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atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

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Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member.

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style.

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack.

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–”

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender.

“What– where’s that question coming from?”

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole.

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to.

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon.

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits.

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least.

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left.

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.”

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start.

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.”

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date.

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest.

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before.

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he.

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same.

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while.

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.”

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.”

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.”

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?”

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle.

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink.

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway.

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff.

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner.

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end.

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing.

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge.

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter.

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.”

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that.

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book.

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.”

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?”

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right.

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi–stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day.

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower.

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this.

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder.

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants.

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee.

“What am I, baby?”

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye.

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his.

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him.

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it.

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending.

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit.

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough.

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss.

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain.

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat.

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name.

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin.

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better.

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers.

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.”

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore.

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail.

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him.

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her.

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

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thedeathlysallows · 1 year ago

Text

Glow

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader (previously established as Sugar Plum)

Summary: And I'm standing here handing you my heart 'cause I couldn't wait anymore

Warnings: depressed reader, angst, smut. Loki using his shadow magic for nsfw purposes, degredation, spanking, bondage, possessive!Loki, hair pulling. Warnings aren't exhaustive

Here's a part 2 to Santa Baby for y'all. I hope it lives up to expectations!

The year passes by in a dull, painful blur of building toys, spreading Christmas cheer, and ignoring the ache in your chest that appears any time you think about Loki.

No phone call.

No letter.

Nothing.

All you have is the ghost of a memory that fades with each excruciatingly boring day.

You can't even practice your magic properly... since... ya know... he was your teacher. Honestly, someone should've picked up on that. You're not your brother who takes everything in stride and seems to perfect everything with the ease expected of a future Santa Claus. You aren't your mother who just knows what to do to make someone feel better and keeps the elves satisfied and cheery without breaking a sweat. You aren't your father who is Santa Claus and brings joy to every living being across the nine realms.

You're... an imposter in a family of saints.

No wonder Loki ditched you as soon as he fucked you.

That's all you deserve.

To be used and tossed aside.

"You okay over there, sugar plum?" Sprinkle peers at you with curious eyes and rosy cheeks.

You clear your throat and straighten your dress. "Just fine, Sprinkle. How's the blushing bride?"

Sprinkle perks up even more, her mouth stretching into a wide smile. "She's perfect! I love Mrs. Claus more than anything in the whole world, but I think your brother picked a good girl! She'll be the perfect Mrs. Claus when your parents retire and pass the title!"

Sprinkle continues chattering but you block her out. You love Sprinkle, you really do, but it's difficult to listen to her go on and on about how perfect your brother's soon to be wife is. You know how perfect she is. You knew it the moment she stepped foot in the North Pole. You could sense it. Sprinkle is right; she will be the perfect Mrs. Claus one day. She'll have beautiful children who will one day also pick the perfect spouse and the tradition will keep going for as long as the world still spins.

And you'll be somewhere watching.

"I need to go. I can hear them starting the music." You cut off Sprinkle before your chest can cave in from the nasty feeling brewing deep inside you.

Anxiety, Doctor Jolly called it.

(You aren't sure about him with his credentials being from Gumdrop University, but your dad swears he's "the best in the biz". You're pretty sure your dad only says that because good ol' Dr. Jolly always prescribes hot chocolate for almost any ailment of your dad's.)

You wind your way through the labyrinth that is your home, meeting the rest of your family at the front entryway. Red and green garland wrap around every available surface, silver tinsel dripping off various fixtures. If this was your wedding you probably would've requested more decorations, but Holly wanted to downplay the whole "Santa thing" as she called it.

"My family thinks they're in Canada," she confided in you last week. "I couldn't tell them the truth, could I?"

No, she couldn't, but you still feel bad she had to lie to her family.

And all for your brother.

Ew.

"Oh, sugar plum, there you are!" Your mother reaches out for you, running her eyes over your perfectly pleated red dress before nodding to herself. "Sprinkle did a wonderful job."

"As usual." You give her a tense smile and turn to Holly. "How are you?"

She nods, looking flushed and excited. "I'm good! I've been waiting months!"

Months.

Holly and your brother have known each other for months.

Loki's known you practically your entire life and you can't get him to talk to you anymore.

"-go sit down," your mother says.

You've clearly caught the tail end of a conversation, but you can't find it in you to care. She tugs on you, wrapping her hand in the crook of your elbow before stepping through the heavy oak doors to head into what your mother affectionately calls "the entertaining room". It sort of reminds you of the throne room in Asgard, but less austere and more homey with all the dark wood and soft fire light. It's decorated similar to the entry hall, with red, green, and silver covering everything. A giant Christmas tree sits in front of the staircase with yellow twinkling lights and various handmade ornaments.

"They made it after all, how lovely!" Your mother nudges you in the side, forcing you to look up from the red aisle runner.

You follow your mother's line of vision only to meet Thor's eyes. He gives you a broad smile and whispers something to the brunette woman sitting on his left side. She looks completely awestruck, taking in everything. Whoever she is, she must mean a lot to Thor if he risked bringing her to the wedding.

You look to Thor's right and your throat constricts. Loki sits with his back straight and legs crossed, lips curved down in a bored frown. He looks up at the same time you and your mother take your seats in the front row. Not even the comfy cream and silver chairs the elves worked so hard on for the wedding can relax you. Loki's eyes burn holes in the back of your skull through the entire ceremony. You even miss your dad pronouncing the happy couple man and wife, you're so desperate to find an escape route.

For an entire year you wanted so desperately for him to say anything to you, and now all you can think about is getting away.

How brave of you.

Face your problems head on, Doctor Jolly told you months ago. It sounded nice at the time. Helpful even. Now? Now not so much.

No, you'll make the rounds at your parents' side and then go hide in your room.

Good?

Good.

The assembled crowd migrates to the dining room and you try to lose Loki in the throng of bodies. Much to your displeasure, it doesn't work at all. In fact, it's like he's zeroed in on you and nothing can distract him from stalking you in the giant room. You dance around him, downing one glass of champagne followed by two more. Eventually, you lose him and feel your shoulders relax.

"Hello, sugar plum," Loki's low voice purrs in your ear.

The tension in your body comes back immediately. "What the fuck do you want?"

He puts his hand over his heart. "How nasty. Is that any way to treat an honored guest?"

"Honored guest?"

"That's what the invitation said."

"Well I sure as shit didn't write that." You pluck a sugar cookie off the tray of a passing elf. "If it had been up to me it would've said something like "stupid liars need not show up"."

He raises a brow. "Stupid liars?"

"Yeah, well, it's a work in progress. But you get the idea!"

"No, actually, I don't believe I do. What exactly did I lie about?"

"Good question! You-" you bite off the cookie, trying to buy yourself some time. Loki just looks at you, half expectant, half amused.

"Admit it," he goads you. "I haven't lied to you."

"You took my virginity," you accuse.

Loki shrugs nonchalantly. "Something anyone could've done, sugar plum."

"But they didn't!" A few people turn their heads curiously in your direction when they hear your raised voice, and your skin heats up in embarrassment. "I didn't let anyone else. I let you and then you just left me."

Loki's mask of cool indifference falters for a second before he slips it back in place. "Did it not occur to you that I was otherwise occupied?"

"Oh, so you finally made that move on Sif now that she's free from Thor?"

"Of all the stupid, childish things to come out of your mouth, that one might earn the top spot." Loki bends so his lips are right at your ear. "It's been no one but you for a year, sugar plum. Shall I prove it?"

You shove him away and tilt your chin in defiance. "Fuck off, Loki. I don't need you."

Without sparing a look back, you leave the dining room and head to your bedroom. You'd rather be alone forever than spend another second in a room with Loki. Besides, everyone is so busy with your brother and Holly that they won't notice you're gone.

Once in the safety of your bedroom, you strip out of your dress, the heavy red velvet pooling around your ankles. A simple green bathrobe sits on the edge of your bed, but before you can grab it, long fingers wrap around your wrist. Loki tugs you toward him with ease.

"I've certainly missed this sight," he purrs.

"How did you-"

"Magic, sugar plum. You would've sensed me sooner had you been practicing with your own."

"Sorry, my teacher fucked me and dumped me, so I've been a bit depressed."

Loki hums. "Yes, so Sprinkle cornered me and told me."

You genuinely have nothing else to say. An entire year of dreaming of this moment, and now it's here, and you can't think of a single thing to say.

"Speechless, darling? I do tend to have that effect on women." He's teasing you, trying to get you to say something, but you still can't find the words. "Come now, sugar plum. I'm sure you have more to say to me."

You open your mouth only to close it before opening it again. "I don't."

"Not even if I said I've missed you every second this past year? Not even if I said losing my mother didn't even compare to losing you?"

You heard about Frigga dying. You even attended her funeral. Loki had been nowhere in sight.

"I wanted you," he continues. "Every second of every day."

"You're lying," you say.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because..." You swallow the lump in your throat and blink back the tears. "I'm nothing. I'm no one."

"Who's the liar now?"

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. "You know it's the truth."

Green flames flicker and dance in the depths of his gaze. "I've met many beings in my life, sugar plum, and most of them never deserved to exist. But you? You're not one of them."

