wipe her own tears even though now, she couldn’t stop them from spilling uncontrollably.

While Y/N continued to look down in shame, people walked around them, minding their business. Even people who clearly saw the scene were exiting the restaurant and ignoring them, too. She relaxed when the woman’s expensive and warm perfume engulfed her, reminding Y/N of her mother when she rubbed her gentle hand up and down her back. Y/N’ phone rang once and Dean picked up.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was deep with sleep and warmth melted her heart and sweetened the bitterness when the sound flowed to her heart like honey and tea, but the tears kept falling as she cried silently in the woman’s arms.

“Hi, I’m Jan,” she started but Dean immediately cut her off.

“Where’s my wife?” She heard the panic and guardedness in his voice and she nearly took the phone knowing all the worst possible scenarios that rushed through his mind, but the woman smiled fondly.

“I’m here with her,” Jan reassured him. “Could you come pick her up? She’s…” Jan gazed at Y/N, her gaze piercing her walls as if she knew everything but also, failing to find the words to not invalidate or exaggerate Y/N’s experience and emotions. “You should be here. My husband and I are staying here with her and we won’t leave her side until you’ve here, she’s safe with us. You have my word.”

Dean was silent and Y/N didn’t know if he was frozen in fear like she’d been minutes before or if he was leaving the house in a hurry until heard him thank Jan while breathing heavily and heard the familiar creak of the Impala’s doors before he said goodbye, promising to be there as quickly as he could.

And he did. But not fast enough to have witnessed Dylan shamelessly try to get to her. But Y/N was glad he didn’t because she was humiliated enough already and felt so much gratitude towards both Jan and her husband. Her husband, Harry, who had shoved and insulted Dylan, then threatened to plaster his name in the paper for what he’d witnessed him doing.

The beautiful rumble of Dean’s car made her heart leap with relief and excitement, fleeting emotions that were replaced with the same bitter ones when she saw him in his pyjamas, the bags under his eyes, and the worry that deepened his frown and creased between his brows when he saw that she had been crying.

Dean quickly jogged towards her, looking at both Jan and Harry with confusion and wariness until Jan slowly let Y/N walk weakly towards Dean. Jan’s heart was both breaking and melting when Y/N slumped against Dean’s body, crying again—as hard as she had when she stepped out of the restaurant.

Dean held her tight, kissed her temple and let her calm down in his embrace. The kind couple stepped forward like a wall that gave them privacy from the few people that watched what was happening. The tiredness Dean felt was replaced with adrenaline, but upon finding Y/N safe from physical harm, he allowed himself to just be there for her, hurting about the fact that something else had harmed her, something that he couldn’t kill or fight off.

“Let’s get her in your car, son,” Harry suggested, smiling kindly at Dean. Dean nodded and hesitantly pulled away, refusing to look at the anguish on Y/N’ face so he could remain strong. He let Jan guide Y/N into the passenger seat, keeping an ear open for the way she spoke quietly and kindly to Y/N before he spoke to Harry.

“What happened?” Dean asked, the feeling of inadequacy making him cross his arms over his chest, covering the white t-shirt Y/N had given him as a joke a few Christmases ago.

“I…” Harry paused, glancing over at his wife and at Y/N. “A man she was having dinner with just.. treated her terribly and said such horrendous things. My wife and I heard most of it… He was out of line, completely disgusting, and was a huge, immature asshole.” Dean’s jaw clenched and he glared over Harry’s shoulder, behind holes into the glass building. Had Dean been Superman, the entire building would have been demolished. “Son?” Harry broke Dean’s glare and patted his shoulder. “I could have that man’s reputation destroyed. When your wife opens up, give her time.. give me a call.” He handed Dean a card and Dean took it nodding while he read Harry Holden, the newspaper name, his email, and number on the other side.

“Thanks, sir, truly,” Dean finally told him, getting in the driver’s seat and waving goodbye to the two people that gave him hope that there were truly kind people out there, people who still do the bare minimum and also go out of their way to do something good just for the sake of decency.

Y/N played with her dress and avoided Dean’s gaze, flinching a little when he put his hand on her knee. Dean felt hurt for a second, then composed himself as he drove away, deciding quickly that they should stay somewhere else for the time being, until she felt better.

