#but she still cares about them she cares about them a lot!!

[headkiss]

it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

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Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

-

1.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

-

2.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

-

3.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

-

4.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

-

+1

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

[trashytracktales]

AND softdom lando with slightly unexperienced reader!!!! kill me nowwwe it cannot live only in my head

Nothing less | LN⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── No, cause you know what, anon? Let me do something about it real quick (I changed some things around on purpose, because I either go hard or go home lmao). ENJOY 💋

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── It's their first time together, and Lando takes the lead, ensuring every touch and word is focused on her comfort and pleasure.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x virgin!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 catetegory ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, reader's first time, new relationship dynamics, soft dom!Lando, fluff & smut, descriptive language, swearing, unprotected sex, subtle exploration of emotional and physical trust in an intimate setting.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.8k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 26, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Gentle reminder that I know I have a lot of requests I need to take care of, and they are going to be dealt with, slowly but surely. Thank you for your patience 😁🤍

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

SHE THINKS SHE should tell him, but she doesn’t know him well enough to be sure that Lando isn’t easily scared — or worse, that he wouldn’t walk out on her the second her little secret gets out.

They’ve only been dating for two weeks, but somehow it feels longer than that. Obviously, they’ve talked about sex before — casually, the way new couples do when everything still feels exciting and full of possibilities. But she never told him outright that she’s a virgin. He never specifically asked, and she didn’t see a way to bring it up without making things awkward.

In the midst of her chaotic thoughts, two things are certain: 1) she doesn’t want to ruin the moment, and 2) there’s no doubt he likes her. She sees it in the way Lando looks at her, and she feels it in the way his hands touch her: sometimes by accident, other times with intent.

That's why she doesn’t want to burden him with expectations or make him feel like he has to change to meet some unspoken standard. She wants him as he is: unfiltered, imperfect, and real.

It's almost midnight, and the room is drenched in a quiet intimacy, the only sound coming from the muted hum of the city outside. Lando sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing against hers with deliberate slowness. The soft golden glow of the bedside lamp illuminates his face, accentuating the way his lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts teasing and tender.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmurs, his voice a smooth drawl that makes her stomach flip. His thumb strokes over her palm, coaxing her to meet his gaze. “That nervous?”

Her breath catches in her throat, feeling it closing in from the inside, but she nods, not trusting her voice.

“That’s okay, baby,” says Lando gently, leaning in. The warmth of his breath fans against her skin as his lips ghost over her jawline. “I want to take care of you. Can I do that?”

She nods again, her heart thudding against her rib. But the way Lando is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters, eases some of the tension coiling in her chest.

She really thinks that she should tell him—

“Words, love,” he interrupts her thoughts, his tone soft yet firm. Lando's hand tilts her chin up so she’s looking directly at him. “I need to hear you, so I know we're on the same page.”

“Yes, Lando,” she replies back, his name dripping from her mouth like honey. “I want this with you.”

His smile widens, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes — desire tempered with a bit of restraint. “Sweet girl,” he says softly, the praise rolling off his tongue like a caress.

She closes her eyes, the words making her cheeks flush, but they also spark something inside her, a yearning she’s never felt so acutely before.

The air between them feels charged with so much expectancy. She knows where this is heading, can feel it in the way his eyes linger on hers, in the heat of his touch that seems to burn through her skin. The thought alone forces a wave of excitement rolling through her. At that, her body reacts before her mind catches up — her breaths quicken, her thighs press together instinctively, and a warm, insistent ache blooms low in her belly. She’s wet already, just from the anticipation, her thoughts spiraling into images of Lando gasping for air above her.

She shakes her head to push those thoughts away, just as he pulls her closer, his hands steady and confident as they frame her face. When he kisses her, his lips are so soft, moving against hers in a way that leaves no room for doubt. He’s in control, but he’s also completely attuned to her.

“If you need me to stop,” he says against her lips, “If anything feels wrong, just tell me, and we'll talk about it. Gonna need your words for this, yeah?” he continues as she nods again, making Lando puff out a small giggle, “What did I say?”

Words. Right.

“I promise I'll tell you,” she says, her voice tinged with nervousness.

He hums in approval, his hands sliding down to her waist. He moves her gently, guiding her to lie back on the bed as he leans over her. His movements are measured, his touch firm but never overwhelming. When his hands skim beneath her shirt, she tenses for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, and Lando immediately freezes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his brow furrowing in concern. “Too much?”

“No,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I just— I’ve nev—”

He doesn’t let her finish. His thumb strokes soothing circles against her hip as he leans down to kiss her again, silencing her nervous stammer.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’ll go slow, alright? You and I. Just trust me.”

His words are like a balm, and she finds herself relaxing under his touch. He takes his time removing her shirt, his eyes never leaving hers as if to reassure her with every move.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for him, and he lets her take the lead for a moment, watching her with a quiet intensity as she unbuttons his shirt. She fumbles slightly, and he chuckles, the sound soft and warm.

“Relax, love. It’s just me,” he says, leaning down to kiss her temple; a small act of tenderness that somehow steadies her racing heart.

The warmth of his lips lingers, grounding her in the moment as her nerves begin to settle. When there's no barrier left between them, Lando's hands explore her body patiently, every touch giving her goosebumps. Then, his fingers travel lower, slipping between her legs, and he freezes in place, his breath hitching.

“Ah, shit,” he mumbles mostly to himself, almost in awe when he realizes how much of a mess she is already. “So eager, you're soaked. I could just slip right in.”

The words send a bolt of heat through her, a mix of embarrassment and excitement, but they also give her enough courage to take action. Summoning all her nerve, she reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock with a tentative but determined grip.

She guides him to her entrance, her voice quiet but impatient as she whispers, “Then do it.”

Suddenly, that's more than enough for Lando to let his instincts take over.

He exhales sharply as he pushes forward, the heat of her drawing him in inch by inch. The sensation of her wrapped around his length nearly undoes him — soft, tight, and impossibly warm. His jaw clenches as he stills for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He presses his forehead to hers, his voice strained but tender.

“So damn tight around me, baby,” he gasps softly, his hand coming to rest on her hip. “How's it on your end? Can I move?”

She nods quickly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she adjusts to the sweet stretch. “It’s—”

Good. Perfect. Heaven.

“Didn’t feel as big in my hand,” she ends up saying, making Lando laugh in a high-pitched voice.

“Not sure weather it's a compliment or an insult,” he admits, amused.

“Just give me a sec,” she whispers, though there’s a slight trace of uncertainty in her tone.

His thumb begins to stroke soothing circles on her hip, and he kisses the corner of her mouth. “Take your time, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures her.

She lets out a shaky breath, her body gradually relaxing around him. With one hand, she traces the contours of Lando's face, studying every micro expression, every mole, and the way his breath hitches as she welcomes him in.

“You're perfect,” she says softly, her cheeks flushed with warmth. “Can you fuck me now?”

Lando whines, pulling back slightly before easing forward again, setting a slow, careful rhythm. The friction is intense, almost overwhelming, and he groans quietly, his grip on her hips tightening just a fraction.

Her lips part as a soft moan escapes her, and she tilts her head back, instinctively pushing her hips to meet his movements. “Lando,” she breathes, her voice a mix of need and disbelief.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, his tone laced with affection. “Tell me what you like, what feels good. Let me hear you, baby.”

“You,” she manages, her fingers threading through his hair. “It feels so—You feel so good. All of it, please.”

The corners of his mouth raise into a small, breathless smile. “Such a good girl, aren't you?” he praises, leaning down to kiss her neck as he resumes his thrusts. “You’re doing so well for me.”

Her nails dig lightly into his back, her confidence growing with each movement.

“Faster,” she whispers, her voice trembling with a foreign desire.

His brows raise slightly as he slows down, just to tease her. “Faster? You sure about that?” he asks, his voice taking on a playful edge.

“Lando,” she repeats his name, louder this time, her hips rolling against his.

“You want it that bad?” he says in slight disbelief, his movements speeding up just enough to draw a louder moan from her. Lando studies her closely, his gaze softening even as his control threatens to slip. “Look at you, fuck. Let me take care of you. Let me—”

He swallows his words as his starts thrusting into her, firmly but never rough, his touch always calibrated to her responses.

“God, you’re taking me so well,” he says, his lips brushing against her ear. “So hot and tight around me. Feels right, hm?”

Her breathing quickens at his words, her body responding in ways she doesn’t fully understand but craves nonetheless. His hands trail lower, and she arches into him instinctively, another whimper escaping her lips.

“I know, baby,” he says, his voice thick with approval. “Keep me inside.”

Lando’s rhythm falters, then slows to an almost torturous pace. Before she can question it, he drags his cock out of her entirely, leaving her pussy clenching around nothing. A cry slips from her lips, desperate and aching, but he doesn’t give her time to protest. His length glides up between her slick, puffy folds, spreading the wetness everywhere, his movements calculated and teasing.

Not to mention evil.

“Lan...” she whines, her nails digging into his back as frustration and need overwhelm her. She isn’t gentle, her fingers pressing hard enough to sting, and he lets out a low hiss.

At the sudden pain, Lando stops entirely, his eyes snapping to hers, dark and intense. “Careful, baby,” he warns, his tone soft but laced with authority.

