#also merry christmas and new year or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

icallhimjoey · 11 months ago

Note

Can we have a sweet and soft Christmas eve with Joey? Just the two of us? pretty please

this was requested at the perfect time, so thank you, and merry christmas my sluts! Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Still Love Me?

"I'm sorry, I'm not crying because I'm upset, d-don't worry, I just..."

You don't get like this very often. Usually, trying to be extra affectionate makes you scrunch your nose up, makes you squirm and laugh and cringe. Makes you push him away, not taking the extra hugs and kisses seriously at all.

Joe doesn't mind.

"What's wrong?"

It's actually nice to not always feel the need to give you more. To not be afraid that maybe you'd be upset after not immediately coming over to hug and kiss you when he'd walk in at the end of the day.

But something's different tonight.

It's likely the holiday stress that's getting to you. Nothing a pair of extra affectionate warm embracing arms won't fix.

"I thought we had more cheese, but all we've got left is this..."

You suppress a sob.

Unsuccessfully.

Joe knows the tears are only there because all of everything has come together for the perfect storm, and you're just about ready to fall apart.

It's sort of cute that it's a lack of cheese that does it, and Joe's secretly glad it's not something that he'd done or said that got you. That it's not his fault, and that he doesn't have to apologise over something unimportant.

It's fine, though, the crying.

Joe had been ready for it.

He's got steady hands and is prepared to catch whatever needs catching. Knows how to put you back together just fine.

"Why did I do this? I've got to stop sneaking things, I– look, there's no... this is all we've got..."

You've got family coming over tomorrow, and it's the first year that your place is the spot for the big get together. It's nerve-racking in new ways you didn't know existed before because you're bringing both sets of parents in, and all you want to do is make the family proud.

Be the perfect daughter.

Have the stepmothers and stepdads get along as well as all of the divorced people. All of the siblings. Step-siblings.

Fuck, there's too many people coming over.

Could you still cancel, do you think?

You just... you just want Christmas be wholesome, and festive, and cosy, full of laughter and love and just... have it be perfect.

It's almost become a bit of a passion project, and it's quite literally driven you mad.

Well. Driven you to tears, at least.

Joe looks over and sees you hold a little block of brie cheese. It's not much, and it's got a bite taken out of it.

"Wait, did you–" Joe's already smiling, because what the fuck is he looking at right now? His girlfriend's got tears in her eyes and is stood in front of the opened fridge door, holding a bit of French cheese that has teeth marks in.

Surely, you are able to imagine what this looks like from his point of view.

It's at least a little funny.

But another sob wracks from your chest and all Joe can do is step closer and wrap arms around your shaking frame.

He's allowed to laugh as he does so.

"I didn't know- I thought we had more, b-but this was all we have, and I snuck a bite last night, because I– I was peckish and just wanted a little something, and–"

"Hey," Joe leans back and gets your face in both his hands. He's still smiling. Can't not smile, because this is ridiculous, but you also look very cute. Red nose. Fat tears stuck in your eyelashes. The colour of your eyes about ten times brighter because of the unshed ones.

"We'll serve 'em dry crackers, and they'll fucking take what they're given, all right?"

You pout and hold up the evidence of your late-night-snack-run in your own kitchen from the night before. It's right in between your faces and gives Joe a chance to really see the cause of the outburst.

"Still love me?"

Joe looks at the brie a second and then lurches forward with a growl, sinking teeth into the soft cheese for a bite of his own.

"Still love you." he replies, mouth full of cheese.

You can't help the choking laugh, head cocking to the side as a defeated soft chuckle leaves you. It only makes Joe want to grab hold of you tighter.

"Hmm," Joe hums, now chewing, and he frowns. "This is good. We should–" he can't finish the sentence without laughing, knowing it's likely the wrong thing to say, but he's already started the sentence. You get a good eyeful of the cheese in his mouth, in between his teeth. "We should get more of this."

Well, you can't.

Hence the crying.

You pout once more and then groan. It's so stupid, you're well aware. You just need a bit of sleep. Your family won't hate you because there's no cheese.

And if anything, you could throw it into the group chat and are sure that at least three people have some brie to bring along tomorrow.

You really are just very tired.

"Tell you what," Joe says, now taking the little piece of cheese from your fingers, one arm still around you. "We'll finish this, have some hot chocolate and just... relax. Watch a Christmas film. Tomorrow is tomorrow and tonight is tonight, you've done enough prepping and it'll all be fine–"

"Perfect." you correct.

It's important that everything will be perfect.

"It'll all be perfect." Joe coos, voice smooth like butter.

You sniff and look at him a moment. He's still chewing. Smiling. Joe's being all playful and it's reminding you of why you love him so much. Glancing into the living room, you know Joe's right. Everything's ready. Everything's done.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Calm before the storm." you sigh, patting Joe where you're holding onto him. Then lower down, quick touch to the bum. Joe easily lets you.

"Calm before the storm." he confirms before you let go of each other. You move to collect yourself, wiping fingers below your eyes, and Joe opens a cupboard to get to mugs out and says, "And I'll go get extra cheese tomorrow, it'll be fine."

You're about to protest. Tell him that the shop you usually go to won't be open. It'll be Christmas. And everyone's stocked up already. Shelves are empty all over. But Joe sees it across your face before you can say anything and adds, "I'll find some, don't worry about it."

And so you don't.

You accept a kiss to your temple, a deep inhale of your hair and you tilt your head for a kiss on the lips. A quiet thank you.

After a squeeze of your arm, Joe gets started on the hot chocolate and you decide to see if there's anything good on TV or if it'll be Netflix for the night.

Before you've been able to make a choice, you hear mugs being filled and you scurry back into the kitchen. You get to the fridge before Joe does, which was the plan. You find the can of squirty cream amongst all of the food and drink - your fridge has never been this full. It's almost triggeringly full; so much food, yet so little cheese.

It takes you too long, and Joe joins to look over your shoulder, to see if he can spot it before you do.

He doesn't.

You find it and giggle excitedly, a little delirious (you've gone mad, remember?) as you shake it with a wild arm. Your demeanor is the opposite of what it was minute earlier.

No tears. Just manic laughter.

Makes Joe laugh just the same. His girlfriend's gone insane and, if he's honest, he's kind of into it.

You spray some cream into both mugs that Joe's filled with hot chocolate, and before you place it back into the fridge, you shake the can again.

"You just said you should stop sneaking things," Joe isn't exactly trying to stop you, but he knows what you're about to do. Feels like it's worth saying something, to maybe prevent a further break down.

It's of no use, though.

His comment makes you glance him pointed a look. It's ridiculous of him to assume you'd been serious. Of course you're not going to stop sneaking things. He doesn't see the deadpan stare you give him because he's busy placing mini marshmallows onto your drinks, but despite the advice, you go for it anyway.

You tip your head back and spray some of the cream directly into your mouth.

"My God," Joe says when you let it go for a little too long, and when he looks, he barks a laugh.

You've overdone it.

It's too much.

Well, is it ever too much? Not really. But it doesn't fit into your mouth and thus there's a problem. This is going to be messy.

With your head still tilted back, you release a small sound of panic at the inability to close your mouth and raise a cupped hand, ready to catch whatever is going to spill.

But Joe knows just the perfect fix, and he's quick.

Before you know what's happening, your boyfriend's got his hand on the back of your neck, digging in strong fingers and guiding your head forward.

Just before whatever your lips can't curl around is about to slide down your chin, Joe's mouthing at it and manages to get it all, tongue licking and lips closing around your opened ones.

What follows is a weird, full-cheeked sticky, creamy, sugary kiss that has you giggling into each others mouths.

It's still messy, but you'd easily do this again. Would it be too obvious if you just went for an insane mouthful once more?

Joe pulls back, sees he's missed a bit and doesn't hesitate to lick at the corner of your mouth, making you shriek with your mouth closed, pushing him away.

"You're gross," you say fondly after swallowing.

He's also adorably sweet, but he doesn't need telling.

Joe lets his head bobble back a little as he silently laughs, wiping at his own mouth with the back of his hand, glad to have been of service.

"Yea? Still love me?"

Tomorrow's going to be fine.

There's no cheese but for the little chunk you're about to share. It'll likely be all gone if you both have a single cracker with some on.

And there probably also won't be any squirty cream left, what with your plan to bring the can over to the sofa for top-ups after you've eaten all of it off. Or, you know, after you've sprayed more of it into your mouth just so Joe can eat it out of there again.

You families can have hot chocolate without any, and Joe's right. They'll fucking take what they'll be given and be grateful.

Or, Joe can find some tomorrow.

Somewhere.

Whatever.

You're no longer fussed.

It's Christmas. Christmas Eve.

"Still love you." you beam, because you do.

You really, really do.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #still love me?

242 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Note

hello gorgeous! if you don't mind modern au, i have an idea. if you don't feel like writing anything it'd be great to hear your thoughts abt it. daemon x wife!reader (who's somehow connected with magic but not targaryen) who are devoted to each other like madly in love. before daemon has to go to war they're saying goodbyes kissing, crying and not being able to let the other go. feeling like something's off he says smth like "i'll find you in another life. i'll find you in any time we'll be existing. i will love you any time i am alive" (in high valyrian or calling her some name in it) kissing her knuckles and going away. unfortunately, he was right. reader died some way while he was away and he remains faithful to her for the rest of his life (oc but whatever) and in the modern world he does find her. maybe targaryens are some sort of royal family, maybe they keep a family business or an ordinary family with lots of relatives. but he fins the reader and they somehow just feel. sorry if it's too much. i'd really like to read something about it but it absolutely ok if you don't feel like it. thank u in advance! take care!

Waiting For A Lifetime

Part 1 2 3 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader cos it just sorta happened

Summary: Overcome by grief, Daemon turned to black magic to revive you. Moved by pity, the witch who casted the spell promised you would live until you met your love again in his next life.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Modern AU, fem!reader, mentions/depictions of death/still birth/war, my pretty boy aegon whom i would die for, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: i saw this last night when i woke up in the middle of my sleep and couldn't stop thinking about it. I changed a lot about your req nonnie. I do hope you still like it though. I absolutely could not help myself with this one and I got so carried away T_T also a lot of facts about the Targaryens have distorted so just just just roll with it ok ok ok thank you And yes i know this is a gif from the crown but i love it so much the hat falling off the kiss ITS EVERYTHING I WANT TO BE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR also i do acknowledge the fact that this anon came to me with this idea after i reblogged this amazing moodboard sooooo yeah i think this post sparked this fic idea lol ALSO ALSO ALSO 2022 MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!! LOVE YA ALL imagine seeing this post in like 2032 or smth shit thats like 35 years from now Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony pssst i made p2 "Never Before"

Daemon's face was streaked with tears and sorrow. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was as sure as it was grave as he repeated the word he uttered to the shaman, "anything."

She looked at him, able to taste the desperation in the air, "even if it costs your life, prince?"

Daemon looks at his love before him, his love that was carrying his child. He places his bloody palm on the gaping wound on her stomach.

"Your child will not live even if she does."

Daemon screws his eyes shut tightly. He begins to quiver in anger, in grief, in pure sorrow. He mutters, "anything," he slowly opens his eyes to gaze upon her lifeless face, "better it me than her. There is no world worth living without her."

The woman narrows her eyes at the prince. She knew he was the Targaryen, once heir, known to be rugged and harsh. The Rouge Prince. Yet, there was no trace of malice within his being, only what she would describe as true devotion, true love.

"So, may it be done by the gods old and new," she says, drawing the prince's attention to her, "I will plead for her soul that she may live."

Daemon watches the witch, as she stands to her feet from the ground they were both sprawled on, in front of the body of the dead woman.