He stopped at a rather expensive hotel and saw her finally look at him, confused mostly by his decision. Her face devastated his heart more than any tragedy he’d faced because he wasn’t used to seeing Y/N the way she looked now. His heart sank to the deepest pit as if turning his skin inside out, leaving his heart bare and broken until it stopped beating, unable to start up again.

“D…” she whispered. Her cold hands on his face brought him back to his senses, thoughts about his actions ran through his mind and suddenly he found himself synchronised with her.

“I’m calling Daph,” he told her, shoving his hands into his pockets and calling Daphne who picked up nearly as quickly as he had, tiredness coating her voice along with a yawn. “Hey, I need to ask for a favour,” he started.

“Sure, Dean-o,” she mumbled.

“Could you check on the kids?” He asked, then elaborated. “Y/N and I are… we’re gonna be away from home for a few days.. is that asking too much? I’m sorry, I know it’s sudden-”

“Dean, don’t stress about it,” she reassured him. “I’ll be there in ten, you don’t have to explain, you know I’d do anything for the two of you.” Dean sighed a breath of relief and relaxed, too afraid to look at Y/N.

“Thanks so much, you’re… the best friend we could ask for.”

“Don’t mention it. Love you guys, be safe!”

Dean sat in silence for a while before taking his wallet and pulling out his card to pay for the room. Y/N let him take control of the situation even though she wanted to argue and not be far from home, but maybe she needed this. A little getaway with her husband to finally tell him she was pregnant and to ease his mind about what had happened because now that she was calm, she felt ridiculous and ashamed.

“Come on, baby, take your heels off,” he spoke softly, leaning over to open the door before he locked the car. He got out and jogged around the front to get to her side, opened the door and picked her up bridal style.

Dean made his way to the hotel and smiled at the young man at the front desk, tucking Y/N’ head into his neck, her arms holding him tightly as he made his way to the elevator without a word and to their room, both of them practically empty-handed with her purse dangling off his shoulder.

“I wanna shower,” she murmured when he set her down on the bed. He only turned the lamps on so it wasn’t too bright and she appreciated it. He nodded and started to undo the belt around her waist, taking note of her tense body, so he slowed down and stopped unbuttoning the dress.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, waiting for her to speak up before he made a single move. She nodded and whispered her consent, letting him unbutton the black dress all the way, pushing it off her shoulders, his eyes glued to the thin, gold necklace her brother gave her on her birthday.

He expertly unclasped her lace bra, his fingers brushing gently across her skin made her shiver pleasantly as he removed it. His eyes fell to her breasts but he kept his mind out of the gutter, watched her put her hands flat on the bed and lift her hips for him to remove her matching black panties.

It was so intimate. He inadvertently turned both of them on.

His fingernails gently grazed the skin of her hips, their breaths growing heavy, his fingers slowly pulled the lace down her legs and off her feet. He didn’t dare to make anything sexual, as much as he wanted to fuck his worry and adrenaline away, he was being more mindful of what she needed.

He helped her up and didn’t stare at her naked body when he removed his shirt and pyjamas, only a little embarrassed that he wasn’t wearing any boxers. He led her to the bathroom as he warmed up the shower, his hand extended to get the water to the right temperature. She bit her lip anxiously in the meantime, her arms keeping her small bump out of view, tears building up again when he turned to face her.

His face fell and his beautiful hands were on her face, holding her jaw as gently as he’d hold a baby bird. His arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her close, comforting her with his arms loose around her waist to not overwhelm her. She felt a powerful surge of love and affection for the man and blurted out what had been stressing her out.

“I’m pregnant.” He gasped and pulled away to look her in the eyes and then down at the tiny little bump on her stomach that he missed when stripping her. “I’m sorry, I’ve known for a month and I’m just scared-”

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured her, shushing her.

“No, I… I’ve been a horrible wife,” she sobbed, wiggling out of his arms. He easily let her go to have her space, keeping his own tears at bay while watching her with despair.

“No, you haven’t,” he argued softly.