Sitting up slightly, he reaches for a pillow, lifting her hips with ease and sliding it beneath her lower back. When he thrusts back into her, it’s maddeningly slow, as if he wants her to feel everything. His hand moves to her stomach, pressing down lightly as he fucks his cock inside her. The sensation sends shockwaves through her body, and she cries out, her voice high and pleading as the pressure amplifies the pleasure.

“Feel that?” he asks, his voice rough with arousal. “Feel how deep I am?”

She can only nod, tightening her legs around him, her body trembling as she grips the sheets for support. But curiosity and the overwhelming sensations push her to rise onto her elbows, needing to see what he’s doing to her. Her gaze drops to where their bodies meet, and that’s when she sees it — the way her lower abdomen rises and falls slightly with each of his deep, measured thrusts.

Her breath catches, her eyes widening in awe. “Oh my God,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Is that…?”

Lando notices her reaction immediately, his own gaze following hers. The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk, but his eyes burn with something primal. “Fucking hell,” he murmurs, tightening his hands around her waist, holding her steady. “Yeah, that’s me inside you.”

The realization sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her, and Lando seems to sense it. His grip on her waist tightens further, and he begins to move harder, his hips snapping against hers with a rhythm that’s still controlled but far more intense.

The room fills with the slik sound of her pussy as Lando thrusts in and out relentlessly, and her moans grow louder, her body arching into him.

“Let me feel you,” he growls, his voice deep. “Let go, baby. Let me feel you,” he repeats, over and over again.

She wraps her arms around Lando, pulling him closer to have something to support her. The way her pussy sucks at his cock, desperate and insistent, sends him careening over the edge before he can even process it.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, his voice breaking as his hips stutter, spilling into her with a throaty moan. He can get drunk on the way she grips him, her heat, her hunger — every part of her pulling him into pure bliss.

His forehead drops to hers, their shared breaths mingling as they pant and moan together, riding out every wave of pleasure as they hit.

Her nails are still buried in his back, the sharp sting blending with the pleasure coursing through him. He winces but doesn’t stop, his body shuddering as her walls flutter around his cock, milking every last bit of him. They’re locked together, shaking, until the pleasure ebbs into a warm, lingering buzz.

After that, Lando finally stills inside her, his body softening, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he rests his weight against her. Only then does the sharp sting on his back pull his attention, and he lets out a low chuckle, his voice rough and spent.

“You really dug in, didn’t you?” he teases, his tone affectionate as he lifts his head to look at her. The corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk despite the ache in his muscles.

Her face flushes with embarrassment, her hands slipping away from his back, burying into his hair instead. “Sorry,” she whispers, avoiding to look at him.

“Don’t be,” he replies, his gaze soft and adoring. “It was worth it.”

Before she can add something else, Lando leans down, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s the opposite of tender. It’s a stark contrast to the raw intensity they just shared, and a quiet reassurance that he’s still fully present with her. His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing against her flushed skin as he deepens the kiss, savoring her.

When they finally break apart, their foreheads rest together again, their breathing still uneven but calming. “You okay?” he asks softly, his eyes searching hers.

She nods, a small, blissful smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey, don't go non-verbal on me again,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Lan?” she says softly.

“Hm?”

She swallows, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t look away this time. “You are… I mean, it was my first time.”

For a moment, her words don’t fully register. He blinks, his brows knitting together as if he’s processing what she just said. “First time?” he repeats, his tone slow, almost disbelieving.

When she nods, her lips parting slightly as she struggles to hold his gaze, Lando’s eyes fix on hers. His first instinct is to check if she’s messing with him, but all he sees is her wrecked, post-sex state. Her hair is mussed and wild against the pillow, her skin flushed from her chest to her cheeks, her lips swollen and parted as she breathes unevenly. The faint sheen of sweat on her body catches the soft light, and her eyes are glassy, still hazy with satisfaction. She looks thoroughly undone — raw and real.

And he knows she’s not lying.

The realization hits him like a tsunami, leaving him momentarily speechless. His jaw tenses briefly, and instead of speaking, he leans down and captures her lips in a kiss. It’s not rushed or frantic but deep and meaningful, his lips moving against hers with a peaceful intensity. His hand cups her jaw, kissing her like he’s claiming every part of her. Because he is. The thought makes his head spin — the fact that she’s his completely.

“You should’ve told me,” says Lando, his voice thick with emotion. “I would’ve been more careful.”

“No, it was perfect,” she rushes to assure him. “Because it was with you.”

His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Are you even real?” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing her again; her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, trailing down her shoulders and neck, where he makes sure to leave marks behind. His hands roam her body with a newfound reverence, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Gonna spend the rest of the night showing you how much you mean to me,” he says, his lips brushing against her collarbone. “If you’ll let me.”

Her heart swells as she nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a low hum of satisfaction. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[nerdvanauniverse]

TW for animal injury

I had to rehome a dog named Lily about a week after I got her. She didn't seem aggressive with the cats in the shelter, and she got along with my other dog.

I was careful to not leave her alone with my cat for the first week or so, and had a baby gate separating them. They seemed to get along okay supervised.

Then one day, Sam ran and Lily chased. Turns out she had a high prey drive we didn't know about. She caught my cat, grabbed him by the neck with her teeth, and started shaking him.

It took me, my mom, and my brother to get her to open her mouth. My cat scratched the hell out of my mom because he was scared and hurt. Mom had to go to urgent care to get her hands cleaned up. My dad and I drove Sam to the emergency vet to sew up his throat and side. We genuinely weren't sure if he was going to make it. Luckily, he did.

It wasn't Lily's fault. She was doing what thousands of years of instinct told her to do. But we couldn't keep her if we wanted our cat to survive.

We reassured her that it wasn't her fault, we gave her lots of love and attention, and took her back to the shelter. It was a no-kill shelter so we knew she would be okay. And a few weeks later I saw that she had been adopted again-- by a couple with no cats and no small kids, in a rural part of the state where she coukd run.

That was the absolute best outcome for the dog, for my cat, and for my family.

By the way, my cat Sam made a full recovery, became best friends with the next dog we adopted (who grew up with cats) and is still doing great at 12 years old. He still has some lasting effects form the injury (his voice is different and he's still reactive to sudden noises or movements) but he's doing great.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[lowkeyerror]

Just Hold Me

Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Notes: Fluff x 100, comfort x 1 million, very soft

Summary: You had a rough day and Rio wants to comfort you, but she wonders if she's doing enough.

An: The yearly fluff I post after Christmas. Soft as a bunny's tail.

Masterlist

Love was such a strange thing. Tangled up in emotions like hurt, betrayal, and longing, but also bathed in happiness, care, and optimism. It was complex enough with normal people, but you had fallen for Death itself.

Loving Rio was like loving a hurricane. It was wild and even if some things were predictable, you couldn’t always prepare for what was to come. Having a trail of destruction behind her was a part of her job.

It was something she only found shame in when she was with you. She didn’t want you to think that of her. The truth being, that you never could. It was what had drawn you to her in the first place. Death didn’t scare you, not at all. Falling into her embrace felt like destiny. You’d tell her, but Rio was never one for fate, she said if anything it was an omen.

She was so scared of the consequences when it came to being with you. She tried to go against her urges, but you were patient. In her mind you’d forget her and move on with someone more suitable, but you never did. You knew what you wanted and it was her.

There would never be anyone to come close.

Rio was a good girlfriend. She was affectionate, and as attentive as she could be. There were still some things that she was uncertain about when it came to her emotions. After all she had only learned them from her limited experience in other relationships and observing others. She had seen a lot, but that didn’t mean she understood it all.

So when she appeared in your home to find your curled up on the couch, hidden by a blanket, she simply tilted her head to the side before approaching you.

“Love?”

You heard her voice, but felt like you couldn’t move or speak. Instead you let out a soft hum in response. It caught Rio off guard, she was still assessing the situation, but it wasn’t looking good.

She stepped into your point of view, crouching so that she could meet your eyes. She was taken aback by the sadness in them. The bags under your eyes were dark and heavy. Rio pouted seeing the red hues scattered in them.

She reaches out cautiously to hold your face in her hands. Her touch was warm, it made you briefly close your eyes.

“What happened?” Rio’s voice was soft, as if she was scared of pushing.

However you weren’t like the lovers of her past. You wouldn’t push her away, so you took a deep breath trying to muster up your voice.

“Hold me,” you managed to murmur.

Rio was quick to shed her work clothes and create more comfortable attire for the sake of both of you. You briefly sat up on the couch, only enough for the Green Witch to slip behind you. Once she was behind you, you tugged her arm over your body. You held it in place keeping her hold on you tight.

Rio places a delicate kiss on the back of your neck, “I'm not going anywhere."

For a while you stay in that position silently. Neither of you break through the quiet. Rio thinks she’s eventually going to hear your breathing level but it doesn’t.

“Long day,” you mumble against her hand.

“I think I know something about those,” Rio threaded her fingers through yours.

You let out a small laugh, “I bet you do.”

You feel the time shift again. You turn to face Rio who scans over your features again.

“Is there something I can do?”

You see the worry in her eyes and it makes your heart swell. The smallest furrow in her brow, the usual mischief in her eyes is gone, her tone is missing the teasing edge.

“Just this,” you bury your head in the crease of her neck.

You inhale deeply, her scent always grounds you. That specific scent of earth freshly hit with rain. You could get lost in her aroma, it almost makes you feel like you’re outside. You can feel her skin cooling, which only submerges you deeper into the fantasy.

