#christmas eve fluff

[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 2 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

maknae line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: choi san x f!reader, song mingi x f!reader, jung wooyoung x f!reader, choi jongho x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

author's note: MERRY TEEZMAS! Here's the maknae line, finally! I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Once again found myself writing much more for the maknae line but sue me, it's where 2/3 of my bias line lives!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Choi San: “Are you sure you want to do this? My family really wouldn’t mind coming to Seoul instead.” San fixed you with a worried look.

“Choi San,” you rolled your eyes, “I promise you, I’m not only happy but excited to see Namhae. It’s where you grew up, it’s important to me. I don’t care if everyone there knows your name, I don’t care if I’ll get dirty glares in the grocery store. As long as you’re with me, everything will be fine. I want to see every part of you and the town you grew up in is part of that.” 

San’s troubled expression softened, his lips curling into a small smile, dimples revealing themselves on his cheeks, “I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He picked you up before you could protest, spinning you in a circle before gently letting your feet meet the ground once again, pulling you into a swift, tender kiss, “I’m going to make it worth it for you, I promise.”

“Spending time with you is always worth it, Sannie.” You kissed his left cheek, unable to hold back any longer, his dimples having tempted you for too long. 

“Stop being so sweet or we’ll never get on the road.” He teased, planting one last kiss to your forehead before gathering your suitcases into his hands and heading outside towards the Uber. There wasn’t a great way to drive there from the city, so you’d be taking a very quick flight, likely spending just as long in the airport as you would on the plane. At least your days in economy seating were over since having started dating San. 

Airports gave you mega anxiety, and you were soon reminded of several reasons you loved your boyfriend so much. The way he could sense your nerves, keeping you close to his side, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, holding onto your ticket and boarding pass for you so you didn’t have to panic every time you thought you misplaced it, speaking softly in your ear to help distract you from your surroundings. 

He guided you in front of him through security, knowing you didn’t like feeling left behind. He was caught up with security for a minute as his bag passed through the sensor. You could see him trying to remain calm, speaking to the workers in a rushed but polite tone and wondered what the hold up was, but as soon as you were about to approach to check in, he was being waved through, an understanding seeming to have been reached. 

“Everything okay?” You asked as he approached.

“All good,” He smiled at you reassuringly, “Just couldn’t figure out what my razor was I guess.”

“Ah, yes, because you definitely wouldn’t be more dangerous with just your bare hands.” You joked.

“Exactly.” He laughed.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch, and soon you were waiting on the curb outside of the small airport, excitedly waiting for San’s parents to arrive to take you to their house. 

You loved his family, and they were always so warm and welcoming to you. It was so nice to see them in this context, the town they knew so well and loved. 

Once at their house, you got to see something you’d been dying to witness since you met the man, “Byeoli!” San squealed as his cat trotted out and began rubbing on his ankles, purring loudly, “Hi, baby! It’s so good to see you.”

You knelt down beside San, and Byeol approached cautiously, sniffing your finger until finally deciding she approved, rubbing her cheek on your hand. 

“Look at that. My two girls meeting at last.” San beamed at you, “She likes you. But I always knew she had good taste.”

“He has the best taste, isn’t that right, Byeol?” You addressed the cat rather than San. 

After unloading your luggage into San’s childhood bedroom (still decorated the same, much to your amusement), the two of you were sent on a grocery run for some last minute things San’s mom needed for dinner that night. 

San had been right to warn you. No less than ten people in the grocery store recognized him, assessing you in varying degrees of approval, ranging from polite acceptance to obvious, poorly hidden distaste and jealousy. But the latter didn’t hurt your feelings as much as you thought it would, easy to ignore with how proud San looked when he introduced you to them. 

You adored hearing San wax poetic about his memories of his hometown as you drove around, taking an unnecessarily scenic route back home, how his face lit up when he saw that his favorite old ice cream shop was still open, the billboard with his face on it, which he blushed at the sight of, his high school, the park where he had his first kiss, his dad’s taekwondo studio. All of it was so distinctly him, painting the picture of the man with whom you were so deeply in love with as you put images to places you had only heard described to you before. 

“San,” You grabbed his hand as he parked the car back in the driveway, “Thank you for showing me.”

“It’s not much to show,” He shrugged, “But it’s part of me.”

“It means the world to me, baby. You mean the world to me, and this town is part of you. Don’t undersell its value.”

He picked up your hand that was holding his, bringing it to his lips, kissing each knuckle gently, “I don’t think I realized how important it was for you to see it until we were here.” He sighed, “So thank you, jagi.”

“Any time, my love.” You smiled at him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the look he was giving you, amazed that after all this time, he could still elicit that sensation within you so easily. 

You pulled him into a quick, deep kiss, pulling away before the two of you got lost in it, knowing everyone inside was awaiting your return. 

San's older sister and brother-in-law arrived shortly after and you couldn't stop smiling at how happy you were with these people. You were all but estranged from your own family and before you met San, the holidays were spent either with friends or alone and it never really bothered you too much, but now, experiencing what this was like, it was making you emotional. 

As you sat by San's side on the couch in their living room while everyone got caught up, you felt a tear escape your eye, rolling warm down your cheek.

San caught on immediately as you went to wipe it away, “Hey,” he squeezed your hand, “Everything okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “Sorry, I just really love your family. You know how mine is…”

“Oh, honey,” San wrapped his arm around you, pulling you securely to his side, “I know. You never had this, huh?” 

You shook your head. 

“Well they're your family now, too, jagi.” He assured you. 

San's sister overheard the last part, “Oh, did you already-” 

San cut her off before she could continue, ignoring the confused look on your face, “Let's do gifts!” 

Later that night, you had assured San you could be quiet when you couldn't take his teasing any longer, but you were having a hard time keeping that promise as his tongue lavished your core with expert precision, clasping a hand over your mouth as he carried you over the edge, other hand clasped tight in his hair, desperately trying to keep your movements small but unable to control your hips bucking against his face as you reached your peak, waves of pleasure rolling over you. 

He pulled back, crawling towards you again, settling in behind you, kissing all over your shoulders and neck, “I will never get tired of that.” He whispered, and you could hear the smile on his voice. 

“I hope that's true, because I sure as hell won't.” You turned to catch him in a lopsided kiss, “Let me help you, too, baby.”

“Jagi,” he kissed you sweetly, pulling away to yawn, but lining his cock up to your entrance nonetheless, “How did I get so lucky?” 

“If you're too tired-”

“Never.”

He started rolling his hips slowly, knowing the exact motion that drove you crazy. You were still coming down from your last orgasm and he built it back quickly. Soon, you were clenching around him and his hips stilled as he followed. You tried to adjust to pull yourself off of him, but he wrapped an arm around you, stopping you, “Mmh, no, just stay. You're so warm.” 

“I-” You chuckled as you heard him already breathing heavy, falling to sleep, “Yeah, okay. Anything for you, baby.” 

You awoke a little while later to the feeling of San hard inside you again, unable to stop from clenching at the feeling, realizing he was awake and was obviously trying to stay still. 

“Go ahead, baby, use me.” You whispered. 

He grunted in acknowledgement, rolling you to your stomach and fucking you slowly and carefully into the mattress, your face graciously buried in the pillow to muffle any noises that may have tried to escape. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were falling apart once again. This time, once you had ridden your orgasms out, San pulled out and allowed you to get up and go to the bathroom. 