“Yeah and a bad mother. Everything’s my fault.” He shook his head, kissing her cheek softly, his lips moving over the expanse of her face, reaching her lips for his final destination.

“I’m thrilled that you’re pregnant, okay? I truly am.” He reassured her. “And I know how stressful it can be for you to be pregnant and I know how much you worry about me and the kids, but we can handle it, sweetheart.” She continued to cry quietly, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “They love you so much, I love you so much, and you’re the most amazing mother they could have asked for, just like you’re the most amazing wife in the entire universe, hell maybe the best out of every universe.”

“Whatever happened tonight sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I…” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes shut as he breathed shakily.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, taking his breaded jaw in her hand to kiss him chastely. “I think I was just overreacting… my hormones, you know how they get… wonky,” she tried smiling, pulling away to watch him shake his head.

“If two people watched what happened and took time out of their night to help you, you weren’t overreacting,” he told her firmly. “I know you usually deal with things by dissociating or detaching from it and downplaying your feelings, but I’m not letting you do that. Just like you don’t let me do it.” She blinked at him, feeling a new wave of emotions followed by gratitude and love. “We don’t need to talk about it right now and there’s no deadline, but just talk to someone—or me when you’re ready, instead of pushing it down or invalidating yourself from how hurt you are about it.” He smiled at her gently, lovingly kissing her forehead and stepped into the shower, while holding her hand so she’d join him as she regained most of her wits.

“I love you, Dean,” she whispered, feeling like those words simply weren’t enough to describe the amount of affection that bloomed in her chest like a trillion galaxies being born.

“I know,” he smiled playfully, holding her close when she followed him inside the foggy stall. She smiled softly at him and shook her head, standing beneath the shower head with him, the hot water comforting as it hit her skin and relaxed her muscles.

He took care of her the whole time, wiping away the eyeliner that was now messy, but otherwise her face was bare, the red liquid tint on her lips having faded away at this point, leaving her lips a cotton candy colour. He smiled lovingly at her, leaning down to kiss her passionately before he washed her hair and then her body while keeping himself mostly dry.

“There,” he chuckled, bumping the bottom of her chin gently with his finger curled. “Good girl,” he murmured, turning the shower off, reaching out for one of the towels to wrap around her, letting her dry herself off so he could do the same to himself.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him tiredly, drying her hair with the towel and stepping back into the bedroom, standing in front of him when he slipped on his pyjama pants again, and handed her his shirt to sleep in. The white shirt with The Avongers and bootleg Avengers characters over the chest made her smile and she watched him get the bed ready.

His muscles flexed when he tugged the soft sheets from how tightly they fit the bed, his tiny waist and his broad shoulders when he turned his back to her distracted her from putting the shirt on. Instead, she checked him out, his firm ass in the soft pyjama pants, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin, the dip of his spine down his back one of the most beautiful things she’d seen. When he turned to his side, his stomach--just a little soft--became taut with his efforts, lost in his mind as he freed the gold and white satin sheets.

His huge arms continued to tighten as he travelled to the other side of the bed, the v-line going down his hips caused her teeth to bite down at her lip. Even his pecs right now were doing wonders, his thick fingers wrapping around the sheets and tugging expertly that she didn’t even care that she was staring at him shamelessly, the ring on his finger was probably the hottest thing right now.

That was her husband.

The man who grew out his beard, something she thought she’d hate until the coarse hairs actually ended up feeling arousing between her legs and against her breasts. The man who kept his hair a little longer just for her, soft between her fingers and so pullable. The way the soft strands of his honey-coloured hair fell over his magnificent face looked like streams of sunlight in the spring, his mossy green eyes likes a forest of utter beauty that no one could compare to, and his freckles were a thousand constellations that glowed like gold dust along the canvas of his face.

His pretty plump lips were a shade darker now from having bitten them due to his focus on releasing the sheets from the tight embrace around the mattress, and wet from his soft tongue. He’d innocently looked up at her, expecting her to have been ready for bed, but instead he found her aroused, her cheeks pink and her nipples tight, her breathing heavy and short.