"I will plead that she may live long enough to meet you again in another life, so that you may have the love you have now once more."

"Another life?"

"Yes," she says, "the gods recreate humans they are pleased with to grace the earth again. I am certain they will let you be reborn to be with her again. I will make it certain."

Daemon grabs the cold hand that was beginning to stiffen.

"Although, I am unsure if they will allow you to remember her."

"I will remember her," Daemon retorts, kissing the hand of his love, "I will remember her no matter form I take... I will, I must."

"So it remains to be seen," she says before speaking out her incantation.

And it would not be seen until nearly 2000 years later.

The times have changed drastically. Women wore pants and voted. Men where made to take more responsibility for their actions, though still got away with things.

And yet...

... my love for him never faded.

Every prince that was born and named Daemon, I hoped would finally be him. It went about like this century after century, war after war, plague after plague, rise after fall. I had feared the Targaryens would die out, but they proved to be as strong as the very foundations of the earth.

And it took the televised of the marriage of Viserys XXIX to Duchess Aemma of Eyrie for me to see the face of my love: Daemon, the Wild Child, the Knight of Knickers, as penned by the press. Ultimately, the prince of my heart.

I burst into tears when I saw his cheeky face as he nudged his brother at the isle. I pressed my hands on the screen, thinking to myself, the wait was finally over, he was finally here.

All that was left was for me to meet the Prince of Valyria.

Yes. That would be no problem at all.

Except it was, because Daemon was just as mad as he was in this life as he was in the last.

After all, he did not get those nicknames from the press for nothing.

I used up so many of my resources to even just get a glimpse of him. It was hard to catch him in one place. I mostly caught him with a scandalous headline in the cover of magazines and newspapers.

Tonight, it was a newspaper.

"You know," the bartender taps his finger on my newspaper that was sprawled out on his bar, "he's a frequent here."

I turn to the blonde, in his white dress shirt, black waist apron, and black slacks. I raise a brow as he purses his lips as though the information was ground breaking. He wipes on a glass with his blue towel.

"Gee, Aegon," I lean on the surface before me, "I would have never guessed that from the picture on the wall."

I nod at the said picture. It's one of Daemon and the current owner of the bar, Tywin Lannister, who also happened to own Lannister Land Corp, shaking hands. Oh, Lannisters.

"Hey," Aegon shrugs, pulling his lips down in a nuff-said manner, "it had to be said, since you're literally the only patron here that has not interrogated me with questions about the Knight of Knickers."

I snort, "then allow me to change that," I rest my head on my hand, "is he truly so dashing that his looks practically steal the knickers of the ladies around him?"

Aegon finishes buffing his glass and puts it down, looking up in thought, "mmm, I think it's mostly cause he's a prince that he's got the effect he's got. I've got no idea what possessed the first girl to throw her panties at him."

I giggle, "are you saying the prince is ugly?"

"Bit harsh, innit," Aegon pulls back, getting another glass, rubbing it down with his towel, "your words, not mine."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, as I laugh at the light haired boy's muses, "you know, if we had been living at the height of the Targaryen rule, Daemon would have had your head for that, pretty boy."

"Gods, to be beheaded," he sighed, "a dream, rather than working here, taking about some monarch who lives off the money of the people."

I snort once more. Aegon's face softens as he breaks into a laugh himself.

"No, but honestly," he says putting down the glass and the towel, "you, my dear, are my saving grace. The highlight of my begrudgingly stretched out day," he stretches out a hand to me.

I chuckle at him as I take his hand. He presses a kiss on the back of it, making me grin at him in amusement.

"You're the only sane person here," he releases my hand, "everyone else is so desperate to brush shoulders with the prince, or simply even catch a of whiff of his flatulence."

I break out into a fit of chuckles, slamming firmly at the wood between us.

"No, I'm serious! I heard the fittest gal, a total bombshell, boasting with pride about how she managed a sniff of the bloke's fart."

I'm wheezing with laughter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Aegon releases a deep and dramatic sigh, "what has the world come to?"

I wipe a tear as Aegon watches me empty myself of laughter. His face crinkles in a pleased expression, Adam's apple bobbing as he chuckles airily.

I sigh, catching my breath, "well, if I ever become that desperate, I ask that you pray for my soul."

Aegon presses his palms together, "praying for that girl as we speak."

I chuckle, folding the newspaper before me, "I must say, I am actually desperate to meet the wild child myself."

Aegon drops his hands along with his humored expression.

I cannot help but laugh at him as I continue to fold the paper, "though, I would say I am the desperate kind that is so desperate..." I eye him as I press the grey material together, "that I, somehow, dread to meet him at all."

Aegon snorts, screwing his eyes shut as he wipes his face, "the Stranger. Don't say things like that! I nearly had a heart attack believing you."

"No, but it's true, Aegon!" I say with a faux wounded pout, "prince Daemon is my great love, we have been destined to meet for millennia!"

Aegon leans on the table, humming as he nodds his head, "yes, and I suppose I am Aegon the Conqueror."

I lean towards him and grab his jaw, "no, you look more like Aegon II. The spitting image, I dare say."

He scoffs, swatting me off, "I'm hotter than him."

I pull away, "yes. That I can agree with, pretty boy. Personal hygiene does wonders."

Aegon snorts and plays off the blush on his cheeks by wiping his nose with his thumb, "you speak as though you met him."

I straighten up, "that's because I have. He was once my nephew."

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. His face contorts at the thought.

I raise my brows at him, "have I not told you I am not only a Targaryen historian, an expert at that, but I am also a patron of the Museum of Ice and Fire? I'm married into their family."

"Okay," he raises a finger, "ew."

I snort.

Aegon lifts his jaw and hums, "well, now that you mentioned it, I always knew you were one of those insanely rich blokes who frequent here. I was thinking you were a mafia boss or something though."

I scoff in amusement, raising my brows at him.

He pushes his white sleeves up then raises his hand in defense, "you have a very intense aura about you."

"That's because you trigger my fight mode," I retort.

He huffs, "do I? I'm scared to know what you'll do to me when I've seen what you do to men who hit on you."

"Aww, don't worry," I coo, "I wouldn't hurt my pretty, baby boy."

Aegon doesn't get to reply when a customer calls his attention. With this, he pulls away and leaves me to my own devices.

We don't get to continue our conversation at all, for it was clear that the rush hour had begun.

I eventually pulled back and decided to entertain myself while my favorite bartender was busy. I swiveled on my stool, looking out to the room, spotting the jukebox collecting dust in the corner. I smile at the sight of it, thinking about how it was still here after all these years, in spite of being older than Aegon.

I stand from my seat and walk over to it.

Aegon, finding one patron missing, frantically looks around then calms, raising a brow.

I place my hands on the jukebox, bending over to check if it was plugged in.

Aegon snorts as he hands a man a beer, eyes not at all fixed on him, "that doesn't work, love."

"Mmm, ye of little faith."

Aegon is annoyed by the man that sits on the vacated stool, blocking his vision. In retaliation, he blocks out the sound of his voice. Aegon calls out, "if you can make that hunkajunk work, I'll clear your tab for you."

I chuckle as I pull the machine forward, checking its wiring, "I wouldn't want to make a kid working on minimum wage to pay for me at all."

"I only said I would clear your tab, doll face," is all he replies before he goes back to tending to drinks again.

I break into chuckles as I fiddle with the wires on the back. I admit, it took me quite a while to go through everything, which was why Aegon warned that he would not call an ambulance for me if I got electrocuted.

The sight of the jukebox coming to life was enough to shut him up.

I get to my feet with a huff, brushing my hands off with each other. I turn to Aegon, who was already looking at me in astonishment, along with a few other people in the room.

I smirk, "my tab then?"

"Good as gone," Aegon shakes his head in disbelief, cutting his hand across his neck.

I release a satisfied sigh as I punch at the hardened buttons and play whatever it was that was available to be played.

When the music starts, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off with the music. The sound brings back some memories I had in the 1940's. If I recall correctly, it was around this time Daemon's father, King Baelon, was crowned.

I slowly moved to the rhythm of the song, swaying my hips, waving my extended arms out as I made my way to the center of the room.

Aegon stilled in his spot upon seeing this. His breath caught in his throat and he was only brought back to reality when someone demanded a gin. He looked around the room as he poured that idjit his drink and clenched his jaw tightly when he saw the onlooking crowd.

He snorts loudly, grabbing his towel, throwing it over his shoulder roughly, clearing his throat with more noise than necessary.

I smile to myself when I hear Aegon's familiar coughing. He had a tendency to do this whenever men around me started to be a bother. And I loved him dearly for it. He was a sweet boy.

With my eyes still closed, I continue dancing to the soothing song. My smile grows bigger when a section comes that tickles my musical senses. I chuckle as I twirl in my spot.

When I felt a hand come to my waist, I didn't have to open my eyes to know it was Aegon. He wouldn't have let anyone come near me at all without barking up a storm.

I hummed at the scent of him, familiar yet foreign to me at once. He must have changed his cologne. I prefer this one better. He pulls me close when I reach out to him, grabbing one of his hands and placing a palm on his shoulder. His dress shirt is softer than what I imagined it to be.

I am surprised when he leads us into a ballroom dance. In fact, I am so shocked, I open my eyes and see a blur of his white shirt and blonde hair as he spins me around.

I break into a fit of chuckles, screwing my eyes shut in pure bliss when he dips me, "I had no idea you were a dancer, pretty boy."

"Yes, well, journalists don't find it interesting enough to write about."

My eyes burst open at the sound of the deep voice.

My heart is pounding at the sight of the smirking man with silver hair. I nearly faint at the violet irises so close to mine.

"I do say," his hot breath fans on my face, "if we were spotted by one now, they'd have a field day."

I jolt upright and shove the man away. He doesn't seem to be offended by my harsh actions, and, in fact, chuckles as he reels back from my action, "not what I had expected and not the reaction I usually get, but there's a first for everything."

My breath hitches when he smiles at me. I turn from him, to Aegon, who was staring coldly from his place behind the bar. It seems the rest of the people here were doing the same as well, gobsmacked by the presence of the man in the middle of the room

I roll my shoulders back, turning to my dance partner, "Prince Daemon," I mutter, bowing my head slowly, "pardon my rudeness."

He chuckles, waving me off as he stuffs a hand in his pocket, "oh, no need to be so formal, my dear. I can understand the shock," he tilts his head at me, lips still curved, "you surely weren't expecting to be dancing with the prince and thought me to be someone else, no?"

I look at him and stare in silence. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss for words.

Everything was suddenly so real, and it was making my mind and my heart race.

Aegon watches this and clears his throat loudly.

It does not help anyone.

Daemon raises his brows at me in expectation, placing his other hand in his pocket as he leans on one leg.

I open my mouth. A second passes before I mutter, "I thought you were my pretty boy."

His lips spread into a toothy grin. Airy chuckles leave him, "I can be your pretty boy."

When he extends his hand out to me, it was like the heavens opened and I could hear the angels sing.

This was the moment I have been waiting for since that day that I came back to life and kissed him goodbye with a promise of finding him in his next one.

My breath was heavily taxed when I lifted my hand.

My soul nearly leaves me when I jolt in shock over the sound of a record scratching and jumping, repeating over and over again.

In that moment, I am hit by an epiphany. I am so overwhelmed with emotions that I could barely breathe. The sight of Daemon before me brought tears to my eyes. This was all I ever wanted, and yet-- and yet-- I was drowning. I could not breathe properly.

"I..." I shudder, making Daemon's face fall, "I have to go," I mutter through a strained breath.

Daemon knits his brows, shifting in his spot with his hand still out, "what?"

Aegon watched with tightly knit brows as I ran out of the room.