When you returned, he was sitting up in bed, a wild look on his face as you climbed in beside him, “Jagiya, I lied earlier at the airport.”

“You what? When?” You were racking your brain for anything he had said that might have been false. 

“It wasn’t my razor that confused security,” he pulled a ring box from under his pillow, “It was this.” He opened it, revealing the ring of your dreams, “I was serious earlier though, when I said you're family now. I already consider myself the luckiest man on earth having you by my side, and I want that to be true. Permanently. Take my name. Join my family. And let's start our own someday. Please, love? Marry me.” 

“Choi San.” You felt tears well up again, “Yes, God, yes. Nothing would make me happier.” 

“Choi Y/N.” He whispered it like a prayer. You were his family now and he was yours. You could hardly sleep in your excitement afterwards, making out with your fiance into the early hours of the morning. 

Song Mingi: The bed dipping with added weight roused you from a deep sleep. Blue early morning light streamed in through the curtains as you blinked open your eyes. 

“Mingi?” Your voice cracked as you sat up, bleary eyed and disoriented, reaching for the bottle of water you kept on your bedside table. 

“Baby!” Mingi’s deep voice rattled your sleepy brain as he pounced on top of the suitcase he had just hefted onto the bed, “Can you help me out real quick?”

“What time is it?” You groaned. 

“7am! Come on, we need to be on the road at 8!” 

“Song Mingi. Once upon a time, you and I bonded over the fact that we're not morning people.” You grumbled as you tossed the comforter aside to assist your goofy boyfriend. 

“I know, that's why I was very brave and got up early to pack for us. There’s coffee on in the kitchen, cutie.” He kissed your temple hastily as you came around to help hold the pieces of the suitcase together for him to zip. 

“Okay, I forgive you- wait, is this all games? Do you really think you can get the guys to play Catan again after what happened last time?” You eyed him skeptically. 

“Wooyoung and Jongho made up a week later!” He defended himself, “You know I've gotta at least try.”

“I know, I know.” You rolled your eyes, “It's your favorite.” 

“No, baby.” He grunted as the zipper finally closed all the way, “You're my favorite.” He tackled you back onto the bed, peppering your face with kisses, ending with a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, “I love you a whole lot, have I said that recently?”

“Hmm.” You pretended to consider it, “I mean, not in the last business day, probably.”

Mingi gasped, “Inconceivable!” He practically shouted in your ear, resuming his attack. 

“You're the silliest goose on the whole pond.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

“As long as it's your pond.” He replied, hopping to his feet and pulling you up behind him, not awaiting your reply, “C'mon, go get dressed! I'll go pour you some coffee.” 

“You're acting more odd than normal and I'm going to figure out why.” You mumbled as you trudged over to your dresser, finding it nearly empty, “Wait, Mingi, did you pack for me, too?” You called to him in the kitchen.

“Yeah! I just grabbed everything!” He called back, “I laid you out an outfit, it's on your desk chair.”

You looked over to find a pair of his sweats and one of his oversized t-shirts with your bra and a pair of underwear laid on top. “These are your clothes!” You yelled through a chuckle. 

“You look so cute in my clothes,” He reentered the room, handing you your favorite coffee mug, “Plus, I kinda packed everything I've ever seen you wear.” 

You rolled your eyes as you began changing in front of him. 

“Ugh, baby. That's no fair.” He whined.

“What?” You asked, confused, as you pulled on clean underwear.

“You're so hot and I don't even have time to have sex with you about it.” Mingi pouted, ogling you from his position on the bed. 

You laughed, crossing over to him with only underwear on, “Not with that attitude.” 

Half an hour and three orgasms later, Mingi came up for air from in between your legs, licking his lips like he had just eaten the most delicious meal in the world - he probably would argue he had, if you'd asked him. 

“Jagi,” You gasped, still breathing hard as he kissed up your torso, “We have to get on the road.”

Mingi pouted but didn't protest too much, letting you up to get dressed and pack your toiletries. 

Yunho's lake house had become a yearly tradition for the eight of them, everyone heading there a couple of days after Christmas to stay through New Years. Plus ones were prohibited except for “serious” relationships, which they typically defined as at least engaged. You had thought Mingi might propose on Christmas, but you were even more excited at the thought of it happening on New Years Eve. 

Christmas this year had been lovely. He had an uncanny ability for gift giving, you suspected he kept a running list of every thing you mentioned vaguely wanting throughout the year, and this year was no exception. His mom had the two of you over for Christmas, feeding you far too much and giving you knowing glances like she knew what laid ahead for you in the very near future. You were so grateful with how welcoming she had been since you started dating Mingi, knowing how big of a momma's boy he was, her approval meant everything to you. You would have been happy had he proposed at Christmas, and as much as having his mom's approval meant to you, you absolutely adored the seven other members of his group, considering them to already be like brothers to you, and by how they treated you, you figured they considered you similarly. Truth be told though, you would be thrilled no matter where or when he proposed. 

Road trips were one of your favorite things to do with Mingi. They were always filled with silly made-up car games and singing along to music at the beginning, turning to comfortable silence with his hand on your thigh as he drove, talking intermittently about anything and everything and nothing at all towards the end. Most of all, you loved the uninterrupted time you got just to simply stare at him and take him in. You thought he was the most beautiful person on the planet, every detail of his face and body a work of art in and of itself. 

“...and that's why I don't think you'd ever remember it even if you had been abducted by aliens.” Mingi concluded his thesis as he pulled the car into the driveway of the lake house at last. 

“Hmm.” You considered, “I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one, my love.” 

“I'm taking a vote when we go in.” Mingi shot you a challenging look as he got out of the driver's seat, darting around to your door to open it for you before you could do it yourself. 

“Good, I can't wait to win the vote.” You teased him, leaning in for a kiss, gasping as he pulled a fast one on you, leaning in to return it only to turn away and deny you at the last second. 

“Song Mingi!” You chastised him, “Fine. No more kisses ever again since you don't want them.”

“What!” He pouted, rushing back over to you with pleading eyes, taking your empty threat seriously, “Baby, no! Please, forgive me, I'm so sorry, don't deprive me!” 

You snickered at him, “Aw, princess.” You pulled him close, giving him a chaste peck on his pretty lips, “I would shrivel up and die if l couldn't kiss you.” 

“You guys are disgusting, I take it back, no plus ones.” Yunho bullied you from the porch, “Mingi, go ahead and go home.”

“Hey!” Mingi barked, offended by his best friend's words. 

“We missed you, too, Yunho.” You rolled your eyes, strolling over to him as he waited with open arms for a hug. 

“It’s been too long, noona.” Yunho crushed you to his chest. You weren't exactly petite, squarely on the tall side and you could wear Mingi’s jeans pretty easily, filling them out similarly in the ass and thigh region, but he and Yunho still made you feel small in comparison. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You answered through constricted lungs, “I do have to breathe, though.” 

“My bad.” Yunho chuckled as he released you, “I just have to make sure you know you're my favorite. But don't tell anyone.”

You crossed your heart, “It's our secret, Yuyu.” You winked at him. 