He caught her eyes as they teased his body, a shaky breath making its way past her parted lips, the most breathtaking crinkles appeared around his eyes when he chuckled, gracing her with a shy smile. “What?” He asked softly, pink flushing his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

“You know it always turns me on to see you do anything, especially shirtless,” she murmured casually, feeling no confidence to actually tease him the way she usually did and feeling disgusted with herself from the events that unfolded in the past month to even feel any pleasure from him. So she looked away and was about to put his shirt on when he stopped her.

“Don’t.” He made his way to her, grabbing the shirt and throwing it across the room and onto the couch a few feet away from them.

“I haven’t shaved,” she gasped, kissing him back when he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm. He quickly parted his lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue teasingly moved into her mouth when she’d opened up to him instantly despite her weak argument, knowing that Dean wasn’t the type of man who actually required a woman to look a specific way.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close, a little moan from him muffled by her mouth against his. She gave into him without hesitation, her arms circling around his neck, her fingers tugging gently at the short hairs behind his head, soft the way they always were. An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest, her entire body stretched up to reach her tall husband.

He turned them both around so her back faced the bed instead of his, pulling away from the kiss for his lips to travel down her neck. His hot breath and wet tongue licked at her clean skin and sucked gently at her pulse. He made his way down her neck and bit her shoulder possessively. She buried her fingers into his downy hair, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly from lustful breaths she took.

He loosened his arms from around her waist and held the beautiful curve of it in his large hands, his fingers brushing gently against her ribcage. He moved his mouth down to her breasts, and she instinctively arched her back so he didn’t have to bend over her so much. It turned him on, in his mind, that one move was her offering herself to him completely.

He moved his hands up to cup her breasts in his hands, the warmth and roundness of them in his large palms nearly made him believe she was small chested. His fingers gently brushed around her nipples, his warm breath puffing over them so she could feel them tighten before he even did anything. His lips wrapped around one, his teeth gently scraping along her sensitive flesh while his tongue mimicked his fingers, feeling the texture of her silky flesh against his wet tongue.

He sucked on it gently, his hands squeezed both her breasts, but he quickly pinched and tweaked the other one, reaching down to squeeze her fleshy ass. She moaned softly, her thigh gently passing between his legs and rubbing his stiff cock. A moan rippled out of him and he blindly chased her hand when he switched the stimulation of her breasts, putting his mouth on the other and letting the room temperature do its work on her glistening nipple.

He guided her hand into his pants, biting down roughly on her flesh when she brushed her fingers down the length of him. She whined at the bite, rubbing her thighs together awkwardly to feel some relief, his heavy cock resting in her small hand. She wanted to be doing this to him, touching him teasingly for all the neglect he endured on her side.

She tugged at his hair once, moving both of her hands to his hips and lowered his pyjamas so they slipped down his legs easily. Before she could do anything more, he stepped out of them and dropped to his knees, his lips kissing down between her breasts, over her growing belly and finally to her pelvis.

She cupped his jaw and moved his gaze away from between her legs, an embarrassed look on her face because she usually kept herself either completely shaved or trimmed. He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist to ease her unsteadiness. He then moved her hands away from his jaw and onto his head so he could taste her, so she could pull at his hair.

He gently pushed her thighs apart with the backs of his hands, only slightly. He moved forward experimentally, the curly hairs tickling his nose and she felt embarrassed the whole time, her grip on his hair tightening and she looked away when heat grew up her neck to the tips of her ears. The last time she was that bushy, she was in university and completely uninterested in romance, but ever since Dean—despite him never asking for it—she would shave. And despite him never showing or voicing a preference, she never stopped doing it.

Dean liked it. Right now, like this.

His fingers parted her warm folds and he found her clit easily. A hissed curse slipped past her lips when his tongue flicked against it, teasingly lapping up and down. She moved back until her knees hit the bed and his eyes were glued on her every move. He disappointedly licked his lips but excitement reignited the flame in his green eyes when she laid down and spread her legs for him.

Usually her stomach would cave in when she laid down on her back, but this time, the tiny bump remained and his heart softened, crawling forward to kiss her knees. He lifted her feet up on the bed, staring between her legs and parting her folds with his fingers, licking away at her clit and her entrance.

He watched her writhe under his mouth the way she always did when he teased her. He knew it wasn’t strange to find it arousing. This was his woman, his love, his wife.