The prince drops his hand and spins on his heels, eyes locked on the runaway. His nostrils flare as his face contorts in confusion, "wait! Stop! Where are you going?!"

I heave heavily as I push past people on my way out. I am absolutely winded when I exit the establishment, hands shivering from both the cold and the nerves that were getting to me in this moment.

I walk aimlessly farther out, down to the lawn that was now dark, since it was gods-know-what hour.

"Wait!"

My heart drops.

I spin around when someone grabs my wrist. My heart is still quick in my chest when I see Daemon, heaving. His short, light hair was slightly tousled in its place. He knits his brows at me, tilting his head, "you dare leave your prince, Cinderella?"

My jaw hangs low.

He releases a sigh, shaking his head, "I forbid it."

Seeing him here and now made everything feel more Real with a capital R.

Daemon adjusts his grip on my wrist, pulling his hand back, so that he was now holding my hand.

I look at him, blinking the glassiness of my eyes away, still in shock of his presence. A million questions were running through my head, and I was glad to be able to even have the mind to ask one in this moment, "do you know me, Daemon?"

He tilts his head upon hearing this, brows knitting, lips curving. He releases a chuckle at the lack of formality and how haphazard the question was, but finds himself further drawn because of it, "no," he shakes his head, "but I would love to know you."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth shatters something in me.

He did not know me.

I turn away from him as I try to even my breath. I retreat my hand and step back as a shiver runs down my spine.

And yet here he was, chasing after me.

Daemon steps forward to make up for the space between us, "don't leave. Come back inside with me. I'll give you my coat, then you can boast that the prince of Valyria gave it to you."

I continue stepping back as I shake my head, "you don't understand," I mutter under my breath in High Valyrian.

"Then make me understand," he retorts in the same tongue with a chuckle as he shakes his head and takes a wide stride over to me, grabbing my hand again.

I gasp at the warmth of his touch. When I turn back to him, tears have finally fallen from my eyes.

Daemon's face hardens at the sight of it. His hand reaches out to my face, wiping the wetness away. The sight of his torn expression tears at me, bringing me more tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asks in High Valyrian.

I do not get to reply, as suddenly there is a loud burst from behind us, commanding both our attentions.

It's Aegon. He busted through the door with my things in his hand. Upon catching the sight of the two of us, he freezes, breathing heavily as the looks out.

Daemon's expression hardens; his grip on me tightens. He turns to me, jealousy coating his mouth when he catches I where I am looking, "is that your pretty boy?"

I do not reply to him as Aegon walks over.

Daemon pulls me close to him. I look up at him with teary eyes. Aegon looks between us, jaw tense as he hands me my bag, coat, and newspaper.

"Thank you, bartender," Daemon dismisses, patting Aegon on the shoulder, before turning from him to face me again.

When I catch Aegon's face, I finally have the wits to move.

I pull away from Daemon to put my coat on. I swallow a heavy lump in my throat at feel of the stares of the two men.

Once I have my coat on, I pull a card from my bag, handing it to Daemon. He wastes no time in taking it from me, immediately scrutinizing it.

"I'd..." I start, taking a deep breath, "like to see you again."

Daemon's eyes dart to me, breaking into a smile.

Butterflies explode in my stomach at the sight of him.

Aegon's face tenses.

I release a breath before asking, "when are you fr-"

"Whenever," Daemon blurts. He places the card in the breast pocket of his white shirt, "I'm free whenever."

I nod slowly at his words, "I have work tomorrow, but I do have a long lunch at 12-

"I'll call you a 11:55."

I purse my lips at his words, trying to hold back my chuckle, but failing, "11:55?"

Daemon grins, nodding once, "on the dot."

I chuckle, turning to my feet as I nod at his words, "11:55 then."

"On the dot," he nods, extending a hand out to rub his thumb on my cheek.

I turn to him just as Daemon pulls away and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, "I'll walk you."

I shake my head, turning to Aegon, who was still standing there, watching the whole interaction between us, "you don't have to. I have a car parked nearby."

"Then I'll walk you to your car."

I turn back to Daemon, who then offers his arm out to me. I smile, unable to deny him, or myself, of the offer. I take his arm, and the next moment, he leads us off.

I turn over my shoulder, raising a hand at Aegon while I offer him a smile, "see you, Aegon."

Aegon watches as I turn back.

There is a twisted feeling inside him that grows. He mutters softly. It is too soft for anyone but himself to hear, "see you."

1K notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 11 months ago

Text

first christmas with san

this man just screams over the top christmas to me

if you’re the same as him, it’s perfect! the two of you can giggle together as you decorate your tree and have little flour fights as you bake a gingerbread house

if you’re not, good luck! he can and will force you to make new traditions with him that he is sure to make a note of so you can carry them on for the rest of your christmases together

incredibly sentimental about tree ornaments

“oh my god, baby,” he almost yells as he pulls out a simple glass bauble, “i got this one last year at that christmas market i was telling you about, remember?”

you did remember… how could you forget when throughout the entire year he’d been buzzing about wanting to take you to the christmas market

and when he finally does, a bauble isn’t the only thing you two get

in fact, san made sure to study every single stall

he studied you too and the moment your eyes rested on an ornament for more than a few seconds, it was soon in his hands being paid for

and the food there? he makes sure that the two of you try a little bit of something from each and every stall…

you’re so full by the end of the day that the two of you have to take a nap when you get home

a nap in your new christmas bedding, mind you

san insisted on buying you some, as well as some brand new matching pyjamas

although the pyjamas stay unworn and unseen by you until at least christmas eve

he wraps them in pretty paper and presents them to you on christmas eve

and obviously there’s the christmas photoshoot in front of the tree in your pyjamas because san insists that it wouldn’t be christmas without it

proudly shares the photo with every single person he knows because they have to know just how much he loves celebrating the holiday season with you

also makes sure you take a photo under the mistletoe that he hung in the doorway

he takes a lot of those photos actually…

“no, that one wasn’t perfect,” he frowns, “guess you’ll just have to kiss me again!”

most of those don’t get sent to people

he got a little carried away

carries you to bed promptly at 9pm because ‘santa won’t come if we’re not in bed!’

he doesn’t say anything when you point out that all your gifts are already under the tree

cuddles you close all night because he’s so excited and he just needs to squeeze something!

you try and wriggle away at numerous points in the night but san doesn’t have those muscles for nothing

there is no escape

safe to you when you wake up in the morning you have a suspiciously san shaped lump on top of you

grumbles when you try to wake him up but then you wish him a merry christmas and he wakes up quicker than you’ve ever seen him wake up before

“oh my god,” he shouts as he practically falls out of bed, dragging you with him, “come on! no time to waste, baby.”

you let him drag your tired body to the living room where he passes you gift after gift and waiting for you to open them

they get more elaborate and expensive and they go on, and you get a pant in your chest when you realise that the gifts you got for him are nothing in comparison

he assures you it’s fine with his words, and then reassures you with his excited reaction to each and every gift he unwraps

“baby, it’s perfect!” “it’s just a jumper…” “yeah but it’s a really nice jumper!”

you two try and cook dinner together

half way through you end up checking if any of your local take outs are open

they’re not… you end up eating whatever you can salvage from the nightmare of a dinner the two of you had managed to make

a bit of dry turkey and a few underdone yet somehow simultaneously burnt carrots never hurt anyone…

you decide to leave the clearing up until later

you spend most of the afternoon curled up on the sofa watching whatever shitty movies you can find

and you spend the entirety of each movie picking through the plot holes and guessing how it’s going to end

you tell him you love him before you kiss him under the mistletoe on your way to bed

he tells you he loves you too

#ateez headcanons #ateez oneshot #ateez reactions #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #san headcanons #san oneshot #san fic #san fluff #san x reader

305 notes · View notes

hbyrde36 · 11 months ago

Text

STWG Prompt 12/24/2023 Missed Mistletoe 🎄

Merry Christmas Eve! Please ignore any typos or grammar errors and whatever else, I would have reviewed and edited more but it's time to prepare for my own celebrations!!

Christmas Eve, 1989.

Today was the day.

After nearly three years of pining after Eddie, Steve was finally going to do something about it. Though, to be fair there were a lot of reasons he had hesitated to take action before now.

In the months after Vecna and the Upside Down, Steve and Eddie grew close. It was bound to happen, trauma bonding and all that, and it didn’t hurt that Eddie and his Uncle spent a few weeks staying in Steve’s guest room while Eddie recovered from his injuries and he and his uncle looked for a new place to live.

When the two of them did finally move out, Steve found that his house felt even more empty than it had before. He spent a little time feeling depressed and a little lonely about it, and trying to hide it from everyone as best he could, but of course Eddie noticed anyway. He began to show up at Steve’s house unannounced, coming over any time he felt like it. Steve would often come home from work to find Eddie already there curled up on the couch waiting for him. It was nice.

Nicer were the nights they spent at Eddie’s own home, a small two bedroom house not far from the Byers old place. He, Eddie, and Wayne would have dinner together and talk about their days, and Steve would find himself wishing he could have this all the time, especially when he and Eddie would crash together on the other boy’s full size bed. It was big enough to hold them both, but small enough that they had to cuddle a bit to make sure neither of them fell off as they slept, which quickly became Steve's favorite part of nights at Eddie’s.

1987 saw Steve privately coming to grips with the fact that he was not as straight as he had previously thought, and had developed a debilitating crush on Eddie, using the term private loosely of course, because Robin was with him, supporting him every step of the way.

The following year he and Eddie continued to grow closer, to the detriment of Steve’s sanity.

Best friends for all intents and purposes, though they never used that phrase out loud to describe each other, lest Dustin catch wind of it. He was already appalled at the amount of time they spent together without him. Obviously the kid knew it was possible to have more than one best friend, himself having several, but it was still a fight Steve had no interest in listening to.

‘88 was also the year that Eddie came out to him, as well as the rest of the party. Steve was elated to find out that he might actually have a chance with his crush, but nervous since just because Eddie liked boys didn’t mean he would be interested in Steve that way.

But, Steve never got a chance to confess his feelings.

It turned out that the reason Eddie had finally come out was because he wanted to introduce them all, and Steve in particular, to his new boyfriend. They were (best) friends after all, and he wanted Steve’s opinion.

Mark.

There was nothing wrong with the guy, per se. He treated Eddie well and they had the same taste in movies and music. It was more than he and Steve had in common. Mark seemed to make Eddie happy, and that was all that really mattered.

So, as heartbroken as he was about it, Steve gave his stamp of approval and spent the next 6 months in agony. Their sleepovers came to an end, and dinners with Eddie and Wayne became fewer and far between. It wasn’t Eddie’s doing, in fact he confronted Steve about it a few times, hurt that they were spending less and less time together. He couldn’t tell Eddie the truth, that he was pulling away to save his own heart, so he just said he was busy, and besides, he didn’t want to take away from Eddie’s time with his boyfriend.

Then, Eddie and Mark broke up. Steve would have felt worse about how happy he was to hear that news, but Eddie didn’t seem overly broken up about it. He’d even told Steve that while he was a little sad that things didn’t work out, it was for the best, though he never really explained why, and the two of them fell back into old habits in no time.

That had been a few months ago, and Steve finally felt like the time was right to tell Eddie how he felt, he just wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it.

The idea came to him a few weeks before Christmas, when he and Robin were putting up decorations around Family Video, desperately trying to bring a little festive cheer to the place. He spotted a sprig of artificial mistletoe mixed in with tinsel and garland in a box and instantly came up with the perfect plan.

He would hang it above the door to the break room, and the next time Eddie came in to bug him on his lunch break he would make sure they walked through that doorway together. It was a foolproof way to find out the truth. If Eddie kissed him, he’d know his feelings were returned, and if Eddie made a joke about it, then he’d know it wasn’t meant to be.