"Loki, I don't feel-"

"No, you never do. You never feel anything, do you?" He's angry as he pulls you into his chest, his long fingers leaving their mark on the bare skin of your hips. "If you refuse to help yourself, sugar plum, I suppose it's up to me."

He walks you backwards until the backs of your thighs meet your soft bed. The two of you topple over onto it, Loki's body still pressed firmly to your own. Through his finely pressed suit you can feel every single inch of him. What little bit of his skin is exposed is hot, feverish almost.

"I wasn't avoiding you," Loki says with a snarl.

He presses hot kisses to the column of your throat in between words. Something cold and almost mist-like wraps around your wrists, pinning them in place. You look to either side and see large shadows the same shape as Loki looming over you. That's what holds your wrists down. That's what slithers across your breasts, toying with your nipples and leaving goosebumps all over your skin. His shadows.

You struggle to catch your breath. "Then what were you doing?"

"Preparing, darling."

"For what?"

Loki hums, trailing his fingers from your hips to the insides of your thighs. His touch is light, teasing. "For you. You're mine."

"Y-yours?"

He nods. "Mine."

He spreads your thighs, dragging a finger over your slit. His shadows still hold you firmly in place, allowing their master to do as he wishes with your exposed body.

"Tell me, darling," Loki purrs in your ear as he sinks two fingers deep in your cunt. "Why would I want anything that isn't absolutely perfect?"

You bite back a moan and squeeze your eyes shut. You've wanted this, dreamt of this, for a year... and now you're totally overwhelmed to have his attention again. As Loki's fingers pump in and out of you, you arch your back, your brain going foggy with lust.

"You're a goddess," he continues. His lips are right by your ear and he nips at your earlobe. "I've been searching for a place worthy of us for the past year. You were made to rule by my side."

Loki leans back, a flash of green momentarily joining the warm orange glow of the fireplace. His clothes disappear in the flash and he's back on you in a second.

"You were made for me," Loki whispers. The firelight catches the sharp angles of his face, softening his expression. His shadows disappear and it's just the two of you now. Loki withdraws his fingers from your cunt and strokes his cock. "Yes?"

You nod, eager to have him inside you. "Yes!"

"Mmm, good girl."

He flips you over onto your front and grips your ass, fingertips digging into your flesh. His cock prods and your soaked entrance and you moan into the sheets. One of his palms moves to rest against the small of your back while he uses the other to guide himself inside you. It feels so good, so right, to have Loki buried to the hilt inside you. You feel full. Complete.

"Loki," you moan out as you arch your back, fucking yourself on his cock. "Please!"

Loki strokes your hair before grabbing a fistful and yanking your head back. "So pretty when you beg, sugar plum. But a good whore uses her words. Tell me exactly what you want."

You continue bouncing your ass on his cock, desperate for any sort of friction. "Please, Loki, please fuck me please!"

"Is that all? You just want me to fuck you? Is that all you're worth? A hole for me to come in and throw away after?"

"Y-yes." It comes out as a question more than a statement.

Loki's hand comes down on your ass, a loud slap echoing through the room. "Wrong. What did I tell you that you are?"

"A goddess!"

"What else?"

When you take too long to answer he smacks your ass again. "What else?!"

"Yours," you cry out. "I'm yours."

Loki snaps his hips forward, meeting your own desperate grinding. "Fuck yes you are."

You let your upper body fall forward, relaxing into his smooth movements as he fucks into your cunt. He's thick and hard inside you and reaches spots you didn't even know existed. Your mind goes absolutely blank until the only thing that exists is the sensation of Loki inside you. He moans your name, praises falling from his lips.

So good, he says. Mine. All mine.

"L-Loki..." you gasp out his name as your orgasm washes through you, leaving your body tingling in its wake.

"Yes," Loki groans. "My perfect girl."

His cock twitches inside you as he comes, his body draping over yours in the aftermath of his own orgasm. His chest rises and falls quickly as he rolls to his side and pulls you with him.

"Are you leaving now?" You hate how small your voice sounds when you ask the question, but Loki's answer has you sighing in relief.

"Never again, sugar plum. As I said earlier, you're mine. Now and forever. In every lifetime."

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki layfeyson imagine

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lilacmingi · 1 year ago

Text

A CHRISTMAS WISH

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Cheer elf!Yeosang x fem reader

Word count: 4,360

Note: This one is another favorite of mine from Christmas 2021 on Wattpad. I loveeeed the plot for this one! I love the concept of elf Yeosang 😭 Reminder: This imagine is from Wattpad so there will be no continuations or extra parts

You sighed as you stared at the steaming cup of hot cocoa sitting in front of you. Even a festive drink like that couldn't seem to cheer you up.

"So, what's the deal?" Your friend, Jisung, asked.

"I don't know." You sighed. "I'm just not feeling very festive this year. Things haven't exactly been going well and I can't seem to find it in me to celebrate the holidays."

"Maybe it's seasonal depression."

"I don't know, maybe. I guess I feel like I've lost my Christmas spirit, that spark, you know? Things aren't as wonderful as they used to be and life has really kicked me in the butt."

"Maybe it's just that you're getting older. Things are different when you grow up. Christmas doesn't feel much like Christmas."

"It sucks." You sighed. "I'm usually so into the holidays, but not this year."

"You should write a letter to Santa." He suggested.

You let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"Thanks, Hannie, but I'm good. I'm not gonna write a letter to a fictional being."

"Well, it was worth a shot." He shrugged.

Later that night, you were sitting in your living room, a Christmas special on TV. A sigh left you as you stared blankly at the screen, your chest feeling hollow and empty.

"It's just not the same." You muttered, clicking off the television and shuffling out of the room, your feet dragging along the floor.

You stepped into your room, your gaze landing on your table that sat in front of the bedroom window.

Next thing you know, you found yourself sitting at the desk in your room, a pen and a piece of paper sitting in front of you. You weren't sure why you were about to do what you were about to do. Perhaps it was a last-ditch effort. Maybe you had hit rock bottom with no more options.

You picked up the pen and began to write.

Dear Santa,

I haven't been feeling too festive this year. I'm not really sure why. So many things have been happening lately and I just feel like the holidays aren't even worth celebrating. I've always loved Christmas, but this year has been so... bland. I don't know what to do about it. My friend suggested I write a letter to you, which I think is absurd, but here I am.

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling sorry for yourself.

This is so stupid. I don't even know why I'm doing this. I guess I'm out of options. The only thing I want for Christmas is to get my Christmas spirit back.

You folded the letter and placed it into an envelope, momentarily considering throwing it in the trash, but you didn't. For whatever reason, something in you wanted to get that letter sent out—so you did.

The next day, you set out on your brief journey to the mall. You didn't need or want anything, you only went there to get your letter sent.

You clutched the envelope in your hand as you neared the middle of the mall where the Santa meet and greet was set up. Just outside the area was a red mailbox with huge, cursive letters printed on it that read: North Pole. You didn't put an address on the envelope, you just wrote North Pole, not that it mattered, Santa wouldn't be receiving the letter anyway. Actually, you didn't know who would get it. Part of you didn't care.

You pulled open the flap glancing at the envelope in your hand. You shook your head, letting out a mocking laugh as you dropped the letter into the box.

A large pile of letters was spread across Mr. Claus' desk. Despite his busy schedule, he always found time to go through the letters that made their way to the North Pole. He grabbed the next envelope, ripping it open and pulling the letter out to look at it. Upon reading the written message, he felt a somberness in his heart, placing his hand over his chest.

"Oh no." He frowned.

He placed the letter on his desk, grabbing the intercom mic that sat nearby.

"Attention everyone. We have a code Blue Christmas, level 7. I repeat, code Blue Christmas, level 7. Kang Yeosang, please report to my office immediately."

Said elf popped his head up upon hearing his name over the intercom. He jumped from his seat in the cafeteria and hurried as quickly as he could across the snowy village, kicking up the icy substance as he did so.

He pushed open the doors of the workshop, scurrying up the stairs that led to the big man's office. The doors swung open and Yeosang stumbled in, panting breathlessly.

"You called?" He huffed out, his hands resting on his knees.

"Yes. I've just received a letter from a girl who's lost her Christmas spirit. I need you to go to her immediately."

"Yes, sir." Yeosang stood upright, saluting. "I'll start getting ready."

Yeosang is the North Pole's number one cheer elf. It's easy for people to lose their Christmas spirit around the holidays and Yeosang is around to help bring it back. He's gone all around the world on many different missions, helping people remember how magical and merry Christmas can be.

Santa met with Yeosang to see him off and wish him luck on his journey.

"Before you go, I want to give you some of my magic to use... just in case." He told the elf.

"Thank you." He took the small, maroon velvet bag, slipping it into his jacket pocket.

Santa reached over, straightening the beanie on Yeosang's head.

"Make sure you stay covered." He told the elf.

"Of course." Yeosang nodded. "I should be off now."

"Right. Good luck.”

Equipped with some of Santa's magic and a special pocket watch to contact the big man, Yeosang set off to your town.

It had been a few days since you sent your letter to the "North Pole." You weren't sure why you even sent the stupid thing in the first place. The immense regret you were feeling was palpable and almost overwhelming.

