#but i do miss grinch feet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoonguurt · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: Christmas this, Christmas that. The “Most wonderful time of the year” is not how Y/N would describe it. Sure, it used to be a magical time full of happiness and love, but she let that belief go years ago. Christmas is all about how much money you spend on someone and making yourself look good to outsiders. Snow is wet and everything is cold during this time of year, makes everything gross. Her best friend is tired of having The Grinch as a roommate, especially when he remembers what it was like when she loved Christmas. This year, he finally decides that it’s time to bring the magic back into her life. Maybe that magic will bring a little love with it.

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Word Count:9,603

Genre/themes/au: fluff, smut, a tiny bit of angst; friends to lovers, roommates to lovers; it's a Christmas fic, yall.

Warnings: parental abandonment, masturbation(f), unprotected sex(NO! BAD!), fingering, oral (f rec), daddy kink (it just kind of happened ok), allusion to a hand kink but I didn't really act on it. I think that's it, but let me know if i missed something. My work is 18+ minors are not tolerated here. Be gone, child.

Walking through the front door, the sound of Christmas music and the blinking of festive lights hits your senses immediately. ‘God dammit, Chris. It's literally the 1st.’ You love having your best friend as a roommate, you really do, but his holiday spirit is not something you enjoy at this moment.

When he goes all out for New Year's? All good. Valentine's Day? Fuck yeah, let's it chocolate. Halloween? Yes bitch, let's get spooky. But Christmas? It's a no from you. That's where you draw the line.

His voice floats through your ears as he sings along to whatever annoying song is on. ‘At least it's not All I Want For Christmas is You.’ The beautiful tone of his soft singing almost brings you out of your grumpy mood. Almost. You love his voice, it does things to you. It makes you happy and relaxed. It also turns you on, but he doesn't need to know that. If it weren't for the fact that he's so into this damn holiday, everything would be perfect.

“You're letting the heat out. And stop looking so mad, you knew this was coming.” His words draw you from your thoughts and you squint your eyes at him in a glare. By the bright smile on his face, he obviously doesn't care about your death stare. You toss your backpack aside, kicking your shoes off with a sigh. It’s been a long day of classes and assignments and you really just want to sit on the couch and watch true crime.

Chris has a pep in his step as he walks to the couch, throwing himself down on the cushions and opening his arms wide. He knows what you want, of course he knows. He tilts his head toward the spot beside him, a soft smile replacing the beaming one he had when you walked in. Your feet shuffle across the carpet as you make your way to him, promptly plopping down next to him and letting him wrap his arms around you.

Chris is your person. He may not have been in your life from the start, but the 2 years he has been has solidified his place for years to come. He's your best friend, sometimes you think he may even be your soulmate, but you don't have the courage to tell him just how deep in you are for him.

You met Chris in freshman year of college, having shared the first class of the semester together. You had taken the seat next to you, immediately giving you the beautiful smile he seems to almost always have. Now, you are in no way a shy person, not even close, but being the focus of his wide smile never fails to bring a blush to your cheeks. It's been like that since day one, you're just better at hiding it now.

One class turned into three that semester and the two of you clicked immediately. He's a bit more outgoing than you are, but not by a whole lot. He just has an aura of comfort and it reeled you in and you haven't been able to get rid of him sense, not that you want to, anyway. You're down bad.

At the beginning of sophomore year, the two of you opted for getting an apartment together rather than staying in the dorms. It just made more sense that way. You got to live off campus with your best friend, and you had someone to split the rent with.

The sound of a movie beginning to play on the tv jolted you from your thoughts. Eyes flicking up to the screen, a groan immediately left your throat without much thought. A hand rubbing up and down your back reminded you of the comforting presence beside you. “A Christmas movie? Really, Chris?” You can feel his mood shift and you’re filled with a small amount of guilt. You know he loves Christmas, he loves holidays in general, but Christmas always puts him in a particular cheery mood. But he also knows how much you detest the holiday. But then again, he has always been willing to do things he hates just because it’s something you want to do.

The weight of his arm disappears from your body and your head snaps up to face him. ‘Great. I’ve finally pushed him into anger.’ You know that he isn’t angry with you, but the little voice in your head can’t help but override your rationality. The two of you sit in silence for a while, both of you focusing on the images flickering across the tv screen. You’re not as much focusing on the movie as just having a place for your eyes to land. You can tell that Chris is in thought, he’s unusually quiet. There is a tension in the air, thick with guilt and worry.

By the time the movie is, what you assume, half way through, Chris reaches forward to press the pause button on the remote. The scene stops in the middle of a conversation and the looks on the characters’ faces brings a small snort from your nose. It’s always been a game between the two of you. Someone pauses a movie or show randomly, trying to find the best funny face someone on screen is making. You turn to the man beside you, ready to talk about the game, only to see how serious his face is.

“I’m not going to ask why you hate Christmas so much, I already know that.” The mention of the reason for your Grinch-like attitude makes you wince, though you try to hide it. That obviously doesn’t work because a warm hand finds its way back around your shoulders, giving a squeeze of reassurance. “But I am going to ask that you do me a favor.” Your heart races at his words. You give him a nod, letting him know that you’re listening. “Give me until Christmas Eve to change your opinion.”

That is not what you were expecting. You thought he’d ask you to keep your holly jolly hating thoughts to yourself. You had no idea how he even thought he could change your mind. Hating Christmas had been a part of you since before you met Chris. It wasn’t your whole personality, that would be awful, but it was well known amongst your friends that you and Christmas didn’t get along. Chris was one of the only people in your friend group that knew the exact reason. You love your friends and as much as you trust them, you don’t want to deal with the looks. You had worried about that when you told Chris, but he hadn’t looked at you like other people would have. Of course he hadn’t. He was Chris. He was perfect.

“What do you mean?” You mentally rolled your eyes at yourself, it felt like a dumb question. Your best friend’s gaze held no anger, and didn't make you feel stupid for asking. He just gave you a soft smile, his hand coming to push your hair behind your ear. “Give me 23 days to make Christmas a happy time for you again. Three weeks. We’ll do two small things a week, and one big thing on the weekend. Today is Friday, so the first big activity can be tomorrow. There are two more weekends between now and Christmas Eve. The last big thing will be on Christmas Eve. If your thoughts on the holiday aren’t changed by midnight on Christmas Day, I’ll tone down the holiday cheer next year. Deal?”

“Alright.” You can see that he senses the hesitancy in your voice, but he doesn't say anything. Just reaches his hand out towards you, waiting for you to take it in a handshake. ‘This is certainly going to be interesting.’ You have no idea what he could possibly have planned, but you're curious.

You slept in the next morning, which felt amazing. You honestly expected Chris to wake you up early for his big adventure, but you were damn glad he didn't. Taking your time in getting up, you finally crawl out of bed to brush your teeth before emerging from your room. Your first stop would be the kitchen, you need coffee. As soon as you hit the end of the hallway, a mug sat on the counter, still steaming. You couldn't help the smile that graced your lips at the sight.

Chris had made a habit of setting your coffee out for you before he went to the gym. It was a small thing, but it always made your heart skip. Now that he wasn't home, you could let yourself stew in your feelings. You aren't sure when your feelings for him had changed, you just knew that they had.

Maybe it was last month when he had stayed up all night taking care of you when you had the flu. Maybe it was last year when your boyfriend had broken up with you and he had made a blanket fort in the living room and watched Disney movies with you. Perhaps it was a month after starting school and you had to miss a week of class, only to come back to a set of notes he had taken for you. You couldn't be certain.

You bumble around the apartment, looking for things to do. You had to admit, even though you hate Christmas and anything to do with it, you were excited to see what Chris had planned. You doubted he could actually change your mind, but it was better to not tell him that.

Thinking back to your life before Chris, your thoughts landed on the reason you hate this goddamn holiday. Your father. Waking up on Christmas morning only to find him nowhere in sight and your mother in shambles. You were sixteen. He had left a note explaining that he had found a new life, one that didn't include you or your mother. Prick. That had solidified your hatred. You struggled to pick up the pieces of your mother’s broken heart, and after a while you had succeeded, but there was still a void.

She had eventually remarried once you had gone off to school, and while she was happy with the way her life turned out, you were still angry. Still hurt. Still hated Christmas. You love your stepfather dearly, but the memory of that shitty Christmas morning still reigns supreme.

The jingling of keys brought you out of your angry thoughts. The door opened and there was your best friend, the object of your unknown affections. He was still sweaty from his intense workout. ‘Fuck. He really is going to give me a heart attack one of these days.’ Your stomach was doing flips. He looked so good. Biting your lip, you admire him for a moment longer before calling out to him.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He turns to you, eyes wide, obviously startled. You suppress a giggle, knowing it would only make him pout at your amusement. “No need for thanks, pretty girl.” There goes your stomach again, your heart joining its waltz of emotion. Pet names aren't a new thing for him, it's something he's done for months now, but it still affects like it had the very first time.

“So, what's the big activity you have planned?” You watch as he kicks off his shoes, making sure to place them neatly on the shoe rack you keep next to the door. He tsks at you as he makes his way to stand in front of you. “Nope. Not a chance. It's a surprise.” An immediate pout comes across your face, causing a loud laugh from the man in front of you. Your pout only deepens. Before you realize what is happening, Chris reaches forward, squishing your cheeks in his hand and leaning closer. “No pouting. I'm gonna shower and we can go.” He lets go of your face and leans back, smirking a bit as he turns and walks down the hall. “Make sure to wear something warm!” His loud voice rings out through the apartment, and you sigh, getting up to go get dressed.

This is not what you expected. To be fair, you don't really know what you expected, but an ice skating rink wasn't it. Chris must be able to see the confusion on your face, because he laughs and reaches for your hand. “Ice skating is an important part of the holiday season.” This is news to you.

His hand doesn't leave yours as he pulls you towards the small building that houses the skate rentals. After a moment of waiting in line, you step up to the counter, pulling your wallet out to pay. “The hell do you think you're doing?” Chris has a serious face as he looks at you with furrowed brows. “Paying?” You didn't mean for your words to come out as a question. He shakes his head adamantly, gently pushing your arm back. ‘Should have known. Always has to pay.’ Every time he does this, your mind briefly wonders if you're on a date, but you always shake that thought away.

Stepping onto the ice is always a little scary. It's not like you've never gone ice skating, but you always feel a bit rusty after not going for a while. You watch as Chris glides around the rink once before making his way back to you. He's so graceful as he skates. It's like there's nothing he can't do. His arms reach out towards you as he comes closer, beckoning you to start moving in his direction.

Both of his hands clasp yours, pulling you into his chest. Despite the temperature, he's warm. He's always so damn warm. You pull your head back to look up at him, his eyes already focused on you. Getting lost in his eyes is so easy. It's like second nature. Your gazes stay locked for what feels like forever before you break the contact first, both visually and physically.

As you shuffle backwards on your skates, you notice Chris drop his arms to his side. You're looking at your feet so you don't notice the disappointment that crosses his face. You turn, slowly skating off, trying to get the hang of it again.

Chris joins you only a second later, giving you a slight nudge. “Wanna race?” He's wearing his signature smile, an eyebrow cocked. This is a bad idea. You know this is a bad idea. That doesn't stop you at all. “You're on!” You're moving forward before you finish the sentence.

“Are you ok?” Uninjured, yes. Mortified, also yes. Chris helps you off of the ice as you nod. You got too confident. He had been closing in on you almost immediately. Then, a child moved into your path. Down on your ass you went. “Need to step off the ice for a minute?” You give him an affirmative, you just need a little bit of a breather.

The two of you step off the ice, not even bothering to take your skates off, you don't plan to be off the ice long. Chris walks you to a bench, making sure you're sat and comfortable before he walks away. He doesn't speak before he leaves, leaving you confused. You watch his back as the distance between you greatens, watching him stop and a tiny stand at the edge of the area.

He comes back with two cups in his hands, handing one to you. “Hot chocolate?” He nods, giving you a big smile, and the butterflies fly away again. “Figured it'd help warm you up, since, y’know, you ate shit and now your ass is cold.” His tone is teasing and a smirk plays on his lips. You give him a playful shove, telling him to shut up and his laughter fills the air. “Gonna need a massage?” His eyebrows wiggle and you almost spit the drink out. Once you finish your drink, he grabs your hand again, leading you back to the ice. The next two hours are filled with laughter and teasing as you skate hand in hand.

You dream of ice skating with Chris. The holiday spirit creeps at the edge of your soul.

It's four days later that you come home to notice things are different. The tree is gone. You have a brief moment of giddiness, immediately feeling bad. You told yourself that you're going to try. It isn't fair to Chris if he goes through all of this trouble for you to refuse to try.

“Chris? Are you home?” You hear shuffling coming from the back half of the apartment. The Adonis of a man comes from his room, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, pulling a black muscle shirt over his head. You can see the ridges that adore his chest and stomach. It makes your mouth dry and your panties wet.

“Great, you're home. It's time for the first small activity.” You look around, trying to figure out what he has planned. It takes a bit, but you finally notice the Christmas tree messing put on top, not in, it's box. Your eyes flicking to your best friend, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yepp. First up, we put the tree up and decorate it together.” You suppress a sigh. This used to be one of your favorite things to do for Christmas, second only to baking cookies. You give him a small smile and a nod and the way his face lights up makes every grievance you have about doing this fly out of the window.

Chris sets the tree up while you sort the decorations and untangle the lights. He had tangled them back up so you could get the “full experience.” Admittedly, that made you the tiniest bit happy. Just that he had thought of everything, even something as small as untangling lights. After he has the tree in its place, he steps away and grabs his phone, turning it to the radio station for the college. You give him a side eye and he laughs. “I may be off today, but I still support my team.” The radio station is Chris’ baby. He’s always loved music, he says it has helped him through his darkest times.

Of course Jisung is playing Christmas music right now, you suspect Chris had something to do with that since it isn’t a normal occurrence this early in the month. Footsteps coming your way clue you in that he has decided to make his way over to where you are. His arms come around you from behind, giving you a soft squeeze. He breathes a soft laugh into your ear as he watches you fight the strand of lights. “Here, let me help.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, his nimble fingers making quick work of the knots. You can’t help but focus on the way his hands move, god you want them inside of you.

The next hour or so is spent making sure every ornament is in the perfect place, not too close together, but not too far apart. The music, which has since switched from Christmas tunes, plays softly in the background. Every now and then, Jisung’s voice cuts through the speaker, usually to make some sort of joke or answer a question that was sent in. You’re distracted with making sure the tree is perfect that you don’t notice the way your roommate stands off to the side, watching you intently, a smile on his face and his eyes twinkling.

The rest of your week drags on. Your thoughts are muddled and all over the place. You’ve been happier than you normally are this time of year, and you know Chris’ plan is working. You can’t tell if it’s because of doing the activities you haven’t done in years, or if it’s because you're doing them with him. You think it may be the latter, though. Friday finally rolls around and after classes and your shift at the campus bookstore, you’re absolutely beat. You trudge through your front door, set on getting a shower and going to bed.

Chris should still be at the radio station, he tends to work later on Fridays. It occurs to you that some self care may be in order, you could definitely use a good orgasm to make you feel better. With your mind made up, you grab your pajamas and your waterproof vibrator, quickly making your way to the bathroom.

The steam from the hot water fills the room and it instantly makes you relax just a little. Your shoulders are loosening up more every second you spend undressing. The stream of water hits your skin and an involuntary sigh escapes your lips. You stand under the falling water for a few moments, letting the warmth seep into your skin. Almost absent mindedly, you reach for your vibrator, clicking it to the lowest setting.You run your free hand down your body, stopping at your breast to fondle and pinch your nipple. You let a soft gasp and you bring the toy to your clit, just barely grazing it, teasing yourself.

The more tension that escapes you, the more you indulge yourself. You replace your vibrator with the shower head, the pressure hitting just the right spot. You slide the toy through your folds, down to your entrance, sliding it into your pussy slowly. The sound you make is louder this time, and you aren’t worried about the noise. It’s just you in the apartment and you need this. You fuck yourself faster, making sure to keep the pressure on your clit as you change the angle of your hand so the tip of the vibrator hits your sweet spot.

Your orgasm is approaching faster than you thought it would, but you’re absolutely fine with it. Clicking the vibration setting up one notch, you throw your head back against the tile of the shower wall. You release a drawn out moan, your hips bucking slightly into the toy, chasing your high. Right as the dam is about to break, you click the setting button to the highest setting. You crash head first into your orgasm. Whimpers and whines fall from your mouth as you ride out your high, biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning out your best friend’s name.

The next day comes earlier than you thought it would, mostly because you’re woken up to a loud voice. “Good morning, pretty girl! Rise and shine.” ‘Choke, you happy bastard.’ You feel bad for your immediate thought, but as you roll over and take a look at your clock, you feel slightly less bad. “Christopher. It is 8am. What the actual fuck?” The only response you get is a smile and the feeling of blankets being ripped off of you. You fix your gaze on him, giving him the harshest death glare you can manage at this time of day, which doesn’t appear to bother him a bit. “Up, woman. We have things to do. If I don’t hear the sink running in 5 minutes, I’m dragging you out of bed myself.” ‘This is going to be a long fucking day.’

Your hands are on the handle of the shopping cart while Chris holds on to the basket. He directs the cart himself, you’re essentially just there for appearances, you guess. He stopped to get you a coffee, a peace offering, which you had accepted. But that doesn’t mean your mood has drastically improved. He looks great, he always does, but today he’s glowing more than usual. ‘Stupid, beautiful, perfect man. How are you this chipper this early? You barely sleep.’

You watch as he grabs drinks and snacks, still having no idea what is going on. He had refused to tell you anything on the drive to the supermarket, didn’t want to”ruin the holiday spirit surprise”, whatever that means. Once he deems there are enough items in the cart, he directs the two of you to the checkout counter. You don’t even bother pulling out your wallet, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Chris pays, oblivious to the way the cashier is making googly eyes at him.

After loading everything into the car, he opens the door for you, giving you a peck on the forehead. That causes you to duck your head to hide the blush that forms across your cheeks. You watch as he jogs around to the trunk, opening it and digging around for a second before he closes it and makes his way to the driver’s door. He turns to you as he’s buckling his belt, his voice soft. “Take yourself a nap, pretty. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.” You give him a look, one which he ignores. ‘Where the hell is this crazy man taking me?’ You doze off before you can even think of a possible answer.

“Y/n. Wake up. We’re here.” The gentle swaying of your body coaxes you awake, your eyes automatically squinting to avoid the sun. Chris is already out of the car, already holding your door open. He takes your hand and helps you out of the car, pausing to let you stretch. He silently takes your hand, tugging gently, urging you to follow him. Your nose meets his back as he stops suddenly. You let out a tiny huff, rubbing your nose while he apologizes. “I’m sorry! I just forgot something!” He takes your hands away from your face to inspect you, making sure your nose isn’t bleeding, and presses a soft kiss to the tip. “Can you close your eyes for me? Please?” You do as he says without hesitation. “Good girl.” You shiver.

When you finally come to a stop, you guess that you must be inside somewhere. You can’t feel the sun on your skin, and the temperature has dropped slightly. You hear him shuffling around and as much as you want to see what’s going on, you keep your eyes closed. When he finally comes back to you, he grabs both of your hands and pulls you a little further forward. He drops your hands, and you feel him behind you, wrapping you up in his warmth. “Open.” You slowly lift your eyelids, both confused and in awe by what you see.

You’re in a barn, a blanket thrown across the ground. Pillows lay on the blanket, surrounded by the snacks and drinks you had gotten at the store. Everything is facing a wall, where a large projector screen hangs, the title screen for A Christmas Story paused on the screen. You hate cheesy Christmas movies, even when you liked Christmas. A Christmas Story is different, you could watch it all year round. Tears prick the corner of your eyes. No one has ever gone through such great lengths for you. “Chris…” Your voice breaks off and your best friend pulls you back into his chest and sets his chin on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s lay down. I brought an extra blanket to cover up with. I know how easily you get cold. There’s also more pillows in case the ground gets too hard.” You quickly spin around in his arms, latching your hands around his shoulders in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You feel him place a soft kiss on your hair.