Except when Eddie did finally come in, he didn’t even seem to notice the mistletoe hanging there. He completely missed it! Steve knew he could have pointed it out but he lost his nerve, and somehow it felt like cheating. They still had a nice time hanging out that day, his breaks were always more fun when Eddie stopped by, and he figured he’d get another chance. There was still a week and a half to go until Christmas.

But, Eddie continued to be frustratingly oblivious every time he entered the video store.

Steve tried everything, well, everything except using his words.

He moved the plastic mockery of mistletoe all around the store. Tried hanging it from the alcove that separated the kids section from the rest of the movies, and then the spot above the cash register where the little door opened to let them get behind the desk. He even hung it next to the bell above the front door a few times, which would admittedly be an ill-advised location for a same-sex kiss in a town like Hawkins, but Steve was beginning to get desperate.

Each time Eddie visited Steve made sure they walked together under wherever he had placed the godforsaken plant that day, and each time Eddie refused to look up. At a certain point Steve began to think that maybe he was ignoring it on purpose, but in his defense Eddie had been acting a little distracted lately.

Before Steve knew it, Christmas eve had rolled around and his window for getting Eddie to kiss him under the mistletoe was rapidly closing. He was hosting the entire crew at his house for a little party and asked Eddie to come along early to help set up.

He was taking no chances this time, forgoing the artificial Mistletoe for the real thing, he hung a fresh sprig of the plant from every single doorway and transitional space in the house. He was pretty sure there wasn’t a single piece of the stuff left in the entire county that he hadn’t bought, and if his plan worked, it would have been more than worth it.

He jumped when the doorbell rang a half past 4. He wasn’t expecting anyone else to arrive this early, and Eddie hadn't used the doorbell at his house in years. He glanced through the peephole and sure enough it was Eddie, standing awkwardly on the front porch. He looked the same way Steve felt, nervous.

Steve took a deep breath and opened the door slowly, palms immediately gone sweaty when he took in Eddie’s full appearance. He was wearing his nicest jeans, the only pair he owned without any rips in them and what had to be, hands down, the ugliest Christmas sweater Steve had ever seen. It was incredible, he loved it, even more for the fact that he knew Eddie had only worn it for him, to be festive for his party.

He opened his mouth to tease the other boy for it but felt all the breath get sucked out of his lungs when Eddie stepped in close, bringing them nearly chest to chest and gave a shy tentative smile.

He had one hand hidden behind his back, something Steve hadn’t noticed at first, but did now as Eddie raised his arm up high above their heads and dangling from his fingers was a small bundle of mistletoe tied together with a bright red ribbon.

Steve froze, staring at Eddie in shock.

He must have hesitated for a second too long. Eddie’s smile fell, face crumpling a bit as his arm began to drop. Steve snapped himself out of it and reached up to grasp Eddie’s wrist gently, holding the plant where it was as he finally closed the distance between them to crash their lips together.

It was Eddie’s turn to freeze, but only for a second. He recovered quickly, melting into the kiss as he wound his free arm around Steve’s waist, tugging him in close.

When they finally separated Eddie sighed happily, he let the mistletoe drop and as they lowered their hands Steve slid his palm into Eddie’s, fingers entwined.

Eddie rested his forehead against Steves, a wide grin spreading over his face as he spoke. “Wow, that went about as well as I could have hoped for. I’ve wanted to do that for so long, Stevie, you have no idea. I just didn’t know if you could ever be interested in me like that.”

And Steve couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

He laughed so hard he doubled over, completely hysterical and out of breath, and only managed to stop when a look of hurt crossed over Eddie’s face.

He leaned in and pressed another quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek and squeezed his hand.

“I swear I'm not laughing at you, Eds. It’s just… “ He giggled again, unable to contain himself. “Come inside and I'll show you.”

Eddie quirked his eyebrow curiously but let himself be led inside.

Steve walked them over hand and hand to the doorway between the living room and the kitchen looking up pointedly until Eddie followed his gaze, eyes growing wide as he spotted the mistletoe hanging there.

“Steve, what…?”

He cut off Eddie’s question with a quick kiss before dragging him off to the entrance of the dining room where another bit of green hung above their heads. Another quick touch of lips and off they went to the next doorway, and then the next, and the next, and the next.

After a full tour the two boys collapsed on the couch in a fresh fit of giggles. “I can’t believe you did all this!” Eddie said.

“I’ll admit it might have been a little over the top, but this was my hail mary attempt. I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me under the mistletoe for weeks! I can’t believe you beat me to it, and on your first try!”

Eddie blanched. “Wait, what?!!”

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #ficlet #steddie ficlet

171 notes · View notes

deceptive-daydreams · 7 months ago

Text

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

Masterlist

Prev |

Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.

A senseless daydream.

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it. Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape. This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place. It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt. Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life. And last week he was suddenly dead. It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie. All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor. Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s. Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste. Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.

Whatever you wanted.

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke. His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you. He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him. He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place. Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick. He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible. Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible. And for what? For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions. Pathetic, he knew. But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man. Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything. He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come. A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind. And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver. The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him. He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better. It was a lie. He never had the flu. He didn’t feel better. He wanted to die. And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive. Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon. His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones. There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did. A flaw in the system. And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?

Several.

He thought to himself.

You could have gone to school, shown up.

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no. So. Many. Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death. He couldn’t stop making excuses. Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse. For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together. Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had. It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision. He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid. Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed. And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues. Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies. Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum. Dancing in the living room. Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees. Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin. Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense. Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer. That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised. Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights. Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in. Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home. Only he rarely did. Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time. Years and years of push back. A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.

“My dad has a ton of jobs.” He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.

The kids would snicker. Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness. And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day. Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them. Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature. At least that’s how dad described it. It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse. They called his dad a drunk. They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged. “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie. Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time. Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt. And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up. Closure in some kind of fucked up way. Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with. Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes. Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability. No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door. He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it. This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions. He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world. They shouldn’t have to worry about me. With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana. A life he’d always longed for anyway.

Be careful what you wish for.

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away. “One slip up…” They had said. It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him. Literally anyone. As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.

Cause he was nothing if not a problem. First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.

“Eddie?!”

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry. The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.” His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime. “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear. Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen. With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made. You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” You soothe.

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose. A wordless commitment. Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere. You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure. Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had. Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at. He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house. Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred. If either spoke it would make it real. Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him. There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind. Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip. It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him. In the standard of fight or flight, he froze. Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together. His croaking voice made that hard. But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability. And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime. Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him. Maybe that was dare you even think it, love. But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions. Conclusions you backtracked on immediately. It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–” A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.” His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior. “I shouldn’t–” There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath. “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn. Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet. Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.

“How’d you know?” He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.

“Wayne called me.” You sigh. “Said he got my number from Steve. Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?” At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it. “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in. Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.” You assure, taking care to relax your features. “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out. He wanted me to check in. I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.” You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again. You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick. The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor. There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better. You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again. It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words. When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage. In his eyes.

“But I will be. Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses. Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble. A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.” You demand.

“No, Bambi. Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key. Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself. And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses. His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness. Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in. He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!” Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow. “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down. I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it. My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.” Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze. A plea. “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in. I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal. It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him. The room turned colder, more vacant. Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart? His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall. The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended. Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what? Stormed off? Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat. He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other. And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness. The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut. An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.” You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth. “And I did. You didn’t say how long or—or where to go. But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake. Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips. Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you. Your boy.

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense. Bambi and Eddie. There is not one without the other, not anymore. Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”

It just fell from his tongue. A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious? Is that what you’re gonna ask?” He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping. Not because you’re afraid, no, never. You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts. “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.

“Bad.” He reiterates. “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.” Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip. “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it. And I’ll run with it. Far. Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.”

“I’m a pathetic man. Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.” You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.” He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow! Jesus fuck.” Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek. “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of. Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.

“Can you…can you do that again?” He whispers. Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck. His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest wet dreams.

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail. And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.

“Like that, baby?” You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.” A whisper that tells you everything. “I-I never—no one’s ever—“ He tries to warn you.

“What?” You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe. “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”

“Just my hand.” Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap. Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his. Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.

“We can stop.” You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.” His voice shakes, chest heaving. “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him. But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable. Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.” You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him. “Let me take care of you.”

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles. You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you. His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far. His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.” You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.” He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria. “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.

“Please, baby. Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.

“You bought condoms? Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!” You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back. You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care. Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed. You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you. Purely Eddie. Woodsy and minty. A tad smoky. And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room. And then it plays. A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love. A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.

“Well alright, cowboy.” You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.

“Shut up.” He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.

“C’mere.” You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you. “Wanna see you.”

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach. Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago. The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined. While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side. Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him. Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants. Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet. But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side. His eyes grow, lips parted in awe. And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control. And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval. That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it. Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red. Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.” While grinding into nothing, poor boy. “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands. You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth. Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps. Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair.

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot. Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned. Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone. The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom. The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm. Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting. The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds. Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what. Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime. Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm. His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted. You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark. All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you. He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless. Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit. Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”. That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close. Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart. Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.

It could help though. And that’s all that mattered. If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing. If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree. Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar. Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works. Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did. Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste. Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes. While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet. Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity. Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips. A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?” He laughs, voice husky with sleep.

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created. Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow. He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”

Eddie just stared.

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!” You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you. When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse. I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck. And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you. I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.” You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table. Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you. Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute. He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing.

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I. Love. You.” You enunciate each word with a peck. “Point blank. No exceptions. You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man? We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records. A huge stack of them. All genres. Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal. It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling. That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?” You scoff. “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school. You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach. He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.

And he was blushing.

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me. I picked some out that I knew you’d like. Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them. Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him. Like Pandora’s box or something. Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper. A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold. His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper. It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head. Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture. At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said.

“No fucking way.” He smiles, half laughs. Then repeats himself. Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around. Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table. The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other. Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between. His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three. Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled. Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere. You miss it. But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything. Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi. Makes small talk with mom and grandma. Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day. No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her. He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang. Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual. Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background. Something about a broken sled. Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either. This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on. Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default. She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially. Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house. Beautiful in the summertime. Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays. One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

Prev |

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

124 notes · View notes

xsezzie · 11 months ago

Text

Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas @chibimochii !!! I am your @squealing-santa this year~!

I finally got to write for these two and I really hope you enjoy it. Also my first time participating in this event so it was interesting to try, I hope did okay!

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: It's tickling???

AO3 Post

Neuvillette is eager to spend some of the festive season with Wriothesely this year... although Neuvillette has received some questionable and unsightly attire.

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

“What’s this?”

Wriothesely stared at the rare visitor in front of him. His serious and blank expression heavily contrasted the red and white hat atop his head.

“Are you aware of the tradition of Christmas, Wriothesely?” As Neuvillette asked, he leaned forward against the Duke’s desk, bell on his hat jingling, as if anticipating the answer like a child who can’t wait.

Cute.

“Yes, I’m aware… who put this hat on you?”

“Sedene did, she said I should try and be more festive this year.”

Wriothesely chuckled, “I think you have been plenty festive all the years you’ve decided to celebrate.”

“Well this year is… different.

“How so?”

“Come to the surface.”

And so, this is how Wriothesely found himself spending the week of Christmas in the Palais. Sitting on Neuvillette’s couch, tea in hand, cold rain howling outside.

“Would you like one of these ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters that Clorinde purchased for everyone?”

They were indeed ugly, but in a cute way.

“I am most certainly not wearing one of those, I know you will try and take a picture.” The Duke glared playfully at Neuvillette.

“Come now, you will get cold.”

“Then light the fireplace!”

“I… do not want to.”