"It's already sent. You can't do anything about it." You told yourself.

Why were you worried about the letter being sent? It would probably get tossed anyway.

You needed something to distract yourself and take your mind off things. Maybe a walk would help you clear your head.

You slipped on some warm clothes along with a thick coat and headed outside. As soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the frigid air hit you, causing your face to twist in discomfort. Giving the collar of your jacket a quick tug, you began to walk down the sidewalk.

You walked and walked, not paying much attention to where you were going. Getting out of the house didn't help much at all, considering all you could think about was how much you wish you hadn't sent that letter. There was no point in it. It was stupid. You were just feeling desperate and needed a way to vent and let your feeli—

You let out a grunt as you bumped into someone.

"Sorry." You apologized, glancing over to see who you'd clumsily walked into.

You were immediately taken aback by the man's insanely good looks. You'd never seen anyone like him in your life. He looked like he was sculpted by gods. His eyes were large and seemed to have a sparkle to them, his nose was dainty and perfect, as were his lips, and he had a natural glow to his face. His hair, despite being covered by a hat, was beautiful as well. It was a light blonde color and appeared to be long, as the hair peeking from underneath his beanie curled just beneath his ear.

"I'm the one who should apologize." He stated, his voice deep and melodic, with a gentleness to it. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"I wasn't either." You spoke up.

"It seems we're both distracted." He chuckled.

"Maybe we won't bump into anyone else." You told him with a smile before bidding him goodbye.

Yeosang mentally cursed himself for letting you slip away so easily. The short interaction the two of you had didn't exactly give him a good opportunity to try and stick around. He had to think of a way to get back to you, and quick.

He took a step forward, hearing something scuff along the concrete. Glancing at his feet, he spotted a small wallet. His eyes widened as a smile broke out on his features.

An opportunity! He thought excitedly.

You kept your gaze ahead, determined to pay attention where you were going. As you headed down the street, thoughts of that guy lingered in your mind. It's not every day you bump into someone so attractive. He was stunning, and his laugh was the prettiest sound you'd heard.

I won't forget you pretty street guy. You thought to yourself.

You came to a stop, considering going back home. All the walking you had done did you absolutely no good. Remembering that there was a coffee shop just down the street, you decided against going home and had one thing in mind, and that was a warm beverage. With a new destination, you moved forward, headed straight for the shop.

Upon your arrival, you ordered a medium peppermint mocha. (or your favorite drink) Despite your current lack of Christmas spirit, you still wanted to try and indulge in the holiday's delicious treats.

The cashier gave you the total and you began rummaging around in your jacket pocket, your heart dropping when you didn't feel your wallet.

"I'm so sorry. I... I think I dropped my wallet somewhere." You told the cashier, trying not to panic too much and cause a scene.

"I'll take care of it." A familiar voice spoke from behind you.

A hand reached past you, handing a wad of money to the cashier. You turned your head, seeing that your savior was none other than the guy you ran into just a few minutes prior.

"You."

"Hello again." He smiled.

"Thank you for for that."

"Thank yourself. I used your money."

"What?"

"I'm kidding. I came to return this to you." He said, pulling your wallet from his coat pocket.

"You're a lifesaver." You sighed. "Thank you."

"It's not a problem. I was just doing what's right."

"Can I get you something? I kinda owe you one."

"Well, there is one thing you can do."

"And what's that?" You inquired.

"Just sit and talk."

"That's all?"

"Mhm." He nodded. "At least until we finish our drinks. I'm not gonna keep you here for hours and hours."

"Okay. I can do that. Are you sure you don't want me to buy you a drink, though?"

"I got it covered." He smiled.

You were handed your beverage and stepped aside to let your new acquaintance order his. Once he had his hot chocolate with extra whipped cream on top, the two of you went to find a place to sit down.

"So, I never got your name." You spoke up.

"Oh, right. I'm Yeosang."

"I'm Y/n."

"It's nice to meet you." He gave you a friendly (and very adorable) closed-mouth smile.

"I know you're the one who suggested we sit and hang out, but I hope I'm not keeping you from anything." You told him.

"Not at all. I was only out for a walk anyway."

"I was too. I needed to distract myself."

"Ah." He nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, what's troubling you?"

"Well, truthfully, I'm just not feeling very Christmassy this year and I don't know why."

"That's understandable." He nodded. "As you get older, sometimes the holidays don't feel like the holidays. It's not uncommon."

"My friend said something similar. You know," You paused, letting out a chuckle. "He actually suggested I write a letter to Santa."

"Did you?" Yeosang asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Well, yes, but I was desperate and feeling sad. I honestly regret it. It was dumb."

"Why?"

"Because Santa doesn't exist. Who knows where that letter ended up."

Yeosang had to stop himself from gasping in horror at your blatant response. Of course Santa exists. How could you not know that?

"That letter may have ended up exactly where it needed to be." He responded.

"You sound so sure."

"I'm just looking on the positive side." He responded.

Yeosang said you only had to stay and talk with him until your drinks were gone, however the two of you sat and chatted long after your cups had been emptied.

"We've been here for a while, haven't we?" You spoke, looking at your phone.

"We have. I didn't even realize."

Before the two of you parted ways, Yeosang asked for you number, which you more than happily gave him.

When you left the coffee shop, you couldn't help but feel happy that you chose to leave the house. Had you stayed home, you might not have met Yeosang.

A few days after your first meeting with Yeosang, he texted you asking if you wanted to hang out. You said yes and gave him your address so he could meet up.

It wasn't long until you heard a knock at your front door. You got up to answer it, smiling when you saw Yeosang.

"Come on in." You stepped aside, allowing him to enter your home.

He shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on your coat hanger. He looked adorable dressed in a large, dark green sweater and a red beanie.

"You look like an elf." You giggled.

Yeosang's eyes widened at your comment, momentarily worried that you were onto him.

"Your outfit is very festive." You continued. "It reminds me of something an elf would wear. It looks good."

"Ah." He laughed nervously, tugging his hat down, reassuring himself that it was positioned correctly. "Thank you."

You then led him further into your apartment.

Yeosang took a quick look at your home, noticing how barren it was.

"You haven't decorated for Christmas?" He asked.

"No. I haven't really felt like it."

"I could help you if you'd like. Christmas decorations are supposed to bring cheer, anyway—and you seem like you need it."

You let out a short chuckle. "Yeah. I do."

"So what do you say? Want me to help you decorate?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "I think I would like that."

You showed him to your storage closet where you kept seasonal holiday decorations. He assisted you in pulling out your artificial Christmas tree and setting it up.

"You don't get a real tree?" He asked.

"No. I've always used an artificial one. Even when I was younger, we always had an artificial one."

"You prefer artificial trees?" He asked, straightening out the branches.

"I do. In my opinion, it's much better than a real one. Yes, you have to straighten the branches out, but it's not nearly as messy as a real tree. It's also not as much of a fire hazard, you don't have to water it, and unlike real trees, you pay for a fake one once and that's that."

"Ah." Nodded Yeosang. "That makes sense."

Once the branches were all straightened out and in place, you hauled a box of decorations into the living room.

"Do you have a certain place where you hang these?" Yeosang asked as you opened up the box.

"Nah. Just grab one and hang it wherever."

You both reached into the box, pulling out a random ornament.

"This one is cute." Yeosang giggled, holding up an ornament depicting a melted snowman.

"Thanks. I think it's unique."

"It is. It makes me laugh too. I like it." He commented, hanging it over a branch. "Hey, do you think we could crank up some Christmas music? It would really help get us in the Christmas spirit."

"Sure."

You grabbed your phone and connected it to your Bluetooth speaker before finding a Christmas playlist to play aloud.

Yeosang immediately began to dance a little when the first song was played. His hips wiggled as he placed ornaments on the tree, seeming to be in his own little world.

Watching Yeosang made you wish you could get more into the holiday spirit. He really looked like he was in his element as he placed more ornaments on the tree, a soft smile on his lips. His face seemed to glow as he continued to work, dancing and humming to the Christmas music being played.

You couldn't help but smile yourself. Just being around him made it feel more like the holidays.

You had just watched the weather forecast and the weatherman had called for snow, which you were looking forward to. You thought of Yeosang since he loved all things Christmas, so you sent him a text.

You

Are you ready to see the snow? The weatherman said it would snow later this evening.

Yeosang

You know I'm ready! Let's meet up and watch it together.

You

Sounds like fun!

Meeting Yeosang was one of the greatest things that's happened to you. After spending so much time with him, you felt that you were slowly starting to get your Christmas spirit back.

You waited for the snow to fall, but nothing happened. You thought maybe it was just slow with its arrival, so you waited... and waited. It wasn't until you heard a knock at your door that you stepped away from the window. Standing outside was Yeosang dressed in his usual beanie (a gray one this time) and large coat. You gave him a frown.

"It didn't snow."

"It's okay. It's probably just a little slow. Go put on a coat and come on out." He beckoned.

You grabbed your jacket and slipped it on along with a head warmer to keep your ears and forehead toasty before joining Yeosang outside in the chilly winter air.

"Come on." He linked his arm with yours, leading you down the street.