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, ending with all of you in the spacious living room, pleasantly buzzed. Wooyoung sat curled in San's lap, relaying a story you all had heard a thousand times but indulged in letting him tell regardless, mostly due to the entertaining way he reenacted it. Seonghwa sat on the floor in front of Hongjoong, building the Star Wars Lego set the latter had gifted him from Christmas as his husband stared at him with an endless depth of adoration in his eyes. Jongho, who was pretty perpetually single by his own choice, sat in front of the fireplace with his guitar, humming and singing quietly. Yeosang leaned onto Yunho's shoulder, letting his boyfriend play with his hair absentmindedly. You hadn't realized the two of them were dating, but you had to admit, it was rather cute. Roommates to lovers, a tale as old as time. You supposed the “engaged at minimum” rule didn't apply to the host himself. 

You felt so at peace, so at home with everyone there, so full of love for all of them. Honored to have been let in to this sacred circle and welcomed with open arms. 

The next few days were spent playing games - including, much to your surprise, an oddly civil game of Catan - or with Wooyoung and Mingi in the kitchen, San, Yunho, and Seonghwa fighting like siblings in the snow, Hongjoong and Jongho writing and singing songs together, you and Yeosang watching movies and discussing the quirks - some endearing, some harder to stomach - of your significant others, the two of whom had known one another since middle school. You were so excited for this to be your family, you could hardly wait for New Years. 

When the night in question finally came around, though you knew it was coming (Wooyoung had barged in as you were getting dressed earlier, making sure your fingernails were painted), Mingi’s proposal still managed to surprise you. 

Right before midnight, champagne flutes passed out, all of you dressed in cocktail formal, excited for an excuse to get dressed up after a week of sweats and pajamas, Mingi tapped his flute with a knife to get everyone's attention, “A toast! To my friends, who have been with me through everything, the ups and downs of being idols and just life in general, and most importantly, who have listened and advised me on my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend. It means the world to me that you all love her so much. I consider us to be family,” he turned to you then, fishing in his pocket, “But I'd really like us to be family officially. If you'll have me, sweetheart. Nothing could make me happier.” He knelt down, opening the ring box with one large hand, showing you the most perfect ring you could have dreamed of. 

“Mingi,” you beamed at him, “Yes, of course, baby. You better fucking marry me, you goose.” 

“As long as I'm your goose.” He rose, removing the ring and guiding it gently onto your ring finger. 

“Always.” You promised. 

“Ten!” Wooyoung began the countdown to midnight. 

“Nine!” The others joined in, yourself and Mingi included, waiting for the clock to strike twelve before you sealed the moment with a kiss. 

“Eight!” You all chanted. “Makes one team!” You added in between, garnering laughter from the group. 

“Seven!”

“Six!” 

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!” 

“Happy New Year!” 

It wasn't your first kiss, obviously, but it might as well have been, the way the butterflies in your abdomen danced at the contact, face going warm as several of the boys wolf whistled at the display. It only served to egg Mingi on, and he swung you down into a deep dip, never breaking your kiss. 

“Okay, okay, ew. Enough. Save it for the wedding.” Jongho pretended to complain from across the circle. 

“Booooo!” Wooyoung shot back at him. 

“Be nice, baby.” San half-heartedly scolded him. 

“He's being rude!” Wooyoung defended himself.

Mingi brought you back to your feet as the bickering escalated in the background, wiggling his eyebrows at you conspiratorially. 

You nodded, grabbing his hand and sneaking away as the other seven continued their nonsense, too absorbed in it to realize the two of you had made like bandits for the bedroom. 

Mingi didn't even scold you for getting distracted by your new ring as you straddled him and rode his cock for the first time as an engaged couple. In fact, you're pretty sure he only fucked you harder for it. 

The two of you eventually collapsed onto the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs after round three, completely blissed out on the love you had for one another and excited for the future together that awaited you. 

Jung Wooyoung: Sure, introducing your Harry Potter-obsessed boyfriend to the Lord of the Rings trilogy was a calculated risk. They had always been your favorite Christmas break movies and you wanted to share that tradition with Wooyoung. You had predicted he would like them, but what you hadn't been prepared for was just how much he liked them. You would be spending a belated Christmas with his family, postponed a few days due to his older brother's work schedule, so Christmas Eve and Day would be spent just the two of you at your apartment together. 

Little did you know, Wooyoung had been planning. 

The unmistakable noise of clattering pots and pans in the kitchen served as your alarm that morning, followed by a hushed curse under Wooyoung’s breath. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you dragged your still sleep-laden body out of bed, donning Wooyoung’s discarded sweatshirt on your way into the kitchen. 

“Everything okay, baby?” You asked, your voice still gravelly with sleep. 

Wooyoung jumped at the sound of your voice, clearly deeply concentrated as he stirred the pot on the stove, “Ah! Fuck! You scared me!” 

You chuckled, coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his sinfully slutty waist, “Sorry, kitten,” You apologized, “I just heard a noise and wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung pouted, “I wanted to wake you up with breakfast, I’m sorry.”

You kissed his cheek, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Want me to go back to bed so you can do your original plan?” 

Wooyoung turned around in your embrace, kissing you on the nose, “No, baby, not unless you want to. It’s almost done and I love your company.”

“Okay, but, um…” You trailed off, hating to ask for something when he was already doing so much, “Nevermind, I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung grabbed your wrist to stop you, “Absolutely not! My baby is not lifting a finger today. What did you need, jagi?”

“I just wanted some coffee.” You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Say less.” Wooyoung beamed at you, planting a swift kiss to your lips before breaking off and moving to make you coffee. 

An hour later, three cups of coffee in, Wooyoung was placing the last pastry on the table after putting a different dish he was preparing for later in the oven. 

“If you want me to die in a food coma, just say so.” You teased him as you sat down to indulge yourself on his delicious-smelling baked goods. 

“No, sweetheart, I just want you to enjoy yourself.” Wooyoung couldn’t contain his smile as he watched your eyes roll back at the first bite of his creation. 

“Baby. No offense but I’m breaking up with you for this danish.” You joked.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped in fake offense, “But wait! That danish can’t get you off!”

You shrugged, “Ah, well. Good thing I have a vibrator.”

Wooyoung stuck his bottom lip out, “You know good and well you like my dick better.”

“Hm…” You pretended to consider his words, “My memory is hazy, maybe I need a refresher before I can answer that completely honestly.”

The Fellowship of the Ring played in the background as Wooyoung fucked you over the back of the couch, but neither of you were paying attention to the movie. 

“Admit it.” Wooyoung growled in your ear, “My cock is the only thing that can truly satisfy you.”

“God. Fuck, yes, Youngie. Your cock is the only thing now please fuck me harder.” You begged, sweat dripping down your brow as your boyfriend pounded into you painstakingly slowly, knowing he was driving you crazy. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Wooyoung obeyed, picking up his pace until the two of you were panting as you were finally able to release. 

The rest of the day passed much the same way, between eating, fucking, watching movies, exchanging gifts, and nodding off in between. Hours past sunset, the two of you were back in the kitchen, lethargic from your day of consuming calories and quickly turning around to burn them in the most hedonistic ways possible, washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Wooyoung paused after he put away the last plate you handed him, “Oh, wait! I forgot! I have one more gift for you!”

“Wooyoung!” You protested, “You got me more than enough!” 