“You’re the *Hydro* Sovereign, the fire isn’t going to do anything to you.” Wriothesely couldn’t help but laugh to himself, “Seriously though, you control this rain don’t you? Why is it so bad tonight? Is something wrong?”

Neuvillette signed, “Yes, something is terribly wrong… You will not wear this ugly sweater.”

“Oh ha-ha, very funny… why don’t you wear the sweater, hmm?

“It… clashes with my robes.”

“That is the point isn’t it? It’s ugly and it needs to look as bad as possible. Come here, I will help you.”

Neuvillette looks at Wriothesely with wide eyes as he calmly approaches, “N-No I can do this myself! I am not a child…”

The smirk on the Duke’s face said he had other ideas though, easily tugging on Neuvillette’s coattail to stop him from moving away and pulling him into his muscular arms.

“Not this again!” The Iudex stifled a laugh.

“Not what again? Whatever could be wrong, dear Sovereign?”

“Y-You are going to do that tickle thing to me again aren’t you!? Everytime you think I am being shy or not compliant with your schemes…”

Wriothesely chuckled and easily dragged him to the couch, gently pinning him down and trying to undo the buttons of his coat, “Well I wouldn’t be doing the ‘tickle thing’ if you would just wear the sweater. Come on, I will buy my own if you put this one on.”

“W-Whehey are you like this!?”

“Honestly, it is rather amusing to watch your ears turn red when you are embarrassed. Just look at them.”

The Duke makes a point by softly pinching the tips of Neuvillette’s pointy ears, making him let out a small uncharacteristic squeak. “Stohohop!”

Wriothesely manages to get the robe off with minimal effort, mainly because he knows Neuvillette is secretly enjoying this. This affection between the two, as well as secret visits has become more common recently, and neither is complaining. These meetings have allowed Wriothesely to get to know the new leader of the nation in a more intimate setting… including the fact that he is ticklish.

“Ah you love it, now put this sweater on before I tickle you more.”

“N-Nohohohoo!!”

“Alright then you leave me no choice…”

Wriothesely prepares one sleeve of the sweater and pulls Neuvillette’s arm up, looping it into the hole and successfully getting it through. Not that the Chief Justice is putting up much of a fight as he appears to be in some sort of giggle fit at this point of the absurdity of the situation, this allows him to easily get the other arm into its sleeve as well… that just leaves his head.

“I swear I am going to get someone to cut your hair sometime… it’s so damn long…”

Neuvillette huffs in amusement, “I quite like my long hair, as do the Melusine’s… and I know you do as well…”

That rare knowing smile, he will pay for this.

Wriothesely then realises he has Neuvillette in a pretty good restraint, his arms in the sweater above his head, “I think you require more tickling for Christmas, O’ Hydro Dragon~”

No response could be given apart from a surprised shout followed by a wheezy laugh as Wriothesely digs his fingertips into Neuvillette’s armpits, causing him to squirm and desperately pull his trapped arms down.

“Nahahahahahaa Wriotheseheheheheheheeellyyy!!!”

“Sorry not sorry, sir.”

His fingers travel down Neuvillette’s delicate ribs, making him kick wildly behind the Duke’s back, kneeing him a couple times.

“Ouch, come on now is such violence necessary? I am only doing the ‘tickle thing’ you know?” The smirk was audible in his voice.

“Hhahahahaha you d-deserve ihihihihihihiiit stahahahahahahaap!!!” Neuvillette’s wheezing laughter only made Wriothesely chuckle and begin to dance his fingers down his sides now, causing the hydro wielder to writhe beneath him even more.

“NOOOHOHO!!!!”

“Are you going to wear the sweater?”

“N-Nohohoho you wear ihihihit!”

“Ah, I guess more tickles for you then!”

And so the Duke returned to tickling Neuvillette’s exposed armpits, driving him nearly insane at this point. He quite liked the look of the Iudex when he was laughing and free of worry. The slight permanent frown he seems to always wear is replaced with a beet red face and tears of laughter beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. He honestly looks as if he might be enjoying this a little.

Wriothesely decides he doesn’t want Neuvillette to pass out and stops his tickling, taking the exhausted man and sitting him upright, legs across his lap. As Neuvillette recovers from the ordeal, he finds the sweater being forced over his head finally and Wriothesely adjusts it and his hair so he is snug.

“Gotcha~”

Neuvillette doesn’t even protest, nor does he want to. He rests his head against the younger man's chest, feeling warm and comfortable as he gently rubs his back to help him come down from the ticklish high.

“Not a word to anyone… especially the Melusines…”

“Don’t worry, this was too precious for me to want to share with anyone but you.”

“Hah. Trying to butter me up now?” Neuvillette chuckles.

“I will save that for tomorrow. For now, let's relax. The rain stopped so I assume whatever was on your mind was successfully tickled away?”

Neuvillette’s ears turning a little red did not go unnoticed, he looked up with wide eyes as if he had been caught. “Ah… I guess so… though did you really have to tickle me?”

“Yes, and I have the urge to do it again now that you’re in this awful sweater.”

“W-Wriothesely don’t!”

Neuvillette’s words were cut off with a wheeze from himself and Wriothesely decided to try his legs and feet now, not that he minded. This was a nice way to spend Christmas Eve.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon… Merry Christmas~”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #genshin impact tickling #genshin impact #tickling #neuvillette #wriothesely #wriolette #christmas fic #tickle fic

157 notes · View notes

sugarbombs-n-stuff · 3 months ago

Text

Companion Birthday Headcanons

Ada: June 7th, She sees her birthday as when Jackson found her, she celebrates quickly but she finds it fun nonetheless.

Cait: February 20th, She never celebrated before sole but now that she does she loves it. Definitely a chocolate kinda girl.

Curie: April 12th She was powered on for the first time on this date! All Mister Handys/Miss Nannies sing themselves a little happy birthday jingle like the mars rover. Now that she's a synth her favorite cake flavor is strawberry. She loves celebrating with everyone, think of like a 5 year olds peak birthday and that's what Curie wants. She loves being gifted anything from prewar.

Codsworth: September 30th. He was purchased before shaun was born and was powered up a bit after he popped out. He loves wearing a party hat and like Curie, sings himself a birthday jingle. He loves the festivities of birthdays.

Danse: March 15th. In the brotherhood it was a quick happy birthday and then back to his duties. He feels indifferent about his birthday until Blind Betrayal, for a few months after he refuses to even think about anything that indicates he's human but when does accept that he's a synth he appreciates his birthday. His favorite flavor of cake is German Chocolate.

Deacon: December 25th. Though no one would ever find out except for Sole, he is a Christmas baby. Anytime someone asks what his birthday is it changes every time. He will celebrate his birthday with friends once he starts trying to find the real him but for years after Barbara's death he wouldn't even acknowledge it. He enjoys a good party but also likes something simple, he doesn't expect much cause it falls on a holiday though. His favorite cake flavor jokingly is funfetti, his actual favorite is just simple yellow cake with chocolate frosting. He will heavily appreciate any gag gift or fiber art craft thing that comes his way.

Dogmeat: January 1st. No one really knows so they celebrate on New Years Day. He gets plenty of brahmin ears as gifts though.

Piper: August 18th. She celebrated plenty when her parents were still alive and Nat tries to make her a present or two and she is very grateful. She enjoys spending her b-day with Blue and everyone as well. She doesn't care for cake, so she gets cookie cake.

Preston: November 3rd. He celebrated with is family and the early minuteman but after the quincy massacre he doesn't have the time or energy. If he had a choice, he would want to spend his birthday on the river outside sanctuary with a BBQ. His favorite flavor is lemon!

Nick: Human Nick's birthday was May 23rd, Synth Nick wanted some separation from him so he celebrates his birthday on February 14th, Valentines Day. He doesn't need any gifts or a big party, he's perfectly fine with a birthday card and since he doesn't really eat anything, a nice cup of coffee.

MacCready: June 2nd. Duncan's birthday is the day after so they normally celebrate together. He likes parties and gag gifts. His favorite cake flavor is actually orange with chocolate frosting. The only way he can get said flavor however is pouring Nuka Orange and using that instead of water when baking, duncan thinks its really nasty though.

Hancock: August 28th. When they were kids his brother would always make sure his birthday was good but after he left Diamond City and started celebrating with chems and shitty beer. When the sole survivor and their merry band of misfits rolls up he starts celebrating with a big meal among friends where he tries to cut back on chems. He's happy to get any gift and his favorite cake flavor is tarberry.

x6-88: October 1st. He never celebrated his birthday until sole showed up. He appreciates getting candy, weapon mods, and pre-war toy kits where you can build your own car. He doesn't mind sitting on the beach as a bonfire is being built. He enjoys swimming and eating whatever was packed and he finds that he actually enjoys his birthday. His favorite cake flavor is coconut with red frosting.

Strong: Pre-War, Strong's birthday was November 27th. He doesn't remember now and doesn't care.

Gage: January 13th. He celebrates by putting on a record and target practice, he'd prefer a rager with plenty of chems and loud music, Afterwords, go home, eat cake, and listen to some pre-war audio drama. His favorite cake flavor is vanilla with mutfruit frosting.

Longfellow: May 16th. He doesn't celebrate cause he doesn't really care. He drinks a beer at the bar then goes fishing with Diamond City Radio playing. His favorite cake flavor is coffee cake with tarberry jam on top.

#fo4 #deacon fo4 #fallout companions #piper wright #strong fo4 #hancock fo4 #preston garvey #porter gage #nick valentine #fallout 4 companions react #fo4 danse #fo4 companions

36 notes · View notes

foxy-eva · 2 years ago

Text

Cowboy Like Me

Summary: Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream

Author’s Note: This story is loosely based on the conversation Spencer and JJ have in S15E07 about parallel universes (a.k.a. Cowboy Spencer)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: none

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Toy departments have always been magical for me. I clearly remember walking through them wide-eyed as a little girl, entranced by all the colorful and sparkly objects calling to me. There was nothing more exciting than to find one of them perfectly wrapped on birthdays or Christmas, waiting for me to play with it.

Even as an adult I couldn't hide my child-like wonder as I walked along the aisles. Spencer was clearly more focussed on my reactions than on whatever toy we could pick for his godson's birthday. When my eyes landed on a particular stuffed animal, a gasp fell from my lips.

When I reached out to hold it in my hands, Spencer chuckled, "I don't think Michael is into sheep. He's more of a dinosaur kind of boy."

I took the plushie into my hands, inspecting it thoroughly. In an instant I was taken back to childhood days, playing peacefully with a very similar one.

"She looks just like her," I whispered.

Spencer wasn't sure what I was talking about when he asked, "Like who?"

"Fluffy. A sheep plushie I had as a child. I loved her so much but unfortunately I lost her when we moved."

"Awe I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe we should give this one a new home?" Spencer suggested.

I put the toy back on the shelf and shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure it’ll make a child very happy someday.”

Taking my hand in his, Spencer walked me to a different section of the store to find the perfect present for Michael.

Neither of us mentioned my little anecdote again and I almost forgot about it altogether. That was until I got home from work a few days later. Spencer was waiting for me on the couch with the small sheep plushie sitting beside him. A wide smile was painted all over his face when we locked eyes.

“What’s this?” I snickered as I took the toy in my hands to inspect it.

“Fluffy 2.0 – or whatever you want to name it,” he said. “I had to go back to get it. You seemed so happy when you found it, so I thought it’d be nice to have it as a little reminder of your childhood.”

I found my place beside him on the couch, pressing a brief kiss on his lips to thank him. The toy not only reminded me of days long gone, it also took me back to my first ever career aspiration.

“There’s actually more to the story,” I confessed.

He placed his arms around my waist to bring me closer while he encouraged me to tell him about it. “I would love to hear it.”