He squeezed her thighs with his warm hands, moaning softly against her centre which made her laugh softly. He pulled away from her, smiling at the sound, “move up, angel,” he ordered gently as he stood up. She obeyed quietly, stopping only when he firmly wrapped his fingers around her ankle, his thumb brushing against the protruding bone.

He moved forward, picking up the pillows above her head with the intention of elevating her hips. She instantly knew what he had planned and lifted her hips so he could slide them under her hips, stacked and cushiony. “Ready?” He asked softly, making his way between her legs.

She nodded, gasping when he swiped three fingers from her entrance to her folds, only to bring them to his cock. She blinked at him, turned on when he bit his lip, jerking himself slowly with her arousal, her breath stuttering the moment he moaned. Her toes curled at the sound, her pussy clenching around nothing the way it always did when she so much as looked his way. It didn’t even have to be a sexual situation, which she found embarrassing, and she had never admitted it to him.

He guided his cock to her entrance, smiling down at her way too adorably while the soft head of his cock circled her soaked centre. He gently pushed himself into her and back out, her walls took him in slowly, wetting his dick more and more. He looked between her legs completely unabashed, his lip trapped between his teeth as he watched himself disappear inside her as if he hadn’t seen her take him a thousand other times before.

Still, he was fascinated with how he stretched her open, her tiny cunt opening up to fit all of him the way it always did. She was tight and warm, completely soaking him with every push and pull of his cock, letting her feel every inch of him entering her, but also letting him revel in the velvet walls squeezing around him and creating quick pleasure to his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, bottoming out inside her. He bit his lip, his eyes trailing up her body and back down to where he was connected to her, gently pushing his hips into her, his thumb easily finding her clit within the dark curls.

“What?” She asked softly, studying his face, laughter in her eyes when his eyes snapped up to hers innocently.

“You’ve never felt more mine than right now, baby,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of her and then back inside before she could respond to him. As much as he wanted to take his time with her, he knew she would be exhausted tomorrow from her emotions tonight, so he went straight for getting her off. His thumb rubbing gently at her sensitive clit, changing the shapes he made every once in a while until she orgasmed.

The feeling of her walls squeezing his cock drew a deep groan from within his chest. His cock was coated in her cum when he pulled out of her, and his own release followed suit when he pushed back into her warmth. He cursed long and softly, brows drawn together in pleasure as she clung to him, both of them riding the seemingly endless pleasure like gravitational waves after the collision of neutron stars.

Her nails dug marks into his soft skin and she gently released him, watching the exquisite look on his face. The rapture that made her insides tighten deliciously. His lips were parted still, completely breathless. His cheeks were pink and his whole body was hot, covered in a nearly unnoticeable amount of sweat.

He was so beautiful.

“You actually like it?” She asked, flustered when he pulled out of her, their cum oozing out of her, only for him to gently shove a finger into her to keep his cum inside. She clenched around him, familiar with him doing that after he came inside her, which was definitely a reason why she was pregnant so soon.

“What?” He shrugged casually, pulling the pillows from beneath her hips and throwing them carelessly against the headboard. “Yes, okay? Maybe you should let it grow sometimes. It’s hot.” He grinned, leaning over her to kiss her forehead before he stood up to clean her, but also to get the shirt he’d intended for her to wear and to put his pyjama pants on again.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks that,” she called out. It was silent for a few moments as the water from the sink ran in the bathroom loudly and Dean came back with a hand towel and moved between her legs again.

“No, Charlie liked it too,” he revealed, a little smirk on his face when she chuckled. He started to clean her up, gazing down at her in his shirt now, looking completely adorable and comfortable. “And I’m pretty sure more people like it,” he reassured her, playful patting the top of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him despite thinking it felt cute and smiled. She watched him get up to clean himself and discard the towel before returning to her side.

He fixed the pillows on the bed and turned the lamps off so they could lie down and fall asleep comfortably.

He snuck his hand under her shirt, tickling her a little when he rested his hand over her tummy, something he’d always do when she was pregnant. “Wanna pick names?” He asked quietly, scooting so close to her while on his side, he almost reminded her of Bruce, who usually curled up at her side trying to get impossibly close to her.