A gasp left you as you saw a tiny white snowflake drift down past your line of sight. Moments passed as the flakes began descending faster from above, accumulating on the sidewalk.

"Yeosang, look!" You beamed. "It's snowing."

The elf smiled at your overjoyed reaction, his heart thumping rapidly as a warm feeling spread in his chest.

Thank you, Santa. He thought.

You stared up at the sky, watching the large, fluffy flakes fall from the sky.

"It's so beautiful." You commented.

You were far too busy admiring the snow to even notice that it was only snowing on your street and nowhere else.

It was Christmas Eve and you and Yeosang were spending it at your house. He showed up wearing a Christmas sweater and brought a matching one with him, handing it to you as soon as he stepped inside.

"You got me a Christmas sweater?"

He nodded with a smile. "You should go put it on."

"Okay."

You scurried off to your bedroom to change out of your sweatshirt and into the Christmas sweater. You glanced at your reflection with a bright smile, your fingertips running over the knit pattern. It wasn't an in your face kind of Christmas sweater, but a more toned down one with warm hues and cream-colored reindeer on it. Just the thought of Yeosang getting the two of you matching sweaters made your cheeks warm.

You returned to the living room, showing off the festive sweater. Yeosang's heart skipped a beat when he saw you. The sweater was just a little big on you and partially covered your hands. It was perfect and you looked absolutely adorable in it.

Over the past few weeks, Yeosang found himself falling for you. Never in his life had he fallen for a human, let alone one that he was sent to help out.

"I love it. Thank you." You told him. "You want some hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please. With-"

"Extra whipped cream?" You finished.

Yeosang grinned, nodding his head.

You made your way to the kitchen and started preparing hot cocoa for you and Yeosang. You'd been spending a lot of time with him and because of that, you started feeling like you got your Christmas spirit back. It was a wonderful feeling, one you didn't think you'd ever feel.

Maybe writing that letter wasn't pointless after all.

You returned to the living room with two large mugs of hot chocolate, Yeosang's topped with extra whipped cream per his request. He took a sip, giving you a thumbs up.

"Good?"

He nodded, licking whipped cream from his top lip.

You drank some of yours before placing the mug onto the coffee table. There was something that had been weighing on your mind lately that you wanted to get off your chest.

"Yeosang. There's something I want to tell you."

"Yes?" Yeosang set his mug down, giving you his full attention.

"I just wanted to say thank you. Ever since you came along, you've brightened up the holiday season and helped me get my Christmas spirit back. I know it's cheesy, but if I hadn't met you, I don't think I would be where I am now."

A gleaming and happy smile spread across Yeosang's features.

"I'm so happy to hear that."

"Will you spend Christmas with me?" You asked.

"Of course."

"There's something else I want to tell you." You took in a deep breath, preparing yourself.

"What is it?" Yeosang asked, his heart pounding.

"Along with getting my Christmas spirit back, I've also developed feelings for you. You're not like any guy I've ever met and we've had so much fun together."

"I feel the same way." He responded with a grin.

"You do?"

"Yeah." He smiled, nodding his head.

"That's great." You beamed.

"But, there's something I have to tell you first."

"Okay." You sat up straighter.

You couldn't help but think of the worst.

"I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to say this, but here it goes." He took in a deep breath before continuing. "I'm an elf. A cheer elf to be more specific. I came from the North Pole to help you get your Christmas spirit back."

You blinked a few times before an unamused chuckle escaped your mouth.

"I see what's going on here. You're teasing me, right?"

"No. I'm telling the truth."

You gave him a skeptical look.

"I'll prove it." He grabbed the top of his hat, pulling it off his head and revealing a pair of pointy ears.

"Those are fake." You responded.

"Pull on them." He told you, leaning closer.

"What? No. I'm not gonna do that."

"If they're fake, it won't hurt me, so you shouldn't have a problem with it."

You pressed your lips together, reaching over and grabbing hold, quickly tugging on his ear.

"Ouch!" He exclaimed, bringing his hand up to rub over the spot.

Your eyes widened. If they were truly fake, the pointed ends would have come right off.

"Oh my gosh." You gasped. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

You were too busy being worried about hurting his ear that you didn't even realize they were real. You froze as reality hit you like a truck. He really is an elf.

Oh my gosh. I told him Santa wasn't real... to his face. You thought.

"Believe me now?" He asked, raising a brow.

"Yes."

Your eyes drifted to his (adorable) pointy ears that stuck out from his long, fluffy, blonde locks. It was an unfamiliar sight, and one you'd have to get used to.

"Hopefully this doesn't change the way you feel about me." Yeosang spoke up.

"It doesn't. Actually, it makes me like you even more."

He let out a chuckle, glancing down shyly.

"So, you said you're a cheer elf. What is that?"

"I go around the world every Christmas to brighten up someone's holiday and help them find their Christmas cheer. You were my mission this year."

"Ah." You glanced down at your lap. "You weren't lying when you said my letter ended up right where it needed to be."

"No I wasn't." He chuckled.

"Are there more cheer elves or just you?"

"There's more. Not a lot, but enough to help multiple people out every Christmas. I'm number one, though." He grinned with a wink.

You smiled only for it to falter when a question popped into your head.

"How will we see each other?"

"One thing they don't tell you about cheer elves is that we get vacation days."

Your face brightened up.

"I can come visit pretty often. You might even be able to come to the North Pole sometime."

"Are you serious?" You asked.

"I am."

"You won't tell Santa I said he didn't exist, will you? Because I most certainly don't feel that way anymore."

"Hmm. I don't know. I was pretty offended when you said that."

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth worriedly.

"If you give me a kiss I won't say anything." He smirked.

You had to hold back a smile as you answered him.

"I think I can arrange that."

You scooted closer to him as he did the same, his hand gently holding your cheek. Without wasting another moment, you closed the space between you and Yeosang, placing your lips on his. Your hand moved to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer as your fingers played with the long strands of hair. Yeosang tilted his head, deepening the kiss and sending a wave of heat through your body in the process.

The kiss was sweet, but intense and left you wanting more. You glanced at Yeosang with half-lidded eyes.

"I don't want you to leave." You murmured, still in a daze from the kiss.

"I won't. I promised to spend Christmas with you, remember?"

You smiled. "And after that?"

"I'll see if the boss man will let me stay a few extra days."

"Good."

In the beginning, you just wanted your Christmas spirit back, but in the end, you got so much more than that.

Hongjoong ❄︎ Seonghwa ❄︎ Yunho ❄︎ San ❄︎ Mingi ❄︎ Wooyoung ❄︎ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

Do not steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

#ateez imagines #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #seonghwa #park seonghwa #mingi #song mingi #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #choi san #yunho #jeong yunho #jongho #choi jongho #yeosang x you #yeosang x y/n

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dreamsinarcadia · 10 months ago

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Mistletoe

In which Heungmin and his best friend find themselves under the mistletoe over the years (and he’s pretty much to blame for it)

pairing: sonny x bestfriend!reader

warning: fluff fluff fluff

Part 2 ➡️

8 years old

“Heungmin,” she ground out with barely concealed annoyance. “Give it back.”

The wishlist that had been oh so carefully curated was currently in the grubby hands of the bane of her existence - the neighborhood’s spawn of satan himself, Son Heungmin.

Okay, maybe that was a little unfair. But she was certain that the boy had made it his life’s purpose to grate her nerves from the moment they had met.

“I think the address is wrong,” he muttered, scanning the paper with narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t Santa live in the South Pole?”

“It’s the North Pole!” she snapped, reaching forward to try and snatch it from his grasp. The entirety of her morning had been spent scribbling furiously in the garden, ignoring her father’s witty comment about smoke practically pouring from her ears. There was no room for error - she would be competing with countless other children for a place in Santa’s list! This had to be perfect.

Of course, perfection was hard to achieve with Heungmin looming over like a storm cloud waiting to unleash a torrential downpour on her. Not to mention his cheeky smile almost sent her over the edge. Clearly he’d accomplished his task of annoying her for the day.

Ambling forward as smoothly as he could (a difficult task when wrapped in dozens of layers upon the insistence of his mother), he plopped down beside her and peered down at the list again.

“A book?” he balked. “Of all the things you could ask for, a book?” He’d grown to hate her newfound hobby of reading books. Ever since the new library had opened in their town, she’d been holed up between shelves of pristine books for hours on end. Heungmin wasn’t exactly fond of the new-found silence he'd become accustomed to; he always looked forward to her sarcastic commentary that always accompanied weekend night football. He missed having someone to stand in the unforgiving winter cold, clad in goalkeeper gloves (her mother’s oven mitts), and endure goal after goal as he practiced his penalty kicks and headers.

“Give it back!”

"No, I don’t think I will," he sang merrily, legs carrying him out of the porch and into the warmth of her home, dashing down the hallway up the staircase, narrowly missing a near collision with the family cat sprawled on one of the steps. He was much faster than she was and he knew it. He was faster than everyone in their grade, his height granting him an entirely unfair advantage over their peers.

"Heungmin, I’m telling your mother!" She warned as he skidded to a halt on the landing, arm practically stretched up to the heavens with her letter to Santa firmly grasped in his hand. With his other hand, he begun to rummage around in his pocket for something.