It had always been astounding to me that even after years of knowing someone, there were still parts of their lives we had no idea about. Sometimes it made me wonder if it was even possible to know everything about our loved ones. After Spencer had surprised me with stories about his past - most of them a lot less merry than what I was about to tell him - it was my turn to let him in on this unknown side of me.

“The reason I got Fluffy in the first place was because I was obsessed with sheep. It was all I could ever talk about. You know how most little girls want to be a nurse or a teacher or even a princess? Well, I wanted to be a shepherdess. I dreamed of living in the countryside with my flock of sheep, doing nothing all day other than walk around and pet them.”

Spencer couldn’t hide the playful tone in his voice when he chuckled, “That’s adorable.”

I pinched his stomach, whining, “Hey, don’t make fun of me!”

He was quick to take my hand in his, softly kissing it before telling me, “I’m not! I swear. I genuinely think that this is really sweet. So, what happened to that dream?”

I thought about my answer for a moment until I decided to tell him the truth. “I would like to say that I grew out of it but the truth is, I still think about it sometimes.”

Spencer seemed genuinely surprised. “You do?”

“Not about becoming a full-time shepherdess – I know that’s unrealistic for me – but I sometimes imagine us living on a little farm with a bunch of animals. Some chicken, my little flock of sheep, maybe even some alpacas,” I explained.

I expected him to be more surprised by my confession but instead he asked, “Can I let you in on a little secret too?”

After I nodded, he told me, “I actually like to imagine that there is a parallel universe where I’m a cowboy.”

“A cowboy?” I giggled. “I would have never guessed that.”

“Yeah. Maybe in this alternate reality you’d be a shepherdess and we’d fall in love after meeting at the farmer’s market,” he cooed before placing a kiss into my hair.

I really liked this fantasy he created, I could see those alternate versions of us living a rural life.

“I’d love that for us. We could sell milk and wool together after joining our ranches. We’d be the hottest farmers in town. The cowboy and the shepherdess.”

Spencer laughed out loud at my words before adding, “I’m sure you’d be the hottest farmer in the whole state.”

For the following weeks we kept talking about this fantasy, adding details and creating scenarios of what we'd do in this parallel universe. It became like a nighttime routine to us to let cowboy Spencer and his wife go on adventures together. It might seem silly to anyone else but those stories became very near and dear to our hearts.

Never had I expected that even a fraction of our fantasy world could ever come true. That was until one sunny Saturday morning when Spencer told me he had a surprise for me. It was rare for him to be the one to drive but it was even rarer for him to not tell me where we'd be going. Despite my constant pleading to let me in on his secret, he kept his lips sealed.

I didn't recognize the roads he was taking when we left the city but I did enjoy the landscape the further we got away. After a forty-five minute drive, he pulled into the driveway of a very small but unbelievably cute ranch. There was a beautiful house with a small stable and a garden waiting to grow vegetables in it.

Before I could wonder what we would be doing here, I took my time to take everything in. When I turned my head, I found Spencer smiling at me, curious about my reaction. I got out of the car to take a few steps towards the front door of the house.

"What are we doing here?"

I expected him to tell me we'd spend the day here to pet some sheep and cattle. That wasn't what he had planned though.

He was hesitant to answer me at first but when he began to explain, he did it in his usual rambling manner. "I found this little ranch for sale at a really good price. It'll need some work before we could actually live here but Morgan already offered to help us. The stable is in good shape though."

His words didn't make sense to me. I stared at him with lips agape and eyes widened. I kept looking back and forth between him and the house.

When I finally found my voice again, I squeaked, "What? Spencer, this is crazy!"

"It's an adventure," he corrected me.

Still unsure of what to think, I breathed, "I don't know what to say."

He took my hand and gently squeezed it. "How about yes? Think about it. We're still within driving distance to both our workplaces. It's small enough to be able to take care of everything after work and who knows, maybe someday we'll actually sell our own milk and wool at the farmer's market. Just like we talked about."

Although my head was trying to come up with so many reasons why this couldn’t be a good idea, my heart screamed at me to agree with him, so I sighed, "You are very good at making compelling arguments. How could I ever say no to that?"

"Thank god,” he groaned in relief while pointing at the stable. “I already bought two sheep."

With a firm grip around my hand, he led me to the door where I could hear the sheep he just mentioned.

In complete disbelief of everything that was going on, I said, "You did what? We don't even own this place yet!"

Spencer just shrugged and mumbled, "I mean…”

"Spencer!” I reprimanded him, “You can't make big decisions like that without me! What if I had said no?"

While opening the door to the stable for me to look at the two young sheep, he said, "It was worth the risk."

My husband must have completely lost his mind and I loved him so much for that. I stepped closer to the little creatures, reaching out my hand to make contact with their soft wool. They were very curious to get to know me, making my heart melt when they began nuzzling their little snouts against my hands.

Spencer glanced over my face, wondering, "Are you mad at me?"

A bright smile spread across my face when I found his eyes, explaining, "I can't be mad at you for doing something so sweet. Very irrational, but sweet."

“I know it’s not a whole flock yet but it’s a start. How do you want to name them?”

I was mesmerized by the little lambs in front of me when I cooed, “They look like little clouds.”

“We could call them Alto and Cirro. Like the types of clouds,” he suggested.

“That’s perfect.”

We spent the rest of the day at our future home, figuring out what exactly we wanted to do with this place. It would take at least a couple of weeks until we could move here. Even though it was impractical to have to come here every day to take care of our sheep, I was still looking forward to finally make my childhood dream to be a shepherdess come true.

When I came home from running errands the next day, it was my turn to surprise my husband. It didn’t come close to the grand gesture of buying a ranch, but I still knew he’d appreciate it. He was reading a book about farming when I approached him in the living room, hiding a foreign object behind my back.

With one eyebrow raised he looked at me and chuckled, “What do you have there?”

I showed him the ridiculously large cowboy hat and he broke out in laughter.

“I know we don’t have cattle nor horses yet but I still wanted you to feel like a cowboy,” I giggled.

When he put the hat on, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man in front of me. He placed a soft kiss on my lips before thanking me.

“I love it. And I love you,” he said. “How about we get going to see Alto and Cirro?”

“I would love nothing more, cowboy.”

If you enjoyed reading this story you should check out the other fluff fics in my SFW Masterlist!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @spookydrreid @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luna-novae @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @s4r4hsblog @sebs-oxygen @reidsmilf @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @jordierama @ellamaianderson @cynbx @feltonswifesworld87 @sweetannanas @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @l-e-n-a @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @amititties @lover-of-books-and-tea @castiels-majestic-wings

Join my taglist here

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

484 notes · View notes

dumbmusclehypnojockboy · 11 months ago

Text

A story for @octuscle Merry Christmas. I'm sorry it's a bit rushed, and kinda slapdash, but you know what happened. I hope you like it!

Going Back to College

Jerry was forty years old. He was celebrating his birthday alone, again. Somehow, after graduating college, Jerry set out to change the world, but all that really changed was Jerry waist, which continued to grow wider and wider. Jerry hated his life. He was a doctor, but with the cost of insurance, and having his own office, Jerry couldn’t get anywhere in life. And no matter how hard he tried, Jerry felt like he was just treading water. Jerry picked up the paper and glanced at it, and then read the headline story again and again. He threw down the newspaper in disgust. On the front page was a well-muscled man, doing a double biceps pose, in front of his tenth gym franchise. The man, Rick Jenkins, was a huge success, becoming a millionaire at thirty, and now at forty had his gym franchise, a supplement empire and his own fashion brand. He was also now a billionaire. Jerry was disgusted. In freshman year of college, Rick had been his roommate. Rick was your typical dumb as rocks jock, or so Jerry had thought. They had nothing in common with each other. But, looking back at his life, he realized that he had been condescending and rude to Rick, while Rick had always tried to get along with Jerry. In fact, there was this time when Rick had offered to take Jerry to the gym for what Rick had claimed was what he designed to be a non-intimidating workout that anyone could do and get good results. Why couldn’t I have made an effort back then? Or have at least been a little nicer to him? Then, Jerry had an idea. He grabbed one of the birthday cupcakes he had baked for himself, put a candle on it, and lit it. He sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to himself, and closed his eyes, to envision the wish he wanted. Jerry took a deep breath and made his wish, “I wish I had gone on those workouts with Rick, and been nicer to him.” And then, blew out the candle.

And then, it happened. In a rush of glittery blue wormhole, Jerry found himself back in his college dorm. It was move-in day, and Jerry had already found himself frustrated with his new roommate. “Sorry for the mess, roomie, but the football team has this hazing ritual and has really been keeping us busy. I’ll clean it up as soon as I can.” Rick had said. “I remember I got really snippy with him. Maybe I can be nicer person,” Jerry thought to himself. “It’s not a problem, Rick, just clean up when you get to it, ok?” “For sure. Thanks for not making a big deal out of it.” And their relationship had gotten off on a much better foot than it did last time. Fast forward to October, and Jerry and Rich were pretty unrepeatable. They went to whatever classes they had in common together, which surprising to Jerry were quite a lot.

They were both taking biology together, and Rick was even taking Calculus I. They were both in the freshman English class, and were even in the same Western Civ and Spanish I classes. The only thing that was different was Jerry was also taking a pre-medicine class and an extra science lab class, while Rich had a bodybuilding class in addition to being on the football team. They would often get lunch and dinner together. One day, when Jerry told Rich about how stressful it was to take a full eighteen-hour schedule, Rich offered to take Jerry to the gym for a non-intimidating workout. Jerry was about to explode at Rich, but remembered that he was being nice to his roommate, and told Rich that he wanted to try the gym but was always too busy or too scared. Rich explained that he had been developing this non-intimidating work out plans for a few years now, and offered Jerry the chance to workout with him.

“Jerry, three, two, one, sleep. You are under my control, you are excited to workout with me, even though you may think you’re apprehensive, you’re excited. Any work out plan I give you may seem difficult, but will be totally not intimidating. Your find yourself wanting more and more to come work out with me. Now I want you to go deeper and deeper, repeating my words until you go into a deep sleep, repeating my words in your sleep, and wake up when your alarm wakes you.“

So, with apprehension, Jerry found himself going to the gym with Rick. Rick’s personality put Jerry at total ease. And Rick’s work out plan was totally not intimidating. Jerry found it easy to go from exercise to exercise, and whenever Jerry had a problem, he found Rick right there to help with his workout. By November, Jerry felt his stress had totally disappeared thanks to Rick’s workouts. And he knew he started seeing results from the gym. Noting earth-shattering, but his shoulders and lats were becoming more prominent, while his belly was shrinking. And his arms and legs were becoming more defined and he could even see hints of pecs and biceps popping up a little. Rick noticed too and would always compliment Jerry on his “gainz”. Whenever Rick would say “gainz” around Jerry, Jerry would always have this unusual feeling come over him, and his brain would kind of blink out for a second or two. And he would always wake up to Rick telling him that he was doing such a great job and that he should keep up his workouts, bro!

It was December, and Jerry was at the gym. He was alone in the locker room, and flexed in a mirror. He was amazed how much he had changed. He couldn’t believe it but he had biceps. Actual biceps, and abs. He had a full-on rock wall of six solid abs! “Hey, Jer-bro! I knew you could do it! That high-protein, low carb diet really did wonders for you!” Rick said. “And check out all those gainz!”

And again, that weird whirly feeling went through my brain. This time though, Jerry could hear Rick saying something to him. “Hey Jer-bro, you like it when I call you that. I need you to shift your concentration a bit. I need you to get into sports medicine. You can to that for be Jer-bro, I mean after I’ve heled you so much get rid of your stress, and helping your gainz in the gym. You’re just a little hazy on working as a surgeon or an oncologist, but your brain seems totally focused on going into sports medicine and we can be partners. That’s gonna be so fucking cool. So, keep up your work outs bro! You’re doing so fucking awesome!”