Now both of her hands hold you. She kisses the top of your head. Rio is still uncertain about it she should be doing more for you. This didn't feel like enough. She wanted to destroy whatever it was that made your day so hard. Seeing you in this state was tugging at her heart strings.

She began to trace patterns into your back. You didn't mind, you like having her hands on you, being this close together. It helped you feel safe.

“Are you sure it’s enough,” Rio whispers, insecurities gnawing at her.

You pull back just enough to look at her, “Rio Vidal you’ll always be enough for me.”

Your words knocked the wind right out of her, she felt her face getting warm under your gaze, but she wasn’t trying to hide it from you.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that? Legal or illegal. If I need to go fuck up your boss I will. If I need to pop your annoying coworkers tire, I will. If you needed me to hunt down a Karen I-"

“I know,” you cut her off.

“All of the above?” Rio wriggles her eyebrows playfully.

You move to sit up and she sits beside you.

You rub a hand over your face, “Work was fine, I guess. A few difficult customers, but nothing out of the ordinary. I don’t really know why, but today just felt harder to get through than other days. Nothings wrong, I just feel a little… down.”

Rio listen intently as you speak. When you finish she nods slowly, “I think I know what you need.”

“You do?”

Rio nods with a little more certainty, “Let me cook for us. We’ll order some snacks and pop in a movie. We can keep cuddling too. And tomorrow, I think you should call out. We’ll spend the whole day together, I know all the best parks for walks. How does that sound?”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That sounds perfect. I love you.”

Rio places a gentle kiss on your lips, “I love you too.”

Rio reluctantly begins to stand, but you pull her back down, “Just hold me a bit longer?”

She lays her back flat on the couch and pulls you on top of her, stealing another peck.

“Always.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Perfect Present

Synopsis: based off of this prompt!

Warnings: language, discussion of R being in/out of foster care, some childhood trauma

WC: 2.0k

A/N: hi everyone, here’s just a quick little holiday blurb! Hope everyone is having a wonderful day, whether you’re celebrating a holiday or not! Quick reminder to drink some water and to be nice to yourself, holidays and this time of year can be a lot, take it easy, take care of yourself.

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. You just couldn’t get it right. Everyone else’s gifts wrapped so neatly, perfect corners, no wrinkles, to tears, everything was perfect about them. And then you stared at your own.

The box you were attempting to wrap looked more like a pile of torn paper, creased and crinkled in the most unappealing way. You weren’t stupid by any means, you just couldn’t seem to figure out how to wrap anything. Too much paper, not enough paper, too short on one side, it was never quite right.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you.” The sound of your girlfriend’s voice from the other side of the room temporarily removed you from the spiral of self criticism you had entered.

“Don’t look please.” You attempt to cover the mess of paper, ribbons, and tape that surrounded you.

“I won’t.” When you look over to her, she’s got her back toward you, still wearing the matching Christmas pajamas her parents had gotten the two of you, looking down at your own matching set. “but I thought you’d be quick, it’s been almost 2 hours.”

You hadn’t told Jessie you had never wrapped a gift, she knew you hadn’t celebrated Christmas, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t ever wrapped a present.

Spending your childhood in the foster care system meant you never had consistent holidays. You had “celebrated” Christmas, some families focusing solely on the religious aspect, others caring more for Santa, you’d also spent your holiday season celebrating Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, even Saint Lucia Day one year, but nothing was ever consistent. You had no family traditions, everything was different every year.

When Jessie had invited you to spend the holiday with her family, you politely declined. The last thing you wanted to be was intrusive on their time together. Jessie let the issue go after pushing the invite on numerous occasions, getting rejected each time. It wasn’t until Jessie’s younger sister had called you up, demanding to know why you didn’t want to spend the holiday with her, as she joked ‘your favorite Fleming’. You politely tried to decline again, however being the more stubborn sibling, she asked what better plans you had, to which you confessed you had none and before you knew it you were booking flights to Ontario.

The Fleming’s had been nothing but welcoming and kind to you. You’d met them briefly over FaceTime and phone calls, once very quickly after a match, but this was your first time spending extended period of time with them and it was your first time in Jessie’s childhood home. You expected nothing less but their home gave off the feeling of warmth, of love and light, it felt welcoming from the second you walked in. It was a feeling that felt so safe but so uneasy for you at the same time.

You’d been in homes that felt welcoming and warm, only to be kicked out of them, berated in them, ignored in them, you’d grown to not quite trust the feeling of warmth. Which kept you on edge on your trip, waiting for the other shoe to fall, waiting for Jessie to tell you she doesn’t think the two of you will work, for her parents to decide they don’t think you’re deserving of their daughter, for the dogs to no longer snuggle up to you, you just kept waiting.

It seemed to never come. You’d suddenly been introduced to all the family traditions, baking cookies, gingerbread houses, matching pajamas, snowball fights, and movie nights, it was perfect. Until you had to wrap gifts. Everyone else wrapped The gifts they had bought before you and Jessie arrived. Jessie wrapped her gifts last night and you assured her you’d get yours done this evening, which led you to the mess you were currently sitting in.

“I’ve never wrapped a gift like this Jess. Everyone else’s looks perfect and straight out of one of those cheesy homemark movies you made us watch. Mine are going to look hideous next to them.”

“Hallmark.” She says, still facing away from you.

“What?” It’s hard to hear her, soft spoken to begin, while also facing away you had no idea what she said.

“Hallmark, they’re Hallmark movies, not homemark.” She corrects you, quickly turning with an innocent smile on her face.

Unenthusiastic about her need to correct you despite the obvious stress you were under, you just stare at her until a quiet apology comes from her mouth, the smile dropping from her lips. “Can I help?”

“No, you can’t see what I got you!” Your hands clasp over the box that sat in your lap, realizing it was possibly in her view.

“I’m not looking, I promise.” She turns back around to reassure you she couldn’t see what you had gotten her. Once fully turned her back toward you she talks again. “What if you put the gift for me in the other room real quick and I’ll help you wrap my family’s gifts? That way I can show you?”

Accepting her help was also admitting defeat in your eyes, but when you looked down to the mess you had already accumulated, you had no choice. “Okay.” You could put your pride aside for a bit. Jessie helping you wouldn’t be the worst thing, instead it sounded sweet, her teaching you something.

“Okay.” Jessie starts to make her way toward you and you quickly tuck the box under your pajama shirt before standing and moving to the other room. “It’s going on the table in here so don’t look at it.” You call to her as you set it down.

“Okay love, I won’t.” She responds. When you walk back in your mess already looks more organized and Jessie has a present centered on a large piece of wrapping paper. You take a minute just to admire her. Her curls nearly tucked behind her ears, Santa hat covering her head, her freckles looking like little stars across her skin. Her hands meticulously move the paper, picking up a pair of scissors and moving the tape closer, she pauses for a moment then begins moving again. There's a warmth that radiates from her, she makes you feel at home, no matter where you are. “Come here.” She smiles when she sees you watching her, gently waving you down.

You sit down beside her and are quickly thrown into Present Wrapping 101 taught by none other than your girlfriend. She shows you how she measures out the paper to make sure there’s enough but not too much. She shows you how to fold the paper, getting sharp corners. She provides you two demonstrations, wrapping both of the gifts for her parents before handing you another gift. “Your turn.”

You had paid attention while she had taught, but the second she handed you the box all the tips and tricks she had just shown you no longer existed. “I don’t know.” You turned the box over in your hands a few times, looking between Jessie and the wrapping paper in front of you.

“It’s okay, I’ll help. Start with measuring it.” You follow Jessie’s gentle direction, measuring out the paper cutting it and then beginning to fold the corners. After some attempts you let out a frustrated sigh throwing your hands up.

“I just can’t.”

“You can.” With a slow nod and a smile Jessie leans over to you, putting her hand on your thigh. “You can do it, it just takes practice.”

“Well it looks like shit, I knew it couldn’t be this perfect.” You mumble. It’s only a quick rescind before the half wrapped gift is pushed away and Jessie is now kneeling in front of you.

“Hey.” You just glance up meeting her soft brown eyes for a moment before your eyes fall back to your lap. “It’s paper, no one truly cares about the wrapping, it’s about the thought, the intention, no one expects it to be perfect.”

“Except you come from a family of perfectionists, perfect wrappers, perfect gingerbread houses, everything is so perfect, you have a perfect family and it terrifies me because I don’t, I don’t even have any family.” Your sentence has both you and Jessie realizing that your feelings were about more than just your inability to wrap a present. Jessie’s hands close around your cheeks. Her thumbs softly caressing your skin.

“You’re my family, and I’ll happily be yours.”

“I know that Jess, it’s just, I’m not used to this.”

“I know. I know this has probably been a lot. I’m sorry, I should’ve been checking in more.”

“It’s been really great, and that’s what scares me.”

“That it feels too perfect?”

“Exactly.” You sigh and Jessie moves to sit next to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you slightly to lean on her chest.

Her hand finds your head and she runs her fingers through your hair, her nails slightly scratching your scalp. “The other shoe isn’t going to drop.” Her hand continues to scratch. “You know that right? You’re welcome here, you’re safe here. I love you, my family loves you.” You nod against her chest. “I’m sorry I was naive and didn’t think that this isn’t what you’re used to, this isn’t comfortable for you.”