“Just give it back,” she whined pitifully, realising that her previous threats just fell on deaf ears. From beside him, she tried in vain to jump up and grab the letter from between his stupid fingers.

Grinning widely, Heungmin quickly pulled the letter away from her to hide it behind his back and replaced it with whatever he had managed to finally find in his pocket. “For the price of one kiss, you can have it back,” he offered with a cheeky smile, bringing a basil sprig between their heads.

She looked up at it, physically unable to hold back the eye roll. She’d seen plenty of adults on television sharing an intimate moment below a certain type of greenery during the holiday season. While it was a lovely tradition, it required a specific kind of a leathery-leaved plant. “That’s not even mistletoe.”

“You try finding mistletoe in Chuncheon,” he said with a shrug. “I had to make do with the next best thing.”

“Oh great, so you attacked my mother’s pot of basil leaves?”

“… please don’t tell her.”

Her brows arched in a look of defiance. “Try me.”

He wiggled the basil leaves. “Then say goodbye to your precious letter to Santa.”

Taking a step back, she cocked her head and peered up at the makeshift mistletoe in a moment of contemplation. Her options were limited, true, but it was hardly the end of the world. Just the thought of redoing the list brought her a bigger headache than Heungmin could ever induce.

And so, with tiny hands balled into fists, she took a decisive step forward and stood on her tiptoes to level their gaze.

Heungmin tried his best to mask his excitement, he really did, but nothing could have stopped the immediate bolt of lightning that struck his very being and coloured his cheeks and ears an adorable shade of pink when she yanked him forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

Taking advantage of his moment of disbelief, she reached behind him to snatch the letter from his grasp, call him an idiot and dash down the stairs with a speed that rivalled his own.

Heungmin, watching her disappear around the corner with a dopey little smile on his face, pressed the basil sprig close to his chest.

Christmas was fun.

•

Christmas fics in January? Why not? Truly a product of my own laziness. Part 2 awaits you 🥹

#son heungmin #heungmin son #heung min son #son heung min #footballer x reader #son heung min fanfic #son heung min fic #son heung min fluff #son heung min imagine #footballer imagine #son heung min scenario #son heung min drabble #son heung min x you #son heung min x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #mistletoe

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violet-fluff · 11 months ago

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💙 Levi x Reader

Letter from Santa

Yes, I know Levi’s birthday is on Christmas. But to keep this drabble short, I left that out.

Levi never understood why you would be so festive during Christmas. To him, it was just another holiday that would quickly lose spirit after the day is over. But to you, all of December is Christmas.

“What are you doing now?” Levi asks, as he leans against the wall to watch you work away in the mess hall kitchen.

Smoothing out your apron, you pipe frosting onto bare cookies. “I’m making treats for everyone tomorrow. Tomorrow is gingerbread day.”

Levi clicks his tongue with a roll of his eyes. “Gingerbread day? What kind of fucking day is that?”

“Now now, let’s not be a Scrooge.” You say as you try not to let his words get to you.

“I don’t see what the big deal of all this is. Just get someone a gift and get on with your day.”

You pause and turn to look at him, frosting slowly spilling out of your piping as you hold it up. “Are you here to help, or here to complain?”

Levi stares at you for a moment before walking out, causing you to shake your head.

—-

The next day, everyone gathers in the mess hall to eat the cookies you’ve made the night before.

Levi watches as you smile and mingle with the other cadets. “I don’t see the big deal with getting so festive just for a holiday.”

Hanji, your long time friend, swats his arm. “Leave her be and let her enjoy this. It makes up for her not being able to celebrate.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks.

“Hmm, well Y/N didn’t grow up in the best home with the best parents. She was never able to do anything like this when she was a kid.” Hanji explains.

Levi grunts while sipping his tea. “I didn’t either, but you don’t see me prancing around with glitter and cookies.”

Hanji sighs. “People handle trauma in different ways, Levi. If this makes her happy, then leave her be.”

——

That same night is Christmas Eve, but you are done celebrating for the day as most of the scouts ventured out of base to be with their families.

There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Levi on the other side.

“Levi, come in. Did you need something before bed?” You ask with a yawn.

He shrugs. “Just making sure you aren’t out doing some weird Christmas voodoo shit before tomorrow.”

You can’t help but laugh. “No…I did that earlier.”

Levi looks around the room. “What? No letter to Santa?”

You hum in thought as you lazily sit on your bed. “No, I don’t write those anymore.”

“You used to? That’s cute.”

“When I was a kid, yes.” You say sternly but with a smile. “I would write to him every year. I wouldn’t ask for anything in specific, just if he had extra gifts to give if I could have one for being a good kid. I never got anything. The last time I did write to Santa, I did want something. It was a doll I saw in a shop window. It was the prettiest doll I had ever seen and it had a puffy blue dress with sparkles. When I handed the letter to my mom to send out to him, she told me that he would definitely get me the doll if he thought I was a good enough kid.”

Levi noticed you tried to hide your sad smile with a neutral one. “I didn’t get the doll. My mom said I wasn’t good enough that year…” You laugh to fill the awkwardness of the story you just threw onto him. “Anyway, I gave up after that! So no more letters to Santa. Unless you want to write one with me.”

“I’ll pass.” Levi says while feeling guilty.

—-

The next morning, you wake up and see fog out the window. Perfect Christmas weather.

You put on some warm clothes and open the door to head out but stop when you see a box on the ground. It’s a tiny box with a snowflake pattern and a letter pinned to the top addressed to you.

You open the letter to read it.

Dear Y/N,

I would like to personally tell you that you have made it on my nice list. As promised, I have brought you a gift. A token to represent someone with a real golden heart.

From the jolly man at the North Pole,

Santa

Your heart races as you finish reading the letter. You didn’t notice your face hurting from the giant smile going across your face.

With excitement, you open the box to reveal a golden necklace with a heart shaped locket.

A tear falls down your cheek as you gently touch the piece of jewelry.

“Thanks, Levi.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #violet: levi ackerman oneshot

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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the girls for sure winds kensy up about santa claus just to get a rise out of her

tells her santa is going to steal mom away from dad, shes getting coal for christmas

STOOOPPPPPPP LMAO

she's bawling coming to eddie and nb bc the twins (before there was vega, there was the forces of nature sicily and sienna) told her they put in their letter to santa that kensie needed to be on the naughty list. and they 'sent' their letters off yesterday to the north pole and she is in a PANIC.

eddie is so fuckin' annoyed like??? why the fuck would they say that lmao?? it's funny but it's also got kensy in a panic, so eddie has to "write" his own letter to santa for her telling him not to listen to them.

"their's will get there first!"

"ok well i'm an adult, and santa has to listen to daddy over them."

and when they say the thing about santa kidnapping you (they watched the nightmare before christmas and were evily inspired) kensie goes running to eddie again, wailing and petrified.

"if santa tries to steal mom, i'll kick his- he won't do it. i'll protect her."

"but he's santa!"

"i can take santa. he won't, i promise. santa's a good guy anyways."

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader #dad!rockstar!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #munnysholidays

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thelatekuijames · 9 days ago

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open starter (CAPPED) for @lunarcovestarters when: november 20, pointedly where: a shop somewhere in town (not blush), left it a bit open for more variety

≽·≼

"Eugh—" Kui flinched away from a garish display that read in sparkling letters, 'Tis the Season! Underneath it, the animatronic Santa letting out a haunting ho ho ho abruptly changed, its red suit shifting into a tasteful sweater-and-jeans combo. Thanks to their illusion, he now looked more like a charming fisherman than the menace from the North Pole. The pixie blinked in satisfaction and resumed their browsing, shopping list in hand. Their eyes flicked over to see they'd been observed. "T'isn't," they said, archly. "That monstrosity will have his day, but it's not today."

#( interactions. )#feel free to set it wherever works #unsantas your santa

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mrbingley · 2 months ago

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i'm working on a ttrpg for my family for christmas (mom and two siblings) when they visit. the gist of it is: santa letter heist. all santa letters with no return and no deliverable address are sent to the mail recovery center in atlanta, georgia (this is true (there will be more true things: fun lil info about the postal service incorporated in just b/c i have always been a lil fascinated with it)). every year elves have to break in and steal all the santa letters so santa can read them.

one postal worker is convinced elves are stealing their mail but no one believes them (very crocker from fairy god parents). yr after yr this sole worker has added to the security of the facility in hopes of catching the elves. there will be fun traps. one room will be a maze of lasers that the players only have five seconds to look at before they have to pick a spot/path to start on (which may or may not be a dead end) and a laser that moves across the room will make them have to keep going.

there will be an NPC “elf” who joins the players on this heist. but they’re actually a leprechaun. they wear all green instead of the festive christmas red/green elves typically wear. they dyed their ginger hair white and the tips of their fingers are white (but, oh, that’s just snow or sugar powder!). they agreed to help the postal worker take down the elves in exchange for all the gold that was in any of the letters/packages sent here.

once the players get to the final room where the letters are stored, the leprechaun books it for the pile of gold—not the santa letters—and alerts the postal worker who is hiding in a fake bag of letters. boss fight ensues.

i haven’t come up with the mechanics yet but they’ll be simple. one of the elf abilities will def be “giving spirit” where they can compel someone to give them something with the power of the gift giving spirit of christmas (can only use this once and still have to roll for it).

my twin already pitched her elf character. who doesn’t live in the north pole anymore and lives in arizona like a cowboy. when they lived in the north pole they were the one who wrangled and taught the reindeer (they loved cowboys from a young age and no one believed in their ability to be a cowboy so they had to teach themselves how to be one with the reindeer). they wear regular cowboy boots but because they’re a tiny elf the cowboy boots look like thigh high boots on them. the reindeer are def the players getaway vehicle. i'll think of other ways to incorporate my twin's elf's backstory into the mechanics and plot.

i'll be making illustrations of their elves. maps. item cards or scenes that would be fun to see. possibly some sort of tangible, physical mechanic (like the popularity/high society meter in the court of fey and flowers (maybe a nice vs naughty meter; and elves intrinsically mustn't drop into naughty or it hurts / maddens / mutates them?)).

anyway. i’m excited to dig into a project like this that can consume my attention for the next couple months. i'm doing this because 1) it's fun to make and run campaigns 2) i'm too dang poor to buy anyone christmas gifts this year 3) i want to make a one shot that is fun and polished enough that i can publish online.