“I really think you’ll want this one, though.” Wooyoung winked at you before darting out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later, hands behind his back, kneeling down in front of you, revealing the ring box he had grasped in his hands, “Baby, you’ve been nothing but a bright spot since you came into my life. I want to spend the rest of it teasing you, spoiling you, and making you laugh. Will you make me the happiest Hobbit in the whole Shire and please marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly proposal, “Yes, but try again without the references.”

“Oh, if that was an issue, I’m afraid you’ll hate what I engraved the ring with.” Wooyoung blushed. 

“You didn’t.” You buried your face in your hands, “Good Lord. I should have never introduced you to Tolkien. Yes, Jung Wooyoung. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

“Yeah?” He stood up quickly, opening the ring box to show you the most intricate, most you ring of all time, sure enough, engraved with “one ring to rule them all” on the inside of the band. 

“Yes, honey.” You pulled him in for a kiss before he could fit the ring onto your finger, “I never want anyone else.” 

“I’m the happiest man alive.” Wooyoung’s smile reached from ear to ear. 

“I’m incredibly happy, too.” You returned his smile, “But we are not having a Lord of the Rings themed wedding.”

“Right. Harry Potter themed.” Wooyoung nodded, like this was the only answer. 

“Hell fucking no.” You tickled him, “We can plan later, though. Right now I need to show you my secret cave.” 

“Ooh, is Gollum in there?” 

“Only if you’ve decided to call your dick ‘Gollum’, then I guess so, yes.”

“I prefer to think of it as more of a Smeagol.” Wooyoung took your hand dragging you to the bedroom. 

“Just please don’t try to do the voice.” You pleaded.

He didn't oblige. You were going to marry the fuck out of him anyway. 

Choi Jongho: You could always tell when Jongho was up to something, and this week, the week leading up to Christmas, was turning out to fall directly into that category. A mischievous glint sparkled in your boyfriend’s eye all week. The two of you had been dating for a few years now and you suspected he would propose at some point in the near future, but you honestly had no idea when. The man lived to keep you on your toes. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with your family. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with his family. 

He didn’t do it as the two of you opened your gifts to one another late at night on Christmas Day. 

No. Why would he? He just spent the entirety of both days tricking you into thinking he might do it. He had handed you a conspicuously sized square box wrapped in paper. Earrings. They were beautiful, of course. He knew your taste well. 

He had taken you on a scenic walk, kneeling down at the overlook, only to tie his shoe, laughing at your face, poorly disguised in shock, disappointment, then frustration, all in quick succession. 

He had asked to make a toast at your family’s Christmas dinner. Didn’t propose.

Your boyfriend might be a little evil. 

Christmas with him had always been somewhat like this, with him feeding you false leads about what gifts he was getting you, especially as it got closer to the actual holiday, only to have gotten you something better than what he was alluding to the whole time. On top of everything, of course he was an annoyingly good gift giver. 

It was December 27th and you were nearly at your wit’s end. The two of you were still off work and with everything temporarily back open between holidays, Jongho had planned something incredibly special for the two of you, much to your surprise. You honestly had no clue how he was so damn talented at hiding things from you. Maybe you just weren’t as observant as you thought you were. 

Dinner at a nice restaurant turned into a carriage ride around the park, ending with the two of you slow dancing in a gazebo to a song that he had written just for you. 

“I mean every word, you know.” Jongho whispered as the gravity of his lyrics rushed over you. For as often as he was impish and playful, he was at other times, equally as genuine, vulnerable, and honest with you. It nearly broke your heart every time he shared that side of himself with you. 

“Jongho…” You didn’t know what to say, “You mean so much to me, baby.” 

“And you to me.” He answered, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

You waited with bated breath, thinking that this might be it, it might be time for him to finally pop the question, but instead, he simply carried on dancing with you. 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, throat constricting with your frustration. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Jongho looked at you, concern evident on his face.

“Nothing.” You lied. “Sorry. Today has been wonderful, I just feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Crazy?” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Yes, Jongho.” The tears fell genuinely now, “It’s probably stupid, I don’t even know if it’s where we’re at, I thought I did, but now I’m confused and I feel stupid for ever thinking it-”

“Thinking, what, baby?” Jongho pushed the hair off of your forehead. 

“All week you’ve been doing little things that I keep misinterpreting as you being about to propose. It’s stupid. I’m probably just delusional.” You sobbed then, pulling away from him. 

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Jongho pulled you back to his chest, “I’m so sorry. I was just being a problem to mess with you. I never should have gone this far. You’re not crazy, though. I promise.” Jongho kissed your forehead before kneeling in front of you, reaching into his jacket pocket, “I’ve had this for about three months now. It’s just a weird tradition in my group to propose on Christmas so I wanted to make our anniversary different from theirs. I’m so sorry, darling. I want nothing more than to call you my wife. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since our first date. I’ve worked to be the man you deserve every day since then and I never plan on stopping, though I don’t see myself as ever reaching that goal, because you deserve better than I can ever give you. But I never want to stop in my pursuit. If you’re not too terribly mad at me, will you please consider? Marry me, my love.” 

The tears streaming down your face took on a whole different meaning at his words, “I feel so silly.” You sobbed, “But yes. Yes, please, Jongho. I’d be so happy to.”

It took the loud clearing of a passer by’s throat to break the two of you out of your public makeout session, both of you agreeing that your activities should move back inside your apartment. 

The way he took you apart so devotedly, so lovingly, bringing you wave after wave of pleasure on his mouth, his hands, and his gorgeous cock that night made you more sure than ever of your decision to marry him. He kept you on your toes and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[g1rld1ary]

christmas eve - sirius black x fem!reader

wc: 2405

cw: pure fluff, swearing, you meet sirius' friends on Christmas eve

me: happy christmas eve chickens!!!! hope u r all staying safe and happy and enjoying the holidays!!!! xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

If you had been asked in school if you would ever fancy Sirius Black, you would have said never in a million years. Sirius Black was a loud-mouthed, annoying, entitled son of a bitch. However, many years later, you would only say your boyfriend was a son of a bitch — you hated that woman.

If either of your respective groups of friends had been asked the same question, you were sure they would have given identical answers. In school you were quiet, polite and stayed under the radar. And Sirius was, well, Sirius. There was no way the two of you would ever get along.

Admittedly, you still didn’t exactly look the pair. Sirius and his dark silky hair, electric silver eyes and intimidating worn leather jacket, and you with your muted colour palette and unassuming appearance. Yet, you thought you went together pretty well. Still, you could both understand that even time and maturity didn’t make your get together more expected. In fact, you were probably the last person the marauders expected to show up to their Christmas Eve dinner.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Sirius and James were busy setting up his and Lily's dining room for the perfect holiday event. Decked in horrendous matching Christmas jumpers with terrible puns stamped across the front, each boy broke into laughter whenever they caught a glimpse of the other’s across the table as they lay down the fancy cutlery. Remus and Lily, cooking in the other room, had opted for more neutral red and green jumpers as a tribute to the season.

“Come on, mate, we’re brothers yet you’ve kept this girl hidden for months now, can’t you just tell me?” James begged, arranging the centrepieces to be spaced how he knew Lily liked.

“Patience, Prongsy, you’ll meet her soon enough. Promise you’ll be nice to her?”

“When have I not been nice?” James cried, hands up in mock offence. Sirius just shook his head, turning to arrange some pillows.