Feeling happy and content, you press play.

“What has you in such a good mood?” You direct your attention to Hyunjin. He’s looking at you like you’re some sort of impostor. “What do you mean? I’m just in a good mood.” He scrunches his face like he’s just smelled something awful. “Y/n, it’s December. Today marks exactly two weeks until Christmas. In the two years I have known you, you have never just been in a good mood for no reason this close to Christmas.”

He’s right. You know that he’s right. You aren’t usually in an outright bad mood, but you certainly aren’t in a good mood for no reason. “Maybe I’m just having a good day.’ Your words come out in a mumble, you know they don’t sound convincing. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Aussie, would it?” You knew you shouldn’t have told Hyunjin about your feelings for Chris. In your defense, you didn’t tell him. He just seemed to read your mind and then you couldn’t deny it.

“Shut up.” You’re grumbling now, not liking that you’ve been so easily read. You can see the smug grin on Hyunjin’s face. He knows he’s hit the nail on the head and you just want to smack him. “We made a deal. He’s trying to get me over the Christmas hate. I’m not saying it’s working,” It is. “I’ve just been having alot of fun. You watch your friend’s eyes widen before the cocky smile is back on his face. “You guys are so gonna fuck.” That one finally earns him the smack.

It’s Thursday by the time you realize you haven’t had your small adventure this week, and you're surprised how sad you are about it. You’ve been pouting for two days because there has been no holiday fun. That thought alone makes you want to vomit. You definitely did not expect this. You? Wanting to do Christmasy stuff? Yuck.

The bookstore is quiet, which isn’t unusual, but it gives your thoughts too much power. Is it time to let go? You assume it is, but you aren’t sure if you’re fully ready. It sounds dumb, but if you stay angry, you focus on that instead of the hurt. It’s starting to fade, though. Finally. You’ve thought for years that if you just pretended that Christmas didn’t exist, you’d move on. But, you guess you were going about it the wrong way. Maybe you do need to embrace the season.

The bell above the door rings, signaling that someone has entered the store. You face the door, seeing your best friend walking in, stomping the snow off of his shoes. You give him a wave, a bright smile on your face, getting larger the closer he gets to you. “You don’t have much longer, right?” You shake your head, tilting it slightly to the side. He reads you like a book. “It’s time for our second mini adventure.” Your heart feels lighter.

There’s flour everywhere. It’s in your hair, it’s in his hair, it’s on the ceiling. The kitchen is a mess.

As soon as you had gotten home, Chris led you to the kitchen, where an array of cookie cutters were laid out on the counter. You didn’t even try to hide your smile. “Welcome to Bang’s Bakery.” You let out a snort at his customer service voice, his giggle filling the air around you. “We got snowmen, gingerbread men, Santa. You name it, we got it.” You immediately drift toward the metal shaped like a snowman, while Chris grabs the Santa cutter.

The first batch of cookies turned out…not the greatest. You had gotten lost in a dance party, letting them stay in the oven for too long. The second batch was better, but had almost zero flavor. The third batch is where things took a turn.

You had spilled the flour while trying to pour it into a measuring cup, a cloud coming from the plop it made on the counter. Chris let out a howl of laughter as he noticed your face covered in the remnants of the cloud. This just wouldn’t stand. No way. You hadn’t even taken a millisecond to think before reaching into the bag. A puff of flour hit Chris directly in the face. That shut him up. Briefly. He recovered quickly, a sly smile coming to his face. ‘Oh god, what have I done?’

He was on you before you knew it, fighting you for the bag of flour. There was no way you were going down without a full fight. You had snatched your arms back, turning to make a run for it. The flour stuck again. There was a white patch on the floor, which had somehow gotten mixed with some form of liquid. Your feet slid out from under you, causing you to hit the floor. The bag flew into the air, turned upside down and covered both you and Chris.

He slid to the floor beside you, both of you in hysterics. Your sides were hurting from laughing so hard. “Y’ok?” His question came out in between him trying to catch his breath. You couldn’t even answer, too lost in the joy you’re feeling. He goes silent all of a sudden, his hands coming to cup your face to get your attention. You stare at each other, neither of you speaking. His eyes dart between yours and your lips. Just as you both lean in, his phone rings, You jump apart as he gets up to answer. “Bin needs me at the station. I’m gonna shower and head out.” You give him a stiff nod and he turns to walk down the hallway.

The weekend brings rain. Rain brings this weekend’s activity inside. Chris won’t tell you what he had originally planned, all he told you was that he had to make due with what he had. That explained absolutely nothing.

A Christmas movie marathon. That was the backup plan. There was a slight disagreement on whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie, ‘it is’, but Chris disagrees. ‘He’s wrong.’ After that minor setback, the marathon is in full swing. The two of you are cuddled up under a blanket and you each have a mug of hot chocolate while Home Alone plays on the screen. Neither of you have brought up what happened after the flour fight, you aren’t even sure how you approach the subject.

You somehow move from cuddling side by side to you laying on his chest. You aren’t complaining, it feels right. It feels like this is where you are supposed to be. Your eyes start to get heavy when Chris starts to play with your hair. Your nose is filled with his cologne and your heart is full of love.

Time seems to both speed up and slow down the closer you get to Christmas. Four days. That’s all you have left. It feels good to not be dreading the day. You feel more light and carefree than you have in years. Chris had texted you earlier today, giving you strict instructions.

Cutie with a booty: lay a sheet down on the living room floor and make sure to wear comfy clothes that aren’t super important to you. No, I won’t tell you what we’re doing. Don't even ask.

So here you were, sitting on the floor in an old shirt from highschool and some ripped sweats you’ve been meaning to throw away, waiting for Chris to get home. Just as you’re about to call and ask where he is, you hear a key enter the lock. Chris comes in with shopping bags full of stuff, though you can’t tell what it is. “I hope you have your crafty cap on!” You look at him like he just spoke gibberish.”My fucking what?” The man snorts so hard that he almost drops the bags.

He sets all of the bags down on the sheet, plopping himself down afterwards. He reaches over, grabbing the bags and dumping the contents onto the sheet. Glue stick, cotton balls, glitter. All kinds of arts and crafts supplies, along with two plain red stockings. “We’re decorating stockings for each other. And no, you can not draw a penis on my stocking.” ‘Damn, He got me.’ You’re immediately hit with what you want to put on his stocking, confident that he’ll love it.

The two of you work in silence, both concentrated on your art. Chris is using a lot of glitter and a lot of black marker and you honestly have no idea what he could be doing. Looking down at your creation, you cringe slightly. You are in no way an artist, but you’re hoping he’ll at least be able to tell what your vision is. You grab your phone, needing a reference picture. Chris looks at you briefly, a disapproving look on his face. “Calm down, I just need a reference picture.” His look changes to confused, but you just wave him off.

An hour later, both stockings are ready and hiding behind your backs. “I'll go first. This is about you enjoying Christmas, after all.” He reaches behind him, the stocking in his hands when they come back to the front of his body. He hands you the fabric and you observe it. Your name is written across the top in purple glitter, a heart on each side. In the center sits two penguins. They're facing each other, holding each other’s flippers. In between them is a pebble. You want to cry. You do cry.

“Chris. It's perfect.” He scoots toward you, his thumb coming to wipe away your tears. “Aww don't cry.” You let him know that it's a cry of happiness as you pull yourself together. It's your turn now and you turn slightly grabbing your gift. You extend your arms, watching him take in what you've made.

LIke him, you’ve written something across the top, but it isn’t his name. ‘RooBoo’ is written in blue glitter, with pink layering over the top. You’ve used the gold glitter to attempt to draw a kangaroo, though it doesn’t really look like one. Same goes for the koala. In between the two animals, the shape of Australia is drawn and shimmering in green and gold. You bite your lip anxiously, waiting for his reaction. Nothing happens. He just stares. You start to worry that he doesn’t understand what it’s supposed to be, or worse, doesn’t like it.

All at once, he surges forward. He buries his face in your neck and wraps his arms around your waist. He just stays like that, not moving, not saying anything. You bring your arms around him, rubbing his back. You can feel moisture on your neck and it’s only then that you notice his soft shudders. “Chris?” You try to pull back to get a look at him, but he tightens his grip so you can’t go anywhere. “You have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you so fucking much.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear him anyway. You place a kiss on his forehead and you two stay that way for a while longer.

Christmas Eve. The last day of your little deal, you’re beyond ready to admit to Chris that he had won during week two, but you want to see what his final surprise is. Knowing him, he’s going all out for this one. He’s out all day, and you’re pacing around waiting for his return. Around 6:30pm, you get a call. It’s short and to the point. “Be ready in an hour, dress cute but warm. I won’t be home until it’s time to pick you up. See you then, pretty girl.” He doesn’t even give you a chance to answer, he just hangs up. How dare he only give you an hour, you have to shower, do your hair, pick an outfit, there’s no way you can do all of that in an hour.

You manage to do it in 50 minutes, which you are very proud of by the way. Your hair is down, nothing fancy, but you know that Chris likes it like this. Your outfit is simple, a red and striped sweater, jeans and a coat. It may not look like the warmest choice, but you know you’ll be warm enough. There’s a knock on the door, which you find odd. Opening the door slowly, a mess of brown curly hair comes into view. Chris stands at your shared door, a bouquet in his hand. His hair is in its natural state, your absolute favorite look on him. He’s absolutely breathtaking. All you can do is stare. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?” ‘Oh. Oh, that’s a new one.” Your heart beats in triple time, your stomach is a roller coaster. A nod is literally all you can manage. Your brain is telling your feet to move, your feet are not listening.

You finally will yourself to move, with much help from Chris since he took you by your hand after putting the flowers in a vase with water. The elevator ride is tense, but not in a bad way. You want to latch yourself to his side and never leave. And like he tends to do, he somehow reads your mind, pulling you into him and placing a kiss on your forehead, this one lingering a little longer than usual. When the doors open, he doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulder as he takes a step. Through the glass door of the lobby, you can see snow lightly falling. It’s beautiful.

A slight breeze hits your face as you step outside. You swivel your head, looking for Chris’ car. “We’re not driving anywhere, pretty.” You look at him, confusion written on your face, causing him to giggle and tip his head toward the park not far from your apartment building. ‘Oh! A walk in the park!’ You smile at the thought of just walking hand in hand around the park in the snow. Though, you’re just happy to spend Christmas Eve with your best friend. A small pang of hurt rushes through you at the thought that he is still only your best friend. Maybe you’ll finally confess at midnight.

Just outside the entrance to the park, there is a horse drawn sleigh. There are people circling around it, and as much as you want to pet the horse, you don’t want to fight your way through a crowd. Chris seems to have a different idea, though. He pulls you directly to the sleigh, letting go of your hand long enough to tell the driver his name and show the man his ID. He takes your hand again, leading you to the side of the sleigh. “After you.” You stand there gawking at him for a moment, his smile never faltering. He helps you into the sleigh, lifting the blanket that’s placed on the seat so the two of you can slide under it.

The view of the park tonight is unlike anything you have ever seen. There are Christmas lights strung up through the trees. Soft instrumental versions of Christmas songs play through the speakers placed around. There are families playing in the snow, lovers dancing around the lake. The whole park is a magical place. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His voice draws your attention to him, making eye contact. “Chris, this is amazing. Everything is so beautiful. How did you do this?” His smile widens at your words. “I cheated a little. There was an ad at the radio station. We were supposed to be the first to announce it. I called and booked the first ride before I read the ad.” Your laughter is the loudest sound in the park, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Of course he used the station.

He slings his arm around you when your head lands on his shoulder and brings you closer to him. You’re close to sitting in his lap at this point. “Chris.” “Y/n.” You speak at the same time and you both giggle. You playfully argue over who should go first, and Chris finally takes the spotlight.

“I said that I was spending this month trying to get you to like Christmas again, and I meant that. But that was a minor part of everything I’ve done. I wanted you to know what it’s like to be loved, genuinely loved, on Christmas. I know this time of year is hard for you, and understandably so, but I want you to know that you have someone who is here for you. You have someone who will never leave. You have someone that loves you more than words could ever explain. I love you, Y/n. I just wanted you to feel that love.”

You have no words. You have tears, but no words. You have tears, no words, and your lips on his.

You feel like you're floating. Are your feet on the ground? You don’t know. You can feel your hand in his, but you can’t feel your feet. And you aren’t bothered by it. Because you can feel his lips on yours. You walk through the doorway of your shared apartment, giving each other sweet kisses. It’s only when you’re fully inside with the door closed that the kisses deepen. Chris cups your face with both of his hands, one sliding up to run through your hair. You’re already in bliss. He pulls back slightly, his breath fanning across your lips. “Tell me how you want this to go, baby. We can stop here and have dinner, or we can go to my room.” You have never uttered a sentence out faster. “Your room, please. I think we’ve waited long enough, yeah?”

Before you realize what’s happening, he swoops you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style to his room, pressing his lips to yours the entire way. He doesn’t even bother closing the bedroom door behind himself, immediately moving to place you gently on his bed. You scoot yourself further up, beckoning him closer. He slowly crawls onto the bed to hover over you, his right handing coming back to your face as he leans down to kiss you again. His left hand makes a home on your hip, rubbing slow, soft circles with his thumb. There is no urgency in your shared kisses, only the need to be close and show each other the love that you feel.

You kiss until both of your lips are swollen and red and Chris finally pulls back, just to admire you. “You are beyond beautiful. I love you so much.” His words are quiet, like he’ll break the magic moment if he speaks any louder.

“I realize I haven’t told you how I feel yet.” You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to spill your feelings. “You are the kindest, most genuine person I have ever met. You go out of your way to make sure that everyone you care about is taken care of, even if that means not taking care of yourself.” You pause briefly, giving him a look. “We’ll talk about taking better care of you later.” He giggles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “When we met, I had no idea how important you would become to me, and now that I know, I never want to not have you here. And I’m not worried that I’ll have to deal with that. You have given me more hope and love than I ever thought possible and I am so fucking in love with you.”

The kiss you receive in response is softer than the others and you aren’t sure how that is possible. You can feel every ounce of care this man holds for you in the barely there kiss. It makes your head spin. Slowly, his lips travel from yours down to your neck, sucking softly at the skin. You arch into him, gasping at how good it feels just to have his lips on you. His kisses travel lower, stopping at the edge of your sweater. “Can I take this off of you, babygirl?” You clench around nothing at the pet name, and of course Chris notices. He notices everything about you.

You give him a nod and his hands slowly pull the sweater over your head, his eyes locked on yours as he removes it completely. Out of instinct, your hands move to cover yourself, but he grabs them before they make contact with your breasts. “Please don’t hide from me, my love. I want to see all of you. You’re so pretty.” Something churns inside of you at his compliments and you will yourself to keep your arms down. He trails his eyes down your chest, zeroing in on the fabric of your bra. He lifts his eyes back to yours, a silent question swirling in his brown irises. You give him a firm nod, not wanting him to sense any hesitation. You have no hesitation.

You reach around and unclasp your bra, bringing the straps down your shoulder until the garment falls onto your lap. “Fuck.” His voice is strained and you can hear the lust in his tone. But you can also hear the love. His hands rise to your chest, thumbs flicking over your nipples slowly. You let out a soft moan, biting your lip. His touch doesn’t linger for long, moving down to the top of your jeans. “Do you still want to keep going, baby? We don’t have to.” You love how he checks in with you before doing anything, it makes you feel so comfortable, like your comfort is more important than his desire. And you know that that is exactly how he feels.

“Chris, please.” The whine in your voice seems to do something to him because he groans as he begins to unbutton your jeans. While his hands are occupied removing you from the confines of your clothes, his lips press against your stomach. He takes his time with you and even though you’re soaked at this point, you don’t dare try to rush him. You can tell that he wants to worship you, and you intend to let him. His lips touch every new piece of skin that is revealed, not wanting to leave any part of you untouched. He leans back to take in the view of you. Your hair is slightly messy from his hands running through it. Your cheeks are flushed as you lay there in only your panties. You buck your hips up at him once and his hands immediately move to take the ruined fabric off.

Once you’re bare beneath him, you gain a little confidence, spreading your legs so he can see your core. He outright moans at the sight. You can see his cock straining against his jeans, it’s big, that much you can tell. Your hole clenches at the thought of taking him, and again he takes notice. “What dirty thoughts are you thinking to have you clenching like that, babygirl?” The name makes you clench again and he smirks. “Oh? Y’like that do you? Like when I call you babygirl?” You spread your legs further apart as give him a nod, another groan coming from the gorgeous man in front of you.

“Yes, Daddy.” You stiffen. You have no idea where that came from. Never have you called a man daddy in bed, but for some reason, it felt so right that it just slipped out. Chris growls at that and you know you’ve found a weak spot for him. “Look at my pretty baby, all wet for me. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you, babygirl.” He lowers himself to the floor, grabbing at your ankles and slowly pulling your core toward his face. “Still good, baby?” Another nod from you and he presses a kiss to your clit. The contact has you arching into him, your obvious pleasure making his tongue dart out of his mouth to taste you.

You try to keep your moans down as he devours you. You have a hand in his hair, not pulling, simply running your fingers through it. He alternates between circling your clit with his tongue and slipping the muscle inside of you, ending the pattern with a suck to your clit. The pleasure is overwhelming. It’s too much and it’s not enough. Your moans increase slightly in volume, until Chris stops his lovely attack on your pussy.

“Let me hear you, baby. I know you can do better than that. I heard you in the shower, you sounded so fucking beautiful. The best song I’ve ever heard.” You know you should be embarrassed, but you aren’t. His words only cause a new wave of arousal and a loud moan to escape you. “That’s it. There’s my good girl.” Another clench. Chris chooses this moment to slide a finger into you, curving it instantly, looking for the soft spot inside of you. He knows he’s found it when you buck your hips up and groan and he moves his face back down to lick at you more.

The combination of his tongue and fingers turn out to be deadly. You’re rapidly approaching your high. “Chris, please. I’m so close.” He picks up the pace of his fingers, pressing into your sweet spot on every thrust. Your moans flow out of you now, even if you wanted to stop them, you wouldn’t be able to. “There we go. Come on, babygirl. You can do it. Cum for me, cum for Daddy.” Your vision blurs, stars explode from your peripherals. Chris helps you ride out your orgasm before slowly pulling his fingers from you. “Can you open up for me, sweetheart?” Your mouth opens without you having to tell it to, and his fingers find their way onto your tongue. “Suck. See how good you taste.” You obey him without pause, moaning at the taste of yourself on his fingers.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, moving them down to the button of his jeans, while the other hand reaches towards the nightstand for a condom. You reach out and grab his wrist, shaking your head. “Wanna feel you. All of you.” You can see his eyes glaze over with lust, but he still asks if you’re sure. You nod, you don’t think you’ve ever been so sure of something in your life. He moves with a little more haste as he kicks his pants off. “Holy shit.” You didn’t mean to say the words out loud, but one look at his cock has your mouth watering, but it also has you wondering if it’s going to fit. He has one hand slowly stroking himself, moving closer to your cunt, sliding himself through your folds. “Relax for me, love. All you have to do is relax and let me in.”

He pushes into you slowly, a deep, drawn out groan coming from his throat. A high pitched whine leaves you at the same time, a harmony of pleasure. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he pauses, not moving. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. Fit me perfectly. Cunt was made for daddy’s cock, huh?” All you can do is nod and whine, and bring your legs to wrap around his waist. You manage to buck your hips slightly, trying to get him to move. He pulls his hips back slowly, pulling out until only the tip of his cock is resting inside of you. He shoves his cock back into you all at once, not too roughly, but making sure to hit deep.