“Please don’t apologize.” It’s only when you go to speak that you realize the tear that is running down your cheek, you quickly wipe it before looking at your girlfriend. “Don’t apologize for bringing me into this perfect little life of yours just because I’m not used to it. I promise it’s been really nice, just makes me see what I missed out on growing up.”

Jessie doesn’t say anything, just leaning over to place her lips to your temple with a soft kiss. “I love you, I want you to be a part of my life, now and always.”

“I love you Jess, sorry I was so stubborn about coming home with you. It’s really been perfect.” You look down at the present beside you. “Well everything’s been perfect except my wrapping.”

“Well, practice makes perfect so, try again.” She jokingly shoves you off of her, pushing the roll of tape into your hand.

The next morning, you all huddled around the fireplace, gifts being passed around, mugs of coffee and tea keeping everyone warm. When nearly all the gifts had been passed out, you grabbed the one that made your heart race, the gift you’d gotten Jessie. It was a small necklace, an engraved map across the small disk with a tiny heart carved out, showing the location of where she asked you to be her girlfriend. The back had the date and your initials.

“Here.” You passed Jessie the box and watched as she quickly glanced over the box. The wrapping wasn’t perfect by any means. Uneven corners, too much tape, but it was wrapped and that’s what mattered.

“It looks good.” Jessie whispers to you, to which you rolls your eyes.

“Just open it.” You watch attentively as she unwraps it before pulling the lid off the box. Her eyes study the necklace, for a moment you think she has no idea what you’ve gotten her until she looks up to you and you can see the shine in her eyes.

“Sunrise Park?” Her questioning face breaks into a smile when you nod, confirming her guess. “Wow, this is so cool.” She turns the necklace over, looking at the inscription, before giving you another happy but tearful smile. “I love you.” She reaches a hand out, you take it in yours and just hold hands.

The two of you sit like that, her hand in yours as you watch the rest of her family open gifts. It was perfect, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the impending sense of doom. You felt warmth, happiness, and most importantly, safe. This was perfect, with Jessie it was perfect.

[amirasainz]

Oh, I'm sorry, but my ideas for Leclerc's stepsister are in my head and there are so many of them, I don't have the nerve to send them all, but... I just want her to be very different from baby Sainz, she was very independent, hardly accepted help, was a little (and sometimes a lot) shy, defiant, but at the same time for the Leclair brothers she was a princess, and their parents wanted to enjoy the fact that everything was fine

With love from CH 💜

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl ♥️

No Part 2!

Independent, but Loved

It was a typical sunny afternoon in Monaco, and the house was alive with the sound of chatter and laughter. Yn was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her manicured nails clicking against her phone screen as she scrolled through her social media feed. The comments on her latest post were already piling up.

@queenYnislife: “She fixed her car and still looks better than me. HOW??”

@monaco_royalty: “Yn, the real princess of Monaco. Bow down, everyone.”

She smirked at the comments and tapped her nails thoughtfully against her chin. "You know," she said, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I should start a DIY YouTube channel. 'Fixing Cars with Yn.' I'd show everyone how to slay while being a mechanic."

From across the living room, Arthur groaned. "Yn, you didn't fix the car."

She raised an eyebrow at her 19-year-old stepbrother, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Excuse me, mechanic Arthur. I literally fixed it myself. My nails were covered in grease for days!"

Lorenzo, the oldest at 25, laughed as he walked into the room, carrying a tray of drinks. "Oh, princesa, you really think that car is still the same one?"

Yn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to suppress his grin. "We got you a new car."

Her jaw dropped. "No, you didn't!"

"Yes, we did," Lorenzo confirmed with a shrug, his grin widening. "Do you honestly think you ‘fixed’ a blown engine with a wrench and some nail polish remover?"

Charles, who had just walked in after a training session, leaned against the doorway with an amused look. "To be fair, you were very convincing with your grease-smudged selfies."

Yn stared at her brothers, utterly scandalized. "Wait a second. You mean all my TikToks about ‘fixing’ the car were based on a lie?"

Arthur snorted. "Pretty much, yeah."

"You guys distracted me?" Yn accused, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Charles.

Charles threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Guilty. But it was Lorenzo's idea!"

Lorenzo chuckled, clearly unbothered. "You deserved a better car, princesa. That old one wasn’t safe anymore."

Yn crossed her arms and pouted, her glossy lips forming a perfect little scowl. "You could have told me instead of treating me like a clueless baby."

"You're not clueless," Arthur said quickly, his tone softening. "We just wanted to make sure you were safe. You know we only do these things because we care about you, right?"

Her pout melted into a small smile. "Fine. But I'm still mad that you lied to me."

"We'll make it up to you," Charles promised. "How about dinner on me tonight? Wherever you want."

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

Yn grinned, her previous annoyance already forgotten. "Okay, but you’re paying for dessert too."

"Deal," Charles said, ruffling her hair.

---

That evening, as they all sat around a table at Yn’s favorite restaurant, their parents, Pascal and João, joined in on the fun. Pascal raised his glass, a proud smile on his face. "To my incredible children. I love seeing how well you all take care of each other."

"Even if it means pulling off elaborate car heists," Yn teased, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

João, always the peacemaker, smiled warmly at her. "They just want to make sure you're happy and safe, filha."

"I know," Yn said, her voice softening. "And I love you guys for it. But don’t think this gets you off the hook for messing with me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Great, here we go."

Yn smirked, leaning back in her chair like the queen she was. "Just wait until I prank you back. The internet will love it."

Lorenzo groaned. "Please, no more viral chaos."

"You should know by now," Yn said with a wink, "I am chaos."

Charles sighed dramatically. "And we wouldn’t have it any other way."

As the evening went on, the teasing and laughter continued. Yn, their sarcastic and fiercely independent little sister, was their princess. And while she might never let them forget their sneaky car replacement, the love and bond between them was unshakeable.

They were, after all, family.

[puckinghischier]

Can your beautiful mind provide some domestic Christmas Quinn thoughts?

well…i have been thinking about how quinn is 100% one of those men that can’t wrap a present to save his life. so when you’re out doing some last minute shopping one day, he brings all of your presents out of their hiding spot and tries his best.

he starts out on his own, watching youtube videos and tutorials to try and make sure he measures the paper right and creases it properly. but when he ends up with several…wad-looking wrapping jobs he facetimes his mom, recruiting her as a wrapping coach.

“mom, i’ve tried so many times and i just can’t get it right. she’s told me before how much she loved wrapped presents, so i don’t want to just put them all in bags, but i don’t know if i’m going to have much of a choice at this point.”

ellen laughs at her son, pulling out her own wrapping supplies and tries to show him again. she talks him through the whole process, and when he finally wraps a present right, he’s beaming from ear to ear. she stays on the phone and coaches him through the rest of your presents as he thanks his mom over and over again for her help.

just as he’s placed the last one under the tree (the poorly wrapped ones shoved in the back) he hears the door open and in you walk with a hoard of shopping bags on each arm.

when you walk into the living room, eyes glued to the now full space under the tree, your eyes light up.

“quinn, did you wrap all of these?”

he walks over to you, taking some of the bags from your hands. “sure did. all by myself,” he beams at you.

“excuse me, your mother had a hand in this too. where’s my credit?”

you hear ellen’s voice flowing through the speaker of quinn’s phone, the device still propped up on the coffee table, surrounded by wrapping paper.

quinn’s face turns bright red, forgetting his mom was still on the phone. you look at his embarrassed state, endeared more than anything that he cared about wrapping your presents so much, he called his mom as a reinforcement.

“is that true?” he nods his head.

“well, yeah. i kinda botched the first few, and the youtube videos weren’t helping, so aside from taking them all to a store to have someone professionally wrap them for me, mom was my last shot,” he shrugged, embarrassed about the fact his lack of wrapping skills has been outed.

“q, that’s so sweet oh my god,” you gush at him, batting your eyes and bringing your hand to rest over your heart.

“really? you don’t think it’s embarrassing i don’t know how to wrap a present?”

you balk at him, rolling your eyes. “quinn, the fact you went through so much trouble to wrap them, instead of putting them in a bag like every other guy i’ve ever dated, is the sweetest thing ever. why would i care if they’re perfectly wrapped or not?”

“see, quinn! i told you she wouldn’t care if they were perfect!” you hear from his phone, both of you having now forgotten about ellen.

“yeah, quinn. listen to your mother,” you playfully scold him, walking past him so you’re in frame on his phone. “thanks, ellen. what ever would these boys do without you?” you joke with her, earning a laugh.

“oh, you know, probably bug you a lot more than they already do,” she jests back, referencing how often not only your own hughes boy calls you about needing help with finding things around the apartment, or needing you to tell him what the brand name is of that certain kind of protein powder is he likes, but how often his two brothers call you with their own questions and advice requests.

“alright, mom, thanks for your help and all, but i have all the presents wrapped and i need help her put all this stuff away now. i love you, bye,” quinn interrupts the laughter ringing out between you and his mom, picking up his phone and pressing the end call button.

“quinn, you did not just hang up on your mom,” you scold him, gasping at his actions.

“i’d had her on the phone for hours already it’s fine,” he brushes it off. “plus, i don’t think she’d want to witness what i’m about to do,” he walks towards you, pointing up to the mistletoe strung high above your head.

you look back down just as he reaches you, grabbing your face and pulling you in for a very heated kiss.

dropping the bags in your hands, he walks the two of you over to the couch, all mention of gifts and wrapping forgotten.