“Sure,” she smiled softly in the darkness.

“How about Castiel?” He suggested a name immediately and she cringed, chuckling.

“No, Garth already named his kid Castiel,” she told him, which caused him to laugh softly.

“How about… Cassidy?”

“You want a name that starts with C?” She asked, then took his silence and the little nod by her shoulder as a sign for her to give him some examples of what she had in mind. “Like… Casanova? No, Calvin? No, wait, Cara? Caroline? Or Cassian? Casper? Nah, I’m just kidding about that one. Clark? Uh, Casimiro?” She offered, shrugging a little at the end with an amused grin, his hand slowly rubbing along the small curve of her stomach.

“Definitely not Casanova,” he chuckled and she shrugged, laughing. “Ah, right,” he clicked his tongue and she stared at him lovingly. “Cassidy sounds dumb… I’m just gonna ignore Casper. And what the fuck is a Casimiro? I like Clark for a boy and… we can come up with more names for a girl…” She smiled and hummed softly. “I hope we get to have Bruce and Clark, heheh,” he commented cutely.

“You’re so adorable,” she mumbled with a smile, kissing the top of his head. She closed her eyes while trying to picture what her next child will look like. Dean blushed, nuzzling her lovingly as sleep reclaimed him, thinking the same thing as her.

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cattonicdragon · 1 year ago

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Could we have a tooth fairy Easter bunny Jack frost and platonic north and sandy with a reader that represents Halloween(reader looks like a mix between a crow and scarecrow) that's scared that there holiday is on the decline and has become a little depressed because of it. Thank and love your stuff ::::)

Guardians《seperate》 x Halloween guardian reader who's holiday is being forgotten

Guys in back,again(probally gonna disappear again lol)

In fr trying to catch up this time.

Anyways I ty for the request!:3

Angst,fluff,hurt with comfort,readers sad :(

has not been proofread, A/N at the end

Tooth fairy

Its early October,you know what that means, its Halloween time

The time where the vail between the spiritual world and the living is the thinnest

You and tooth usually celebrate together,she does get more work during hallowing because of all the candy but she spends the most of her time with you

She helps you hang up the decorations and spread the Halloween feels

However you havnt done that yet,not only that but you dont have that much time left you only have a month

Once tooth realizes that somethings wrong she'll immidatly do ask the other guardians if they had seen you or if they had heard something from you,the results all come back the same,you were seemingly no where

She decided to check the globe,that could have a clue right?

That's when she noticed there were many less lights then usual,and that when it started to line up..

People were forgetting about you.

The last time you had spoke before going radio silent you had mentioned that it wasnt even October and people were advertising Christmas things

She had realised that you had probally hid yourself away becuase of this

When she does eventually find you shes understandable very worried for you.

After she gets a thorough explanation she'll waste no time in helping you with preparations

However first off,she has to get you in the Halloween mood,as your current one is rather sour,and we cant have that!

She cheers you up by bringing you around and showing you places that are getting ready for Halloween

She brings you to see a small shop that has cobwebs,spiders,skeletons,ghosts the whole lot,she smiles as she sees a small one form on your lips

She then brings you to stores as parents and kids are choosing out pumpkins,baskets,sweets and costumes

When a smile finally Grace's your lips she hugs you tightly and tugs with her to get more decorations up and around

She understands what it feels like to be forgotten and she dosnt want that to happen to you

Bunnymund/Easter bunny

Hes used to people neglecting his holidays for others

But hes surprised when there seems to be lesser lights on the globe

Things line up really quickly in his head as the cogs start working

He dosnt waste a second,immediately searching for you in fear you've disappeared

Once he finds you he tries to calm you down reassuring you that aslong as hes there he wont let you disappear