Your body moves into a deep arch at his thrusts, all hitting the spongy part inside of you perfectly. You’re already working your way to another orgasm. “Feel so good, baby. So glad I get to have you like this. Love you so much.” His thrusts start to speed up and you can tell that he’s holding himself back, wanting you to finish one more time before he lets himself go. “I’m close, sweet girl. Think you can come for me one more time? Come with me this time?” Tears are pricking the edges of your eyes and you quickly nod. “So close. So close, Love you. So close.” Your words come out jumbled, but you think Chris understands. He speeds up a little more, the both of you moaning in time with each other. Chris leans down so his mouth is right next to your ear. “Now, baby. Come now. I love you. You can do it.” You cum with a cry of his name, your pussy clamping down on his cock sends him into his own orgasm, groaning as he fills you.

You’re both panting by the time you come down. Chris slowly pulls out slowly, watching his seed dribble out of your spent hole. His hand twitches like he wants to push it back inside of you, but he doesn’t. He turns and leaves, you can hear the faucet running in the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth, carefully cleaning you up and adding a kiss to your forehead. He helps you up, walking with you to the bathroom so you can pee. When you emerge from the bathroom, he’s standing by the door with a bottle of water. He really is perfect.

Once you get back to his room, he gives you a shirt of his to wear to bed. “Need me to go get underwear from your room?” His thoughtfulness makes you smile. “Nah. Don’t need ‘em.” He smirks at that, knowing that you mean that this will lead to morning sex and he’s all for it. He joins you on his bed again, pulling you into his arms. “So, it’s midnight. How are you feeling about Christmas?” You’re silent for a moment, thinking of what you want to say. Pulling back to look at him, you smile.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

#16 days of smutmas 2023 #cultofdionysusnet #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader

620 notes · View notes

rustedhearts · 1 year ago

Text

let it snow (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: what happens when you're snowed in with your best friend (and there's a lot of sexual tension)?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ christmas carols✶ the library

tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend!steve

"oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go: let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!"

— let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

somewhere in indiana. december, 1976.

“That snow’s really comin’ down,” Steve mused from his bedroom window.

You glanced up from your book, splayed on your stomach against his duvet. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve let his drape drop back into place over the window, frosted with ice and fogging with the heat from his radiator. He wandered back toward the bed, flopping beside you and jostling the mattress. You huffed into your current chapter.

“Not worried about missing your date tonight?”

You shrugged, flipping the page that you haven’t even read. “Eh. He’s kind of boring anyway."

"Well, yeah," Steve scoffed, twisting to lay on his back. The blankets bunched up with his shifting. "His name is Peter."

"Your name is Steve."

Steve's head snapped your way to sharpen his eyes in a glare. "Hey."

A slow, sideways smile plucked at your lips. You turned back to your book and stifled a giggle, though it burst free when his fingers poked your side.

"Wanna go in the basement? I need a light and Mom'll kill me if she smells it up here."

You closed your book around your finger and gazed at him over your shoulder. "They won't be home for hours."

"It lingers, sweetheart."

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in your chest. Bless the cold for keeping the heat from rushing to your face. “Don’t call me that.”

Steve rolled off the bed and to his feet, rushing the door and paying no mind to your distaste.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he called, already halfway down the hall. "We can dip into some of my dad's scotch."

So half an hour later, Steve was on his second Winston—the first stubbed out in the glass ashtray on the coffee table—and you were nursing a mug of scotch. Your mug had Santa on it, and you traced his beard with the edge of your nail as Steve fiddled with the stereo.

"Don't have any Christmas tunes," he'd muttered once you settled in the freezing cold basement. "But we can break out the winter music."

"And what do you consider 'winter music?'" you asked.

He lit up a Winston and clenched it between his teeth, already rifling through his baskets of vinyl. "Anything as cold and dreary as this damn town."

Now, Steve was bopping his hips to a jazzy tune found on a very old record from early high school. You remember the day he found it at the record store. It was during his "blue period," where all he wanted to listen to was jazz and blues.

You hid your grin behind another sip as Steve made finger guns toward the ceiling in time to the trumpet of the song, though a giggle burst forth into a gulp of scotch. His head snapped your way, one finger gun coming to pull his cigarette away.

"I hear your giggles, Miss. Grinch," he teased, swinging his leg over the back of the sofa to sit on the edge.

You swallowed down the pungent liquor, wincing when it stung. "I'm not a Grinch. I just don't like Christmas the same way you do, you know that."

Steve blew a cloud of smoke though his teeth. "Yeah, never understood that, by the way."

"Not for you to understand, Hair."

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the ashed end of his cigarette your way. "Don't call me that."

You quirked a brow, chin tipping up defiantly. "Or what?"

Steve cooly mouthed at his cigarette a moment more. He carefully slid down the back of the couch until he was seated near your socked feet, leaning forward to stub his second Winston out. As it died out in the mess of ash, Steve hooked his arm around your knees and yanked you close.

"Steve," you warned, voice knocked a pitch up. "Don't!"

It took everything in you not to spill your scotch as Steve's thin fingers prodded at your sides. He knew just what spots to press on, just where to squeeze and jiggle to have you twisting and writhing in a fit of laughter. The kind of laughter that had you aching with soreness. The kind of laughter that sent you back to infancy together.

Steve swooped the mug out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table before it could fall—but only so he could ignore your giggled protests to stop as the pair of you slipped off the couch. You tumbled to the hard floor together, a mess of limbs on concrete.

Soon, you were pinned under his heavy weight. His hands stopped tickling and rested stilly on your waist. They slipped under your sweater in the commotion, and now his palms braced your bare flesh without barrier. You could feel him between your legs—the sheer size of him, pushing your thighs apart and stretching them to sting. The outline of him pressed against his jeans.

The laughter subsided to breathless sighs. You gazed up at his pink-cheeked face, splotched with excitement. Your stomach was in your throat. The record stopped spinning some time ago, and now the empty scratch of needle turn crackled through the empty house. The end of your nose was frozen from the cold, but the rest of you was on fire pressed up against Steve.

Steve: your best friend.

"You're so soft," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. His thumb started to move in odd patterns under your shirt. You were suddenly and extremely aware of your hands around his arms—and how firm his biceps were under his sleeves. Every breath that touched your face smelled like Winston smoke. There was a tear in the rug underneath you and it was tickling your cheek.

"Th-thank you."

His thumbs continued. The breathing shallowed. The record spun on an empty track. His eyes were such a pretty color—or, an amalgamation of many colors all in one pretty iris.

You swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. "I-I should go. Still...try to make my date."

Steve nodded, though he, too, was lost in your eyes. He never noticed how pretty the shape of your eyes were. How long and dainty the lashes were, how they brushed your cheeks with every blink. Did you know? Had you walked around with all this glorious beauty his entire life?

How could he have been so blind?

"Steve," you interrupted. "Get off me."

Steve scrambled to release you of his weight, rolling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. He helped you up—a gentle hand around your arm—and watched you grab your coat from the hook near the door. You've had that coat for years—the fur-lined collar and cuffed sleeves were full of lint and cat hair, and there was a button missing at the bottom.

While you were fishing for your gloves in the pockets, Steve moved the lace drapes over the back door and peered up the steps. There was about three feet of snow blocking the door, and as he watched, more piled over the staircase and across the yard.

"Uh...not sure you should go out in this," he announced.

You flicked your hair out of your face with mittened hands and huffed. "What?"

"The snow's pretty bad—"

"We live in Indiana, Steve. I've seen plenty of snow."

Steve dropped the snow and stepped away, arms folded over his chest. "Is Peter really worth getting stuck in a snowstorm?"

You cocked your foot out, mimicking his folded arms. "Maybe. He-he might be. I don't know."

It was the way his jaw tipped up at you, how his brows raised and nestled together, how his lip curled into a grin akin to the sixteen year old that never got told 'no.' It was the way your heart thumped in your ears with deafening force.

You weren't sure you could be around him right now. Not without wondering how his lips tasted. Not without wondering why he'd never told you he loved you.

"Really? What's his last name?"

"Good question. I'll ask him tonight." You rolled your eyes and whirled around, heading toward the basement steps.

If Steve wouldn't let you leave that way, you'd just go out the front.

"Hey—seriously, you're not going out in this."

"Oh yeah?" you huffed, stomping up the stairs. "Who's gonna stop me?"

A heavy arm hooked around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs with one quick pull. Steve hoisted you back down the steps, and it was only when he placed you back on your feet that you started kicking them. You got one good hit in the thigh before backing away to glare.

"What the hell is your issue?" you spat.

Steve threw his arms out—fucking Christ, his shoulders were broad. His hands were so big, and he had the prettiest pink flush to his face after all that play fighting and struggling.

"I'm not letting you go out in that."

It took everything in you to muster a squint and shoot it at him. You were sweating bullets in your buttoned-up coat.

"Well, I'm going."

Maybe you wanted him to grab you again. Maybe that's why you tried to push past him and dart up the stairs. Maybe you wanted to be chased, manhandled, held by those big, rough hands—Steve couldn't think of any other reason for your second attempt at escaping.

So, he snatched you up again. This time, you ended up dangling over his shoulder, and your feet were quicker to react this time. But your struggles were futile and adorable, and Steve chuckled when he brought you back to the cement floor and blocked off the stairs with a stiff body.

Once standing, you flicked your hair away again. Steve pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. Cords of muscle flexed in his forearms—those strong, wide forearms. The scotch was starting to take effect. The room was getting smaller and hotter by the second, and you couldn't stop watching his lips grow pinker with heat.

"You have to stop touching me," you breathed out, so much softer than you wished it would sound. But you had no strength around Steve when he was at this proximity.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, swallowing. He almost seemed in pain. "Then stop looking at me like that."

Your mouth ran dry. The room regained its frigidity in an instance. The sizzle of saliva down your throat passed between you.

"Like...like what?"

There was an ache growing in your chest that you were starting to resent. A hollow, weeping ache that squeezed with all its might when Steve looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing."

You watched him a moment. Scuff his shoes through the dirt on the floor. Wipe at his nose the way he does when he's nervous. Tuck his hands into his pockets and roll his shoulders. Meet your eyes only to duck away again.

"What if I...just go home?"

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, tousling his hair. "I'll-I'll walk you."

You nodded. "Okay."

Steve bundled in his coat and scarf, slipping on a pair of ratty old gloves before you pushed your way out the front door. Though you only lived a few houses down, it as a difficult trek. You had to hoist your legs with every step, kicking snow up the back of your jeans and under your coat. The wind whipped flurries at your face and numbed your mouth.

By the time you made it to your own front door, you were shivering and no less flustered than a few minutes ago. You turned around as you reached for the knob, finding Steve at the top step, waiting.

"Thanks for walking me."

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. His smile was tight-lipped. "Sure."

You opened the door and slipped inside. Steve watched you kick the snow off your boots against the wall and shimmy your coat onto the hook. He watched you trudge to the steps and ascend them slowly, lost in the world of your own thoughts.

He stepped back and shuffled through the mound of white on your front lawn. He stopped in view of your bedroom window on the second floor, and watched the glass turn yellow in the lamplight. You passed in front of the window on your way to the bed.

Steve echoed a white breath into the air.

Maybe one day.

#rolly!#steve harrington #70s!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au

474 notes · View notes

gojoshooter · 1 year ago

Note

Sukuna bringin in a Hindu bride 💳💥💳💥 DO YOU SEE THE VISION???

wait wait wait I SEEE hold awn i got you

Ryomen Sukuna and his Hindu!Bride

a/n: beyond my idea of loving this dynamic, i think this would fit so perfectly. plus that's his damn aesthetic iyk?!

It's the moment you, his pretty pretty Hindu!Bride walks down the petal aisle, Ryomen Sukuna sees the goddess of his very own eudaimonia in your ethereal beauty of jewel covered figure. Holding a garland as if reins to his power.

Hindu!Bride who addresses him as “Swami” which means 'master of self' (master, in general) —he's enthralled. Way to fuel your husband I guess.

Husband!Sukuna learns the word “Ardhangini” is how a husband calls his wife, connoting 'the better half' of him.

“Indeed you are” Sukuna coos internally, looking at his beautiful wife who touches his feet gently as a sign of respect and humility, to seek his blessings.

His grinch little heart would flutter at the sight of his woman blushing about the smallest of his acts, or whenever he complies to your request, big tender fingers putting vermillion on her parted hairline—the very sign of her wifehood.

Husband!Sukuna never liked a cooked meal; he used to eat the raw flesh each day, until enters his new wife in the godforsaken scullery. It's a first that a queen enters the kitchen to serve, first time he tasted something entirely different to his taste... saporous, still ended up liking it. There are a lot of firsts he experiences with you by his side.

“Not... bad” he grumbles, his lips betraying and twitching into a slight grin. Delicious... he thinks, because Sukuna can get used to this flavour rich meal already. Just how perfect can his little Miss perfect get?

Husband!Sukuna who allows you to put pretty earings on him, he'd spend a little more time looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe he loves your compliments too much.

But nothing parallels his Hindu!Bride clad in golden jewelleries head to toe. Your long hair and the forehead, honey toned face, the arms and wrists, your plump waist and even your lotus like feet... that all makes him a poet whose favourite genre is your jewelled guise.

Maybe that's why he calls you a treasure. His treasure. There's a sort of pride filling his chest when he walks with you with the way you dress; you need high maintenance and lot of care that no man but he can provide.

And their goes a saying that a woman acts like a mom to the one in love with—that's so true with you and your Husband!Sukuna cause you literally baby him whenever the chance. Feeding him the first bite with your henna decorated pretty palm, he loves that so much. Likes the smell it adds to whatever you make him eat.

But can you blame yourself? He is a baby. A sulky big baby at that. Sulking when he finds his other side of the bed empty, sulking when you leave his chambers without permission, sulking cause you were too busy to give him kisses or just purely to get your attention.

He makes sure you see him sulk.

It's just you who can walk in on him when he's throwing and thrashing things around in rage—unaffected. Everyone in this palace knows that's a privilege only you get, because you're his only one.

No one dares hold his face and look him in the eyes like his Hindu!Bride. No one dares order him to “calm the fuck down” like his queen. Literally none in the three worlds would cradle the big soft-haired head of the King of Curses in their lap to tell him he's a grumpy little child.

That's how it has always been between you two, completing and fitting each other's pieces like Yin & Yang. You couldn't be happier anywhere out of this trance of love you're in for him and he couldn't even imagine to successfully manage a day without his treasure. There couldn't have been a better pair, never could have he met a woman to match his devotion for her.

PART 2 !

TAGS: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @whodoesthatanymore @heresan @nanamikentoseyebags @4sat0ruu

been thinking abt @xxnghtclls 's fic Permission & this ♡

736 notes · View notes

queenie-ofthe-void · 4 months ago

Text

Tiger Club (part 3)