#ooc #J: text #J: life #i'll make more posts about this as i continue working. like i did for my circus campaign #christmas elf heist campaign

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frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years ago

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Letters to Santa - (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Letters to Santa (Rated G)

Pairing: Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: None; Just fluffy Christmas fun with the kiddos again!

Summary: For Stevemas; It’s Christmastime again and the girls are around five years old now. When you and Steve try to start writing letters to Santa, little Amy refuses. What’s threatening your family’s Christmas cheer and is there anything you can do to save the holiday?

“Alright, squirts,” Steve said as leaned down to be eye-level with the twins. “It’s time!” He braced his palms against the rough fabric of his Levi’s and stared into the bright eyes before him. Even though they were about five years old by now, the idea of how tiny they once were still blew his mind.

Little Emery was his spitting image as she clasped her hands together. Her light brown copper curls bounced in excitement as she tilted her head side to side. Her lighter-haired sister, Amelia, was more subdued with her questioning look. She had gotten most of her mannerisms from you, Steve swore. Unlike her twin, Amy left her hands in her lap and merely peeked up at her father’s brown eyes.

His beautiful little girls, who were growing up way too fast. They had just started preschool this September, which, while it allowed both you and Steve to return back to work, it broke his heart to have to drop them off at the classroom every morning.

“Whatsit time for, daddy?” Em asked, question mixed with giggles which stemmed from Steve’s exaggerated look of surprise.

“Well, Emmy,” he replied with an air of mischief to his tone, “I’m so glad you asked. It’s time to write our letters to Santa!!”

The loud gasp that filled the room soon after was music to Steve’s ears. Em began bouncing excitedly against the old sofa cushion. She all but threw herself at her father, which caused Steve to quickly wrap his arms protectively around her small form. Ever since the two of you began the tradition with your daughters, Em couldn’t wait for it. When you would sit with the girls on your nights off of work, she would crowd around the toys section of the paper and ask you to cut things out here and there. Steve was pretty sure that Santa was really going to have his work cut out for him this year.

Thank the North Pole for his little helpers.

Amy had shared her twin’s excitement the last two years. When she broached with the activity now, her eyes dulled and went back to watching It’s A Wonderful Life on the television set. It was almost as if she wasn’t interested…but that’s not possible, is it?

“C’mon Amy,” Steve tried to coax his girl into his only other free arm. “Don’t ya wanna write a letter to Santa? Tell him what you want this year?”

To his surprise, Amy only shook her head. “No thank you,” she mumbled, eyes still transfixed on the television. What kid didn’t want to write a letter to Santa asking for new toys?

“Are you sure?” he tried again, adjusting Em to rest against his hip. The darker-haired twin was still bouncing with excitement, chubby hands grabbing at his shirt. “How else is he gunna know what toys to bring ya?”

“I don’t want anything.”

Now this was concerning. It was one thing to not want to write a letter, but not wanting anything for Christmas? That’s when Steve started to panic. Was it something the two of you had done? Did he say something to upset her about Christmas? Sure, you had been heatedly discussing the financials for the rest of the year, but you had made a promise to always set aside some money to give the girls a good Christmas. He had thought the girls were sleeping at the time. Was it possible Amy had overheard?

Desperate for a second opinion, Steve tried a different approach. “Alright,” he relented. “But how about you come to the kitchen with us anyway? Maybe we can have some of Auntie Robin’s christmas cookies before dinner. It’ll be our little secret, but you’ll have to eat it in the kitchen, okay?”

After promising to not tell you about the great cookie heist plan, Amy reluctantly agreed to trail behind him into the kitchen to where you were waiting. You looked up from your spot at the kitchen table and nearly melted at the sight. Steve was obviously vying for the Father of the Year title with one child on his hip, the other delicately holding his hand while walking beside him.

“Who’s ready to write to…Santa?” you asked excitedly, trailing off a bit when you noticed your husband’s subtle shake of the head and glance at Amy.

“ME!” Em squirmed to be let out of Steve’s grip. He obliged rather quickly, depositing her in the seat across from you. Your dark-haired daughter’s legs kicked happily against the wooden legs as she reached for a pen.

“Hold on a second, Emmy bear,” Steve cautioned, being careful to push the pens just out of reach. As she pouted, your husband glanced over at you with a worrisome look. The silent question reverberated off his face: can we talk?

As you made your way into the hallway, Steve made quick work of swiping two cookies for your girls before following you out of the room. As he stood before you, you knit your brow together. “What’s going on?” you asked.

“Amy doesn’t want to write a letter to Santa,” your husband blurted out.

You felt your eyes widen in shock. “What?!”

“I don’t know why! And when I asked her how he was gunna know what she wants, she said she didn’t want anything!” The sheer panic was evident in Steve’s voice. Almost instantly you understood what was going on in his mind. It may have taken you a few years to understand his quirks, but now that you knew them, it was like reading a far-more-intricate picture book. The last thing he wanted was for his kids to resent Christmas as much as he did as a kid without a real family.

You placed your palms against his sweater sleeves and rubbed soothing circles into the soft fabric. “Baby,” you said, “it’s going to be okay. One letter does not mean she hates Christmas! She was excited about it the other day.”

“What happened then?” Steve fretted. “It took us so long to convince her the tradition was real. What did we do-”

“We didn’t do anything!” you tried to snap him out of it. “At least, I don’t think so. Why don’t we just, I don’t know, ask her what’s going on instead of trying to understand a four-year-old on our own?”

“Right…right. That…would probably make more sense.” Steve poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey Amy, honey, could you come out here for a minute?”

The house was silent for a moment before you heard the small pitter-patter of tiny feet crossing through the kitchen. A minute later, Amy stood before you, cookie crumbs still apparent on her face. You had to fight the urge to smile at her sad pout. “Yesh, daddy?” she asked Steve.

Without another word, you scooped up your precious growing girl into your arms and sat down cross-legged on the floor. “Daddy was just telling me you don’t want to write to Santa this year,” you explained. “Do you not know what you want to say to him? Because we can always wait a few days, bean.”

Amy shook her head. “S’okay,” she said.

You frowned at Steve over her head. This did seem weird. Not even three days ago, you had overheard her talking to Em about their letters to Santa. You were pretty sure she was going to ask for a new doll…or a puppy. Only one of which would even be able to happen, thanks to your and Steve’s hectic work schedules. This new attitude toward the task was the ultimate switch. “Did something happen?” you didn’t want to press her, but her outlook was concerning.

There was a long moment of silence as your daughter squirmed uncomfortably in your lap. She appeared to be contemplating something, which was impressive for a four-year-old. “Tyler said Santa’s for babies,” she spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “And that he’s not real.”

Steve met your gaze for a moment over your daughter’s light-haired head. This was what was bothering her? “Why’s it Tyler says Santa isn’t real, bean?” he asked softly.

“‘Cause he hasn’t seen ‘im.”

“Well, just because you haven’t seen something,” you chimed in, voice gentle as a summer breeze, “doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

Your husband nodded in agreement. “Yeah, just because you haven’t seen Uncle Dustin in a little while doesn’t make him less real, does it?”

You felt your body relax at the mention of your little brother. Dustin was Amy’s own personal hero, who had recently abandoned her by choosing to study in New York at Columbia. To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. Ever since he was a kid, he had big plans of making an even bigger discovery. This was his dream and you couldn’t be any happier for him. Needless to say, though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t frustrated about the cost of your phone bill because of his long conversations with his niece…and your husband.

Amy considered her father’s response. “No…” she relented quietly.

“Well now, see?” You encouraged, lifting her a bit to be standing in your lap. “Tyler just doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I guess so,” the lisp in your daughter’s voice melted your heart.

“How about…” Steve said as he reached over to steal her from you. “We write Santa the nicest and most specialist card he’s ever gotten. Who knows? Maybe he’ll write back!”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Really?!” she asked.

Your husband nodded, determination glittering in his honey-brown eyes. “Mhm,” he said with a hum. “Then you can show it to Tyler when you go back to school, yeah? Wouldn’t that be something?!”