[bloatedandalone04]

Under the Tree

➪the one where you and tyler celebrate christmas together, and he has a surprise waiting for you underneath the tree.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, nothing too wild (yes, i write fluff too).

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas !

The department store was crowded, but what store wasn’t during this time of year? Christmas was next month, after all.

You were currently in the ornament aisle of the store, practically shoulder to shoulder with Tyler and an elderly woman that was standing to the left side of you. While you felt a little bad for dragging your boyfriend here after he just finished a rather grueling chase yesterday and likely still needed to rest, Tyler was still a pretty festive guy. And the chances of there being another tornado for the next few months was unlikely, so he would have lots of time to rest. 

And he didn’t even look annoyed or irritated at the moment, even though you had been in this aisle for about fifteen minutes now. His arm was slung around your waist as your eyes flickered all over the various boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, an active debate going on in your head as you thought about what theme you wanted to go for this year. 

This would be yours and Tyler’s first Christmas together, alone that is. You’d been together for almost three years, and the first year you had spent the holiday with your own families, and the second year with all of them together, but this year it was just you and him. Tyler’s family is going on a vacation this year, so you and he spent last weekend with them, and your mom was taking care of your dad since he just had surgery on his leg, so it wasn’t really a good year for them. Though you were planning on stopping by a few days after Christmas. 

With that being said, this was the first year it was just you and Tyler, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t so excited to spend the holiday with him. 

“No rush, babe, but is there a reason we’ve been standin’ here for over ten minutes?” he asked after watching you glance between two different boxes over and over again. “Again, no rush at all, but…someone’s grandma is looking a little pissed off.”

When you looked to your left and saw the elderly woman glaring at you, your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to hold in a laugh. “She has a valid reason,” you said, leaning more into your boyfriend’s side to give her a little more room. “This time of year is…stressful for everyone.” 

Tyler hummed in agreement, wrapping his arm tighter around you as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “True…but I don’t think pickin’ out what to put on the tree is very stressful,” he teases, “Or at least it’s not supposed to be.”

You laughed quietly, watching as the woman grabbed a box of all red ornaments before briskly leaving the aisle. “I don’t know which ones I want,” you whined, pulling him back to where you were before. “I don’t know if we should do red and green, or white and gold, or white, gold and red.” 

Tyler laughed under his breath as he looked at the multitude of different colored ornaments on the shelves. “Well, we have a pretty big tree, why don’t we do a mix of all of them? And maybe we can add some random ones here and there. We still have the ornament my mom got us last year to put on too, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, looking back at him. His mom had gotten you a cute ornament that said both yours and Tyler’s names on the brims of a Santa hat that two penguins were wearing, and you were kind of obsessed with it. “That’s actually a really cute idea. You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Tyler smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again as he pulled you back against his side. “I love Christmas, you know that,” 

You nodded, wrapping both your arms around his middle as you leaned your head against his chest. “I know you do,” you hummed, “But most guys don’t.”

“Baby, I think we’ve long since discovered that I’m not like most guys,” he grunted, reaching for both the big boxes of the red and green ornaments, leaving you to grab the smaller box that held both white and gold ones. 

When he gestured for you to finally leave the aisle, you rolled your eyes. “Must you always show off?” you huffed, grabbing the smaller box before following after him. 

“In front of you?” he grinned, “Always.”

-

“Pick a movie already,” you groaned, worried that the candy cane hot chocolate you had made for both you and Tyler would be stone cold by the time a film was even chosen. The living room was only lit up by the recently put up Christmas tree in the corner, an array of ornaments scattered on its branches, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was one of the cutest and prettiest things you had ever seen. 

Tyler turned around from where he was hunched over the fake fireplace. The remote had been lost a long time ago, so whenever either of you wanted it on, you had to get onto your knees and hit the button manually. 

The look he gave you had you cackling as you draped the big throw blanket your mom got you a few years ago across your body. “I did,” he said, “Two of them, actually. You said no to both.”

You laughed and sipped on your drink. “The Grinch is so overrated, and Home Alone is so overplayed,” you mumbled, placing your whole palm around your mug to warm your hand. “We watch it, like, five times every December.”

Tyler, once he turned the fireplace on, stood up and towered over you, his hands on his hips. His red and green Christmas pyjama pants he was wearing made your smile grow, even though you were wearing matching ones, complete with Max from The Grinch scattered all over the fabric. “Because it’s a classic,” he defended his choice of movie as he moved towards the couch. “And it’s good. Your choice was awful, but you don’t hear me complainin’, do you?”

His words weren’t harsh at all but rather teasing as he grabbed his own mug before sitting next to you and leaning over to kiss your cheek when you draped the blanket over him as well. “Love Actually is good,” you muttered, bringing the rim of your mug up to your mouth again. 

Tyler laughed, reaching for the remote with his free hand. “Babe, it’s barely a Christmas movie,”

“Okay, you have not seen it enough times to be able to say that,” you said and Tyler grunted. 

“Alright, fine, it doesn’t feel like a Christmas movie,” he corrected himself as he flipped through the Holiday section on Netflix. “How about…this one?”

You looked up and saw that he was hovering over Four Christmases, and your lips curved into a smile. “Okay,” you answered, cuddling close to him while being careful not to spill your drink. 

When the opening scene started, Tyler turned his head and nuzzled his nose against your temple. “We should do that,” he murmured, draping his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“What?” you laughed, your eyes still on the TV but your focus was almost entirely on your boyfriend. 

“You know…roleplay,” he said, and your face heated up as you looked over at him, seeing the mischievous look in his eyes you were very used to by now. 

“Roleplay?” you echoed, tilting your head back to get a better look at his handsome face. “You wanna call me a bitch, hmm? And tell me you hate my earrings?”

Tyler’s face heated up now and he quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he rushed out, but you just laughed and draped your legs over his under the blanket. “I just meant, like…you know, pretendin’ we don’t know each other, only for me to kiss you in front of a room full of people like it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You bit your lip and pressed your cheek against his shoulder, running the tip of your nose along his jawline. “You already do that,” you murmured, “Kiss me in a room full of people. What would be different?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before pressing his own against it. “We could make it like our first date all over again. I could act all cool and confident, when really I was already fallin’ head over heels for you, and you could pretend you aren’t completely obsessed with me already and just dyin’ to hear more of my storm chasin’ stories.”

You scoffed, pulling back to lightly slap his shoulder. “You’re so full of it,” you shook your head before moving closer to him again. “It wasn’t your stories that drew me in, it was you. Just you.”

Tyler smiled down at you before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your mouth. “Everythin’ about you drew me in,” he mumbled against your lips. “Your eyes, your laugh, your smile…and those tight jeans you were wearing definitely did somethin’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand flat against his face, pushing him away from you. “Once again, you’re full of it,” you muttered, quickly pulling your hand away from him when his tongue poked out and licked your palm. “And disgusting.”

Tyler laughed, and the sound made your mouth curve upwards in a smile as you turned your gaze back to the movie. “You love it,”

-

Christmas Day always seemed to creep up on you ever since you became an adult, unlike how it seemed to take forever to arrive when you were a kid. 

With that being said, it was just as exciting as it was when you were younger. Back then, you, like any other kid, loved receiving gifts, but now that you are older, you love giving them out. 

Okay, maybe you go a bit overboard every year, but your mom could always use another mug, and your dad could always upgrade his housecoat. And Tyler could always stock up on that piney, sexy cologne you fucking love. 

When you woke up on the 25th of December, alone and cold in your bed, you groaned and grabbed Tyler’s Tor-nae-do hoodie and shrugged it over your shoulders, the grey fabric matching well with your Grinch pajamas. 

You left the room and walked down the stairs, hearing the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the living room. When you entered the room, you found Tyler sitting on the couch, his laptop placed on his thighs and his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through the comments on an old upload. 

“Working on Christmas?” you asked with a tired grin, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorway. 

Tyler looked over at you, his handsome grin forming on his lips as he closed his laptop, instantly giving you his full attention like he always did. “Someone has to,” he teased, setting it aside as he leaned back on the couch. “Kinda hard to make money when you’re in bed and sleepin’ all morning.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing off the wall when he reached his hand out to you. “It’s only ten thirty,” you mumbled, crawling onto his lap as you snuggled up on his chest. “And yeah, yeah…you’re the breadwinner out of the two of us. I know that.” 

Tyler hummed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your body as he held you against him. “That’s not true and you know it,” he murmured, dipping his head down to nuzzle his face against your neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Ty,” you said back, sitting up on his lap and placing your hands on his chest. “What do you say? I make breakfast, we sit for a bit, then open presents? Maybe after we can have a nap too…you kept me up late last night.”

Tyler smirked, shrugging a bit as he ran his hands up your back, under his hoodie. “What can I say? I know how to celebrate a holiday,” he grinned, then sat up a bit. “How ‘bout presents first? I got you somethin’ I’ve been dying to see you open for weeks now.”

One of your brows raised as you let out a soft hum. “Weeks, huh?” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “Alright, we’ll do presents first.”

“Okay,” he immediately agreed, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “Open mine first. It’s right there, under the tree.” he nodded towards the corner of the living room, the Christmas tree lit up in a soft, warm tone, and under it was a small, surprisingly well wrapped box. 