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 (you are here!) || ao3

~~~

It’s Eddie’s week for Tiger Club and by Thursday he still hasn’t seen Steve once. It’s been Robin every day so far, but she promised yesterday that he’d be doing pick ups today and tomorrow. Eddie hadn’t really believed her after so many previous missed connections, but when the kids ran out to the playground screaming about Dad bringing them for ice cream after school, he thinks maybe he should’ve taken her seriously.

Because now here he is, fiddling with the sleeves of his leather jacket and smoothing a hand over his flyaways like he’s about to meet the goddamned Pope. He’s not nervous– he’s not. It’s just some guy– nay, an ex-trust fund kid. Sure he sounds amazing on paper, but Eddie’ll decide that for himself.

“So is he here yet?” Jumping out of his skin, he turns to find Chrissy smirking at him. He checks his watch and sure enough, it’s 3:45, and Max and Dustin are the last kids on the playground. God, he really should’ve noticed all of the other kids leaving. “Eddie, you seem nervous,” she says, giggling as he scoffs at her implication.

He is not nervous.

“What would I have to be nervous about?” He almost shouts it, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I don’t even know the guy. I just know he’s late. Again!”

Chris nods toward him, eyeing something over his shoulder and he turns in time to see a familiar maroon SUV pull up to the curb. But the man stepping out onto the sidewalk definitely isn’t Robin.

No, he’s just the prettiest man Eddie’s ever been lucky enough to set his gaze on.

He’s wearing tight, acid washed jeans and a navy henley that’s holding on for dear life across his broad chest. The aviator sunglasses should really make him look like a stereotypical douchebag, but of course it just makes him look hot, accentuating his full, pouty, pink lips. His thick, chestnut hair is feathered to appear casual. Even from across the playground it looks soft, and Eddie’s desperate to touch, to hold and pull tight.

The fucking guy is effortlessly cool, and Eddie hates that cool ex-jock is a look that’s apparently his type.

The man scans the playground, a wide grin brightens his face when he catches sight of the twins. Eddie watches as the literal fallen angel pushes his fingers into his mouth– sending Eddie’s thoughts careening dangerously off course– and whistles loud enough that Dustin and Max pop up like adorable groundhogs.

“Daddy!” Max yells, jumping up and running full speed towards him with Dustin hot on her heels.

Daddy? Eddie’s never heard either of the twins call him that– it’s always been Dad. Although Eddie’s also pretty sure he’s never seen Max this excited before.

Steve drops to his knees– Eddie’s jaw hits the ground at the same time– to catch his kids as they send him toppling over. The three are a pile of limbs and smiles, and it’s melting Eddie’s cold, grinch heart.

Chrissy nudges him. He can tell she’s already reading him like an open book, the same way he had when she’d first laid eyes on Robin. Instead of teasing, her smile is full of comfort and encouragement. She lightly tugs his arm, pulling his frozen legs behind her towards the chaos. As the kids disentangle themselves, he can hear them excitedly talking over one another.

“No, Daddy listen, Lucas told the funniest joke at recess–”

“Max, oh my god, no one cares! I literally made a volcano in science–”

“Shut up, Dustin, no one cares about your stupid science volcano!”

“Hey!” Steve’s up on his feet clapping loudly to get the kids’ attention. “Language, Max. How many times do I have to tell you that Dustin’s science stuff isn’t stupid? And Dustin, don’t interrupt your sister when she’s talking. Just because you’re louder doesn’t mean you get to talk over her. Both of you apologize. Now.”

The kids look equally cowed, and mutter their apologies before turning back to their dad with their proverbial tails between their legs.

“And?” he prompts.

“Sorry for arguing, Dad,” they answer in unison.

“Good. Now, let’s go find Miss Chr–”

The end of Steve’s sentence is lost to the autumn wind as he catches Eddie’s eye. He watches as Steve slowly pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and jesus christ those are the warmest honey hazel eyes Eddie’s ever seen. Steve’s mouth has dropped open, drawing Eddie’s gaze to his plush lips.

Up close, Eddie can pick out the golden shine to his hair and the moles scattered across his skin. Two on the man’s neck hold his attention, filling Eddie with the strong urge to bite. Steve pushes up his sleeves to reveal toned forearms. His hands are large with long fingers and Eddie needs them wrapped around him.

“Daddy, what are you looking at?”

Both men jolt at the sound of Max’s voice. A heavy blush coats Steve’s face, and Eddie wants to explore where else the man turns red and wanting. Mouth suddenly dry, he darts his tongue out to wet his lips, only for Steve’s gaze to immediately track the movement.

“Daddy, oh my god why are you being so weird!”

Steve tears his eyes from Eddie’s mouth, briefly turning to face Max again.

“I’m not being weird. You just haven’t introduced me to your teacher yet.”

“Oh, right I’m so sorry,” Chrissy steps forward, not sounding sorry at all. “This is–”

“Mr. Munson, right?” Steve says. “And I’m–”

“Daddy,” Eddie finishes.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and Eddie realizes everyone is staring at him. Steve’s eyes are wide, mouth open in shock. He’s flushing red down his neck and up to the tips of his ears, but his eyes never leave Eddie’s.

“Did you just call our Dad, Daddy?” Max asks, pointing and laughing.

And oh.

Oh god no.

He called him Daddy to his face in front of his children, and the universe, and everyone. A beautiful, gorgeous, perfect specimen of a man he’s never met before, and he called him Daddy like Eddie was cursed in a past life to make a total ass of himself. He’s on the verge of melting into the ground when Dustin’s shrill voice cuts through the fog to come to his aid.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Munson. Last week I accidentally called Mrs. Click, Mom, but it was an accident,” the boy reasons. “It happens to everyone, it’s okay.”

Except it’s very much not okay, and Eddie thinks nothing will be okay ever again.

He chances a look and sees Steve’s finally closed his mouth, though he’s chewing on his bottom lip and still blushed up to his ears. Eddie can only imagine how red his own face is.

“Well,” Chrissy clears her throat– loudly. “Eddie, this is Steve. And Steve, this is Mr. Munson, but you can call him Eddie.” She looks a little too pleased with herself, but Eddie doesn’t know whether to thank her or remember this for next time Robin comes around.

“Hi,” Steve says, dazed, absently reaching out for a handshake because of course Steve’s the kind of man to shake a guy’s hand who’s just accidentally called him Daddy. The nerve of some people.

“Umm, hi,” Eddie responds while he grabs Steve’s hand. It’s not a firm handshake between two people meeting for the first time. It’s gentle, Steve practically cradling Eddie’s hand in his and he was right. Steve’s hand is bigger, softer than his own, but Eddie’s fingers are thicker.

Over far too soon– but maybe too long if Chrissy’s scrunched expression is anything to go by– Steve lets go. Eddie’s forced to stand and watch Steve flex his fingers, stretching until they’re white, before balling them into a fist and shoving his hand into his back pocket. His other hand rakes through his auburn hair, and– for absolutely no reason whatsoever– Eddie considers including a Jane Austin unit next semester for his eighth graders.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from the kids. And Robin. Oh and Jonathan and Joyce,” Steve rambles. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say the man sounds flustered. It helps him relax a bit.

“All good things?” Eddie teases, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers before pulling it in front of his face.

“Yeah, they just failed to mention,” Steve gestures vaguely to all of Eddie, much the same way as Hopper had but also very, very different. He looks down at himself to make sure he didn’t wear anything especially heinous today, but all he finds are his typical combat boots, black jeans, and his gray t-shirt underneath his leather jacket.

He steps a little closer to Eddie, putting them within middle school slow-dancing distance from each other. Eddie can’t look away from his eyes, warm and golden, just like everything else about him.

“Kids,” Chrissy cuts in, “why don’t we go get your stuff together while your Daddy talks with Mr. Munson a bit?” Eddie could kiss her for being such a saint, and the three of them wander off while Eddie remains a captive to the intensity crawling around in Steve’s stare.

“So,” Steve sighs, voice low and smooth. Chills spread down Eddie’s spine, and he knows he’s done for. “Daddy, huh?”

Heat scorches Eddie’s face as white hot embarrassment spreads to his core. Steve smiles like he’s successfully cornered his prey, and Eddie can’t figure out what to do with his hands. He stands frozen as Steve takes another step forward, now toe to toe.

“Yeah,” Eddie drags the word out, not quite sure of what he’s agreeing to. He’s only sure of Steve’s breath mixing with his and Steve’s eyes roaming his face and Steve’s everything.

He clears his throat, smoothes his clammy hands over his jeans, and tries again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” He chuckles, hoping to play it off as casual. “It really was just an accident like Dustin was saying, you know? An awkward slip of the tongue. See, the thing is that Max was calling you Daddy, right? Which is totally weird because she always calls you Dad. So I was just kind of surprised and confused and I couldn’t stop thinking about you– I mean Daddy! The word Daddy, not you as a Daddy.” Eddie groans scrubbing his hands over his face, hiding behind his fingers. “Fuck, god, I’m so sorry, this is so unprof–”

“I don’t think you’re sorry,” Steve interrupts. “In fact, I think you liked it. And if I had to guess, I think you want to do it again.”

This isn’t happening. This is not real life.

Things like this don’t just happen to people like him, to the Eddie Munson’s of the world, and certainly not with men like the golden god leaning into his space. Except here he finds himself, trapped in a real-life porn intro with a man he’s never met yet has been crushing on for over a month. The tightness of Eddie’s black skinny jeans is becoming an increasing problem and he reminds himself this is a school and there are children here.

Before he can recover enough to save himself, Steve’s cooing at him, pulling at the edge of his leather sleeves and asking “would you like to do it again?”

Eddie nods, dumbstruck and inappropriately turned on.

“Good,” Steve praises, saccharine, “all you have to do is ask for my number and I’ll give it to you.”

Eddie looks around the playground and sees Chrissy with the kids well on the opposite side. They’re playing on the swingset, thoroughly distracted.

“I know they’re there. It’s okay, they can’t hear us,” Steve says and grabs Eddie’s hand. He tangles their fingers together, goosebumps shiver up Eddie’s arm. “Now, ask me.”

“Umm, can I have your number?” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head and gives Eddie's hand a firm squeeze. “No Eddie, you need to ask nicely. Go on now, I won’t say it again.”

Eddie swallows against the dryness in his mouth and Steve’s darkened eyes flit down to catch his neck flex around his empty throat.

“Please, Daddy, may I have your number?” Delicious shame coils through his chest while heat curls lower in his core. He’s not used to such brazen affection, nor so immediately trusting to reciprocate. And fuck, normally Eddie’s the Daddy. But from everything he’s heard– all of the kind and caring people who talk about how amazing Steve is– he thinks this might be okay. Hopes and wants and craves it all to be okay.

Steve’s answering smile is surprisingly gentle. He rubs his thumb against the back of Eddie’s knuckles before taking a step back, not far enough to leave him self-conscious, but Eddie feels like he can breathe for the first time since Steve stepped out of the car.

“Of course you can have my number, Baby, thank you for asking so nicely.”

Eddie unlocks his phone and hands it over just as Chris makes her way back with the kids. They all say their goodbyes, and much to Eddie’s delight, Steve texts him before the SUV even pulls away from the curb. To top it off, Steve waves as they drive by, a dorky spirit-finger wave that sends Eddie into a fit of giggles, like he’s a school boy with his first crush.

Chris elbows him in the side, a smirk on her face and her eyebrow arched.

Eddie sighs in faux-defeat. “He’s alright, I guess,” he answers her unasked question with a giant, smitten, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

He loves the twins, has met basically Steve’s entire family, and is almost positive Chris and Robin have hit it off. Eddie’s hopes are already too high up to pull back down to earth, excited to see where this journey will take him. He’s loath to admit it after weeks of petulant moping and pining, but Steve Harrington does, in fact, live up to the hype.

~~~

Tiger Club was so much fun to write! It was the very first story I wrote when I decided to get back into writing. This fic sat in my drafts for months before I decided it might be worth going back to. And now look at it!!

#it's the finale!#hope you all liked it #Tiger Club #Tiger Club steddie AU #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie and chrissy #single dad steve #teacher eddie #teacher chrissy #queeniewritesstories

75 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

Text

the corner of Heartache & Jameson

18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.

wc: 706

You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.

“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet. “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world. It’s not fair.”

Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow. The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side. You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.

You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.

You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks. “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here. I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”

Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.

You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face.

“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.

He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.

“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow. “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”

“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave. You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.

“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug. You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke. “Since my uncle passed. He’s right over there.”

He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction. As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard.

“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle. “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”

You relax your hand on the pepper spray. You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.

He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face. “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other. Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.

You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore. Being alone is better, being alone is safe.

But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here. It just…happened.”

You understood the compulsion. You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.

You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles. You held one up to him by the glass neck. “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”

“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea. “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson blurb #grief #loss #heartache

142 notes · View notes

bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 11 months ago

Text

Different. - S.Snape

Summary - Y/N and Severus are going to the Potters for Christmas, it’s finally time for him to meet the man and woman who are like parents to her. He’s scared because of how different they are but that doesn’t matter to them, they love each other, always.

Word Count - 859

Warnings - Female Reader, use of Y/N, not proofread, talks of nerves, Remus cracks a joke at Severus, Severus and Reader are polar opposites, Sev washes his hair

Author’s Note - Welcome to day 23!! We are nearly there! I know this is later again but I’ve had another hectic and busy day, it will likely be a bit late tomorrow too and very likely short. After the holidays I will be opening my requests for anyone who would like to request something. The rules and who I write for will be posted after the last fic of this event. I hope you enjoy!

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

Although it was supposedly the most happiest time of the year, Severus Snape was the definition of Grinch. His girlfriend, on the other hand, loved Christmas and loved the traditions of Christmas. People said opposites attract and they would be right, Y/N and Severus couldn’t be any more different.

She loved Christmas, he hated it, she was a ray of sunshine, he was like a rain cloud and the list goes on. It had taken a long time for people to realize that they were together, especially her friends. They were clueless to their friend’s relationship for almost a year until they saw the two kissing in the library. Remus was quick to ask her but was definitely the most supportive out of her friends.

As for Christmas, she had invited Severus to the Potter’s, with the permission of Euphemia of course, this year so he wouldn’t be alone again. Of course James and Sirius were groaning and complaining and dragging their feet but they knew it would make their friend happy. Lily and Mary were going so thankfully she wouldn’t be the only girl showing up.

The day came to show up at the Potter’s, Severus was nervous, he usually wasn’t bothered by being with her friends but he was meeting the woman who was like a mother to her and a man that was like a father to her. He wanted to make a good first impression, he had even washed his hair the night before.

The couple had walked up to the door, hand in hand, Y/N just letting them in claiming Mrs.Potter hates when she knocks on the door because she’s family. The first person to greet the couple was Remus who decided to do the teasing for once, “I see you’ve finally washed your hair Severus.” Y/N smacked her friend's arm before dragging her boyfriend to the kitchen to meet the matriarch.

“Is that my darling Y/N? Oh I’ve missed you dear! These boys have been driving me crazy!” She exclaimed as she pulled the girl into a motherly hug.

“I’ve missed you too! This is Severus, Sev, this is Mrs. Potter,” Y/N smiled widely as she introduced the two.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Potter. Y/N is always talking about you,” Severus said politely.

“It’s nice to finally meet you too! Y/N’s always doing the same, oh Sev did this today, Sev took me here, Sev and I did this, Sev helped me study. She never stops! Thank you for making my girl happy,” The matriarch replied, pulling Severus in for his own motherly hug.

“Well she makes me happy too. She means the world to me.” Her face went hot with the compliment as she hid her face in his shoulder. Just as Euphemia was about to embarrass the girl some more, Fleamont entered the kitchen.

“Y/N! I knew I heard your voice dear! How are you?”

“I’m great Mr. Potter! How are you?” She greeted the man with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m doing well. I’m guessing this is Severus, I’m Fleamont, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise Mr. Potter.”

Y/N had excused herself so the three of them could talk without her in the room, so she had made her way to Remus who was sitting on the sofa with his nose in a book. The two friends sat there in a comfortable silence until they heard stomping coming from the floor above. Looking at each other, they both knew it was James and Sirius.

As the two boys came down the stairs and entered the living room, Y/N gave them a short lived lecture about being nice to Severus and trying to make him comfortable whilst he was there. The boys couldn’t say no to her so they agreed to behave for once.

By the end of the night, Y/N had barely spent time with Severus, he was constantly stolen by one of the older Potters to chat and get to know him. But as they settled into their guest room until the new year, she finally had time to ask what they had talked about. He admitted that they were just really asking about his intentions with her, that he has to promise to always treat her right and if he even thinks about proposing, he has to ask them for permission too.

“It went better than you expected, right? There was no need to be nervous, Sev. I told you they’d love you,” She told him, “As for the marriage thing, they really want you to ask them for permission? That’s so sweet of them!”

“I already asked them and they are more than happy for us to get married,” Severus admitted after a beat of silence.

“You asked already? Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Severus,” He joked, “Kidding, but yes, I asked already because I am going to marry you. Not now but I will. You are the love of my life, no matter how different we are, always.”

“You are the love of my life, Severus Snape, always.”

#severus x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape imagine #james potter #moony #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #professor snape #pro snape #prongs #best friend sirius #padfoot #pro severus #severus snape #snape fanfiction #snape #pro severus snape

136 notes · View notes

deliciouskeys · 6 months ago

Text

Cozy Corner Domaystic Prompt #18: Snow Day

Maevlander, 2.5K, rated T. AO3 link.

Jan 23 2016

“I just don’t really understand,” Homelander grumbles, pacing back and forth in front of the large glass wall in Maeve's apartment, periodically stopping and looking out the window.

“Which part don’t you understand,” Maeve asks wearily, not looking like she really wants an answer, still in pajamas, still lounging in bed vaping as she stares blankly at the TV screen mounted on the wall with the news on silent, the red ticker-tape at the bottom listing school and university closings in New York and New Jersey. “It’s a city-wide travel ban. Vought headquarters had to close for business today and tomorrow. I’m sure some people came in anyway.”

“I don’t remember New York City shutting down because of a little snow in recent years. Don’t we pride ourselves on infrastructure? Don’t tell me they can’t clear the roadways. And come on, Vought should be one of the last places to shut down because of a little weather!”

“John, it’s literally the weekend. And there’s like three feet of snow on the ground.”

“They said 29 inches.”

“Well however much it is, it’s enough for them to declare an emergency.”

Homelander leans his forehead against the glass staring down. “If it’s really so dangerous, why is Central Park full of people sledding?”

Maeve cocks her head. “You really don’t know what to do with yourself on a day off, huh.”

“Nooo...” Homelander drags out the word, trying to be patronizing but Maeve is unfazed. “I’m just saying. I could clear the roads in an hour all by myself if the mayor or governor thought to ask.”

“I’m sure you could.” Maeve rolls her eyes.

“What, you don’t think so? I could melt Manhattan in a fifteen minute flyby.”

“Yeah, people will be delighted to see you light every street on fire.”

“I wouldn’t be setting anything on fire.” Homelander sounds defensive and it makes Maeve smile.

“Nobody asked you to melt anything,” Maeve says, groaning. “Why can’t you just give things a rest and let people enjoy a snow day?”

“Because it’s dangerous! Ambulances can’t get through. Just because there’s a snow day you think people stop having heart attacks?”

“I never knew you were so concerned about people not being able to get to the hospital. Maybe you should go on runs for the hospitals yourself then. Airlift the people having heart attacks.”

Homelander makes a scoffing sound, still staring intently out the large wall-window, the poor people who dared to go sledding on a Saturday not knowing that they were being scrutinized and judged from 90 floors up and 10 blocks away.

“So saving people is beneath you, but standing there bitching about how few people came into work today isn’t? You can really tell you never got to experience a snow day in childhood, Mr. Grinch.”

Homelander turns toward her sharply at the last part. Maeve wonders if she’s gone too far now that his gaze has been torn away from the rabble on the ground and directed at her. It's never a good idea to bring up his childhood. But he cracks a smile instead of getting angry at her bluntness and walks over to the bed, sweeping his cape off to the side before sitting down.

“Fine, Maeve, enlighten me. Tell me what makes snow days so fucking magical.” The sarcasm in his tone is off the charts, but his gloves are off and Maeve has learned to recognize that that’s a sign that he wants intimacy, no matter what he says or how it sounds. She cautiously slides her hand into his and she can see an endearing uncertainty and neediness flicker across his face, his expression settling into something softer.

“It’s nothing complicated. You’d wake up in the morning and pray for the robocall to your parents’ landline to tell them school was out. And if you were lucky enough to have a snow day, you had the entire day free to play in the snow.”

“Like, what, build snowmen?”

Maeve smiles at the defensiveness of his tone. He’s so intent on proving to her that he didn't miss out on anything important.

“When you’re little, yeah. Snowball fights, snowmen, snowforts. When I was a bit older, my dad would take me skiing sometimes.”

“Is skiing fun?” Homelander asks, looking away from her and staring off into a corner of the room, but still holding her hand.

“Yeah. I haven’t done it in a while. But when I was seven, I got my own skis and everything. It’s cheap thrills for a kid, I suppose. You can speed up like all hell if you go down a steep enough slope."

“Would you like to go skiing?” Homelander asks, and despite some misgivings Maeve realizes that she would like to. She relents and says yes. Anything has to be better than being cooped up in the Tower having an argument in her apartment about why people have no work ethic.

Homelander seems to brighten right up when she asks to go. Maybe Maeve underestimates how lonely and lost he feels without a daily agenda, without a script telling him where to be and what to do for most of the day. She's saved him from unstructured time.

“You’re going in that?” Homelander asks, wrinkling his nose slightly at the civilian winter clothes she's changing into.

“You don’t really expect me to ski in my skimpy uniform, do you?”

Homelander shrugs. “I’m just going as I am.”

“Yeah, you won’t be the only douchebag on the slopes wearing spandex, so you might as well.” Maeve looks him over. “You don’t think you can leave the cape at home?”

Homelander gives her a look that says she must be crazy to suggest that.

He flies her in his arms all the way to New Hampshire, where there’s plenty of snow but no blizzard going on, and where the slopes turn out to be more crowded than either of them would probably like.

They have to rent skis of course. Maeve is about to pay for both of them but the employees frantically shake their heads, and assure her it's on the house and that it’s such an honor that she and Homelander have decided to grace their humble ski resort with their presence. Maeve is pretty sure they wouldn’t have recognized her had her partner in crime been wearing anything slightly less conspicuous than full regalia.

Homelander looks skeptical when he’s asked to try on ski boots. As if the boots he came in with are any less of a fashion faux pas, Maeve smiles to herself. The poor teenager helping them starts to visibly sweat when Homelander waves him off dismissively after he offers them helmets. The staff are starstruck and ask for selfies with the two heroes, and a picture of the two of them to hang up on the bulleting board. Homelander and Maeve indulge them for a few minutes before finally heading outside with skis and poles in hand.

“Why are these boots so awkward?” Homelander asks as he follows her out of the lodge and into the snow.

“Because they’re not for walking,” Maeve grumbles. Homelander watches and mimics her as she puts the skis on. She should be grateful that he’s humoring any of this at all. Even if she’s wondering whether she’d enjoy this outing a lot more alone, there is something entertaining about seeing Homelander navigating mundane everyday life with none of his usual self-assurance.

She leads him to the ski lift, the people in line behind them clearly debating whether these were real celebrities or just really good cosplay. Homelander ends up signing a few autographs before Maeve tugs him forward to get in position for the lift.

“So this is just to bring people up the mountain?” he questions, looking around and swinging his skis like a bored kid. And maybe that’s what he is, Maeve thinks.

“Yeah,” she says. As they ski down the small ramp at the top of the lift, Homelander is clearly just taking his cues from her. Maeve hasn’t done this in so long that she hesitates and turns toward the intermediate difficulty slope. Homelander simply follows. He glides with relative ease for someone who’s never been on skis before. Then again, Maeve realizes that he’s not really skiing. As they head down the slope, she decide to stop abruptly. He glides down a little bit past her before halting and skiing himself backwards up the slope to stand in parallel with her.

Maeve smirks. Just as she thought. “Quit being creepy.”

“What?” he asks, and seems genuinely confused.

“What you’re doing isn’t skiing. Stop hovering and put your full weight on the snow.”

Homelander shrugs and visibly settles himself deeper into the snow’s surface.

“Skiing is about getting momentum from sliding down the mountain on two thin pieces of wood, not flying around pretending to ski.”

Maeve expects him to roll his eyes or get defensive and snarky. But Homelander just stares at her and even nods slightly as if she’s some guru dropping knowledge on him.

“You pivot and turn abruptly to stop. You can use your poles to help push off and change direction.” He’ll get annoyed at being tutored at some point, right?

But Homelander still nods. And before Maeve can push off herself, he starts down the slope, looking much less smooth this time, apparently testing things out, trying to do it by her rules. She still suspects he’s using his powers when he stops and looks back at her as if to ask ‘did I do it right this time?’ She skis down to join him.