James cast him an inquisitive look, protective wasn’t usually Sirius’ style, which meant that something about you was really different. He’d been considering that for a while, and his suspicions were only confirmed with every passing day.

There were three main reasons that James thought Sirius was (for lack of a better word) serious about you. Firstly, Sirius was healthier. With the family he was born with, it wasn’t surprising that Sirius had a host of trauma and mental health issues. And though he’d tried therapy and meds a handful of times the habit had never really stuck and he’d always had a level of discomfort in his own body. Lately, though, Sirius had seemed more relaxed and in control. James wasn’t stupid, he knew that a partner couldn’t fix anyone, but he was absolutely more inclined to approve of one who made his best friend feel like himself again.

Secondly, Sirius was more private. Sirius had always had an outrageous sense of humour, uninhibited when it came to sex jokes or sharing conquests. But recently James had noticed that while Sirius still made jokes they were aimed at other people, he’d almost completely stopped talking about his own sex life. Of course, when prompted he would boast about how sexy his girlfriend was and how incredible and active your sex life was, but it was never Sirius bringing it up, or making gross comments about your body and what you could do with it.

Finally, Sirius was gentle. He’d always been charming, but the unfiltered adoration in his eyes when he spoke about you took James aback — he’d never seen it in his brother before. It was so pure and well-intentioned that James knew in his core that Sirius was head over heels and the fall was not coming to an end any time soon.

As the clock ticked by the gang all trickled in, the dining room filling with warmth and laughter. At five minutes past nine, you rang the doorbell.

“Is this the girlfriend?” Lily clapped with delight, jumping up and down with Mary.

“I’ll let her in. Play nice,” Sirius said with a stern sweep of the room, satisfied when his friends all played along, nodding solemnly.

Standing on the Potter’s doorstep you were ball of anxiety. You hadn’t seen any of the marauders — apart from your boyfriend — since you finished school, taking a muggle job. Thankfully Sirius opened the door, greeting you with his toothy smile.

“Hi, lovely,” He said, engulfing you in a bear hug. You giggled, wrapping one arm around him, the other holding up a purple umbrella.

“Hi,” You smiled back, “Sorry I’m late, all the houses look the same.”

“What are you talking about? You’re right on time.” A lie, but a kind one so you let it be. You shook the water off your umbrella before stepping inside.

Safe in a warm home you leant up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on Sirius’ lips as he slid the coat down your arms, hanging it up on a hook beside you. You were half-tempted to just stay in his arms for the rest of the night and abandon the dinner altogether, but you figured that wasn’t possible while you were inside someone else’s house. It seemed like Sirius had the same idea, pulling away with a groan.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting to meet you.” You followed him out of the entryway, calming yourself with a breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my girlfriend.” Sirius revealed you dramatically as you waved shyly, shifting in your small brown heels.

“Uh, hey—”

“Holy shit, it’s you?” Marlene slammed her hand on the dining table. You jumped slightly, squinting to figure out what was going on. Your mouth dropped open as you connected the dots and looked up at Sirius.

“Do they not know we’re dating? Sirius!” You scolded him, smacking him on the bicep. Sirius floundered for a moment, struggling to summon the charm that usually got him out of trouble.

“In my defence,” He preached, “Would they have believed me?”

“I would not have,” Peter put in helpfully. You laughed, putting a hand to your forehead in exasperation.

“I guess I don’t blame you. It’s nice to see you, Peter, by the way. Long time no see, I’ve heard so much about you all.” The group all shared a look, something akin to guilt growing that they hadn’t seen someone they graduated with for years.

“And we know nothing about you,” Lily said with an expectant look to Sirius, “Since your boyfriend was so insistent on keeping you hidden away from us.” Sirius just shrugged, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Oh, baby, are you ashamed of me?” You teased with a dramatic pout.

“What’s there to be ashamed of? You’re perfect.” Sirius swooped down to press a kiss on your cheek. You grinned subconsciously as Mary and Marlene mirrored your expression. Sirius had dated a lot of people but they’d never seen him be so gentle.

“Is anyone else scared of Sirius being a normal human being?” James stage whispered and the others all agreed, joking at their friend’s expense.

“Enough gossiping about me you heathens, I’m helping Lily serve up some food. Right, Lils?” Sirius made a summoning motion and Lily followed him, a small smile still on her lips. He’d chosen wisely, Lily was the least likely to tear him to shreds about his behaviour.

You sat shyly on one of the couches in the Potter’s living room, studying your nails as you tried to come up with conversation.

“So, are you working, studying?” Remus asked kindly, putting you out of your awkward misery.

“How’d you and Padfoot meet — again?”

“How’d a twat like Pads score a girl like you?”

“I’m working, I run a muggle bookshop. Sirius came in one day by chance and just kept returning until eventually we started going out.”

“Sirius reading?” Mary asked incredulously, drawing laughter from you. You nodded happily, glad to talk about your boyfriend.

“Surprising I know, but he’s been really into it over the last few months!”

“Can I just defend myself and say that I was shopping for Remus’ birthday gift the first time,” Sirius popped his head through the door, “I didn’t start reading until I wanted to get her to like me.” You shook your head with a smile, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I was going to say I couldn’t imagine Sirius perusing a book store for fun, but it makes a lot more sense when you say it’s for a girl,” Marlene teased, popping up to help Sirius bring the dishes to the dining table.

“Hey! I’m an intellectual now, you arse.” Sirius pulled out your chair for you as the group migrated to the dining table.

“Yeah, okay, Padfoot,” Remus snorted and Sirius scoffed in false annoyance before you all fell silent, devouring the meal.

You ate and shared stories for hours and you felt strangely at home among the group. At some point Sirius, sitting beside you, threw an arm over your shoulder and you cuddled into his warmth.

You loved learning about the Marauders, you only remembered fragments from school since you were never close with any of them. James being an auror made perfect sense when you remembered his amazing DADA performances, and Remus becoming a teacher was a wonderful sequel to his long tutoring sessions in seventh year. Lily expecting a baby so young had shook up their home life but the house had clearly started getting child-ready even though it was months away. Regardless, the group welcomed you warmly and you felt immediately at home.

“I just can’t believe that you of all people are together. I mean after all this time, how you both were in school… what are the odds?” Peter asked, reaching over the table to take another scoop of vegetables. You bit your lip and tried to control the heat creeping up your neck.

“I think we balance each other out,” You reasoned, “Sirius is such a… distinct character that he needs someone boring like me to bring him down.”

“You, boring? You’re the daughter that everyone wants!” Marlene laughed, sipping a red wine.

“I couldn’t function without her.” Sirius laced your fingers together, gaze heavy on you. “She reminds me to take care of myself, go to bed before three A.M., and of course, is hot and sexy as fuck.” That was the Sirius his friends all knew, but the school-era immaturity was gone. No longer was it the ladies-man Sirius Black trying to get into someone’s pants, instead, it was Sirius making a dumb joke with someone he loved.

“Sirius!” You cried, covering your face with both hands, including the one Sirius had attached to yours. Times like these you could feel the differences between you — Sirius was known for his crude humour, you would never bring up how sexy you thought Sirius was, joke or not, especially not in front of people you didn’t really know.

The night progressed with more reminiscing and storytelling, and you listened enraptured as they told story after story of pranks and parties, a life you were unaware of being led right beside you at school. You all ended up tipsy, an embarrassing stack of empty wine bottles building up at the end of the table.