“Okay,” you said, getting off his lap to retrieve the box, and one of the gifts you got him. You walked back over to him and sat down on the couch beside him, rather than on top of him again, and placed your gift for him on his lap. “Remember, we said we weren’t going to go overboard since it’s just us this year, right? You remember that?”

Tyler grinned and draped his arm around your shoulders. “Babe, just open it,” he laughed, his other hand wrapping around one of your thighs to pull you closer to him.

You laughed quietly too, draping your legs over his lap. As your fingers began ripping at the wrapping paper, you noticed that Tyler began to shift beside you, but he only gestured for you to keep going when you looked over at him. “Are you okay?” you asked, glancing up at him again as you pulled off the rest of the paper. “You’re acting kinda weird or anxious or-”

You cut yourself off when you opened a small box, and you quickly looked down to see what was in it. When your eyes caught sight of the princess cut ring that was sitting on the velvet cushion inside the box, your throat closed up as a soft gasp left your mouth. 

“Ty,” you murmured, your eyes burning a bit with unshed tears as you tore your gaze off the stunning ring to look over at him. 

Tyler looked less nervous now as his fingers ran up and down your thigh, his eyes wide but his face relaxed. “Baby,” he said back, reaching up to caress your jaw in his hand. “I love you. More than anythin’ in the world. You know that.”

You nodded quickly, your hands shaking a bit as you looked between him and the ring in the box. “Yeah,” you whispered, gripping his arm tightly with the hand that wasn’t holding the box. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tyler rasped, taking the ring out of the box as he held it between his fingers. “I want to marry you, babe. I want everythin’ with you, forever.”

Your cheeks heated up in a blush, your eyes filling with tears as you moved closer to him. “I want that too,” 

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned, taking your left hand in his as he held the ring up to you. “Will you marry me, baby?”

You were nodding before he even finished asking the question, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. “Tyler, oh my God,” you mumbled against his mouth, your voice muffled by his lips. “Yes.”

Tyler laughed against your lips, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pressed multiple kisses to your mouth. Neither of you knew how long had passed before you finally broke the kiss and pulled back so he could slide the ring onto your finger, and already you were absolutely obsessed with it. 

“It’s so beautiful, Ty,” you said quietly as you gazed down at the new addition to your left hand. 

“Yeah? I tried findin’ the prettiest one because you’re the prettiest girl,” he smirked, running his hand up and down your spine as you snuggled up against his side. “This one will have to do.”

You scoffed and shook your head, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. “It’s perfect,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder. “I love it. I don’t even want you to open my gift now because you’ve given me the best one by far. I feel cheap.”

Tyler laughed, holding you tightly against his side as he looked down at the gift bag you had put on his lap. “Oh yeah, it’s gonna take you at least…I don’t know, four Christmases to catch up to me now,” he said, a proud smile on his face, and he was clearly happy with his stupid joke as he reached for the bag. “Oh, and thanks for the cologne by the way, wifey.”

[smallgodseries]

“Are you doing Secret Santa this year?”

“Yeah, but I got Chloe, and you know she never likes what anyone gets her, and she always comes in under the dollar amount by as much as she can get away with.  That wouldn’t be so bad, except she brags about it.  You were supposed to be getting me a Christmas present!  Why is it appropriate to tell me that you saved seventeen dollars out of a twenty dollar budget?  It’s like, come on, Chloe, read the room.”

“At least you don’t have to put too much effort into whatever you get for her.”

“True.  It’s just going to wind up at next week’s White Elephant party no matter what.  Ooo, maybe I should get some of that bodywash I like!”

“Isn’t she allergic to that?”

“Show me where I care.”

Santa—true Santa, Santa prime, Santa in the sky with reindeer—is not a small god.  Santa will insist that he isn’t a god at all, but he carries the hopes and prayers of children, monuments are built in his honor, and priests garb themselves in replicas of his raiment to grant absolution.  He is a god, like it or not, and he is not a small one.  He stands outside the purview of our chronicles.

Krampus, while he once had a shot at the big sleigh, lost that bid thanks to a less than marketable image and a fondness for stuffing naughty children into his sack, and has since settled in to a slightly narrower sphere of holiday cheer.  And while he still does all the traditional Krampus things—lots of respect for tradition at the North Pole—his main sphere of influence is a little more adult in nature.

When you think “I could pocket half the budget” or “I don’t like Becky from HR enough to get her anything good,” Krampus is there.  Putting you on the naughty list, remembering your name.  When you think “peanuts are delicious, who cares if she’s allergic, maybe she’ll give them to me,” Krampus judges you even if no one else can.

Judges, but doesn’t stop.  Because there are many ways to punish the naughty, and they don’t all end with childhood.  He can’t truly live as he desires unless you sometimes misbehave.

Disappoint Krampus.  Be a good Secret Santa this year.

His sack is waiting.

[stained-glass-cicada]

cant stop thinking about Mensah like

Her and secunit are the only ones who really get each other, or rather, the only ones who understand each other's trauma in the slightest, and understand how corporates work without being shocked by things like medical care requiring funds

It sees through her lies and notices her emotions better than a lot of her friends and family based on what we see

And she is the person secunit has consistently been least uncomfortable with touching. But she still doesn't touch it when she's at all in her right mind because even though its Incredibly comforting and grounding for her she knows it doesn't like it

Murderbot Wants to spend it's time protecting its friends. Mensah is aware that it's not healthy for them to be tied at the hip forever, that she is relying on it to avoid processing her own hypervigilance due to some trauma so she wants it to take other jobs

She does action hero shit to protect it too, even when it's trying to not be protected

She gets secunit's jokes and doesn't take its threats seriously because she trusts that if it wanted to be violent it wouldnt need to threaten first

It sees her as a rare human who can actually be trusted to plan and strategize with

She'd go through the same series of events that led to her kidnapping and being held hostage again given the chance because changing it would mean not saving murderbot

It Chose to hold her hand, it has to stop itself from telling her how it feels, when it was taken off inventory one of the first thoughts it had was being her bodyguard on preservation, there was a chance she Might be being held hostage and it immediately hopped on a transport to go save her, shes its favorite human

Like it's been all day and their friendship is all I've got going on up here

[runninriot]

Four Stockings make a Pair

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 24

prompt: Stocking | rated: G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, feelings realisation

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

   "Wayne, I'm back! Brought a little surprise for you!" Eddie calls out, feeling just a bit guilty when his uncle happily pokes his head into the hallway only to stop dead in his tracks.

   "How was- Oh. Hey, Robbie!"

Wayne hobbles towards them and, despite leaning heavy on one crutch, opens his free arm for the little girl that runs straight at him.

   "Grandpa Wayne! Why didn't you tell us you hurt your foot? We would've visited you a lot sooner, right dad?"

Something about their interaction makes Eddie's chest feel tight, hits him with a hint of jealousy but also makes his heart grow three sizes because it's nice to know that his uncle has people here that care for him when he's not around.

   "Hey, Wayne. Sorry to barge in like that. We, uh, we met Eddie at the community centre and-"

Watching Steve fumble for his words, awkwardly standing in the doorway like he's feeling caught, is almost too much to handle. But as endearing as it is to watch his pretty face turn pink, Eddie has mercy on him.

   "Robbie and I were craving your famous hot chocolate, so I invited them over."

Wayne shoots him a look that feels like a silent agreement to 'talk about this later' before he turns back to the girl with one of those rare smiles he doesn't give out freely.

   "Is that so? Well, we better make some then. Why don't you two get set in the living room while Robbie and I get on with it. You wanna help me, sweety?"

   "Yesss! Can I, dad?"

When Steve agrees, she takes Wayne's free hand and carefully leads him in the direction of the kitchen while telling him all about her afternoon.

   "We saw Santa today! He was so nice. And we took a picture with him and I told him what I want for Christmas!"

When Eddie and Steve enter the living room, Eddie's eyes immediately fall on the Christmas tree Wayne must've put up while he was gone - so much for resting his leg. Next to the tree, over the fire place, he notices four instead of only two stockings hanging from the mantelpiece and it makes him wonder if maybe Wayne was planning on sharing his little secret, had Eddie not already found out about it today.

It's hard to realise what he missed out on while being too focused on his own life. He could've visited sooner, more often - Wayne keeps telling him it's fine but Eddie still feels bad about only making his way back home twice a year.

   "I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve starts after a moment of awkward silence, “This must be so weird for you."

   "Nah, you're good. I guess I was just surprised Wayne hasn't told me about it."

   "Maybe he thought you wouldn't approve? I told him we haven't exactly been friends back then, because I was kind of a dick," Steve says bashfully and that startles a laugh out of Eddie.

   "What? No, Harrington. You were fine. Your friends, they were assholes but your only fault was that you were too cool to hang out with someone like me."

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh and it's a beautiful sound Eddie wants to hear more of.

   "Oh, shut up. You were waaay cooler than me!"

This goes back and forth for a while, with them bantering and play fighting with each other like friends, like it's never been any different between them. How it could’ve been all those years ago.

   "So, uh, you and Robbie. Why did you move back to Hawkins? I always imagined you'd make it into the big city, somewhere far away from here."

It's an instant mood killer, Eddie can tell by the way Steve's smile falters and his shoulders drop. But it's too late to take it back and he really wants to know.