“Yeah just like that. You’re getting the hang of it.”

They finish the run and get back on the lift, more and more of the crowd at the bottom wisening up to the fact that they’ve got a celebrity among them, but Homelander signs fewer autographs this time before getting on the lift again.

Maeve's getting strangely emotional, sitting here, legs dangling far above the treetops, feeling like she’s gone back in time, almost forgetting who this is. Homelander isn’t her dad. They’re nothing alike, even if she hates both of them. And yet, sitting here in the lift chair takes her back to the times she misses so much, before her dad impressed upon her that becoming part of a Vought-sponsored team should be her goal in life.

“Sorry, I know the lift must be boring when you can just ski up the mountain,” Maeve says. She doesn’t know why she’s apologizing.

Homelander shakes his head. “I don’t mind. I like sitting here with you.”

When he wraps his arm around her, Maeve can’t believe she starts crying. Homelander looks confused and retracts his arm.

“Did- did I hurt you?” he asks, and there’s not an ounce of disdain in his voice, only worry.

“No, it’s nothing,” Maeve says, laughing it off and furiously wiping the tears away. “I just remembered the last time I went skiing with my dad. We never really got along. But I did like to go skiing with him.”

Homelander looks at her, and– even though he can’t possibly understand how she feels– uncannily enough manages to look sympathetic, and she doesn’t even flinch when he wraps his arm around her again, squeezing her closer.

The moment is only ruined by a wolf whistle from the chair behind them.

Homelander’s head starts swiveling back but Maeve pushes his chin back so he keeps facing her. She doesn’t even mind when he takes that as a prompt to start kissing. It’s gentle and feels maudlin– the way he prefers it and she doesn’t. When he’s like this, she can almost forget how violently possessive he gets over her, can almost forget how Vought forced her to hide her sexual past and pretend Elena doesn’t exist. Can almost forget how she was forced into a relationship with him– first a PR one for the ratings, then a “real” one, still for the ratings. Can almost forget that Madelyn Stilwell volunteered all sorts of tips about how to navigate his capricious mood swings and exploit some of his strange vulnerabilities, which made Maeve wonder what sort of relationship they had and may still be carrying on. No, she won’t think about any of that while they’re sitting on this ski lift together, the air cool and crisp around them, his skis overlapping with hers.

She decides to go down the black diamond side this time. People gawk. Maeve feels invigorated, brave, fulfilled, and heads over the bumps so fast that she does end falling into the snow ungracefully. Homelander skis up beside her, looking concerned even though she gets up laughing, wiping snow from her face and hair with the back of her gloved hand.

“You okay there?” he asks, clearly not worried that she hurt herself, but maybe a little worried at other skiers witnessing this. There is someone who stopped further up the slope and whipped out his phone, probably filming all this.

“Yeah. Falling’s part of the fun,” she says. “You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” he bites off tersely.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get that cape wet,” she mumbles under her breath as she starts heading down the slope again. She knows he heard her, no matter how quietly she said it.

They keep skiing even after sundown, just like she used to do when she was a child, not bothering to take a break for a meal. Truthfully, she has no interest in walking into the lodge cafeteria and creating a commotion of people wanting selfies and autographs. Homelander is just taking her cues, following her around like a puppy the entire time. He doesn’t deign to fall over, not even for her sake, but he takes the lift up each time, never insisting on being an asshole and skiing up the slope or flying to show off. She suspects sitting on the lift with her is actually his favorite part of this whole escapade leaving Vought Tower for the day.

“Still bitter about the snow day?” she asks playfully on one of their more silent trips on the lift when he seems lost in thought.

He’s staring off into the distance with a strange look on his face, then seems to look down and study his skis. “I did have snow days as a child,” he says. “They just weren’t very fun.”

She tenses a little bit. When Homelander reminisces about his childhood it’s often the death knell of any fun, normal interaction between them, and a turn toward a morose angry mood. But he looks calm.

“When there was a snow emergency, only a skeleton crew would come to work in the lab. Nobody interacted with me. Most of the scientists would stay home. The whole building was much quieter than usual. They never did experiments on me on those days, I guess, but it wasn’t a good tradeoff. I’d sit there listening to the snow landing on the roof of the building, without really knowing what it was. I’d only seen it in pictures and movies. I didn’t even imagine that it’s something wet.”

Maeve feels herself shudder and quickly pretends it’s because she’s cold, prompting Homelander to hug her in closer. He even wraps his cape around her, and she knows he hardly ever uses that for anything so utilitarian. She’s not going to let him know she shudders whenever she hears yet another tidbit about his lab days and realizes anew that the way he was raised means he can never be a balanced, pleasant person, and that it’s a miracle that he can mimic people enough to blend in. Vought have managed to raise an alien creature on earth.

Homelander leans his head in even closer and whispers “Can we have sex tonight? When we get back?” in a wheedling tone, and she nods automatically without even thinking, terrified of him and at the same time full of pity.

A smile spreads wide on his face and he releases her from the embrace as they near the top of the lift and prepare to ski off.

A/N: This blizzard was a real thing :)

#cozy corner domaystic #maevlander #queen maeve #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic

40 notes · View notes

asshlyyyy · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas

Fic Warnings: Mentions of possible miscarriage. Pregnancy, swearing I'm pretty sure...? If not, disregard this warning. Mentions of being sick, being sick, vomiting. There may be spelling and grammatical errors. Author's note at the end. Please let me know if I missed any warnings! Thank you!

Note: This could be read as a stand alone or as a part two to Thanksgiving!

Masterlist | Previous Part

You walked up to the front door and turned the handle opening up the door. You two never really bothered to lock the door since you were behind the gates. You only really locked it at night. You placed your car keys off to the side, away from Elvis’ cause lord knows he doesn’t know which key belongs to which car. You closed the door behind you and started to take off your coat.

“Mama!” Your son’s voice filled your ears.

“Hi my sweet son,” You smiled and hung the coat up. You walked over to him and picked him up from the floor, Elvis was just sitting a few feet away from you.

You had just come back from your doctor’s appointment to check on the baby. Elvis wanted to come with, but someone had to watch Theodore. You also couldn’t bring him because he doesn’t do the best in new places.

“How’d it go?” Elvis asked as he got up and made his way over to you.

“It went well, he just told me to be careful.” You responded with a smile as you looked up at him.

“So nothing bad?” He questioned as he placed his arm around you. You let out a hum and shook your head.

“No, he just thinks it might be stress because of the holidays.” You responded as you kissed your son's head, holding him close to your chest.

“Okay,” Elvis nodded and kissed the side of your head, offering to take your purse. Which you happily gave him. You sat down on the couch and just held your son close. You looked down at your belly and frowned lightly.

For how far along you were, you were growing big. With Theo, you carried him small, but it looks like this baby wants more room. You knew that with each pregnancy you were bound to grow weight, it’s natural. Not only because of the baby but also because of how our body works. You were good at keeping control of it.

“What are we doing for Christmas?” You asked as you looked over towards Elvis who was picking up the toys off the ground.

“I think we were going to host again?” Elvis looked at you with a questioning expression.

“We can, we would just have to go to the store. We just don't have ham or anything.” You explained to him as you rubbed Theo’s back gently.

“I can send someone out. The stores are probably crazy right now.” You nodded lightly at his response. Your heart felt… sad. It felt empty almost.

“Can you put him down for his nap?” You asked as you looked at the sleepy boy on your chest.

“Yeah of course,” Elvis said as he took Theodore out of your arms. You mumbled a thank you and watched as he walked away. Elvis knew something was wrong the moment you walked inside. He just didn’t know how much truth you told him.

You lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket down onto your body. You cuddled into the blanket and reached for the book that was on the coffee table. It was one of your sons, but it was a story either way. It was the story of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Did it give your son a light scare at first? Yes, but once he learned that the Grinch doesn’t come unless you are extra bad, he was okay.

You actually had a lot of Dr. Suess books. In fact, you got Theodore the two that came out this year for his present. How you opted to do Christmas was that Santa gave the essentials, the ‘boring’ stuff some may call. He may give a toy here and there, but the fun stuff comes from the parents. You didn’t want him to see you guys as boring. To some kids, books may be a boring gift, but he loves to look at the pictures. He was still too young to read, but he liked to point at everything and ask, wha?

You heard Elvis as he began to walk down the stairs. His shoes hit rough against the carpeted stairs. Which bothered you to no extent. You wanted to keep a clean house. He would then argue that it was the maid’s job to vacuum and clean the floors. Some nonsense really.

“He’s all put down and- you’re reading one of his books?” Elvis questioned as he placed the white baby monitor down on the coffee table.

“It was the only thing nearby,” you replied simply. However, just on the opposite end near the lamp sat a copy of the holy bible. Maybe you were just in your feels and didn’t want a hard book to read. Nonetheless, something was wrong.

“All right, tell me what happened,” Elvis spoke as he appeared back into the living room. You tore your eyes away from the book and looked over at him.

“I told you what happened.” You said, returning your gaze back to the book. Not really wanting to have this conversation.

“And I know that there is more than what you told me.” Elvis came to the couch. He moved your legs out of the way and quickly sat down, resting your legs on his lap. You let out a sigh and looked over at him. You closed the book and laid it down in your lap.

“He said if I’m not careful I can lose the baby,” you spoke softly. You didn’t even wanna say those words out loud. It would just make it feel more real, and you felt your eyes start to water up.

“Hey hey,” Elvis’ tone softened. “What? Why would he say that?”

“You know how I went because of a pain? That I felt… really sick.” You brought up as you wiped away your slight tears before things got too crazy.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“He says it isn’t normal to be really sick during pregnancy. Sure morning sickness is normal but… with the sickness and overworking myself. He basically bedridden me.” You explained to him, humming to the feeling of Elvis rubbing his hand up and down your leg.

“We’ll get through this together okay?” He tried to reassure you, but you both knew deep down the Colonel would pull him away to film some random movie. The two of you repositioned yourselves and your back laid against his chest. His hand rested on your small bump and rubbed slight circles against it.

You played the rest of the day safe. Once your son woke up from his nap you played some games with him before one of the maids started dinner. You felt bad keeping them from their family, but you sent most of them home already. Only two decided to stay and you were thankful.

Everyone was tucked away in bed before you knew it. Of course not until after you left out milk and cookies for Santa, which Elvis was gonna have to eat and drink later. Along with putting the carrots back in the fridge. He also had you write Santa a little note. Asking for some last-minute items, even though you told him it was too late. Theo argued his case and won.

Christmas Day came sooner than you expected. Well, three in the morning kind of soon. You sat on the floor near the toilet. Everything you had eaten at dinner down the drain of the toilet. It wasn’t just morning sickness anymore. This baby was just… taking everything out of you. So, you sat there until you were able to push yourself up.

Elvis was still sound asleep. He had these moments where he would be either a heavy sleeper or a really light sleeper. Today was one of those heavy nights. You rinsed your mouth out with some water and popped a mint before heading back to bed. You didn’t expect him to wake up every single time. Someone needed rest to watch after Theodore, and Elvis was just more capable of that.

Despite not being able to do much, you knew damn well that you were going to dress up for the holidays. So, as you walked down the grand white staircase, you heard laughter and voices coming from the living room. You steadied yourself on the railing and put on your bravest smile.

Truth be told, you woke up and just didn’t want to move. And this is after the hour you had awake between three and four. Maybe you shouldn’t have ever moved since your doctor bedridden you. To say the least, you were grateful for your maids was an understatement. They would be the ones cooking and cleaning until this baby comes. Without them, you didn’t know how your baby would survive, not off of Elvis’ cooking that’s for damn sure.

You reached the bottom of the stairs and heard your baby boy’s voice announcing your arrival. “Mama!” He squealed in happiness. He got up on his feet and made his way over to you.

“Hi my sweet boy,” you said and reached down picking him up. You pressed multiple kisses on his cheek and made your way into the living room. “Look how beautiful you look, Y/n,” your mother complimented you.

“Thank you, mama,” you said with a smile. Though, you doubted you even looked that beautiful. No amount of makeup or pretty dresses will hide the fact that you weren’t feeling well.

Elvis got up from his place on the couch and offered you his seat, which you gladly accepted. “So honey, is there a reason you’re not cooking today?” Your mother questioned.

“Oh, I’m just not feeling that well today, so Janice is holding down the kitchen,” you said with a small smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that dear,” your mother responded. You replied with a smile node and reached over for Elvis’s hand.

“I believe we were gonna open up presents before dinner, right darlin’?” Elvis looked over at you, seeing if that was still the schedule.

“Yes,” you nodded. “With everything planned out after dinner, Theo should fall asleep at his normal time.” You further explained looking over at your family.

“What about your father, Elvis? Isn’t he joining us?” Your mother asked with her sweet-toned southern accent.

“Unfortunately not, that b-“ Elvis quickly coughed to cover up what he almost accidentally said. “That wife of his has him over at their place celebrating. I think she’s still mad about Thanksgiving.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that son,” your father said. Elvis smiled softly at him as a way to express gratitude.

“Shall we exchange gifts then? I know Theo must be dying to rip them open,” she let out a chuckle. Everyone joined in with her. You tickled Theo’s stomach and watched as he erupted in a fit of giggles.

“Let’s have him pick?” Elvis suggested, though it sounded like he was asking for permission. He wanted to be careful with what he said, he didn’t want to cause you any stress.

“Of course,” you responded and placed Theo down on the floor. At first, Theo just sat down, but with some encouragement from his family. He made his way over to the tree.

You had to arrange some things around, but you placed the tree where the grand white piano is. You, more like you had Elvis, move the piano back so that you could fit the tree. You always thought it looked nicest there.

Theo looked around trying to figure out what to grab first. Should he go for something big or something small? You just thought he was lost and confused about what to do. He was only two after all. Elvis kneeled down and placed his hand on your son’s back.

“How about we check the stockings? See if Santa filled them with some candy and toys,” your fiancé encouraged the young boy. Theo nodded excitedly at the sound of Santa, toys, and candy.

You watched your boys make their way over to the fireplace and Elvis pulled down the stocking. He wanted it to Theo and you watched as he started to pull things out one by one. You hummed softly and leaned back, and nuzzled into the blanket that was thrown around you.

Gifts took… an awfully long time. It was just, that every time Theo opened something he had to play with it right away. It would take anywhere from a minute, to five to get him to open up another present. Not to mention the tears he would shed because he couldn’t play with his toy. It was… a very emotional roller coaster.

“I actually have one more gift to give,” your father spoke up as he stood up. “I think you’ll be very happy with it.” He looked at you as he said it. You looked at him confused and pulled yourself away from Elvis’ shoulder.

“I found it the other day when I was cleaning out the attic,” your father explained as he pulled up a box that was hidden from your eyesight.

“What is it?” You questioned as he placed the box in your hands.

“Open it and you’ll see.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him and opened the box. You froze when you saw the old ragged, yet somehow in perfect condition, stuffed bunny staring up at you.

You lifted the bunny carefully and continued to stare at it. “Is this Miffy?” You asked as you looked over at your father.

“It is, I thought… maybe you could pass her down to your baby once they are born.” You smiled softly at his answer and nodded.

You got Miffy when you were a young girl. You would wear your pretty dresses and run around the yard. She slept by your side every night. Then she became a decoration on your dresser, and then soon she was placed in the attic. You never thought you would see her again, let alone in such great condition.

“I cleaned and fixed her up,” your mother spoke to you.

“Thank you, this… this means a lot to me.” You started to tear up. You and your goddamn pregnancy emotions. You were quick to wipe your eyes and soon picked up your boy from the ground.

The fear of losing your baby just kept coming back to you. You didn’t mean to think about it, but… seeing Miffy, and your dad suggesting giving her to your baby once they’re born. It brought that fear that if you are not careful enough, they’ll die.

You held Theodore close and excused yourself from your family. You pulled on your coat and boots and walked outside. “Mama, oday?” Theodore looked at you worried as he snuggled closer under your coat.

“Yes, mama is okay.” You replied softly and kissed the top of his head.

Don’t stress over this.

The more stress, the more likely you’ll have a miscarriage.

Happy thoughts, Y/n, happy thoughts.

“Hey baby, everything okay?” You heard your mother’s voice. You turned your head and spotted her behind her fluffy coat.

“Yeah, just got a bit emotional, is all,” you gave her a sad smile.

“May I offer some advice?” She asked gently. You nodded slowly and looked at her, your hand rubbing your son’s back.

“You’re gonna face rough pregnancies every so often. At the end of the day, when you are holding your baby close to your chest… that is when it all matters. It may seem rough, and like your life is over, but at the end of the tunnel is God’s greatest gift. A newborn baby.” She spoke as she looked at you, never for a second leaving your eyes.

“Do you think he sees us as sinners?” You asked with a sad expression. You may have not been heavily influenced by God, but he played a role in your life. Just as he did with your fiancé.

“Just because you two aren’t married? Perhaps, but he knows that you two are down that road of getting married. He knows Elvis has a crazy schedule. I believe he made an exception just for you two.”

“How do you always know what to say?” You questioned.

“I’m your mother, I’m supposed to.” She smiled and pulled you into a hug, being careful of the toddler against your chest. You leaned into her hug, not being able to properly hug back.

“Thank you.”

The three of you went back inside and waited for dinner to happen. The maids made a beautiful and tasteful dinner. The main course being the Ham. You didn’t understand the reasoning behind holiday meats. Thanksgiving was always served with Turkey, maybe a ham, but Christmas was served with ham.

Your plate was full to the brim, hopefully, you’ll be able to keep it all down. You hardly had much to eat during the day. A bowl of oatmeal and fresh-cut fruit in the morning, and then dinner now. After everyone finished up their plate, everyone slowly but surely left. Your parents, your brother… Vernon made sure to stop by to drop off presents and say hi.

Other than that, the maids cleaned up, you got Theo in the bath. Then you got him all ready to go to bed, with the help of Elvis. You then got in the bath yourself, figuring that would be the best way to destress. Before you knew it, you were in your pajamas and getting in bed.

You hummed softly as you pulled back the bed covers. You weren’t one to lie and say that the silk covers kept you warm during these cold months. Nonetheless, it made Elvis happy, and if Elvis was happy; you were happy. But- there was no way in hell you were gonna suffer while pregnant during the winter.

“Elvis,” you called out to him as you got into bed, slipping your legs under the covers.

“Yeah, darlin’?~~” You hum at his voice. You don’t know how, but he just sounded more southern at night. Maybe it was because he was getting sleepy. His voice was getting more raspy, the whole nine yards.

“We’re switching covers tomorrow.” You stated, not bothering to ask. You wanted your fleece sheets, not freezing silk.

“Hold on now-“ he came in from the bathroom, a toothbrush loosely hanging from his mouth. “What’s wrong with these?”

“Cold,” you answered simply, “and the baby doesn’t want to be cold. Mama doesn’t want to be cold.” You gave him that look. It was that very same look that said a million unspoken words.

Elvis had a lot of say what got done in his house. Despite it being considered as both of yours. At the end of the day, it was Elvis’ name on the deed. He was the one to purchase it. He was the one who got to design and plan out the rooms. Then of course your son got a say in what went on in his bedroom. Despite the mess, he would make every single day. All you were asking was for a simple change of the sheets.

“Fine fine,” he muttered under his breath as he returned to the bathroom. You choose to ignore it just this once.

Does the bedroom bother you? Yes, it absolutely does. Compared to the rest of the house, it was dark and moody. It almost screamed vampire. You were more than happy with the blackout curtains, but you wanted it to look more lively. To match the rest of the house. Then again, you think it would kill Elvis if you put any sense of color in his bedroom.

You reached over to your side table and picked up the book you were reading earlier. Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith. While Elvis was more into books that related closely to the lord, you were more of a romance fan. You liked your little romance novels because deep down you wanted your romance to be like them.