As you were told was a common occurrence, the group all decided to just stay over at the Potters, pulling out mattresses and spots on the sofa with practised speed. You took the place they gave you, grateful to still be welcome.

Swaddled in blankets, Sirius was the first asleep, dead to the world in a matter of moments. For someone who stayed up half the night, he really did pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Whenever he was with you, anyway.

Someone across the room called your name in a whisper, wand faintly illuminated. You sat up to look their way, finding the rest of Sirius’ friends looking at you.

“We just wanted to say we really like you, and we’re really happy for you and Padfoot, even if we were weird at the start,”” Mary said and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“And why weren’t we friends in school? We would’ve gotten along great,” Remus added, rubbing tired eyes.

“I would have been putting a target on my own back,” You confessed, “You were all in the same house, confident in yourselves and could defend yourself against the bullies. I was alone in my house and deeply insecure. Even if we were friends I would’ve gone back to my common room at the end of the day and been vulnerable. It was easier to just be alone.”

“You thought that through.” James nodded appreciatively but you just shrugged, a fact was a fact.

The conversation moved away from you for a while, whispers and stifled giggles bouncing across the room.

“You know that Sirius is in love with you, right?” James blurted out of nowhere, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He looks at you like he’s your whole world. He raves about you all the time; how great you are, how he’s so glad he met you. He’s my brother and I know him better than he knows himself; he’s mad for you.”

You took a moment to let that sink in. You hadn’t put too much thought into whether Sirius loved you, you’d always just been happy with the way they were going.

“Oh,” You hesitated. “I hadn’t considered that. Well, um, I should probably get to sleep, I have a lot of family to see tomorrow.” It was a poor excuse, you knew, but that was a big word.

You bade the group goodnight once more before snuggling into Sirius, and he instinctually wrapped his arm around your waist. As you drifted off to sleep, the thought crossed your mind that maybe, love wasn’t so out of the picture.

[eddiesghxst]

❆ Let It Snow - a christmas smutty special ❆

happy holidays lovelys!!! ilysm and i hope you all have a beautiful rest of your year, here is a cute n quick little Christmas smutty blurb as my gift to u <3

also, this is not proofread i apologize for any mistakes <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: roomate!eddie munson x reader

summary: your flight home gets canceled on christmas eve and Eddie just wants to cheer you up

contains: friends to lovers trope, reader loves christmas (she's so me), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected - be smart pls), creampie, lots of Christmas cheer, and eddie being the cutest most kindest boy there ever was <3

word count: 3.6k

-masterlist-

Christmas is ruined.

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve been rotting away in your room all day— it’s now almost six in the afternoon— and Christmas is ruined.

In the corner of your room, your bags lay in a pile, packed and ready to go for the flight home you were supposed to be on just less than an hour ago. Your mother was devastated when you called her to break the news that you wouldn’t be home in time for Christmas, and although she tried her hardest to mask it over the phone, acting was never really her niche.

You’d already cried once this morning, a pathetic sob that inevitably escaped the second you opened your blinds and saw the blinding-white thick blanket of snow covering Hawkins. It’s not common, heavy winter snows in Indiana, so when the news mentioned that there would be a chance of snow, you didn’t think much of it.

Wrong choice.

You should’ve changed your ticket immediately and got on the next plane to Oregon, where your family would be with warm laughter and endless amounts of food, not to mention the traditional tree lighting you’d miss out on. But now, you’re stuck in Hawkins, chest hollow and cold from the undeniable fact that you will miss Christmas with your family this year.

Suddenly, you hear a raspy curse from the other side of your wall, followed by haste movements and the rustling of sheets and clothes. Eddie’s finally up from his nap. You can’t wait to tell him how stupid you’d been to book a flight so late on Christmas Eve.

Before you can even think of getting up and going to Eddie’s room, the man bursts through your door with a frazzled look as his gaze darts around the room, “Why didn’t you wake me? You’re gonna be late for your flight!” He panics. It’s sweet, really. The way your roommate paces over to your bags and looks at you with a ‘Why aren’t these in the car yet?’ look. It almost makes you hopeful that somehow, now that Eddie’s bright and sunny self is awake, he can find a way to get you home just in time for Christmas.

Obviously, it's not happening, considering Eddie isn’t a god, but one can dream.

You groan, tossing over in your bed to burrow your face deep into your sheets as you mumble into the soft cotton, “I’m not going anymore.” You grumble.

You can hear Eddie’s frown when he responds, “What? What do you mean you’re not going?”

You huff, heart aching as you reply, “Have you looked outside by any chance?”

You don’t turn to watch, but you can hear the shuffling sound of Eddie walking over to your window, shucking the blinds open, and peering out into the parking lot of your apartment that’s covered in that godawful snow. Eddie lets out a sound, something between surprise and sympathy, and it only makes the frown on your face deepen.

“Well… shit,” Eddie says.

You turn over and sit up, huffing as you shove your sheets out of your way, “Yeah. Have fun trying to figure out a way to get me across the country with that type of weather.” You grunt, kicking your legs over the side of your bed to stand and shuffle over to the packed suitcases. You figure you may as well unpack since you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“So when are the airports gonna clear, did they say?” Eddie asks.

You huff as you unfold jeans and tops, mind reeling with scenarios of what you should’ve done to prevent this. “Not until tomorrow afternoon. Christmas will be done by then, and most of my family will be back in their respective homes, so… looks like you’re stuck with me, Munson.”

Which, sure Eddie practically threw a fit when you told him you’d be out of town for the holidays, but you still feel as if you’re intruding. Eddie was supposed to have Wayne come over tomorrow, but you’re going to be here probably sulking, and it’ll be awkward and pitiful, and it’s just not at all what you’d wanted your or Eddie’s Christmas to be like! 

“...Okay, well,” Before you can fully register what’s happening, Eddie is closing your suitcase and grabbing your hands, dragging you up to your feet and ignoring your confusion as he speaks, “You can’t spend Christmas like this, sweetheart. You’ll end up like the Grinch. Do you wanna be the Grinch? Don’t tell me you wanna be the Grinch.” Eddie rambles as he drags you out of your room.

You try to fight a smile at Eddie’s rapid fire of words, but you fail as you shake your head, “No, I don’t want to be the Grinch, asshole.” You grumble as he drops your hand.

Eddie drops your hand and claps loudly, a bright grin spreading over his lips when he turns to you, “Wonderful! Then we have to get in the Christmas spirit.”

Eddie leaves you confused in the small hallway of your shared apartment, watching as he chaoticly prances over to the kitchen. He slows down and turns back to you once he sees you’re not following him, a confused expression painting over his face. “Well? Are you gonna leave me to bake alone, or are you gonna join?”

And well, you’ve never seen Eddie even pick up a baking pan, so it’s safe to say this will be interesting.

Eddie is absolutely terrible with ingredients. 

You and Eddie both decided to bake cookies, but instead of regular chocolate chips, Eddie pitched in the idea of using red and green M&Ms for the holiday effect, which you thought was pretty clever. The only problem is Eddie can’t measure for shit.

The recipe calls for two tablespoons of cornstarch, Eddie two and a half— damn near three. The next step says to mix in a third of a cup of cooking oil, but Eddie puts in much too little. It’s odd, considering his past with drug dealing, but you don’t mention it and instead opt to discreetly correct his mistakes whenever he turns his back to grab something else.