   "Uh, you know. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out to be what you wanted it to be. Hawkins seemed like a good idea to get away from... everything. Until I realised that I had no one left here."

There's a sadness in Steve's voice that breaks Eddie's heart. He has to fight the urge to pull him into his arms, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to.

   "Then Wayne kinda... found me. I had just moved back and everything felt wrong. I was ready to just give up but then this stranger came into my life out of nowhere, asked if I needed help and- that's how we ended up becoming fam- friends."

His little slip-up doesn't go unnoticed and it makes Eddie feel all warm inside.

   "Wayne's always had a weak spot for strays,” he jokes, “Took me in when my life was falling apart, too. He's the best. I'm glad he found you."

Eddie reaches out for Steve’s hand, takes it in his. It’s not a hug but he hopes it still offers some comfort.

It should feel strange, to have Steve and his daughter invading in his home, fitting right in where it had always just been Wayne and him. Somehow making it feel... complete.

Making it hard for Eddie not to drown in the flood of emotions resurfacing from where they've been buried for a long time.

He thinks about Robbie's wish and wonders, if there's a universe in which he could be that person.

They let go of their hands when they hear Robbie and Wayne enter.

   "Eddie, look! I made mine with whipped cream. Like yours!"

And, yeah. He's already too deep, he can feel it.

The rest of the day goes by in a haze and when it's time for Steve and Robbie to leave, Eddie isn't ready to let them go.

   "Wanna spend Christmas with us?"

The question is out before he can think it through.

   "If- if that's okay? I don't-" Steve looks at Eddie, seems unsure.

Again, it's Wayne who saves them both.

   "We'd love to have you here."

[sweetdispatch]

I can explain - N. Hischier & J. Hughes

6 days of kinkmas

pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader + Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: She's hooking up with Jack and Nico without them knowing about each other. One day they found out about it and had an idea

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), threesome, oral (m receiving), swearing, cum play, degradation

words: 1.7k

note: Merry Christmas guys🎄❤️

---

It was a complicated time for you. You were entangled in two romances. You’ve met Jack in January. Something clicked between two of you but after hearing that he’s unfaithful in relationships, you wanted to keep it simple and start in fwb with him. You needed sex and not heartbreak. When he got an injury, he left New Jersey. You still had a couple of months at university and searched for someone to replace him. 

This is how you met Nico. In April, you ran into him in one of the clubs and ended up hooking up in the bathroom. He asked for your phone number and you gladly gave him. You thought that it’s over between you and Jack and decided to focus on Nico, especially when he was caring about you and saw more in you than sex. You pictured that two of you can be together at some point of your life.

During summer, you returned to your house and completely forgot about them. You put focus on your friends and other things than remembering about two guys with whom you’ve been hooking up during summer semester. None of them wrote to you and it was a closed chapter, until you returned to New Jersey for another year at university and the NHL started. 

Jack wrote to you, asking if you’re free tonight. Of course you were, so you met and slept together. Two of you returned to the dynamic from the beginning of the year when he was showing up at your door wanting to take his steam on you. It was fine for you until Nico did the same thing. He wrote to you asking if you’re still studying here. You two started going on dates that sometimes ended up in his bed. 

At first, you didn’t see a problem in this but you learned from your friend that they’re teammates and really good friends. When you heard that, you felt trapped. What are the odds that two guys you’re seeing are friends? You wanted to get out of both relationships but you couldn’t. Both of them meant a lot to you. 

The only thing left for you was to hope they’ll never learn about each other. October and November were unproblematic but that changed in December. You went to a bar with your friends to celebrate the start of the Christmas break. At the same bar, Nico and Jack with a couple of his teammates arrived to celebrate the win. Nico spotted you at the bar.

“I’ll be right back, I just say hi to the girl I’m flirting with. I told you about her” Nico said to Jack and he nodded, trying to see what the girl looked like. He froze when he saw that the girl he’s hooking up with, is the mysterious girl that Nico told him about. 

You saw Nico and excused yourself from your friends. You hugged him and kissed his cheek. You two stood there for a couple of minutes chatting about your lives lately. Jack decided to interrupt you two.

“Hi Y/N” You heard and froze on the spot. You’ve been caught.

“Hi Jack, I didn’t know you were here too” You said trying to avoid their eyes on you.

“You two know each other?” Nico asked, confused. 

“Yes, she’s the girl I’m sleeping with” Jack answered and all you wanted was to disappear. 

“Is this true?” Nico asked you.

“I can explain” You took a deep breath and continued. “I met Jack in January and we kinda started hooking up but when he left, I met you and I thought Jack forgot about me so I focused on you but he wrote to me in September and we came back to what we had and later you also wrote to me and we started seeing each other. I swear, I didn’t know that you two are friends. I found out about this a couple weeks ago and wanted to stop seeing both of you but you’re great guys so I couldn’t” You were rambling.

“So you’ve been sleeping with me and Jack?” You nodded ashamed. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you do that?”

“I-I don’t have an answer. All I can say is sorry for this mess” You wanted to cry.

“I have an idea how you can apologise” Jack started. “How about having sex in three?” You looked at him and before you could say something, Nico interrupted.

“I think it’s a great idea. Since she’s so greedy for both of us, I think we should do it” Nico spoke to Jack and both of them turned to face you. “What do you think?” 

“Umm, fine” You answered, wetness growing in your panties on the thought of both of them fucking you. 

You told your friends that you’re leaving them and the boys went to say the same thing to their teammates. When you left the club, Nico proposed to go to his place on which you and Jack agreed. You were excited but at the same time, you were nervous. You never had two guys at once but there was no coming back from this. 

Nico let you enter the apartment first. The minute the door was closed, you felt someone grab your arm and turned you around. Jack pulled you into a kiss and handed you to Nico. He kissed you and you felt that Jack was trying to take off your coat. You looked at them not sure of what they’re planning. In a quick move, Nico threw you on his shoulder and carried you to the bedroom. Jack followed him. 

Gently, Nico placed you on his bed and got rid of your dress. You felt overwhelmed feeling both guys eyes on you but Jack turned you around so you were laying on your stomach with ass and head hanging out from both sides. They were standing behind you and you couldn’t see anything. The only thing you heard was them taking off their clothes and whispering to each other. Jack went around the bed and kneeled in front of you so he could face you. 

“Who would have thought you’re such a slut? That one dick is not enough for you and has to fuck two guys” He placed his thumb on your bottom lip and you took it into your mouth. You started sucking his finger. “Such a dirty girl. Let’s fuck this behaviour out of you” 

Nico pulled down your panties and went with his fingers through your pussy. 

“So wet for us. Is the thought of being filled with two dicks turned you on?” You hummed around Jack’ thumb. 

Jack took out his thumb from your mouth and stood up. Your eyes were on the line of his dick. You pulled your hand from behind and started stroking his cock. You raised your head to look into his eyes. The next thing you felt was Nico’ dick deep down your pussy. You moaned loudly at this feeling of his cock stretching your tight hole. 

He was pounding into you roughly and with each move you became more vocal. Jack was tired of hearing you and decided to shut you with his dick. You gladly accepted his cock in your mouth. He grabbed your hair and face fuck you. You were moaning and gagging around him. Hot tears were spilling from your eyes.

You never felt so full like today. Nico’ dick was sunk deep down your pussy and he was thrusting into you with power. His hands were placed on your waist to keep you in place. You were sure that you’ll have bruises there tomorrow from his hard grip. Meanwhile, Jack’ tip was hitting the back of your throat. He was pushing your head deeper with each thrust. 

This felt incredible for you, to have both of them at the same time in you. They both were great in bed but being in this position, at their mercy was turning you on even more. You were close to your orgasm and Nico could feel it when your muscles were tightening around his length. 

“What do you think Jack? Does she deserve to cum? I can feel she’s close” Nico asked and Jack laughed. You looked at him with your teary eyes with his cock still in your mouth.

“Yeah, let her know how good we are for our slut” He replied and pushed your head and the tip of your nose hit his pubic bone. 

Nico placed his hand on your clit to stimulate you even more. Your orgasm hit you like a truck and you could see stars in your eyes. It was overwhelming feeling but he didn’t stop fucking you. He was trying to reach his own release. With one last thrust, he spilled his cum inside of you. 

He pulled out of you but Jack was still fucking your mouth. You could feel that he’s close because his dick was trembling inside your mouth. After a couple of seconds, you could feel his warm cum inside your mouth. You swallowed every drop of it and opened your mouth to prove him. He caressed your cheek and you smiled. Quickly, you turned to lay on your back and took a deep breath. 

“This was incredible” You breathed out. “We should do it again” You looked at them.

“I’m up for it” Jack chuckled.

You tried to stand up and get dressed when Nico stopped you. 

“You’re staying here tonight. You need to rest” He said. 

“But…” You started but he interrupted you.

“No, but. You’re tired and I’m not letting you go back” You sighed defeated. 

“I’ll leave you guys but we’re in touch” Jack said and placed a quick kiss on your forehead. “You were incredible today and Nico is right, you need to rest” Like that, Jack left you and Nico alone. 

Nico went to the kitchen and gave you a bottle of water to drink. He pulled the duvet over your naked body. He kissed your shoulder and brought you closer to his chest. He cuddled you to sleep and you never felt happier. Maybe having both of them around was a good idea - you thought before you fell asleep. 