That isn’t to say that the relationship you have sucks. You have your rough moments just like every other couple. In these stories though… it feels as if nothing ever goes wrong for them. That is what you wanted. A perfect life, a perfect relationship, a perfect… everything. Yet every night before you two signed off, you would read together a verse in the bible. One chosen at random.

You would open the book, and go through the pages, stop at one random, run your finger along the page, and stop it at random. You two liked to take it as… a reading. Thought most of the time the verses don’t lead you on a path of anything. They are more or less… well, they are verses. Not fortune tellings, but you two still liked to take them as such.

The bathroom soon became dark and Elvis emerged from the doorframe. He made his way over to the bed and slid in next to you. Well, more like got in… then scooted over to you. He pressed a kiss to your head and pulled you into his warm embrace. You let out a light giggle and made sure to quickly save your space in the book.

“You know, I haven’t given you your gift yet.” He spoke softly. You hummed softly and turned your head upwards to look at him.

“You’re giving me a baby, Elvis.” You spoke gently as you brought your hand up to his jaw.

“I can give you one of those any time. This is a special gift.”

“And what does it have that the other special gifts don’t?” You raised your eyebrow.

“I-,” Elvis didn’t know how to respond. He generally just needed the excuse of Christmas to give you more gifts. “God told me to.”

“Did he now? And what did he tell you to get me?” You played along with his statement.

“Well, that’s for you to find out,” he pulled out a neatly wrapped long box. You could already guess that it was some type of jewelry because of the box. Not a ring or earrings, could be a bracelet, necklace, or even a watch. The possibilities were endless.

You took it out of his hands and ran your palm against it. “Let’s see if God chose correctly then.” You pulled the wrapped paper off and revealed a black velvet box. The words of a jewelry company posted on top. You opened it and saw a beautiful gold necklace with an oval, and an E engraved on it.

You opened the necklace and smiled at the pictures already in them. A picture of you and Elvis, a picture of Theodore, and two more spaces to be filled. You looked over at Elvis and started to tear up. “Elvis,” you whispered.

“Once our baby gets born we can add their picture… then we can do a family picture as well.”

“It’s perfect, I love it.” You threw your arms around him and pressed multiple kisses on his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he rubbed your back gently. “Merry Christmas, my darlin’,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and held his hand on your bump.

It may have started off as a rough day, but the ending was most worth it. Much like other things. The beginning may suck, but if you truck through to the end you will be rewarded.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips as you kissed him.

“I love you, and I love our baby.”

“I love them too,” you smiled alongside with him. Just think, next year you’ll have two kids for Christmas. It may be chaotic, but you were ready for this chapter.

Special Taglist: @darlinboypresley @austinstyles

Author's note: I started writing this after the first part went up. But it took me all the day till the 19th to finish. I am not completely a hundred percent happy with this, but I think I want to turn this into a holiday fic. I don't think there will be one for New Years. I can see an Easter one happening, a 4th of July one, Halloween, loop back around I might do Veteran's day instead of Thanksgiving for next year. Then ending it again with Christmas. Of course the newborn being there.

In the original fic, the reader actually suffered a miscarriage, and I wasn't completely sure if I wanted to copy that over. So, I placed the idea in this fic, it does not mean it will happen, but it leaves the doors open for that possibility, though I kind of just said what would happen.

Next fic will be posted on Christmas Day. I hope to have it done much quicker then I did this fic. I hope everyone is having a wonderful holidays!

#asshlyyyy writes #elvis presley #elvis fandom #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley imagine #elvis imagine #elvis one shot

86 notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: E (MINORS DNI, oral (fem recieving), unprotected piv, breeding kink)

word count: 2.5k

8 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Frankie always loved Christmas as a kid, and truthfully hadn’t stopped loving it even into his adulthood, but in his line of work, it was easy to forget all the magic in the chaos.

This holiday season had been one of the busiest ever at the airport, everyone excited to be able to travel again after the pandemic. From October to Christmas Eve, Frankie had been home for a total of only 18 days, missing Halloween and Thanksgiving due to short staffing at the airline.

Instead of watching his three year old trick-or-treat for the first time, or helping his wife carve the turkey on Thanksgiving day, he was stuck on a layover in the middle of the country watching via FaceTime as his family gathered to celebrate.

Having quickly learned his lesson, Frankie made sure to request a month of time off starting December 25th, desperately needing as much time as he could afford alone with his family—with you.

There was no way he was going to watch his daughter tear into gifts via video chat in another Hampton Inn. There was no way he was going to watch you give him another fake smile, reassuring him that it you were okay when he knew how much you wanted him there. No, he was going to be home for Christmas. Even if it meant he had to brave the airport on Christmas Eve.

The drive home seemed to never end, some overly cheery radio host blabbing on about their holiday plans almost enough to make Frankie nod off on the freeway, but he persevered, switching stations to one less focused on talking.

Frankie couldn’t help but to chuckle at the song playing on the first station he landed on, a song he recognized as I’ll Be Home For Christmas.

How fitting.

As he sat there listening to the words, a tired smile appeared on his face. Though there’d be no snow, Florida hardly getting cold enough to feel like Christmas, there’d surely be a mistletoe for him to kiss you under, and presents under the tree for your daughter to tear into tomorrow morning.

Just the thought of seeing you two again after two weeks of being away made him feel more warm and cozy than any fireplace, any cup of hot chocolate, any knit sweater ever could. With a new spring in his step, he straightened his posture and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, determined to give you and your daughter all of the energy he had left.

•••

Two headlights peering in through the window of your living room made your heart pick up in pace, your three year old tucked into your side on the sofa dressed in her Grinch pajamas and two fluffy slippers designed to look like reindeer on her feet.

“I think dada’s home,” you announced in a singsong tone, smiling through your words as your toddler jumped up and down on the cushion, eager to see her father.

The holidays were always hard with Frankie gone, but you knew he wasn’t doing it for the hell of it. He was providing for the two of you, picking up extra shifts so that you didn’t have to go back to waitressing and could stay home to raise your daughter. He was working hard to make sure your family had everything they needed, and boy, did that turn you on.

You couldn’t help but giggle along with your daughter as Frankie knocked on the window and grinned at the two of you. Your daughter climbed off the couch and waddled over to her father’s face, putting her hands on the window as he fogged up the glass only to draw a heart.

“Dada! Come in!” Your little girl begged, Frankie cupping his ear as though he couldn’t hear her pleas. “Dada! Can you hear me?”

“Huh? You want candy?” Frankie asked through the window, your daughter letting out an amused cackle and nodding.

Not a second later he was sliding his key into the door and swinging it wide open. Your daughter ran up to his legs, hugging them tight as Frankie set down his luggage, his eyes locked on you cuddled up on the sofa. He shot you a wink as he lifted your daughter up, perching her on his hip before walking over to you.

“Hello, mamas,” he pressed a kiss into his daughter hair before leaning down to kiss you sweetly, your hands resisting the urge to tug him close when he leaned upright again. “Hi, baby.”

“Welcome home,” you purred back, Frankie starting off towards the kitchen, turning to your daughter.

“How about I take you with me and we make mama some hot cocoa?”

“And me!” He chuckled and looked over at you, silently asking you for your approval.

“She’ll be bouncing off the walls all night,” you warned, Frankie and your little girl giving you the same brown puppy eyes and pout. “But I suppose, since it’s a holiday.”

“Say, ‘thank you, mama’,” Frankie instructed, your daughter grinning and sticking her fingers in her mouth as she mumbled a shy thank you.

You had already landed on a movie, your daughter’s latest obsession, “Elf”, when Frankie returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and your daughter trailing behind him eating a lone marshmallow.

“What about you?” You asked as he handed you yours before setting the smaller mug down on the coffee table.

“I gotta go shower real quick,” he couldn’t help but steal another kiss, this time letting his lips linger a little longer than the first one, his fingertips underneath your chin keeping you close to him. His voice was a husky whisper when he pulled away, sending a jolt of arousal to your core. “Start the movie and get comfy, I’ll be right back.”

“Dont take too long. I miss you,” you gave him a half-smile, half-pout, earning another kiss to your lips before he was shuffling off down the hallway with his duffel bags. “Alright, kiddo, come up here.”

“I wan’ my hot cocoa,” your daughter demanded and you chuckled at how similar she sounded to your husband.

“Okay, but its gotta cool down a little bit.”

“No, dada put ice in it for me,” she corrected you sassily, your hands lifting up in a sarcastic apology.

“My bad, didn’t know you and daddy had this all figured out,” you scooped the three year old onto your lap, setting your cup down to help her lift hers to her lips without getting it everywhere.

Frankie returned twenty minutes later with wet hair and his flannel PJ’s on, matching yours. You beamed at him as he walked over with a smile, content with the sight of his daughter curled up into your side under a fuzzy throw blanket, both of your bellies full of hot chocolate.

“She’s crashing,” you whispered, the baby girl half-asleep in a post-sugar coma.

“Dada, can you read me a book?” She lifted her head up to ask Frankie, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. Frankie’s smile turned into an adoring frown as he nodded, walking over to the bookshelf.

“Which one, bebè?”

“Christmas one,” she demanded vaguely, Frankie putting his hands on his hips as he searched the shelves for a book that fit the requirement.

Noticing your yawn, he quickly picked up the first book he found with a Christmas tree on it and walked over to the couch, scooping up his baby girl with one arm.

“Why don’t you go get ready for bed, baby? I can take it from here,” Frankie offered with a softness you missed so dearly. Nodding sleepily, you stood up, pecking him on the lips before kissing your daughters cheek, her head resting on her dad’s shoulder. As you turned to walk to your bedroom, Frankie grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Don’t get too comfy without me, cariño.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you promised with a wink, continuing forward to your master bedroom while Frankie walked your daughter to her room.

•••

“One more story, dada,” his daughter persisted, though her eyes could hardly stay open long enough to blink. Frankie chuckled and shook his head, petting her hair back as he stood up off her bed.

“No, bebè. Santa’s coming and you need to be asleep when he gets here otherwise he won’t bring you any gifts,” he bargained, the little girl nodding quickly as she lifted the covers over her chin.

“Okay, I’m sleeping.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“Santa will know if you’re pretending, mija. You need to actually go to bed—“

“Okay, okay. Lemme sleep, dada!”

Frankie backed out of her room with hid hands held up in defense, smiling to himself as he closed her door behind him.

•••

He wasn’t paying much attention when he opened the door to your bedroom, his eyes squeezed closed as he yawned into his palm. You remained posed on the bed like Burt Reynold’s in his centerfold, wearing the sluttiest Santa-inspired lingerie you could find online. When he finally focused his eyes on you, he froze in place, his eyes wide with both shock and delight.

“What in the world—“

“I wanna be your hoe, hoe, hoe tonight,” you stifled your chuckles as he stood there, his grin growing larger with each passing second. “You’ve been an awfully good boy—“

“Alright, I think I get the idea, baby.” He stopped your bad jokes with a chuckle, crawling onto the mattress and caging you beneath him, his eyes raking over your scantily clad body, one hand traveling from your hip up to the red velvet covering your breasts. Your breath hitched when he pinched your nipple just how you liked it, rolling it between his pointer finger and thumb. “God, I missed you.”

You placed your hand over his and dragged it down your stomach to your core, his eyes locked with yours as he felt the wet patch on your panties.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Frankie,” you husked, his brows creasing as you guided his fingers to circle your swelling clit over the fabric. “I love how hard you work for our family. You’re such a good husband and father, baby.”

“Fuck,” he dipped his head down, kissing you filthier than he could with your three year old watching. You eagerly accepted his tongue into your mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he must have indulged in at some point tonight. “Wanna take my time with you tomorrow, but I need to be inside of you right now baby.”

You nodded eagerly, watching as Frankie peeled your thong off your hips and legs, tossing it behind hin without care before he was splitting your legs apart, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse at your dripping sex.

“Fuck, I need a taste.” Frankie never could stop himself from tasting you, even when he was in a rush. You hummed and combed your hands through his hair as he lowered his mouth to your pussy, lazily lapping at your arousal like he had all the patience in the world.

“Oh, Frankie, baby…I missed your tongue,” you mewled as his tongue tensed, circling your clit over and over until he felt your walls fluttering around nothing.

“Mm, fuck. You taste so good…I never wanna stop once I’ve started.” He sucked hard on your clit, pulsing against it with a moan until your back was arching off the mattress. Your hands tugged at his hair harsh enough to hurt as you came against his mouth, a hum of victory vibrating against you as he drank down your release happily.

“Frankie, need you inside,” you demanded, still lost in your euphoria. He nodded, though you couldn’t see it with your eyes closed, quickly shedding his pajamas before kissing up your body.

His lips started at your knee, placing open mouthed kissed up your thighs and stomach, sliding his tongue up the valley of your breasts as he slid the straps of your bralette off your shoulders, finally exposing your nipples. Your eyes opened to watch as he sucked one bud into his mouth his fist stroking his weeping cock against your still-throbbing cunt.

“Please,” you begged again, Frankie nodding against you and releasing your nipple with a wet pop. Sitting back on his ankles, he dribbled spit down onto his cock, keeping his eyes on yours as he coated himself in the slick.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you when I put it in,” he ordered and you nodding eagerly, ready to comply with any demand he could possibly make. He smiled down at your obedience, the fat head of his cock stroking up and down your slit. “You ready for me?”

“Always,” you whispered, Frankie wasting no time on sliding into your cunt inch by inch, both of you gasping at the sensation of being flush together after so long. Your praise came out in a string of nearly incomprehensible mumbles, your eyes struggling to remain open as his the curved head of his cock brushed against your g-spot. “Ohmygodit’ssogooddon’tstop.”

“Fucking…christ.” His chest was heaving as he willed himself to be patient, allowing your walls to accommodate his size before he started to snap his hips into you like he wanted.

“I’m ready,” you assured, sensing his hesitance. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you.”

“Baby,” he whimpered, leaning over your body to kiss you as his hips started to thrust shallowly in and out of you, properly lubricating his cock so that he didn’t hurt you.

You held onto his face with both hands, gasping and moaning into the clumsy and heated kiss, his thrusts getting rougher and needier with each withdrawal.

“You feel so fucking good, bebita…always fucking dripping for me, aren’t you?” He husked against your mouth before tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Didn’t touch myself at all while you were gone,” you confessed. Frankie let out a strangled whine into your ear as he buried his face in your neck, his hands pinning your hips to the mattress as he fucked into you brutally. “Wanted to save it all for you.”

“Jesus—fuck.” His thrusts were getting sloppier, a grin growing on your face at the feeling of your own orgasm building in time with his. “Baby, I’m so close—“

“Me too…please don’t stop…wanna cum with you.” Frankie’s moans became wanton, your lips shushing him as you kissed his temple. “You’re gonna wake our little monster up.”

“S-sorry, baby. Feels so fucking good.” His body lifted into a plank, his eyes dropping to watch as his cock disappeared into your heat over and over, each time coated with more of your slick. “Rub your clit. I’m about to cum.”

“Please fill me up…gimme another little Frankie,” you begged as you obeyed his command, rubbing your clit frantically as you watched him lose control, your words turning him feral. “God, I’m—“

“Shit!” He moaned much too loud as he came in time with you, but neither of you could care as you floated together in bliss, his cock stuffing you full of his cum. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you, Frankie,” you breathed out, already nearing sleep as your high dwindled into a soft buzz. Frankie hummed and laid down beside you, pulling you into his side.

Turning your head over to glance at the clock on your bedside table, you smiled as you saw it was well past midnight. You looked back at him and reached a finger up to trace his jaw, stealing one last peck.

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal,” you purred, Frankie’s mouth curling up in a sleepy grin.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor.”

•••

frankie taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @tryonmyworld @pedropascalsx @laureliciousdefinition @rocketrhap3000 @fishingforpike @lexloon (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales oneshot #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #8 days of christmas

655 notes · View notes

saltygilmores · 8 months ago

Text

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: 3x8 Let The Games Begin (Aka Let The ShitCircus Begin) (Send In The Clowns) (Send Help) (Part 1)

You can read my thoughts on all previous episodes in my Pinned Post. Ladies and Gentlemens, do you know what time it is? it is officially Literati Kickoff Time.

To get everyone up to speed, in the last episode, Rory recieved a Public Dumping for the Ages, Dean has stepped down as Rory's Primary Male Life Ruiner and handed that crown to Jess, Shane has been eviscerated into a bloody pulp, Lorelai and Luke both missed the showdown at the DM and so Lorelai learned about this tea off-screen sometime between the last episode and this one. It's yet unclear whether Lorelai learned what happened through second hand gossip or if Rory dusted off her Season 1 Balls of Steel and had the courage to inform her mother that Dean was out and Jess was in. Episode Opener: we see Rory and Lorelai walking through town shortly after the dance marathon, complaining about their sleep deprivation and achy feet. ("At least you bitches still have your feet," says Shane's dismembered ghost, looking down at her new webbed swan feet).

What is this shirt? It looks like an octopus ejaculated on this shirt.

Hey baby hey baby hey! J: Hi R:Hey J:Hi Lor: Hi (Who told you you could speak? Butt out, bish) Luke: Hi Jess: Hi R: I have to get to school. J: Me too. R:Bye J:Bye. Bye. Lorelai: Bye (bish, I swear...) R: Bye Luke: Bye Jess: Disappears

Only THE CUTEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED?! That was so cute, they should be immortalized into a pair of Precious Moments figurines. The little plaque on the figurine would be titled "Idiots In Love." So naturally, a certain Grinch in a lavendar blouse has a problem with this and it only further reassures her that Jess is nothing more than A Sex Criminal (who would never murder anyone).

Yay. Lorelai and I are both crying on the inside over this development, but for vastly different reasons. Anyway, look at her hanging her head! This bish is in mourning! Look at how depressed this bish is! Hahaha! Get SAD, BISH! I WILL LICK YOUR SALTY, SALTY TEARS! Ahem. I haven't seen such a somber delivery since the medical examiner delivered the news to Shane's parents that he had positively identifed her mutilated corpse.

Who will visit my home and sift through my panty drawer now? Luke: What happened? Lorelai, somber as a funeral director: Jess happened. Luke, uncharacteristically giddy with excitement: Wow! WOW! This is great! Wow! Rory and Jess! Jess and Rory! This is great! Don't you think this is great! Honestly Luke and Lorelai reflect both sides of my conflicting feelings about the Literati Shit-Circus. Lor: "I'll tell Dean you said that." I'm sure you will before the next time you gargle his dick. I think it's the next episode where Lorelai tells Dean, "Just because you and Rory broke up doesn't mean we did." #Sick

MOMMY FAIL! Rory is 18. She's a fucking adult so leave her alone. Anyway, what does that mean? I think it's code for "It's about time Rory dated a boy who knows how to remove a bra.' Luke: I know Jess is tough (LOL, yeah, he's a real toughie, just look at that last exchange) but he likes Rory and Rory's a good kid. Her good will rub off on him.

You are so full of baloney. You're a Baloney Superstore. You are the Walmart of Baloney. Oh, this episode contains multitudes. Lorelai is insufferable on not just one but two fronts. Heavens to betsy. This is the episode where she has a shit-fit over Richard taking Rory to interview at Yale. One of the most ridiculous Lorelai tantrums I can ever recall, at least in the earlier seasons. Maybe not as insane as "I'd rather my child and I be homeless than accept a loan from my mother to save my termite infested house" but it's up there in the top 5 for me.

I am so brave. Ar FND, Richard invites Rory to embark on said Road Trip to Yale, which shouldn't be a big deal for a child with any other mother besides Lorelai Gilmore, but this is Rory so she is shaking lke a flu stricken chihuaua at the thought of her mother finding out she would ever deign to visit a school endorsed by her grandparents. She reluctantly accepts, then quietly pees her pants.

God speed, girlypop.