You have never seen your quiet daughter’s head bob up and down that fast. “Yeah!!” As soon as Steve set her down, Amy made a beeline for the kitchen table, already babbling to Em about her new master plan.

“I knew it was a bad idea to send her to preschool,” Steve muttered to you while you both attempted to stand up again. Turns out getting older and having children made even the simplest of tasks more difficult. “Gets exposed to a punk like Tyler and-”

“Steve,” you interrupted him. “It’s one kid. We can’t hide them from the world forever.”

“I know, I know. I just- maybe until they’re old enough to go into kindergarten? I could switch my shifts around with Keith, be here more during the day-”

“HURRY UP, DADDY!” You nearly laughed at the impatience in Amy’s tone. Once she made her mind up on something, there was no stopping her. “WE GOTTA WRITETA SANTA!”

You stood on your tiptoes and placed a kiss against Steve’s cheek. “It’s going to be fine,” you promised. “We just have to let them grow up a little while still keeping the magic alive. I’ll take care of the girls. You go set up the special Santa mailbox outside.” Before you took another step, you appeared to reconsider. “Actually, on second thought, I’ll do that so you don’t break a finger again.”

“It was one time!!” Steve defended with an unwilling smile. As he turned to go back toward the kitchen, he caught you making a face in the corner of his eye. He shook his head in amusement before he stepped into the next room. He knew the rest of the evening would be exhausting, trying to stop the girls from fighting over which pen they could use, making sure no papers were ripped…but he wouldn’t change anything about it.

His girls deserved the world, especially on Christmas. He just needed to get a little more creative on how to bring the Christmas spirit into their lives…

…lucky for him– and Amy– he had just the right idea.

============

Author’s Note: We’re back everyone! So sorry for the delay in posting Stevemas fics. Yesterday was particularly crazy for me and I learned that Tumblr was munching on posts. Hopefully it doesn’t happen with this fic. Amy and Em can’t wait to see you all again soon!

If you enjoyed this story and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, and reblog this post. While likes are appreciated, its interactions like these that help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep writing for you all! Also, so you don’t miss an update, maybe give my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won’t spam you with too many fandom rants and posts (except other amazing writers’ works).

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Tag list: @bakerstreethound

#steve harrington drabble #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022 #frostandflamesfanfic #dad!steve harrington

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timidxtempted · 11 months ago

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In Canada if you send a letter to Santa at The North Pole, HOH OHO, you get a letter back. Most Canadian kids have done this.

What I didn't know is that Canada Post receives ALL letters to Santa sent to that address, from all over the world...

And sends replies back, in all different languages.

And now I'm crying.

#christmas #things that make my eyes leak #gawd dammit

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brucewaynehater101 · 5 months ago

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Tim, grandson of Santa, is also the grandson of Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus, and that's all of her name she allows anyone to have except her husband, runs the workshop and keeps everything on track and she has plans, back up plans, and back up plans to the back up plans to make sure all holiday events run smoothly. She and Tim will bond by coming up with worst case scenarios and planning appropriate responses.

Mrs. Claus really hates leaving the north pole though, absolutely despises the idea. She loves her cute little grandson but there is no force in the universe that will pry her from the north pole, thus why she's having Tim deliver presents while she's waiting for Nick to pull himself back together.

Tim does meet the elves and yes there are elves. The workshop is great for an elf that wants to study mechanical or electric engineering and various other elements that are involved with designing, building, and generally putting together toys and getting them to the appropriate person.

I'm glad the elves seem to be doing alright and willing work for Santa. As far as their skills, perhaps (since Earth believes their existence is fake) they use North Pole as a job reference for other places in the galaxy.

Since Santa Clause delivered coal to Darkseid, it's not far-fetched to say he also delivered gifts to other planets. Maybe he enters trade with them for the parts of the year that aren't Christmas season.

Tim, as grandson and Santa Clause delegate, now had to also help elves with the recommendation letters, help with trade, etc. until Santa comes back.

I'm curious about Mrs. Claus as well. I would love to hear more about her. I'm hcing her as a granny with huge guns/muscles

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #tim claus au

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lume7 · 2 years ago

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Bernard the Elf x Reader Part 2

This is a continuation from this post -> https://at.tumblr.com/lume7/bernard-the-elf-x-reader/pa56xg380ez3

- After the events of the first movie you and Bernard became pen pals. The two of you wrote to each other on a weekly basis and a good friendship of sorts flourished.

- You and Charlie would go up to the North Pole every year in the two weeks leading up to Christmas after school would end and help out around the workshop.

- Sometimes your brother and you would also get to visit random times of the year in which there was a little downtime in the year’s Christmas preparations but those rarely happened.

- It was at one of these random visits throughout the year that the passage of time became apparent and that Bernard couldn’t deny you were no longer the short middle schooler he had first met five years ago. You had hit a growth spurt and was now only a few inches shorter than him. Yet, the most frightening part to Bernard was that distinct difference in the speed of your aging. While he still looked like an older teen just as he had five years ago you had caught up and he knew you would quickly pass him up in the aging process. Your life was quickly turning into another blink in his long life.

- That’s when Bernard’s random appearances into your everyday life began. Ballet performance? He’d be there with flowers and greet you after the show. Visiting a museum? Bernard fancied himself a trip to learn more to help make Christmas better even if it was completely unrelated.

- When that year’s Christmas visit came you were a senior in highschool and in the middle of applications, essays, some acceptance letters and trying to figure out what you were going to do after graduation that upcoming spring. In those two weeks leading up to Christmas you had your head buried in all of that and holed up in your room at the North Pole than being out and about helping like you did in the years past.

- One late night Bernard brought you hot chocolate as an excuse to get you to stop working and spend some time with you. The pair of you went for a walk, ended up below some mistletoe and shared a quick little peck.

- After the peck Bernard immediately began apologizing but you grabbed him by his shirt and gave him another and much longer kiss.

- Fast forward to the Santa Clause 2; The pair of you are in an established relationship, you finished college and now live in the North Pole.

- A good combination of pure genetic luck and spending so much extra time at the North Pole through college has slowed down your aging exponentially. (Think like fae folklore, e.g. Niamh & Oisin) Since your permanent residence at the North Pole you are unable to leave the magical/fae parts of the world without risking everything. As long as you’re with Bernard and in the magical/fae parts of the world like the North Pole you can stay with him but the moment you choose to return to the human world all the time that has passed will immediately catch up with you.

- However, Bernard does not share this fact with you and merely redirected you every time the risk of you going back to the human world came.

- The fact that you no longer are in the human world greatly damaged your relationship with Charlie compared to how it was when he was younger. This added to Charlie’s behavioral issues and how he ended up on the naughty list.

- Bernard and Curtis discovered the “Mrs Clause” and kept you in the dark about it too.

- Abby was nervous about delivering the news about Charlie being put on the naughty list. She confided in you about it, obviously you’re shocked but promised to help Abby deliver the news to your dad.

- After Abby gave your dad the hot cocoa, you told him the news about Charlie being on the naughty list. Curtis came in and was excited about the thought that the “Mrs Clause” had been shared and that’s when stuff started falling apart.

- Being caught in between the divorce for most of your childhood did not make you quite keen on the idea of your dad remarrying. The fact that Charlie had ended up on the naughty list made you feel guilty because old habits die hard and you still felt like you had to take care of him like you did when you were younger.

- The duplicate toy Santa was made and you did not like it. Toy Santa gave you the creeps but you went along with it because it was the only plan you guys had in such a short response time. Also, you thought you would not have to spend much time with the Toy Santa as you were planning on going back with your dad to see Charlie.

- You were ready to go back with your dad and that’s when the final bombshell was dropped. Bernard was forced to tell you that the moment you returned to the human world all the time that had passed would immediately catch up with you. You were furious because he had purposefully left you in the dark about this fact and you were never given the opportunity to make the decision if you wanted to stop aging for yourself.

- Your dad is able to convince you to stay back by saying that he needed you to help around the workshop, not make any rash decisions and promises that you would all figure it out later. He would have hated to see you throw away something and someone that has made you undeniably happy.

- Nevertheless, you were fuming. Bernard and Curtis needed help with teaching Toy Santa? Nope, they were on their own. You busied yourself with other places in the workshop.

- You did everything in your power to avoid Bernard the next few weeks. Bernard was coming near the wrapping station? You would finish the present and go help Abby with the food. Bernard was on lunch and getting food? You went to go brush the reindeer.

- You refused to talk to Bernard unless absolutely necessary which was painful for anyone in the near vicinity when those moments came.

- Then things started going downhill at the workshop. Since Curtis had put in some of your dad’s memories to the Toy Santa (like knowing where his desk was) Toy Santa was convinced that he was truly your dad. When you were helping some of the elves in wrapping Toy Santa had come, one thing led to another and you ended up snapping back at Toy Santa.

- Next thing you knew you were locked in your room, grounded, for being disrespectful towards your “dad” aka Toy Santa. “How could he, ‘Santa’, expect the kids of the world to behave if his own daughter wasn’t behaving?”