[im-so-normal-iswear]

helloooo, can we have shadow x a reader who tends to get sick a lot maybe?

A/n: I really wanted to make this angsty, but then I remember I'm really bad at writing angst 💔💔

Shadow x reader who gets sick often

"Hmph, you ahould take better care of yourself"

Shadows voice rang as he turned the corner with medicine and water in hand. You got sick often. Today you were immobilized in bed from how sick you were.

"I try to." Was all you could say before going into another coughing fit and sighing.

He set the water down, opening the medicine and shaking some out onto his hand.

"Take this"

He handed them to you, shakily you took it with one hand, grabbing the glass of water and taking a sip as you swallowed the pills, before slumping back on the bed.

He gave you a short glance before turning away, muttering under his breath.

Not that he would ever admit it, but he really did hate how you seemed to always be sick. Sure he cares enough to help you out but it irritates him.

It reminds him too much of her. Maria.

Don't get it wrong, he doesnt view you as her, but he cant help but note how similar you are to her in those ways. Small comparisons here and there.

Its not even you getting sick so much that truely bothers him, its how nonchalant you are about it that irks him. Thats the real similarity he makes internally alot.

When your sick, wether or not its on the more serious flus, or just a common cold, youre always insisting your fine, waving off any and all questions, or concerns unless you cant get out of bed. It really irritates him.

He knows. He knows that not a single time your sick will amount to how serious marias illness was, but he still finds a bit of comfort in being able to take care of you when your like this. Being able to help you get better, something he couldn't do for Maria.

Shadow sat down on the chair beside your bed, arms crossed and his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He wasn’t one for lingering, but he wouldntvoeave, not yet at least. The sound of your heavy breathing filled the room, and despite how many times he’d heard it before, it still made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. You were stubborn, yes, and entirely too casual about your health, but you’d get better. You always did. He was here to ensure tthat though in the back of his mind he saw Maria there in that bed, just for a moment.

It was Maria all over again. The way she’d insist she was fine. The way she’d laugh, even as her hands trembled. The way her light was slowly extinguished while he could do nothing but stand by and watch.

His fists clenched.

"Shadow?"

Your voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. He looked up, startled, and immediately schooled his features into something neutral. You were watching him with a tired expression, your head tilted slightly.

"You’re zoning out," you murmured, pulling the blanket up higher as a shiver ran through you. "What’s on your mind?"

"Nothing," he replied curtly, his tone sharper than he intended. "Just… rest."

You didn’t argue, though your brows furrowed in concern. Closing your eyes, you nestled further into the covers, your breathing steadying as exhaustion overtook you.

Shadow watched you for a moment longer before standing abruptly. He needed air.

The hallways were quiet, the faint patter of rain against the windows the only sound accompanying him as he paced. His mind raced, memories he’d long since buried clawing their way to the surface.

"Shadow, it’s okay! I’m fine, really.”l"

Maria’s voice echoed in his ears, so vibrant, so full of life despite the context. He remembered the way she’d beam at him, even when confined to the cold, sterile walls of the ARK. Her insistence that she was "okay" had been both infuriating and inspiring, her strength something he admired and resented in equal measure.

He knows your not maria. But seeing you in bed sick and unmoving...

He couldn’t let the past repeat itself.

[weepingchronicles]

The yandere caitlyn hcs where SO GOOD OMGG, can you please maybe write some about what day to day life would be like “living” with caitlyn. (now I’m picturing the reader doing a “grwm as a kidnapping victim” video) TYY

part one

a/n: i giggled at the grwm joke,, i'd definitely watch that on youtube or tiktok. LMAO.

cw: captivity, yandere behavior, controlling and overbearing behavior, drugging, physical violence, infantilization, amputation

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think the day to day routine would change slowly overtime! Depending on how long you've been in Caitlyn's "care."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I imagine for awhile from the moment you awoke to months after, Caitlyn would be pretty strict and diligent with routine. Wakes you up at 6 am, get ready for the day, breakfast at 7 sharp, activities for the day, lunch at 2 pm, dinner at 6 pm and bedtime at 10 pm. Obviously there will be small tweaks depending on what you both do but everything has to go through Caitlyn first. The reason for her absolute strictness on this is fear of what might happen if she does not abide by it. You could easily slip from her fingertips, she also wants to be the best caretaker for you and this is her way of proving it to you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Fortunately, if you continue keep being good and stay out of troubles way she will eventually settle down! Things will be a lot more relaxed, she is still strict on making sure your health is well maintained though. But she'll let you stay up if you want, to a reasonable time of course. Or you can sleep in! As long as she gets cuddles in return. Ugh.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Honestly you'd probably get bored often, especially with Caitlyn's job. So she tends to spend as much time with you as possible.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She likes to teach you things! From piano lessons, painting and simply reading together. You might not be that willing at first but your boredom gets to you so often that you eventually accept those activities with her. Caitlyn thinks of it as bonding.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She also loves to pamper you, dressing you up in fancy clothing and dresses or having you try delicious pastries. If you have a sweet tooth then you're in heaven! On calm days, you both will drink tea while reading.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Her punishments vary, often if you are simply acting out as she likes to call it, she'll simply restrain you or drug you with a light sedative.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 For more severe offenses, like trying to escape or hurt Caitlyn, etc. She will not be happy. She'll restrain you, guide you away from whatever it is you're doing or stop you from trying to hurt her, etc and then she'll lecture you. Like some child. An unequal. You have to maintain eye contact with her too because if you don't she will grab your chin roughly or snatch your hair.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I can't really see Caitlyn letting you get away with things too easily, this girl holds a grudge so when you mess up it will take even longer to regain her trust back. No matter if you prove yourself or your behavior is as pristine as can be, she will question and look at you suspiciously. She will only relax when she is 100% sure nothing of the sort will happen again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will put you in a guest room and lock you inside, tying you up inside for a couple days until her initial anger wears off. During that time she'll bring you food or anything essential of course, she will also recite the rules of the house over and over, making sure you understand them and the consequences.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 If you're a particularly resistant darling then I am afraid things will not go well for you.. you can only disobey Caitlyn a handful of times before she has to do something about it. Permanently.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will straight up either break your legs so you cannot walk ever again or amputate them. You will need her constantly and she loves it. At this point she has no sympathy for you, at least not in the real way. She pities you but in her mind you made her do this. Why couldn't you just obey her and live her domestic fantasy?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "This is your fault, darling."

art credit: @/kulnifer on twt

[lady-griffin]

For me, I saw Vi’s justification of using the grey in line with her earlier “justifications” in S1 -- her arguing for the council to go to war with Silco (the Undercity) and even becoming enraged when they wouldn't and obviously her attacking Silco’s factory; particularly, what she said to Jayce after he killed Renni’s son –

“You didn’t have a choice. He knew what he was signing up for.”

After her confrontation with Jayce, we saw Vi looking down sadly at the kid and then angrily punch the shimmer vat; clearly, she wasn't as okay with this kid’s death as she acted nor wanted to be. She was trying to distance herself from her guilt and the choices she made that led to this kid’s death.

Because it’s easier to continue with her selfish revenge on Silco if she convinces herself this kid is at fault for being there in the first place or like she literally said to Jayce, she and Jayce had no choice in the matter. Even though this wasn’t a choice, but a misfire; plus, there were plenty of other choices available to Jayce and Vi - even if they weren't exactly what they wanted.

And that was Vi being selfish.

She wasn't trying to take out Silco for the good of the Undercity, she was doing it because Silco took her family from her; he hurt her and ruined her life. Even if Silco was objectively good for the Undercity (he absolutely wasn’t); Vi still would’ve pushed for the council to go after him.  

Vi’s selfishness and desire for revenge through violence can easily take over and cause her to be blind to the reality and complications of the situation, as well as the obvious future consequences of her actions.

It’s not so much she doesn’t care about the Undercity, but we do see Vi can emotionally distance herself from it and its people (especially after S1 Act 1); she can justify and even argue for acts of violence against her home, especially when she’s a part of that violence or it's a means to something she wants (Silco or Jinx).

Her justification of the grey is a continuation of what we saw from Vi in S1 Act 3, but this time Silco is not in the picture, so I would argue for the audience, it’s harder to justify Vi’s actions (to whatever degree) let alone be for them.

Plus, I always read this as not what Vi actually believed but what she HAD to tell herself to continue on with it.

They have no choice.

It’s not that big of a deal.

If people get sick or hurt it’s their fault for working for a Chem-baron or not dispersing when they should’ve.

Once they stop (kill) Jinx, it’ll all be over.

And so, on

For me this isn’t a mischaracterization of Vi, but an example of her hypocrisy; because if someone else was doing this (like Salo) then she would’ve absolutely been furious, but since it’s Caitlyn and her doing it, well, now it’s a different story.

Now, I definitely think I'm filling some of these gaps myself and I really wished they had explored this side of Vi more or even just addressed it more clearly.

Because while the lyrics from Hellfire definitely do a lot of character work for her in this regard - I still think we should’ve seen more of Vi's inner turmoil and hypocrisy in her need to justify her own violent actions, outside of that one song.

Caitlyn and Vi weaponizing toxic air pollution against the undercity and then Jinx and Sevika using Janna’s temple to recreate her legendary miracle by blowing that toxic air back onto Piltover.

Jinx (and Sevika) just became the hero Zaun needs.