You both end up covered in flour because the pesky powder honestly just doesn't under the concept of gravity, and you laugh when you see some coating Eddie’s eyelashes. “What’s so funny, chef?” He asks.

You smile, “Nothing, you’ve just got… you got some on your eyes.” You reach up with a gentle hand, the sleeves of your sweater long enough to pull over your thumb so you can carefully dust off the white powder.

Eddie’s eyes are so bright and attentive this close, watching your every move with a type of sincerity you’ve only ever seen on screens from Grammy-nominated films and such. It makes your chest warm, and your knees quiver as his lips split into a smile, “Thank you, princess.” He softly says. You nod, and you swear Eddie’s eyes fucking twinkle.

You clear your throat, blinking away and stepping back to clear whatever trance from your mind, “Well,” You heavily sigh, “The cookies are in the oven for the next hour, so… I think I’m gonna go read.”

“Actually,” Eddie pipes up, softly reaching out and letting his fingers brush against yours, “I was thinking we could watch a Christmas movie. Unless if you’re sick of me, I totally get it; I’ll call you when the cookies are ready.”

Which couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t want to read. Hell, you don’t even have a new book to read; you’ve gone through your entire reading list.

“Oh! Well, what movie did you have in mind?”

“Home Alone. Obviously.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re a Christmas amateur, Eddie, did you know that?”

Eddie waves a dismissive hand as you begin to smile, reaching out to spin you around and shove you toward your room, “Just go get in some comfy clothes.”

You snort as you follow his instructions, shuffling over to your room to change out of your flour-coated clothing. It takes you some time to dig through your suitcase, but you eventually find the cute pajama set you bought for the holidays and slip it on, eager to return to the living room and join Eddie.

When you step into the living room, you don’t expect to see furniture pushed out of the way and Eddie standing in the middle as he pushes his queen-sized mattress down to lie right in the middle of the room—your heart races when you realize what Eddie’s done.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You softly ask.

Eddie looks up at you, heavily breathing as he places his hands on his hips, “It’s Christmas Eve!” He beams. You tilt your head with a scolding expression, “I remember you saying you did this with your family, so I figured we gotta keep the tradition going.” He shrugs.

And god, Eddie’s so lovely. Too nice for his own good, really. Your entire body warms at the gesture, watching as he bustles around the apartment, grabbing blankets and pillows to make a comfy nest-like bed.

Seeing Eddie prepare the room wasn’t confusing because you kind of figured that’s what he was doing when you initially saw it, but you became concerned when you saw him drag a tall fake plant across the room.

Eddie steps back and gazes at the fake plant, face twisted in concentration, “Where should it go? The corner, right?” He turns to you. Your brows scrunch in confusion, “Uh… you’re losing me.”

Eddie blinks at you as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue, “The Christmas tree, doll. Where should it go?”

You raise an eyebrow, “That’s not a Christmas tree, Eddie, that’s a fake Cat Palm.” Eddie makes a face as if you’ve insulted him, “Says who?”

“Says anyone with general knowledge of the world.” “Why can’t this tree be a Christmas tree? As far as I know, they both have the same qualities that allow them to classify as a tree.” And you’re not going to argue with Eddie on that because he’s being sweet, and you’re interested to see what wacky plan he’s concocted in that brain of his.

So, for the next hour or so, you and Eddie sit on his comfy bed in the living room and use copy paper to cut out shitty snowflakes to put on the ‘Christmas tree’ as you watch Home Alone.

It’s undeniably the most fun you’ve had in a while, and you and Eddie turn your craft into a competition to see who can make the best snowflake, but you keep snipping the wrong spots to create an absolute disgrace of a snowflake. Eddie thinks they’re ‘fucking insane. In a good way!’ though, so you can’t complain.

“These are fucking awful.”

Home Alone 2 is playing, the Christmas tree is fully decorated, and you and Eddie have settled in his bed with a plate full of cookies. It’s a cozy little setup you’ve got, and your cheeks are warm from laughter, and you’ve never felt this content with anyone besides family. And to make matters even better, the cookies taste like absolute shit.

You look at Eddie, gazing at his horrified expression momentarily before bursting into a snort. Eddie looks at you, terror written across his face as you fold in laughter. 

“These are seriously the worst cookies I’ve ever tasted.” He reiterates. 

You manage to calm your laughter down just enough to respond, “They’re not that bad.” 

You and Eddie share a look before you burst into laughter again, “Yeah, they’re pretty bad.” You admit. Eddie joins you in laughter, shaking his head as he offers you the plate of cookies so you can put your half-bitten cookie away. “Remind me to never enter a bake-off,” Eddie grumbles as he reaches over to set the cookies on the coffee table pushed off to the side.

You and Eddie settle into his cozy bed then, content on holiday cheer and the comforting presence of one another. You’re pressed close to each other so you can share the bowl of popcorn you’d made, and you try to ignore how the close proximity makes your insides squeal. You glance at Eddie as you roll an unpopped kernel between your fingers.

“Thank you.”

Eddie turns to you, eyebrows raised in alert. You gesture to the atmosphere of your apartment, “For this, I mean. You didn’t have to do any of this.” 

Eddie makes a face and waves you off, “It’s nothing, princess. Couldn’t have you sad on your favorite holiday of the year.”

Your cheeks warm as you gaze at Eddie, chest feeling so much appreciation for his efforts today. Eddie didn’t have to do any of this. He could’ve just said sorry for your shit luck and called it a day, but he took it upon himself to make your ruined holiday into, arguably, one of the best Christmas you’ve had in a while.

“I mean, come on, you heard how badly I was begging you to stay home anyway. Some might even say I got Mother Nature to ring in a favor.” He jokes as he gently nudges his shoulder against yours. You roll your eyes, briefly returning to the movie as you respond, “You’re dramatic, Eddie. I was gonna be gone for two days.” You point out.

“Two days too long!” He stresses, “What was I supposed to do while you were gone?”

You snort, tossing popcorn in your mouth before speaking, “You were gonna be with Wayne anyway; you’d hardly even think about me.” You wave.

Eddie makes a displeased noise, poking at the popcorn in the bowl, “That’s not true.” He softly responds. You glance at Eddie, heart racing when he locks eyes with you. “Wayne isn’t half as pretty as you, so.” He jokes, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You shyly smile, “You think I’m pretty?” You tease.

Eddie smiles with his eyes, “I think you’re gorgeous, actually.”

And god, you think you imagine it when Eddie’s gaze falls to your lips, but then he’s reaching out to gently drag his thumb across your bottom lip. You lean into him on instinct, body aching for his touch, lips crying out to feel his lips on yours, and thankfully, Eddie doesn’t make you wait long before leaning forward.

Eddie’s lips are soft and perfect for kissing. Plump and addicting to the touch as he moves in tandem with you, hands gently caressing your face as you press into each other. You can’t contain the whine bubbling in your throat, and you almost feel embarrassed, but Eddie responds with a moan, hands moving south to softly grab your waist and pull you closer.

You almost can’t believe this is happening— you making out with your roommate on Christmas Eve— but you figure it was about time that you two shattered the thick wall of tension and desire that’d been building between you both. Stolen glances and lingering touches in the kitchen, too-close dancing at parties, and almost kisses during goodbyes have all led to this very moment as Eddie shifts to lay you back into the mountain of pillows.