Jer woke up a little foggy. He’d just had an awesome workout, and Rick had come up to him to encourage him a always. And did he say something after that? Nah, he’d just be as encouraging as always. He’d be going home for the holidays. He wasn’t looking forward to talking about shifting his concentration. Surgeons and oncologists made lots of money, but he was really interested in sports medicine. It was becoming his passion.

It was now sophomore year. Rick and Jer-bro had decided to stay roommates. Jer was especially happy to room with Rick. It seemed Rick help keep his stress levels away. Why didn’t he want to hang with Rick before? Rick was his bro! Rick was such an awesome bro! He could always look up to Rick. Jerry was in his second year, and he was still eager to graduate with a degree in sports medicine. So, his schedule was not as full as last year, but still very full. He took sophomore English, and Western Civ 2. He also took Spanish 2, and Calc 2, and for his sports medicine focus he took Anatomy 1 and Sports Med 1. Surprisingly, Rick was in 4 of his six classes. The only difference was instead of sports med, Rick was taking a business class and a psychology class.

The year progressed really well with Jer-bro making awesome gainz in the gym, but grades falling to the B-C level. And Rick was doing awesome. He was now the starting quarterback on the school team, and the whole team was very dedicated to playing football and winning a state championship. The coach even allowed Rick to lead in some kind of motivational meditation before each and every practice and game. This seemed to make the team even more thirsty to win the school’s first championship ever.

At the end of sophomore year, the football team won it’s first division championship. Jer-bro even took time off from his classes to paint his face and cheer on Rick during the championship game. He had listened to Rick who told him that football was something that he was becoming really passionate about. And after a while, Jer-bro couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t passionate about college football. By the end of the season, Jer-bro could tell you any stats about the college’s last 20 years. And he was even becoming a Las Vegas Raiders fan, which was Jerry’s team too.

During Junior year, Jer-bro and Rick were totally unrepeatable. The only time they were apart was when Jer-bro went to his medically focused classes and Rick when to his Business and Psychology classes. One night, Jer-bro heard some sounds coming from the headphones on his ears. “Rick is right. Listen to Rick. Rick gives you gainz. Rick is your bro. Listen to Rick.” Jer-bro realized this was stuff he already knew, so he closed his eyes and went back into a deep sleep.

During this year, Jer-bro noticed some nerdy guys hanging around Rick, and he grew a little concerned. So, he asked Rick about it. “Rick, why are you hanging out with all the nerds?” he asked. Rick responded, “Remember the unintimidating workouts you started with? I’m refining them for a general audience and I’m making great progress.” “Cool,” was Jer-bro’s only reply.

Later on in the year, Jer-bro once again heard the whispering in his ears. It was now second nature for him to absorb the information but ignoring it. He heard Rick telling him, “For your senior project, you will create the perfect protein powder, muscle growth supplement, with one undisclosed side effect, it makes people dumber. I know you can do this for me, Jer-bro. For us. You will do this for your senior project. You will continue your workout and continue to get awesome gains. All for Rick. All because of Rick.”

Senior year, was awesome. Jer-bro kept working on his senior project with a singular focus. He continued to workout at the gym and by the time graduation came around, Jer-bro looked like an amateur bodybuilder. He would zone out at times, so people thought he was kind of a dumb ass, but underneath all the muscle was a huge intellect, focused on sports medicine. He had finished the protein powder that Rick told him to make and now, they would begin a business together. Speaking of Rick, he had gotten investments from some of his former teammates who he had persuaded to go into finance and investment. His team had continued to do so well this year, the had gone to the Rose Bowl and won! Rick had even picked up the Heisman trophy. At graduation, Rick was ready to start his supplement company with Jer-bro and had all the financial backing he needed.

Jer is now 25. He’s more rich than he was when he was 40. He’s also quite a bit dumber. After trying some of the muscle growth protein powder, Jer couldn’t help but become addicted to it. He grew his muscles until he was little more than a musclehead. Only into working out and having sex. He still knew how to calculate his micro nutrients and count his reps out. But that was all his life consisted of these days. And he was very happy.

As for Rick? He became a millionaire at 24. By the age of 30, Rick owned his franchise of gyms all over the world, and with his muscle growth protein powder, range of “motivational hypnosis patreons” and fashion brand, he was now a billionaire. Jerry had been the perfect test subject for his hypnosis during the first month of rooming together, and that had given him all the confidence to try his methods first on his coach, then going on to the rest of his teammates. And that had made all the difference.

81 notes · View notes

mako-neexu · 11 months ago

Text

"May this simple gift be a source of warmth to you in the long journey ahead." [Fujimaru Ritsuka]

-☆-

The day was coming to an end.

Another Christmas for the year – a week of Christmas to celebrate the incoming new year they’ll be in for a few more days.

Ritsuka never expected to always get something from her friends and Servants, but it always makes her happy to receive whatever they’ll give to her.

Cursed talismans, plushies, chocolate, flowers, blankets, books and even weapons. She may not have the chance to use all of them, but she treasures each of them equally, all given to her by those who stood by her side.

Ritsuka yawns as she exits the bathroom, having finished drying her hair after a relaxing shower and change of clothes. It’s been a long day like usual, but she’s glad Nemo invited her and Mash to deliver the presents he wasn’t able to give to the rest of the Servants.

She’s curious about what happened but since he never elaborated, she shouldn’t pry on what happened.

Still, when Captain came back… there was an air around him that made her and Mash get frozen for a moment before answering his offers with glee. She may not know why… but that was the thing that made her curious.

It looked as if Captain Nemo met someone with gentle eyes, the fatigue from traveling around the world simply wiped away by an encounter he did earlier.

…It was familiar in a way she couldn’t describe.

“...”

She was silent as she stood in the middle of her room before shivering slightly.

...Hm, her room is kind of cold...

There was no time to be melancholy for a bit though! The shop was still open for a few more days and she had to get some materials to give to some of the newly summoned Servants so she should sleep now and make sure she was ready to go for missions anytime.

Ritsuka dims the lights before climbing into her bed, raising the blanket so she could lay underneath it, but just as her head approached the pillow–

–She saw a green colored gift box tucked beside it.

She blinked for a moment. It was a gift. Her smile turns soft as her hands reach for it, sitting up with her legs criss crossed.

Accompanied with that same present was a small golden note that read:

‘It’s a little late but this is the gift I promised. I’d like to apologize for the delay as Marine and Engineer argued a bit about the wrapping as they wanted it to be special for both you and Mash, but it’s all good now. As Captain of the Storm Border, I thank you for all of your efforts as Master and friend to all. As Santa, Merry Christmas, Ritsuka. This gift is simply something I found in our warehouse section of the Border, so don’t think too much about it. Looking forward to another year with you.’

“...Signed, Nemo and the crew.” She sighed softly with her smile, closing the small enclosed letter and folding it for safekeeping. To be honest, she also forgot about what he said earlier about getting them something so it’s certainly a surprise to receive it right now.

But all worries and other thoughts pushed aside, Ritsuka gently unwrapped the white ribbon from the green box, and upon opening the lid—

...

......

She froze on the spot.

And time felt insignificant at this moment.

What was before her eyes was a miracle manifest.

All the air in her lungs vanished, all the strength in her body, every single weight that heavily piled upon her shoulders vanished upon the sight of something that was far beyond a simple gift.

—This was a treasure worth far more than a simple gift.

A polaris star born in this very moment, soothing the cold that she felt, a guide for her to come back home.

An unexpected gift.

A wonderful, unforeseen present that completely startled her.

And there was warmth.

Lovely searing warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. Like what that man used to do whenever she broke down from seeing her friends sacrifice themselves for her, losing their lives while she herself was saved.

Her body shook, her hands trembled terribly, and her eyes failed to see clearly as her vision turned more blurry every second.

And she wondered, through the tidal wave of emotions, if this was simply all a dream.

That touching something as precious and rare as this would make her wake up. Since, for the first time, she didn’t want to wake up in case this had been a dream.

Ritsuka takes a shaky breath as she blinks her tears away, wiping them with the back of her hand. She couldn’t hide her emotions anymore. She doesn’t care if someone barges into her room.

All she felt right now was the crushing feeling of missing the one person who she lost on this exact day.

(Rings. Sacrifices. Promises. Farewells. A smile. A hand on her cheek. A whisper of how proud he was of her—)

Her hands reached out to gently, tenderly hold his gloves near her face as her shallow breaths continued to stutter, and her tears stained the soft fabric brushing against her cheek.

And it felt as if the gloves themselves were wiping her tears away. It felt as if his hand cupped her face while the other rubbed small circles on her back.

Just like what he used to do…

“Thank… you…Thank you—” She whispered through gasps and harsh tears, cradling the pair like she had finally found a long lost loved one after searching for years.

Ritsuka doesn’t know how much time had passed but she kept holding onto the gloves like a lifeline, as if any moment, it could disappear from her grasp, out of reach, slipping away like sand on her hands.

She sniffled as she wiped away her tears again, her tears had never stopped flowing but she felt a little calmer now. Just a bit… just for a bit…

Ritsuka moves to wear the gloves on her hands. Shaky as she felt, there was no helping the warmth that covered her icy fingers. Gloves that were a little too big on her hands, an exact size that belonged only to the hands of that man himself.

Ritsuka closed her eyes and smiled, her gloved hands pressing against her chest. Her heart beating steadily, her shoulders the most relaxed in what felt like forever.

She looks at the pair of gloves again to make sure they were real. That this was unmistakably his gloves.

…The warehouse, huh? Their storage room did house a lot of unexpected things… Did Nemo spend the entire day trying to find something to give to her and Mash?

Her gut told her that this was a little more than a little ‘warehouse scavenging’ though, but she has to believe in what Santa said.

She smiled this time, the curves of her lips tender and happy as she lay back down onto her bed, feeling the gentle fabric lull her to sleep.

How odd must the warehouse be, to still be able to hold and retain Dr. Roman’s scent as if it hadn’t been a day since he wore them and gave it as a present.

She opens her eyes just a bit before squeezing the gloves just a little tighter.

...Miracles rarely come by, but when they do, they often shine like a star.

But right now, to her, they were in the form of a certain Captain bashfully asking a kind Doctor for two pairs of white gloves.

#fgo #fate grand order #fujimaru ritsuka #guda #gudako #romani archaman #um..i cant get over the event...#romaguda

74 notes · View notes

mvshr00m-1 · 11 months ago

Text

Would love to wish y'all a merry Christmas! (To those who celebrate ofc)

And a happy new year too!

And as a little thank you for all your support i spent most of today trying to finished a silly art piece for y'all :3

You guys are seriously amazing and mean the world to me, every single follower, and every person who I catch reappearing in my notes are amazing and I'm very thankful to every like and reblog I'm given <3

If it wasn't for y'all I would never be here drawing what I draw, and improving my art every day. And without y'all I wouldn't even have my own silly ask blog!

Ask blog here

(which I will be answering whatever asks pop up eventually dw, just a littttttle caught up with irl stuff)

Here's also it coloured in my usual colour pallet/style for the 'twins across time' au!

If I'm gonna be honest for a first proper attempt at April, Mikey, and raph- I think they turned out quite alright :0

(this does not mean they will be apart of the main ask blog cast though, they may make some visual appearances and keep appearing in the answers. But they won't be answering any themselves)

83 notes · View notes

queen-of-scissors · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there 💧anon

I don’t know if you celebrate Christmas but if you feel comfortable with it could you write something post imposter au where the reader is forgiving and all and the reader wants to celebrate but is walking on eggshells and is scared to introduce anything new as to not anger the acolytes and lots of comfort

Merry Christmas or whatever you celebrate

İ. Must. Finish. This. Before. New year!!!!