He even decorates Easter island with some Halloween decorations

He gives you Halloween styled eggs as a way to cheer you up

He will decorate pumpkins with you aswell

since halloween takes place in fall he might take you to forests where the leaves have turned orange and are starting to fall

he will help you decorate places and even though hes not the biggest sweet tooth,with a big oof bribery im sure he'll try a sweet oor two

he'll constantly be there and comforting you

easter isnt all ways widley celebrated so hes probally had a fear of fading aswell

he wont ever say it but due to the fact that your holidays is overlooked in favour for christmas,he holds a small grudge

he knows its not norths fault but hes just salty

Jack frost

Honestly hes kind of tone deaf

hes very happy go lucky and isnt used or very good at adapting to change

id like to think that he was quite close to you even before becoming a guardian,because halloween is in the colder months of the year

it might take another guardian to point out your abscents or off behaviour

however just because hes abit tone deaf dosnt mean hes not smart

once its been pointed out to him hes going on a man hunt for you

altough he wasnt in an entirely similar situation,he still knows what its like to feel isolated,scared and alone,and as his S/o he dosnt want yuo feeling the same

once locating you the first thing he'll do is make sure your not fading away

if you are then he will moost likely panic

he will eventually calm himself down,realising that panicing wont help it at all

his first priorety is to make sure that your ok

mentally and physically

afterwards he takes you to do things to take it off your mind

some of his favorite things to do are skating and carving pumpkins,if your not good at either he'll help you

he loves decorating everywhere with fun decorations

his favorite halloween decore are those door bells that grab youor finger or smth(i hate those things with a passion,so i can imagine him loving them)

north/santa claus

if anyones going to find out the fastest,itts north

he has to keep a keen eye on the months and probally realise that its your holliday

his first reaction is to celebrate your holiday with you,he feels alot like a father figure to you and as such he feels he needs to celebrate your holiday with you

though the smile on his face dosnt stay long as he finds that many stores,instead of having halloween decoration.have christmas things

thats not right.

at first he thinks it might just be the store,and so he checks others

thats until he becomes aware that its most stores

why are they all decroated with christmas decore,they should be deced out with sceletons and pumpkins

not snowmen and gingerbreadmen

after coming to this realisation he checks the globe before visiting you#

he gets quite anxxious once checking the globe

hes quick to find and omfort you,hes quite furious people are neglecting your holiday for his.christmas is still months away!

after calming you down he will go ALL OUT on halloween decorations,the north pole dosnt even look like what it once was,white robes with dark circles are hanging around the celeing,skeletons have been placed everywhere in different positions,fake spiders and fake spider webs have been thrown enywhere they can.

all the elves and yeti's take a day off,to decorate pumpkins.

he'll probaly also reach out to the other guardians,inviting them all over so you can all celebrate together.<3

sandy/sandman

sandy is very intune with the going oon in the world,aswell as being extremly intuitive

hes probally seen this coming though he didnt think itd be to such an extent where it'd cause you distress

after feeling a particullary cold gust of autaum wind its clear something is wrong

after checking the globe it seems that his hypthesis had become reality

he wasnt very surprised since he had a nagging feeling it'd happen,apart of him thinks that he might have just been denieing that you had the possibility to fade,that he was in denial

either way he had to push his own thoughts away as he had more importtant things to do,such as comforting you and restoring your holiday to its former glory,or at least try to.

after locating you hes quick to alert you of his precents though he may not be the best at calming you down since,he cant really speak.

hes most likely to put you to sleep and give you good dreams whilst brainstorming ideas to help your current dilema

once your awake and calm,he'll try his best to relay his ideas and help you

cutting pumpkins is a must

he will try his best to make candy with you

if you ever need some comfort just say the word and hes hugging you and trying his best to comfort you

he makes sure you have good dreams for days

he promises that he'll try his best to help you

he'll be dammed if he ever didnt go through with that promise to you.

the other guardians will most likely notice both of your distress and end up helpping,either that or sandy asks them directly.

hope this is ok,i havnt writeen in a while,btw this was written with a keyboard and i cant be botherd to proof read it rn and just wanted to post it so here you go!,but in all seriosuness i will be working on my other requests,thank you all for being pateint with me<<33

#cattonic writes #rise of the guardians x reader #rise of the guardians #tooth fairy x reader #tooth fairy #north x reader platonic #sandy x reader platonic #x reader #rotg x reader #rotg north #platonic x reader #my writing #rotg jack frost #jack frost x reader #rotg tooth #rotg bunnymund #rotg sandy

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