Fun with Product Placement time: Rory went to fetch a soda from the kitchen, and my immediate thought was: "These rich bitches better have name brand Coca Cola in their fridge, and not that odd Hansen's soda that Rory is always drinking", and they do. A real honest to god prominently labeled Coke can. Girlypop here is feeling the heavy weight of possibly displeasing her mother in both her romantic and academic choices. She has a lot on her plate right now. While the car is parked in the Gilmore Grands driveway after FND, girly pop musters up the courage to tell Lorelai "Grandpa wants us to go on a road trip to Yale" which causes Lorelai to huff and immediately exit the car. She begins storming back into the house, intent on demanding that her father explain this unbelievably callous and cruel attempt to brainwash her daughter into considering another school besides Harvvard. Rory stops her at the porch. where a lengthy argument ensues. Rory has to (once again) dig in her heels to defend her position against Lorelai over something so STUPID. I am really sitting here watching Lorelai and Rory go back and forth forever just because (ADULT) Rory wants to visit a college campus at the invitation of her own grandfather. Lorelai even calls Richard a "master manipulator" for this evil plot. You know what Rory, stop asking Lorelai for her input. Since you don't have a car, just hop on a bus to New Haven and just fucking go. After comparing the city of New Haven to leftover sludge at the bottom of a coffee pot, Lorelai decides she's going to accompany Rory on the trip anyway, even though its been made quite clear she does not have to go (just like the Sherry Baby Shower). In both instances, Lorelai's presence will ruin everything. Per @frazzledsoul: "Lorelai is so spoiled here. Imagine being a parent of a teenager and your worst problem is what Ivy League school your kid goes to." Amen. The rest of this episode promises to be a complete shitshow of epic proportions. At least the next episode is "Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving", one of the best.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #denise rewatches gilmore girls #let the games begin #ltgb #literati #jess mariano #rory gilmore #luke danes #send help

28 notes · View notes

jokerislandgirl32 · 4 months ago

Note

Favorite books??

(I mean everyone in your little family + you) 😇😇

Helloooo! Thank you for this ask! We have decided to list favorite books by ages for everyone below the cut! So, all of our favorite books as children, our favorite books as tweens, and our favorite books teens and adults!

And yes, each family member is responding to this ask!

Please note there is mention of Harry Potter, I (JIG) know the author/books are triggering to some, so please do not take offense to this, I just feel like the books would have been some read by one family member in particular wayyyyy before all the unsavory details came out.

Also, a lot of these books are my personal favorites, or they are books I actually dislike immensely…so my selfship kids liking them makes me laugh 😂.

Zach: As a child I was always partial to The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams and the Peter Rabbit books by Beatrix Potter. I also loved How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss. As a tween/teenager, I liked the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling, the Lord of the Rings series by J.R.R. Tolkien, and the Ender’s Game Saga by Orson Scott Card. Now that I’m an adult, I’d have to say The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald and 1984 by George Orwell are probably my favorite novels.

Violet/JIG: As a little girl my favorite book was The Foot Book by Dr. Seuss, there was just something about the “here comes pig feet” line that cracked me up, I also adored Thunder Cake by Patricia Polacco. As a tween I loved Grandpa’s Mountain by Carolyn Reeder and the American Girls Books. As a teen and adult I’d say my favorite books were/are Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls, The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter (the best nonfiction book I’ve ever read), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Fear Street Series by RL Stine, and anything by Mary Downing Hahn.

Varina: As a child my favorite books were Winnie-the-Pooh stories, my mom had an entire collection her parents collected for her and she read them to me and all my siblings! I also loved A Bad Case of Stripes by David Shannon, the Mr. Putter and Tabby books by Cynthia Rylant, and the Amelia Bedelia books by Peggy Parish. As a tween I enjoyed The Tale of Despereaux and the American Girls books. As an adult/teen my favorite books were/are Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, The Magic of Ordinary Days by Ann Howard Creel, and I adore any romance novel by Nicholas Sparks.

Vera: When I was a little girl I loved the Fancy Nancy books by Jane O'Connor, any and all princess books, the Biscuit books by Alyssa Satin Capucilli, and the Junie B. Jones Books by Barbara Park. As a tween I read the American Girl books, but only I enjoyed a few of the series, Samantha was my absolute favorite! I also loved The Secret Garden and A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett, and The Wish by Gail Carsen Levine. My favorite books during my teenage years, and as an adult, are The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, any of William Shakespeare’s plays (Romeo and Juliet is my favorite), and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

Victor: When I was little my favorite book was Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss, my favorite book series was Curious George by Margret and H. A. Rey. During my tween years I read any Goosebumps book by RL Stein I could get my hands on, I also read all The Chronicles of Narnia books by C.S. Lewis, and A Series of Unfortunate Events books by Lemony Snicket. My favorite book as a teenager was The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton, and my favorite book series as a teenager were Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs and the Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. My all time favorite book as an adult is Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer.

Vallen: The Wonky Donkey by Craig Smith was my favorite book as a kid, it was freaking hilarious, and the sequel was almost as good. I also loved the Clifford books by Norman Bridwell as a kid, and the No David books by David Shannon. As a tween I read a bunch of the Goosebumps books by RL Stine. Victor and I were in competition to see who could read the most, he won of course, the dedicated bookworm. In my teenage years and into adulthood my favorites have become The Lord of the Flies by William Golding, The Giver Quartet by Lois Lowry, and The Wayward Pines Trilogy by Blake Crouch.

Victoria: When I was a little girl I loved all of the Eric Carle books, The Very Hungry Caterpillar being my favorite! I also loved all the Little Golden Books, I think my favorite one was My Little Golden Book About God by Jane Werner Watson. Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White, Each Little Bird that Sings by Deborah Wiles, and the Little House on the Prairie Series by Laura Ingalls Wilder were my favorite books during my tween years. As a teenager I enjoyed reading the Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children book series by Ransom Riggs and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. As an adult I’d say my favorite books are Wish You Well by David Baldacci or Go Down the Mountain by Meredith Battle.

15 notes · View notes

steddieasitgoes · 1 year ago

Text

@steddiemas Day 11 Prompt: Pop/Alt Holiday Songs

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Established Relationship, Santa Con, Karaoke, Steve Harrington Is A Tease

wc: 1596 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Eddie’s had his fair share of wild nights bar hopping in Seattle. Sometimes with Steve, sometimes with the Corroded Coffin boys, sometimes alone desperate to break out of the deep-seated loneness that overtakes him every few years.

But he’s never experienced anything quite like this.

After a night of endless hopping, they find themselves at a karaoke bar in the heart of Downtown Boston packed with college students and young adults all dressed in their best Santa suits like them. Miraculously, they find an empty booth in the corner and stake their claim.

Robin and Nancy collapse into each other, shedding their red coats over the worn edge as they do so. Jonathan and Argyle aren’t far behind, though Argyle stays fully in costume. (“I really think I should grow a beard, my dude,” he slurs for the hundredth time of the night as he shuffles across the cracking vinyl.) Steve goes next, sliding in next to Robin and then Eddie follows, nearly missing the seat entirely as the opening chords of Wham’s “Last Christmas” rips through the small bar from the stage across the room. A pair of best friends laugh their way through the opening words, absolutely massacring the song.

“Oh god,” Steve groans. “They’re disrespecting Wham!”

“That’s the point!” Robin giggles, moving to rest her head on his shoulder. “No one is supposed to sing good at karaoke! S’why we’re all here!”

“We are not singing karaoke!”

“You better turn that Grinch face of yours around because we absolutely are! Nance and I signed us all up weeks ago.”

“You devious lesbians,” Eddie laughs before leaning around Steve to place a slobbery kiss on Robin’s head. “I owe you so much for this one.”

“Buy us drinks and we’ll call it even!”

It’s a fair deal as far as Eddie’s concerned so he quickly gets himself back on his feet and wades through the hoards of Santas until he gets to the bar. It’s just like any other dive bar he’s been in. Sticky countertops, shelves, and shelves of liquor, charming but overworked bartenders working and flirting their asses off for tips. He knows exactly what it’s like bartending and he doesn’t miss it.

Though maybe he would have had more fun if the places he worked had events like this. At least he’d have people to make fun of beyond the sad drunks that became his regulars.

Eddie returns five minutes later with a tray of mixed drinks and shots. If he’s being totally straight with himself, he’s not sure what he ordered. They look pretty though and judging by the puckered face on Robin and Jonathan’s faces, they must be mixed well. Lightweights the both of them.

Needing the least bit of persuading, Eddie takes the stage first, serenading the crowd in a rock and roll rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas” that goes off the rails given he sings it at double the speed. Argyle drags Jonathan up next, the two stumbling their way through “Feliz Navidad” — Argyle carries the Spanish sections while Jonathan squints at the teleprompter during the English bits. It’s a hilarious disaster that has the entire bar cheering them on.

Nancy and Robin’s rendition of “Last Christmas” gets everyone going and suddenly a complimentary round of drinks ends up on their table as they belt out the final line. A few groups of strangers take the stage next. They’re decent but nowhere as entertaining as any of them. They’re only half watching at this point, too engrossed with their own conversations and carry-over argument over who the best-dressed Santa of the bunch is.

(“Obviously s’not Eddie,” Nancy giggles.

“You wound me, Wheeler,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his jet-black fur coat. “Gothic Santa would have killed it in Seattle. You Bostonians don’t understand culture.”)

Another round of drinks materializes on their table and then they’re back in the karaoke rotation again. By the time Steve’s name is being called by the poor bar employee tasked with keeping things running smoothly, he’s the perfect amount of drunk that he doesn’t protest Eddie’s careful tugging. He doesn’t go willingly, but he’s sporting that crooked smile of his that tells Eddie he’s not exactly mad about the events transpiring in front of him.

“See sweetheart,” Eddie croons, leaning into his space as he passes him the mic. “Just needed a little liquid courage. Now show the world how great of a singer you are.”

“S’gonna be a disaster.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie smiles, pecking his cheek. “But that’s the point!”

Eddie doesn’t give Steve time to reach out and instead retreats to the booth. He slides in next to a giddy Robin as they both wait with bated breath for Steve to choose a song. A minute or two of silence passes before Steve looks up from the machine. The old stage lights cast a beautiful shadow over him. Eyes sparkling in the harsh fluorescents. Usually, Steve would be complaining about the godawful lights, but right now he’s winking at Eddie and practically skipping to the center of the stage.

Another moment of silence passes before the bright cheery guitar of Britney Spears’s My Only Wish (This Year) floods the place. Steve starts rocking his hips to the beat, hand gripping the microphone tight enough that Eddie can see his knuckles turning white. The nerves evaporate from his body the minute he starts singing, though. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d think Steve has been possessed by the spirit of the Princess of Pop.

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss,” Steve sings, throwing a hand over his lips before blowing a sloppy kiss in Eddie’s direction. And then he’s moving again, skipping around the stage as his Santa coat glides around behind him.

By the time the second verse hits, Steve’s shimming out of the coat, putting on a show for the group of girls sitting at the front tables. Eddie wants to scream. Wants to stalk over to the girls and tell them to back the fuck up, but he’s held steady in his seat by Jonathan’s comforting hand and Steve’s unwavering gaze as he locks eyes with him across the hoards of people.

“I want my baby, baby,” Steve scream sings, already losing the beat as his hips continue to sway.

“Someone to love me, someone to hold!” Eddie shouts along with him as the rest of the table eggs him on.

It’s chaos after that. Steve throws his Santa hat into the crowd, Robin’s on the table filming the entire thing on her ancient iPhone. “That’s your man, Munson,” Nancy wheezes, nudging Eddie’s ribs every time Steve turns to shake his ass for the excited crowd.

Eddie’s absolutely captivated by the performance. When he first met Steve years ago he was uptight and reserved. It didn’t matter how much effort Eddie put into his conversations, it was like trying to pry open a bank vault. But when he finally cracked the code, Steve sparkled in a way Eddie couldn’t even dream about.

Steve’s better now, more open with himself and who is he. Fully embraces the fun that life has to offer, but Eddie can tell there are moments when he retreats to that small boy who never got the attention he deserved. It’s what makes moments like this so much more amazing. Seeing Steve shine and live his best life, free from judgment is the best gift Eddie’s ever received. And he’s not about to miss a damn minute of it.

When the bridge drops, Steve prances around the stage like one of Santa’s reindeer. He’s sporting a reindeer headband that someone threw up there and there are a handful of dollar bills crumpled up on the edge of the stage. Somehow it’s gone from a karaoke show to some erotic dance number as Steve shimmies around and tries to keep up with the words.

Eddie’s never been more in love in his entire life.

“Santa, that’s my only wish this year,” Steve sings the final line, holding out the note like he’s the Princess of Pop herself instead of some high school teacher.

A standing ovation follows, but Eddie doesn’t have time to bask in the affection being thrown at his boyfriend because he’s moving through the crowd faster than he’s ever moved in his life. When he gets to the end of the stage, Steve practically dives into his arms. He wraps himself around Eddie, legs around his waist, arms around his neck and smiles that perfect, beautiful smile of his. His cheeks are flushed pink from the performance and the amount of liquor coursing through his veins and his eyes are big and bright.

“What’d think? S’Santa gonna grant my wish?” Steve asks.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie coos, ducking his head to get his lips on Steve’s. “You know I’ll be waiting for you under the tree in a big red bow.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #dani writes

27 notes · View notes

collectivecloseness · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I know you write for fruity four x reader, and I was wondering if you would okay writing some headcanons on what it would be like to be in a poly relationship with Eddie and Robin? Like, they’re both dating the reader, not each other. I feel like they’d get along pretty well.

Absolutely! I love this dynamic so much so I’m really glad you’ve brought it up!!

And honestly I have so many thoughts about this, that if you ever want more, or any more specific ones, srsly please send them in!!

They are the best of friends in this relationship with you, actual sidekicks. There’s obviously nothing romantic there, as you said, but they both platonically still love and care about each other, and get on really well as best friends, and life partners. You three are a family!

And they’re still close, considering they count each other as part of their family now. Their own family they made, that’s healthy, and they’re happy in. So their friendship is very close!

Eddie will throw you or Robin (or sometimes both) over his shoulder playfully. And Eddie will give you both piggybacks, he once tried to hold you to his front when he was already giving Robin a piggyback, and that ended with a lot of bruises real quick. And if Eddie’s hurt or upset, you and Robin will both plant forehead kisses on him. Robin swipes both of your favourite tapes from family video for the night. They’ll both jokingly call each other sweet names. And they can either bat their eyes and tease a smile at the other one saying that they love them, or fight the other away with light physical violence and playful ‘fuck you’s! They’ll squeeze each others hand when they’re both worried about you. They’ll burst in on you or the other when they’re using the bathroom, because they need to find their shirt, or they just want to chat. And they’ll smash the others head with a pillow to tell them to stop snoring. When either of them go to the store, they’ll normally come back with a small surprise for you and the other. (Honestly I could think of 1000 examples of things like this).

You sleep in the middle of them most nights. And they love cuddling up to either side of you, both being able to hold you close, and have you hold them back, as you snooze. Either way, you can’t escape them, they’ll evilly laugh, both rubbing their hands together before attacking you with squeezes and tickles and loving touches. Although they will fall asleep against each other as well. You can all be watching a movie, you go to do something, and they’re conked out, heads leaning on each other as they drool as snore, looking like they both bonked heads and got knocked out, with how fast and peacefully they’re snoozing on each others heads.

Or when you go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, you’ll see they migrated to find each other. Holding each other’s hands and arms, feet twitching and kicking each other instead of just you, and tucked under the warmth of the blanket, safe from their dreams now they’d found each other, and weren’t alone again. And you hate waking them, when they’re like that, so you have to find somewhere to squeeze in. Even on odd nights you’ve not been at home, Eddie and Robin have sometimes had sleepovers because they miss you, and it’s scary to be alone at night, when not only do they get nightmares, but they know what could be out there right then.

Eddie and Robin are your sweet boy, and your sweet girl. And they see the other as their sweet friend too! So when the other is sad, they’ll be cuddly and sweet and wanting to make sure the other is okay, just like you (with you obviously being able to go as far as you want as well).

There’s very rarely any actual jealousy. Occasionally some insecurity, and that only spirals if they don’t bring it up in the first place, because neither of you want the other to feel that way. They share your love very amicably. Eddie says that you just have a heart two sizes too big, like a reverse grinch, instead of splitting it between them, and Robin agrees.

You have two hands. Two arms. Two legs. Two ears. Two of a lot of things, so it’s easy to manage them both. You can hold both of their hands at the same time, and it’s all good. And they can both try and squeeze themselves to sit on your lap.

Sometimes they’ll sit on your lap, and then playfully only have a conversation with each other! While you’re sinking into the sofa, the more they relax into the conversation, and keep leaning their weight on you. They also scramble you like a playset. Which is very unmanageable when both of them are ferally attempting this at the same time. They really do spur on each other’s hyperactivity, for real.

Another bonus is that you’re all the protectors of each other. Eddie sacres off anyone scary outside your door, or any bullies, the type that’d come after him or Robin especially. You and Robin both look after Eddie because he is a very sensitive person emotionally. Now he can be vulnerable with you both, it’s very obvious when things hurt him, and you both really help him pick up the pieces. And you... just overall, you help with everything, everything with them. You all pitch in in every area, you all share the protector role, which means you’re all there to make sure they’re okay afterwards, and you’re all happier that way.

If something’s wrong, they both give each other these concerned looks. All three of you easily able to communicate through facial expressions and eyes. And they’ll sit you down, both of them working together to try and get you to open up, and tell them what’s wrong. You’re one of the most important things in their lives, they’d do anything to make sure you were okay. And they’ll work together to look after you, and fix your problem as well.

You guys have parties all of your own. Booze, weed, music, you’re all having a blast. Able to be your free selves, dancing badly, making horrible flirting attempts while a bit fuzzy minded, laughing at the strangest shit, singing weirdly, making the grossest cocktail ever and demanding the other two try it, choosing the worst songs ever created to jam out to. All of it. You guys make so many moments, in your safe, stable, and loving home, wonderful memories.

Not just little parties too. You’re always doing something together. DND campaigns, board and card games, baking nights, tv/film marathons... Even nights that are simply centered around gossiping, or letting one person infodump about a subject of theirs, presentation style, even though you always freely gossip and infodump with each other in your relationship anyway.

And of course, having your little home together has many perks. But it also means you can all invite your friends, eg Steve, over any time you want too, and they can feel the safeness and warmth from you guys in your home, as they join you as well!

Robin and Eddie work together sometimes, to surprise you. Whether that’s a prank, or a nice surprise. One of them will say tomorrow they should both make you a nice breakfast, and sneak out of bed without waking you. Maybe even snatching some flowers from one of the neighbours gardens, since neither of them think it’s a safe option driving all the way to but a bouquet when you could wake (they don’t want to wake up even catastrophically earlier). And they’ll scheme together to both take you out to somewhere fun you like during the day too. Having their whispered meetings, even though they both keep getting loud and bouncy because they’re excited, and shushing each other. One distracting you as the other books the place for tomorrow, or adds your clothes to the dryer they know you’ll want to wear out. Things like this aren’t even for a special occasion. It’s just because they love you. And it’s fun to be all secretive together, and plan things, things they know are just gonna make you happy.

They do work on you quite a bit together. Yes they are best friends who they also love. And yes sometimes they want to do things themselves, between just you and them. But involving the other in their little plans is always nice.

Nsfw thoughts under cut

It kind of depends if they go into the bedroom always alone with you, or sometimes together. I feel like even if it wasn’t super regular, they’d still do so for your birthday and things. But I think Robin and Eddie can definitely grow to be comfortable enough with each other. They do not do anything sexual together full stop, I want to make that clear. But both of them working you up, and watching you get so flustered you can’t even moan anymore, when all they’re doing is making sure their mouths leave absolutely no spot on your neck unmarked? Fuck, you get even more sensitive when you’re completely enveloped by both of your very devoted lovers.