Also i don't celebrate Christmas but i think i have a good understanding of the things thats done in it, so ill try my best ^^

İf i wrote something that sounds rude in anyway to any culture i apologise, feel free to correct me in the comments i love learning more about cultures :)

Happy Christmas or New year or Yule or whichever you celebrate :D ☃️❄️

masterlist

WARNİNGS: no specific gender, mentions of alcohol, angst with comfort, the reader is physically hurt in the flashback

___________________________________

Memories of the snow.

________________________________________

The warm weather of Dragonspine slowly caresses your face.

İt wasn't supposed to be warm, but then again, a lot of the thing that you lived through wasn't supposed to happen at all. Maybe it's because it's supposed to be codes, You had to start to get used to that.

İt hurt to walk, but you can't stop yet. İf you don't find something edible soon you might pass out from exhaustion, which could make you an easy target for your... Hunters.

Just as you think about food, you realize a sweet aroma filling the air.

Ever since you got here, you have been unbelievably lucky, maybe whichever god that's up there pitied you, or maybe this is a trap.

Either way, you slowly walk up the path, hoping to find a hilichurl camp and not fatui ones as the nice smell is getting stronger.

You couldn't help but daydream about the food you might eat, it doesn't smell like regular Hilichurl meat, which doesn't even smell at all. Maybe it's 'goulash'? The food for Dragonspine that helps you to survive longer in the harsh wind. Though you don't really need it in this condition.

Maybe it's not red meat, it smells less strong for it, is it 'sweet Madame'? You always wanted to eat some ever since you fell here. You tried to recreate it but all you could do was eat chicken that tasted like grass.

As the smell is getting closer, you slowly begin to wake up.

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

"Your highness? Are you still resting?"

You opened your eyes, and your golden abode greets you once again.

The nightmare, no, the flashback felt so real. You could still feel the hunger in your stomach and the warmth of the food you were about to eat in the dream.

... Also the Sharp pain piercing through your right shoulder before you could even get your first bite.

"I apologize for disturbing you," the voice from the back of the door spoke up. "However we need to start your Schedule immediately, it is a busy day today"

Their voice was apologetic, kind even, but it still made your blood run cold by how assertive it felt over you.

"I'm up. İ will be out soon" you got up from the bed immediately as the voice started telling you what needs to be done today.

Your clothes were so uncomfortably comfortable. it was light and it wraps your body perfectly, which was the same exact reason why it felt like it got stuck on your skin. Which is why you didn't feel bad that you had to take them out.

You threw your clothes on your work table and your eyes got stuck on the calendar on it.

...oh it was New year already?

İt might not be in your own world, since time works differently between them. You wonder if it's snowing there? Perhaps it just started, or maybe the snow is thick enough to have a snowball fight.

You missed Earth. You really did. Even the times when it felt suffocating to live in sometimes. Even the times you were forced to have family dinners on occasion, well, those weren't that bad. You usually sat somewhere playing genshin when your family members scolded you for being on your phone.

Back then, you would kill for meeting your characters under the mistletoe.

... But now, maybe it's better not to meet them at all.

İts not that you are angry at them, you even forgive them after all that! They didn't know who you were after all, but you still feel like you are walking on a landmine every time you talk to them.

What if you say something or ask something that you are not supposed to, what then? They say that they have no reason to hurt you, but you learned that all of your current power is depending on your people the moment you set foot here.

You are nothing without your followers.

Your thoughts get cut off by the door opening once you finish getting dressed.

You are greeted by Tartaglia, who was smiling at you warmly, however, it looked so fake to you. You could almost picture him practicing in front of the mirror just so it looks friendly and approachable to you. You still appreciated the thought.

"Good morning, your Grace! Please excuse my sudden visit, I just needed to speak with you for a moment."

"...Of course," you decide to avert your eyes to the furniture, suddenly the numbers on the calendar seemed so interesting than whatever repent prayer he has for you.

He gets to his one knee, "oh, the all-loving and forgiving god of all gods, we are but merely weaklings under your strength, perhaps I ask too much, however... Err..." He stops and then continues.

"However i-"

"That..." You cut in a soft voice, you averted your eyes once you realized what you've done. "sorry I didn't mean to stop you I just..." you looked at him again "this doesn't sound like you at all."

You let go of the breath you didn't realize you were holding when Ajax laughs "Hahaha, is it that obvious that I practiced?"

His friendly voice eases your tension a bit. He continues with a more relaxed tone.

"İ didn't want to anger you more than I already have, and what I'm about to ask for might sound a bit selfish, so I asked Mr. Zhongli on how can I speak properly, without disrespecting you in any way." İt was his turn to avert his eyes now.

"...Why?"

Ajax looks back at you, confused "What do you mean, your Grace?"

"I already said I forgive all, what makes you think İ'm still angry?"

"...Well" Ajax gets up from where he was and attempts to fix his posture before continuing, "Forgive me if it's rude in any way, your holiness, however..."

"Your smile seems fake."

You freeze.

When he sees your expression, he turns back to Tartaglia again. The only-business part of himself. The cold one.

"İ know what we've done is unforgivable. You are truly the most kind to not even want us to witness your wrath. but please, no need to fake it to make us feel better."

They think that you are still mad, while you are just afraid.

You want to tell them. You want to explain and talk about it, but you can't even bring yourself to open your mouth.

Why are you still afraid? War is already over. They need to know that too!

So be it. İf you can't bring yourself to talk about that. Maybe you can prove to them you are not mad by showing them.

"...let's talk about that later. What did you need from me?"

He looks at you "ok then, uh... its almost time for the festival in Shneznaya, we do that at every start of the year to celebrate- uhh, you might already know,

İ won't be personally attending, of course! Someone needs to protect you~" he winks "But, my siblings are a bit hard to convince. They want to spend time with me and well..."

"Do you want to go?"

Tartaglia laughs again "I won't lie and say that I don't miss my homeland. But that's not why I'm here."

He smiles a bit, you swore you could see his eyes light up a little, but it's gone as soon as you saw it, it might just be the sun playing tricks on you.

"My siblings want to spend the holiday with me. İ know it's selfish of me to ask to bring children to such a holy place-"

"You can bring them."

He turns his head towards you as soon as you let those words get past your lips, "Realy?"

You think about it. They are just children, they can't really harm you. Plus it might be even nice hearing about the holidays.

"Yeah! İt would be nice to have children at the dinner table. İt might even help release tension caused by my presence." You thought out loud.

He catches up on that.

"You would be pretty anxious too if you were at a table with your god~" he teased.

You smiled, and Ajax could suddenly feel his numb heart all over again.

"Maybe you are right, thank you. Ajax"

Ajax didn't answer. You called for him but he looks at you like how a reindeer would look at the car flash.

"OH SHİ- AJAX BREATH!!!!"

________________________________________

You were wrong.

Now that you feel less scared of the things around you, you can finally see that your acolytes feel somewhat worse.

Your grand dinner table was decorated with the customs of the Shneznayan festival. İt was a beautiful combination of white, red, green, and Gold. İt was almost the same as Christmas in your own world, the only difference was instead of the big decorated tree, there was a statue of you.

That, and your acolytes looking at their plate in shame, as if seeing even a piece of your hair is sacrilege.

Even with their close proximity, Archons were still the least close to you in terms of emotions. Their usual chattiness from in-game voice lines was long gone, you were sure you could even make Zhongli eat seafood in this state of his mind.

The gods were, of course, sitting closest to you. Usually, no one else joins you on your meals but on occasion, some people are invited over just because of formalities. Even then, your guests sit at another table, which is far away from you but in a place where you can still see their faces.

Not in this situation though. You especially requested that they dine with you at the same table. Making Tartaglia the Target of the glares tonight.

This heavy atmosphere makes you feel like you made a mistake. Maybe you shouldn't talk about it and treat it as a normal dinner, hearing about your world might make them feel worse, and if it gets worse-

"Your highness!!! Look what I drew!"

You look at Teucer. He is holding a drawing he made of you.

You feel everyone holding their breath as you gently take the drawing from his hands. Will you think of it as blasphemy?

İn the drawing, you hold his hand and someone else's hand while all three of you fly through, what seems to be, Shneznaya's City... İn the arms of a ruin guard.

"This is so nice Teucer! Thank you so much!"

Teucer lets out an excited gasp, "You know my name?!"

"Of course! İ know a lot of things" you smiled warmly and looked at his other siblings "I also know about Tonia and Anthon!"

As the kids look at each other all excitedly, the room suddenly seems a little bit lighter.

"Yes, the Creator knows everything indeed!" Ajax tells them. "They also know when you don't eat your greens and that makes them sad you know~"

"You guys don't eat your vegetables?" You play along "but I created them for you"

Tonia stutters "b-but... They don't taste good!"

Anthon joins in "But you ALSO created fish! So we can eat those!"

You laugh, they are pretty smart, huh!

"Well, I have nothing to say to that! Please eat as much as you like from whatever you like today!"

The children go back to their meals as the table falls silent once more,

Until you hear a mouse squeak in the crowd.

"Your highness did you just laugh?!" Venti partially screams, with that voice, you understand that the mouse was him all along.

"Barbatos, have some manners!" Zhongli suddenly speaks "Did you forget where you might be, or shall I remind you?"

"your laugh sounds so refreshing, your Grace! Like pure water in the middle of a desert!" Sais Nahida, clearly happy for you!

"AHEM, might I remind you all that this sudden outburst can scare them?" Tsaritsa states politely.

"But we never heard them laugh! I think this deserves a celebration!" Venti says while getting up "İM GETTİNG THE VİNE!!!"

"Stop! There are children here!" Childe gets up to stop him.

"İ- uhm, it's really not that big of a deal?" You say softly.

"Please don't mind those idiots, your grace." Tsaritsa shoots a glare across the table. "They simply can't control their emotions, however, I must say, even though it is rare for me to actually agree with that drunkard, I also believe that this calls for a celebration."

Nahida continues before you could say anything "I also agree! İt's been a while since we heard your laugh again. A celebration for the bird, that has found its voice once again!"

"Speaking of the Celebration, is anything particular about this festival that made you want to open up to us again?" Falcuar asked.

"Oh yeah! Why is this cooolldd festival but not a better one? Like the wind-"

Venti was silenced by two very angry gods, and forced to sit down on his chair again.

"Well? Tell us!" The god of Pyro beamed.

And at that moment, after months and months of convincing, you finally felt safe enough to show emotions. Which made you feel all of them at the same time and...

"YOUR HOLİNESS-"

"İt's ok," Nahida smiled gently "please let it all out, you don't need to stop yourself from feeling anymore."

"I swear if you make a reference to pooping about it I will-"

"Hehehe, as you wish!"

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

You finally let go of -most- of your fears and told them more about the traditions in your world.

They finally understand your point of view. They approach you gently now.

Nahida suggested babyproof your abode so you don't feel any accidental physical pain that reminds you of those times. İt's up to you to accept or not.

The bubbly types try not to do sudden things that May scare you (Yoimiya even tries to find a way to make soundless fireworks (failed))

And most of all, people don't beg for forgiveness every time they see you now!

However, you couldn't stop them from celebrating this day as the day of your smile. They give presents to each other as a way to bring a smile to their, and your, face. They also stole some of the traditions in your world just so it makes you feel more at home.

They hope that you will smile and be happy the next year as well :)

❄️🎉Happy New year, creator!!!🎉❄️

888 notes · View notes