- This whole ordeal went unknown to Bernard as he assumed you had gotten better at avoiding him in the workshop. He only realized what happened when he got put on house arrest by the Toy Santa. Bernard is being escorted to the room next to yours (which is Charlie’s when he comes up to the North Pole) when he sees the toy soldiers guarding your door.

- After the toy soldiers have tied him to the chair and locked him in the room you opened up the secret little peep door that connected the two rooms. The little door was tiny enough for your arm to go through and to peek. Charlie and you had added the secret connection one year as a way to coordinate secret midnight snacks. The pair of you would take turns sneaking up various goodies but you never imagined it would be used in a situation like this.

- Bernard is oblivious to it, since the little door had been a secret between Charlie and yourself. You end up balling up pieces of paper and tossing them at him to get his attention since the toy soldiers are still right outside the room. In hushed whispers you caught each other what had happened with the Toy Santa.

- The pair of you were about to start your escape plan when Charlie and Curtis came to the rescue.

- The attack on the toy soldiers began, snowballs, snowmobiles etc. At a point during the attack on toy soldiers, Bernard and yourself found yourselves fighting off the same one. In a flash the toy soldier turned its back to you and towards Bernard. In a panic, you pulled off your shoe, threw it at the toy soldier and distracted it enough for Bernard to give the final blow to the toy soldier. The pair of you laughed at the oddity of it, “Aren’t you supposed to throw a show at the rat king and not one of the toy soldiers?”

- Then you guys hugged for the first time since the beginning of the argument. “I missed you.” “I missed you too.” “This doesn’t mean I’m not still angry.” “I know.”

- You stopped avoiding Bernard, you both decided to enjoy Christmas and discuss everything after the holiday.

- Your dad married Carol and Christmas is saved. Yay!

#bernard the elf #bernard the elf x reader #Bernard the elf x gn!reader #bernard the elf imagine #the santa clause #i did say there would be more

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tagsecretsanta · 11 months ago

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From @squiddokiddo

From @squiddokiddo to @lenfantdeverone

-Letters and Wishes-

Prompts used: Baby Alan writing to santa and Scott receiving an emotional gift. (kinda... Heavy leaning on Alan and letters though)

I'm not much of a writer but I hope you enjoy this little drabble. It has taken many twists in development that I wasn't expecting and has turned into this. Warning, you may need some tissues.

Ps. I've also included a little festive stocking filler for you, at the end. ₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

"Alan!! Get your ass up here!!" Scott yelled down the old loft stairs. What on earth was he doing?

"I will." A call came back. "I'm just writing my letter to Santa!!"

Well that explained it...

Scott rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a little old to be writing to Santa?" He huffed as he lifted a large box of baubles. "We kinda need your help with the decorations up here!!"

"Yeah in a minute!!"

Every damn year...

"You know how important that letter is to him." Virgil interjected "Let him finish it, I'm sure we can manage."

"Fine but you're picking up the slack for him." Before Virgil could protest, his brother had shoved the box of baubles into his arms. "Check those will ya, want to make sure none of them are broken."

"Well if they weren't broken before they definitely are now..." John shot from the other side of the loft, he'd assigned himself the task of fairy light maintenance and hadn't looked up from his work for ages. "Some of those decorations are are family heirlooms Scott, be a little more gentle will you?"

Scott turned on his heel dramatically "Can you blame me John??" He stomped over to the astronaut in question, the floor boards squeaking under his footfall took away any sense of seriousness there may have been. "We don't have much time to get all of these decorations up and since we're missing a pair of hands we..." Scott paused as he mentally counted his brothers " Wait where's Gordon?."

Just as if a sparkly Cuthulu had been summoned, a tinsel covered form raised it's head out of one of the larger boxes.

"Here, I'm trying to find the ends of this tinsel, it's damn near impossible." He wriggled about in the shimmery material causing the box to topple over, various decorations spilling out across the floor.

"Little help?"

John and Virgil came to his aid, pulling him up and untying him from his sparkly prison while Scott handled the scattered trinkets. As he was scooping the last few up, something caught his eye. An envelope, red with crudely scrawled writing on the front. He picked it up and read the address.

"To Mr S Claus, the North Pole."

"Wait Grandma actually kept those letters? Weren't they basically just our requests for toys?" Virgil asked removing the last bit of tinsel from his brother.

"Oh, this should be good." Gordon grinned "Open it, let's see if we can guess who's it is just by the list of toys they wanted!!"

Curious about it's contents, Scott proceeded to open the envelope, being careful not to damage it. He pulled out the letter inside, glitter and sequins spilling out and onto the floor. Another mess he'd have to clean up...

"Well that rules John out." Gordon giggled and John shot him a look.

"I thought glitter would be too distracting for him, remember I really wanted that telescope and I wanted to make sure that I got the message across clearly."

Scott shushed them and began to read the letter aloud.

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

Dear Santa

What I really want for Christmas is my daddy to come back. He was trying to save someone and he went missing but Virgil said that your magic doesn't work that way and you wouldn't be able to bring him back. Even if you really really really wanted to.

So instead I want to ask for this.

Please could you tell John come home for Christmas? He hasn't left Thunderbird 5 since dad disappeared.

Can you ask Virgie to play us some carols on the piano? I haven't heard him play in a very long time and grandma loves carols.

Can you make Gordon smile again? He used to play with me all the time and make me laugh but now he always says too tired to hang out with me. I think he might actually be upset.

Can Scotty have a break. He's been working all the time for ages and ages and he always seems angry or sad. He has so much nasty paperwork to do and when he's not doing that he's flying Thunderbird 1 and saving people.

This Christmas I want him to relax, it's not fair that he has to be so busy. Grandma says that he's going to work himself to the bone and he's already really boney. I don't want my brother to turn into a skeleton.

My daddy used to always used to help me write to you. I'm going to write you a letter every year for him, even when I'm 108 years old.

Love Alan Tracy.

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

At the lounge table, Alan gazed down at his masterpiece, it was perfect, best letter he'd ever written along with the best glitter glue art he'd ever made.

He sat for a moment, admiration turning into embarrassment, thinking about what Scott had said. He would be 16 next year, practically an adult, he was definitely way too old to be writing letters to Santa Claus, he stopped believing in the magical bearded gift wizard years ago. But he didn't want to stop.

He missed dad.

A gentle hand on his shoulder halted the spiralling thoughts. He turned to see his grandma's warm smile.

"Why the long face kid? Your letter is looking amazing this year." She said softly, gently pushing the discarded art supplies aside to get a good look at her grandson's creation.

"Grandma, I-". He paused, not being able to find the words. "Don't you think I'm too old for this? To be writing letters to a man I know doesn't exist?"

She knelt to his level and pulled him close rubbing his back soothingly.

"You can never be too old for something you enjoy, sweetheart."

"I just feel like dad would have wanted me to be more useful now that I'm older, ya know. We don't get a lot of time to have Christmas, I could be decorating or making lunch or helping prepare for the winter rescue rush..." He swallowed, tears begining to brim, trying not to let them spill. "want to honour dad, I want to remember him."

Grandma Tracy pulled away to meet the boy's gaze.

"Alan, writing those letters is honouring your dad. I know he valued hard work and did everything in his power to make Christmas happen every year but what he loved most of all was taking some time out to write your letters to Santa with you."

Alan remained silent.

"And if it's what you love too then it's what he would have wanted, to know that you're doing something you love whether it's useful-" she gestured some air quotations "or not."

She gently cupped her grandson's face in her hands and brushed away his tears. Big blue eyes gazed into hers.

"He'd be so proud of you Alan."

The old lady reached to plant a kiss on his forehead and Alan sniffled a watery smile before drying his eyes.

"Now then if you're finished with your letter, why don't you go see if your brothers need your help." She stood picking up the sparkly paper from the table and slipping it into an envelope, red just like all the ones that came before. "I can't wait to see what you make next year."

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

Scott swallowed struggling to read the last few words aloud.

"Love Alan Tracy..."

The silence was deafening. The nostalgic guessing game long forgotten in the hopeful words of an eight year old boy.

Scott dried his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "I had no idea... I..."

"I don't think anyone did." Virgil added his arm snaking around his brother's frame.

Gordon and John were still sat on the floor the younger's face buried into the older's shoulder, both silent in mutual disbelief.

"After all that pain, all he was worried about was us..."

The sound of footsteps thudding up the loft stairs brought them back to the present as Alan appeared at the top step.

"Hey guys, I've finished my letter and-"

Four pairs of tearful eyes turned to meet him.

"Uhh... What's going on?" He gingerly stepped towards them. "You guys ok?"

As soon as he was within arm's reach, Scott grabbed his little brother into a tight hug, clinging on for dear life. It wasn't long before the others joined them in the embrace, circling around the smallest Tracy.

"I'm sorry." Scott mumbled into Alan's blonde locks.

"For what?" The boy struggled to talk under the weight of his siblings.

"Your letters, I should have known, they help you stay close to dad right?"

Alan could feel the tears welling up again, nodding sheepishly.

"He'd love that you're keeping up the tradition for him."Virgil said squeezing tighter. "And you'll never be too old for that."

They all stayed there for a moment, just feeling the closeness and love of one another.

And there were those words again, it was a bitter sweet comfort.

"He'd be so proud of you..."

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.⊹

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart

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