Robin usually gets to go first when it comes to actual sex down there, after lots of foreplay and both of them going down on you. Because she tells Eddie she doesn’t want any of his boy cooties, and it also means she gets more limited options if Eddie doesn’t want to use a condom :(, and if he wants to, then that’s different. There’s lots of context dependent agreements they’re always coming up with. So they have to come to a compromise, so they’re both comfortable and happy with their arrangement. And they’re always very happy in the end ;)

Usually they’re both on you at the same time. And when Eddie does get to fuck you, Robin’s putting your mouth to excellent work instead. If Eddie wants to see you when he’s fucking you, Robin can’t ride your face though, as much as she’d like to :(. But they both love doing whatever they can while the other has more of their way. It really makes things fun. Robin can’t ride your face, and Eddie’s currently on your pussy? Guess she’ll have to use her tongue in your mouth, and on your lips, and on your neck, and on all over your tits, and over your fingers, and then put your fingers inside of her. They’re getting off no matter what, and doing more different, sometimes creative, things throughout the night is very fun. Their main goal, is making you cum the most though.

Dirty talk wise, they’re pretty happy teaming up. They’re so good at joking around with their words and making you even more needy for them. Or both worshipping, or praising you together. Both of them fawning over their pretty baby. Both speaking only to each other, while discussing if you even deserve a treat, while you’re grabbing them desperately. Both of them at your feet, promising they’re so good, and drooling over how pretty you are, and begging to do anything you ask of them.

But sometimes they’ll just want one on one time in the bedroom with you, and that’s okay! :)

If they take you while the other’s not in, or sleeping in a different room, or distracted for a bit, they might groan half annoyedly to themselves as they put some headphones on when they realise what those sounds are. Or might yell up at you both, calling you mean. But they’ll also help out after if needed. Like Eddie’s run a bath for Robin while she was still shaking in your arms, a little too fucked out. And Robin’s brought up water for the two love birds, as well. Things like that.

I literally have wayyyyyy too many thoughts to get down in just one post, about Robin & Eddie x reader. So please send in any other thoughts you have or wanna hear about them, because I have been wanting to talk about this dynamic forever!!!!!!!!!!

#Eddie Munson & Robin Buckley x reader #Eddie Munson/reader #Robin Buckley/reader #Eddie Munson & Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson fluff #Robin Buckley fluff #citrussy #Eddie Munson hc’s #Robin Buckley hc’s #poly Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley #Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson /reader #how do I tag this dynamic lmao I love them sm tho #stranger things #ask #anon #Eddie Munson x reader #Robin Buckley x reader

62 notes · View notes

noirsfantasy · 1 year ago

Text

On the tenth day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔱. 𝟒

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 4K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It's Christmas Eve and you, Michael, and your cousins all decide to reconcile by going out for brunch. You have a great time, but your mind is riddled with what if's about your situation with Michael. Is this just a crush? Or is it something more?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ So sorry for the delay, y'all. This winter break ain't winter breakin' rn. But I hope you guys enjoy! Be ready for the finale!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Part 3 Here

Ashanti wipes away her tears. "I appreciate that, Naomi. Honestly, I really think that you're such an amazing person. I'm just really bad at saying it." She says with a faint smile. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you through before and after Michael got here. I really do love you. Please forgive me?"

"Of course, I forgive you, Ashanti." I pull her into a hug, a real one. She hesitates for a second, before hugging me back. I give her a little squeeze as I missed this feeling with my cousin. She doesn't let go for a moment, before finally speaking again.

"Hey... can I ask you a favor?" She asks, her voice soft.

Yeah, what is it?" I reply, prepared for whatever she might ask of me. Ashanti pulls back, looking a bit vulnerable.

"Could I... come live with you?" She looks at me with a nervous smile. "I really want to just start somewhere fresh, but I also want to mend our relationship as well. It wouldn't be for long, just until I get back on my feet, but I just really need to get out of my old place." I return the smile, genuinely touched by her sincerity.

"I'd like that, Ashanti. I'd be happy to help out in any way I can." We both hug once more and stand up from the couch. "And, you know what? I think I have an idea on how you can make up with your other cousins as well." I smirk at her and she looks at me, ready to hear what I have to say.

The two of us start planning the perfect way to reconcile with everyone and get closer as well. Ashanti sends out a bunch of texts to Teresa, James, Dan, and Michael, asking if they'd want to join us. Within a minute, everyone responded and meet us in the living room. Ashanti and I ignore the looks we get from our aunts in the kitchen and focus on the task at hand.

"What's going on?" Teresa asks, taking a seat on the couch. She's followed by the others, a little curious as to why they're here. Ashanti smiles and steps forward, a little nervous. I give her a reassuring nod and she takes a deep breath.

"First off, I'd like to apologize for yesterday." Everyone is a little taken aback. Ashanti continues. "I was mean, bitter, and ungrateful for the love you guys have shown me. I was out of line and none of you deserved to witness that or be spoken to like that. And for that, I'm sorry." She looks down at her feet. "I know I've been a real piece of work these past couple days. But I'm also going through a lot right now and it's no excuse for how I've been treating you. I want to make it up to everyone. So..." She pauses for a second and looks up to smile at everyone. "I want to take all of you out to a Christmas brunch! On me!"

Everyone is shocked at Ashanti's proposal, but they look so happy to hear the news. James and Dan are the first to respond.

"Sounds great," Teresa says, sounding a bit giddy.

"I'm down," Agrees Dan, smiling at Ashanti. One by one, each of them join in.

"I'm always up for free food." Michael adds, jokingly. We all share a bit of a laugh.

"I'd love to go, but I told the boys and Jessie I'd take them to see the Grinch today. But, you guys go have fun." James says, but he doesn't look bummed at all. Ashanti seems disappointed at first, but quickly recovers with a smile.

"That's okay. Maybe some other time." She says, staying positive. James leaves to go get the kids and the energy in the room shifts as they discuss plans for the Christmas brunch. Everyone contributes ideas about the perfect venue, sharing laughter and excitement. The air is light, filled with the promise of a fun time.

An hour later, we all pile into Daniel's car and head to the venue. It's a cute, festive restaurant decorated with twinkling lights and holiday decorations. It has a similar feel to the Christmas market. As we all walk in, we're greeted by an incredibly merry hostess.

"Hello!!! Do you have a reservation?" She asks and Ashanti nods, stepping forward.

"Yes, under the name Ashanti. I called earlier." She explains.

"Perfect! We are ready for you!" We all smile to each other as the hostess guides us to a table with a gorgeous view. The place is filled with people in Christmas attire, eating holiday-themed meals and enjoying the atmosphere. We're seated at a booth where Dan, Ashanti, and Teresa sit on one side and Michael and I sit on the other.

We're each handed a menu and the waiter takes our drink orders while we browse. Teresa strikes up a conversation.

"So, what are you guys planning on ordering? I'm kinda leaning towards these Christmas pancakes." Teresa points to the item on the menu and Daniel rolls his eyes.

"You would go for the pancakes, T." He teases with a smirk. Teresa gives him a playful jab in his side.

"That's supposed to be an insult?" She argues with a laugh.

"To be fair, you've been obsessed with loaded pancakes since we were kids." I add, shrugging my shoulders.

"I don't see what the problem is. It's the holidays and I have exactly a day and a half before I have to go back to my diet. I deserve this." She puts her hands up in defense and we all laugh. "Ugh, it's so crazy that we're all going back in just two days." Teresa sighs and we all nod.

"Aww, I'm gonna miss everyoneeeee." Ashanti pouts and puts her arms around Dan and Teresa, pulling them in. I giggle at them and sigh as well.

"I agree. I really enjoyed being back with you guys. And getting to meet you too, Michael. " I say with a smile as I look over at him. He returns the smile and grabs my hand under the table.

"I've really enjoyed being here as well. It's been nice getting to know you. All of you." He looks around the table. "Y'all didn't have to let me stay, but you did. I'm real grateful for that." He gives my hand a squeeze. The feeling of his skin on mine makes me feel butterflies.

"Ahh, come on, man. You know you part of the family now. You're welcome anytime." Dan assures him. It gets silent for a moment as the realization sets in.

"Okay, that's enough of that. Guys, remember, we still have a day to be together. Let's make the most of it!" Ashanti says before the mood gets any dimmer. Everyone nods in agreement as the drinks arrive and we order our food. The conversation between all of us flows naturally, but I can't help but feel a bit of sadness. It's true, we do only have one day left. So what will that mean for me and Michael. I know we've only met recently, but I feel like what we have is special. At least I hope it is. I'm lost in my thoughts when I'm snapped out of it by Teresa.

"You good, Naomi?" Everyone at the table looks at me as I come back down to earth. I put on a smile and nod.

"Yeah! I'm fine, guys." I reply, hoping they don't realize my true feelings. Michael glances over at me, curious about my thoughts. He's trying to read my reaction but I've always been very good at hiding my emotions. Even though I might've fooled everyone else, he seems to have seen through my act. He tugs on my hand a bit, sliding out of the booth while everyone chats.

"We'll be right back. Gotta step out for a second." Michael announces as he stands up. I follow him through the restaurant and he leads me outside before turning to face me. The air is brisk and the wind is chill, but it's also refreshing.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly, stepping in closer. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Nothing, I'm fine." I respond, knowing I'm lying and that he knows it too. He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine.

"You're a terrible liar, yknow that?" He chuckles, brushing a hair out my face. I bite my lip as I search my thoughts for a way out of this situation. We were having such a nice time and I don't want to ruin it. "Come on, I know something's bothering you." He presses me for an answer and I sigh heavily, my breath visible in the cold.

"It's just... I've had so much fun here with you these last couple days, but the reality is..." I hesitate, unsure of if I want to fully admit my feelings.

"You're afraid of going back and not seeing me again, aren't you?" He asks, not bothering to wait for me to finish. I slowly nod, avoiding his gaze. This is embarrassing. It feels like we're two teenagers who just want to keep hanging out, even though we know the end is inevitable.

"It's silly, but I'm worried that this is just a little Christmas crush that will fade away as soon as I get on that plane." I admit. He frowns a bit at those words.

"A crush," He repeats, sounding a little hurt. "Do you really think that's all this is?" He asks, holding my hands in his. "Because this feels like much more than that."

"But we have two completely different lives. How will it even work? What will people think?" I question, worry written on my features. He lets out a scoff and I look up at him with my eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be funny, but who cares?" He takes my face in his hands and runs his thumb gently over my cheek. "Naomi, I'm not sure what this is exactly, but I know one thing for sure. I want you. I want to get to know everything about that beautiful mind of yours and I want to hear every exciting, interesting thing that you have to say. I may have just met you recently, but I feel something special between us and I feel like I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I don't explore it."

I'm taken aback by his words. He looks so honest and so genuine. I've always had trouble with relationships and even though I want nothing more than to believe him, it's hard. I hesitate until he makes me look into his eyes. I can't help but to melt.

"I don't care about the distance or other people's bullshit opinions. You're worth the effort, Naomi. I can't promise you that we'll end up living happily ever after, but I can promise to give it a fair shot."

The idea of life together is tempting and a little bit scary. I've never felt this way before. Not with any of my last boyfriend and not with the guys who've taken interest in me. This feels special, something that only I get to experience.

"What if it fails?" I inquire, worry etched into my voice. He pulls me in close and hugs me.

"Life's too short to worry about what might happen. Even if things don't work out in the long run, I'd much rather know I gave this a real chance than regret never doing anything at all." He releases me and we're just staring at each other, my eyes stuck in his gaze. I feel every one of Michael's words sink into my skin. It feels like his love is seeping into my bones and like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I feel so safe when he hugs me and I don't want to let go.

Without thinking about it, I lean in and kiss him softly. His face brightens at my unexpected advance. He looks so delighted, like this is exactly what he wanted me to do. His lips are soft and sweet and his grip tightens around me. It's a kiss filled with such passing that it makes my heart flutter. I'm filled with so many different emotions, but this just feels right. I don't pull away, but he breaks the kiss to catch his breath.

Our eyes meet slowly as we come back to our senses. His lips curve into a soft smile and my heart's racing. The kiss was brief, but it sent my emotions into hyperdrive. I feel lightheaded, almost dizzy.

"That definitely wasn't a 'holiday crush' kind of kiss. That was a 'I really like you and want to see where this goes' kind of kiss." He whispers, smiling warmly at me.

"I like that kind of kiss." I reply with a blush, causing Michael to chuckle and pull me into another hug. I can't help but to press myself into his chest, taking in his scent. It's intoxicating and soothing, causing me to calm down a little bit.

"Good. Because I plan on giving you a lot more of those." We hug for a few moments before realizing that we're still standing outside the restaurant in the cold.

"We should probably get inside. The food's probably at the table already." Michael nods, pulling me in tightly for one last moment before we break apart.

"Yeah, we better get back inside before they start to wonder where we went." He says as he takes my hand and we return inside the restaurant. The group is engaged in a lively conversation, and as Michael and I take our seats, there's a subtle shift in the dynamic. Our connection is now more apparent, and it's met with knowing smiles from Teresa, Dan, and Ashanti.

The brunch continues, filled with laughter, shared stories, and newfound closeness. The worries about our impending departure are momentarily pushed aside as we savor the present. We all indulge in a variety of holiday-themed dishes, from the Santa pancakes to the Christmas tree salads to the fruit cakes. Only Dan got the fruit cake and we all clowned him for it.

After a great meal, the group decides to explore some of the shops in town to do some last minute gift searching. It's a short walk from the restaurant to the shops, which are located in a nearby plaza. Ashanti, Teresa, and I get excited once we see a clothing shop and we rush over to it, leaving the boys behind. They shake their heads and follow behind us.

The store is filled with a variety of stylish winter clothing and accessories. As we stop to take a look, Ashanti is already pulling pieces off the rack and handing them to Daniel and Michael to hold. Teresa and I browse around and laugh a little at some of the ridiculous holiday outfits they have stocked.

We all have so much fun trying on clothes and making each other laugh, teasing each other and goofing around. Teresa makes a beeline for some ugly, light-up leggings and Ashanti ends up trying on a cute Santa dress. I end up in an adorable elf outfit with a pointy hat and bell. The boys somehow found their own costumes, Daniel in a Rudolph onesie and Michael in a full Santa costume, fake beard and everything. We find a large mirror and take silly photos in it, just having a good time.

We hit a few other shops, buying a few things here and there and getting them gift-wrapped. I find myself having more fun than I've had in a very long time and I'm grateful to have my family and Michael here with me.

The shopping ends up taking longer than I anticipated, but it's all worthwhile because of how much of a good time we all had together. By the time we're wrapping up, it's almost dark and about time for us to get going. We head back to the car and head home.

When we arrive at the house, we put all of our shopping in our rooms for us to wrap and head back downstairs. We're greeted warmly by Grandmother, who wastes no time putting us to work.

"Let's get this house ready for Christmas, shall we?" She tells us.

"Yes Ma'am." We all respond obediently. She proceeds to direct us to our tasks. We all get straight to work, cleaning the living room and sweeping the kitchen. After I'm done with my job, I set the kids up with a movie of The Grinch to keep them occupied while dinner is completed. I look over and see Michael helping out in the kitchen, chatting with my mom and effortlessly becoming a part of the family chaos. I catch his eye and he shoots me a wink, causing me to smile to back and look down bashfully.

After an hour or so, the house is looking spotless, and the smells of delicious food is wafting through the air. We all gather in the kitchen as the meal bell is run, standing in a large circle. Grandmother leads the proceedings with grace, her presence calming and loving. As she says, "Amen," she looks over at me and I can't help but to smile back at her.

Once we've prayed, dinner is served. We all sit down with plates full of delicious food. The dining table is completely full, with the twins sitting at the kitchen bar to eat and Jessie in her high chair. The room is filled with lively chatter and laughter. Aunt Tina and Pat avoid eye contact and conversation with me aside from a few snide comments, but I don't care. For once, their words don't have an effect on me.

It's a very heartwarming, Christmas filled atmosphere and I love the way that things are turning out. Michael is right next to me the whole time and I keep catching him glancing at me. The food is amazing, each dish a delight to our taste buds. We much away heartily, enjoying the evening together.

After dinner, Michael, James, and Daniel head upstairs for a few minutes, seeming to be planning something. I pay no mind to it, stepping into the kitchen to help clean up the kitchen with Teresa while Ashanti sits with Jessie in her lap in the living room. Jessie keeps trying to climb all over her, but she seems to be able to handle herself.

Daniel and James come back down the stairs and get our attention. We all stop what we're doing and look over at them.

"We have a surprise for everyone!" James announces and they direct our attention to the stairs. Coming down the stairs was Santa Claus with a red velvety bag slung over his shoulder. It's obviously Michael, but the kids go crazy with excitement.

"SANTA!!" Matthew shouts as he jumps off of the couch. Jessie squeals happily, running clumsily over to hug "Santa's" leg. He picks her up and smiles at her. I burst out laughing at the children's joyous reactions. It's pure and innocent and utterly wholesome. Michael plays the part well, holding jessie as she talks to him in her adorable toddler language. He brings her over into the living room and turns to face everyone.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has been nice this year!" Everyone erupts in a cheer, the children giggling and laughing. Teresa watches with a genuine smile as she sees her kids meeting Santa. James is catching it all on his camera as well. Santa goes around giving gifts to the kids. The happily open their gifts and it's cute little trinkets that I assume he got from the Christmas market.

"Oh? What's this down here?" He says as he reaches into the bottom of the bag. "It looks like there's one more present in here. I wonder who it could be fore." We all look around curiously. He hands me a small gift, giving me a flirty wink and causing me to giggle. I tear the wrapping paper out of eager curiosity as I peel the wrapping.

Inside is a set of emerald earrings and a matching necklace from Tiffany and Co. I'm speechless for a moment, it feels like time stops for a second.

"Oh my God, Mi- I mean Santa! These are gorgeous!" I have to fight the urge to kiss him, knowing our families are watching. Instead, I smile widely at him as I try the necklace on, the metallic clasp settling nicely against my skin. The expression on his face is one of pure pride as he watches me admire my gift. His gaze falls to my neck as I place the necklace on. His eyes are stuck on me the whole time. He's not just admiring the jewelry, but the woman wearing them as well.

"Santa has very good taste, don't you think?" He asks, chuckling as he gives me a knowing smile.

"I couldn't agree more," I reply. The kids swarm him for a second, hugging his legs and thanking him for their gifts. After taking a few pics with Santa, the kids start to lose interest and wander away to play with their toys. Michael laughs as they run off.

"It's good to know that even Christmas can't hold the kid's attention for that long." He says, causing us all to laugh along with him. He heads back upstairs to get changed again and Ashanti and Teresa rush over to me to admire my new jewelry. They start asking me about what I'd wear them with and talking about how he must really like me. Eventually Michael comes back down in a grey long sleeve and a pair of plaid pajama pants.

The kids have all passed out due to exhaustion from the excitement and the older folks seemed to have gone into food comas. The rest of us sit in the living room in front of the TV with glasses of wine. Michael has taken a seat next to me, leaning back and putting his arm around me. We all put on some funny Christmas movies and enjoy each other's company. The wine loosens us up and the atmosphere is light-hearted.

The rest of the night feels like a blur. I feel comfortable on the couch and lean into Michael's side, my head resting on his shoulder as the movie goes on. Finding myself being a bit more affectionate than I'm use to, I plant a few kisses on his neck, making sure no one else is watching us. His hand runs up and down my side before resting on my hip as he smiles down at me. He pulls me a little closer and plants a kiss on my head. It just feels right to be here, snuggled up in Michael's arms. I don't have any worries in this moment, I'm just going to bask in this moment for as long as I can.

To Be Continued...

#fluff #christmas #12 days of christmas #noirsfantasy #black reader #black reader fluff #black actors #michael b jordan #fine black men #my heart #black men #michael b jordan x black fem reader #michael b jordan x reader #x reader #black romance #black tumblr #black christmas

17 notes · View notes