You shakily breathe against Eddie’s lips when his fingers dust across your stomach, softly pressing into your warm skin to pull a squeal from your lips. You can feel the spread of his smile against the corner of our mouth, and you squirm as he peppers a few kisses there, “Gonna let me taste you, princess?” He asks, fingers caressing the skin just above the waistband of your festive shorts. You swallow heavily and nod, eyes dancing with his when he leans back just enough to see your face. “Words?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

Your voice hardly even sounds like your own. Needy and higher pitched and almost humiliating, but Eddie’s smattering kisses down your chin and neck, hands riding your shirt up your stomach so he can kiss the warm skin there. You softly exhale, reaching up to sink your fingers through his hair and gently tug. He groans against you, softly nipping the fat of your hip as his fingers curl over the band of your shorts. He drags the pants down your legs, sitting up to take them off and toss them to the side. He parts your thighs, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he gazes down at you, your socked feet digging into the sheets as he runs his ringed hands up your legs. “Stop staring.” You grumble.

Eddie chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your stomach and then the band of your panties, “Candy canes, huh?” He peers up at you as he plays with the tiny bow on your pelvis. Your face warms, center throbbing as you squirm beneath him. “Hey,” You frown, “It was a matching set and I thought they were cute.” You explain, nudging him with your foot. Which is true, the set came with a bra, panties, and socks, and it was on sale, so of course you bought it.

Eddie laughs as he settles on his stomach, “Oh, you’re fuckin’ precious,” He beams to himself. Your chest warms, and he leans forward to kiss just over your covered clit, “I love them, sweetheart.” Another kiss pressed to your hip this time. “I love them a lot, actually.” A kiss to the other hip, and you squirm. His lashes flutter when he peers up at you, fingers squeezing your hips as he speaks, “Unfortunately… they’re kind of in the way.”

You playfully roll your eyes, losing the fight to your smile as you respond, “Just take them off, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, hands moving quicker than you’ve ever seen to get rid of the candy cane printed barrier, happily settling back on his stomach and curling his hands around your thighs to pull you closer. He doesn’t give you any warning when he dives in, licking a thick and wet line from your entrance to your clit. He circles the tip of his tongue over your clit, grinning when you moan and twitch from the sensation. He hums as he suckles your clit into his mouth, licking and sucking as if his life depends on it, fingers squeezing at your thighs and hips. You’re drowning in pleasure, but you think you can hear the muffled sound of Eddie mumbling, ‘Fuck, you taste so good’ against you, and it makes your head spin.

You’re a goner when he sinks two fingers into you, expertly curling up against that toe-curling spot to have you crying out his name and arching up into him. He hums against you, nodding his head in encouragement as you cum on his tongue.

You’re blinking through a pleasure-filled haze when Eddie kisses up your body, sticky lips smearing wet pecks across your stomach as he pushes your shirt further up.

You help each other undress the rest of the way, your limbs shaky and clumsy from your orgasm, and Eddie chuckles but kisses you when you glare at him. Your hand wraps around his cock, but Eddie shakes his head, grasping your wrist as he pushes you back into his bed, “I can’t wait. Next time, yeah? Need you now.”

You wouldn’t dream of saying no.

The stretch of Eddie is so much yet so good. It burns, and it takes your breath away, but it sends chills up your back with the heavenly sensation as he presses into you, balls pressing against your ass as he leans over you and moans against your lips. “F–fuck. Jesus, you feel so fucking good.” 

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing your body into him. “Please, Eddie. Please fuck me, please.”

“Yeah,” He gently coos as he pulls out. He pushes back in, watching as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in ecstasy, and he hums, “There we go. Taking me so well, baby. Gonna give it all to you— h-holy shit.”

He builds his pace slowly but surely, and you’re so embarrassingly close by the time he’s steadily pumping into you, the loud sound of your sex echoing between your bodies in tandem with your moans. 

You moan, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as you breathe him in, digging your face into his neck and finding solace in the curtain of his curly strands as he holds you close. Eddie groans when you throb around his aching cock, and he nods, “Give it to me. Cum on my cock, baby. Let me feel it.” He gently encourages you, a warm hand pressing into your back as he kisses your neck. You don’t know if you could get any closer, your chests pressed together, skin sticky with sweat as you grind against one another.

You tip over the edge quicker than you’d want to because you want this to last forever, but Eddie coos and holds you through it all, and you feel like you’re floating through clouds of stardust with Eddie kissing you and thrusting into you.

You’re out of it when Eddie cums. So far gone and high on pleasure that all you can do is moan and nuzzle into his neck to kiss and lick and bite as he empties himself into your pulsing cunt.

You’re both breathing heavily, Eddie collapsing against you but holding himself up just enough so he doesn’t crush you. You’re both silent as you catch your breath, softly running your fingers through Eddie’s hair as the ending credits to Home Alone 2 roll. Against the skin of your neck, you feel Eddie’s lips spread into a sleepy smile, and you can’t help but smile as well as you speak, “What?” You softly ask.

Eddie breathes, shifting so he can nuzzle his face further into your neck, breathing in the scent of you and sex.

“Nothing, just… I’m so fucking glad it snowed.”

[mercurycft]

‘𝐓𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 (𝟏) - 𝐋.𝐖

## reader x leah williamson (childhood friend) !!

happy new year pookies!!! i hope you all had a lovely festive season whatever you celebrate, and if you don’t i hope u had a lovely nice break away from school, work or life for a few weeks! hoping 2025 brings lots of health, happiness and love to us and our loved ones!! did i listen to 'you could be happy' by snow patrol this entire time? yes. bit of a long one! buckle up! enjoy this, love always — RGx

this IS a christmas themed fic! <3

pure fluffy flirting, unfinished business hints, angst, rough family-dynamic and parent / child relationship, hinting at past experiences with leah & r, childhood memories.

4.3k words.

PART 1 - christmas eve.

"you promised you would be here for christmas this year!" you shout down the phone, fingers clenched so tightly around the device your knuckles begin turning white.

"y/n, don't act like a brat. your father and i work very hard and you know how important our work is to us!"

"i know that mum, but you promised!"

"well there's nothing that can be done now! it's too late!"

"its only an hours drive mum!"

"well it's not happening y/n! and that is final!"

"so you would rather stay in london and work, rather than spend christmas with your daughter? her first christmas back in the country?"

"don't turn this into a big thing, it's simply how life works sometimes."

"whatever. merry fucking christmas."

"don't you dar-"

you don't hear the end of the sentence before the phone call is ended and your phone is laid screen down on the table in front of you. you pace beside the dining table and your eyes meet the piles of presents you had laid out for them, all labelled and wrapped with love. you feel a bitterness that you know all too well course through your stomach and rise through into your throat with an acidic burn.

it riles you up until you're rushing towards the front door, angrily zipping your coat up and shoving your keys into your pocket. you slam it behind you and begin out into the rain, feet stomping with no real purpose but to blow off steam. the rain is aggressive paired with the harsh winter wind, but you're too focused on the millions of thoughts racing through your mind.

memories of christmas past hit you deep in your chest, stinging and stabbing like a vicious blade. the teenage years you spent begging for your parents to be there, to want to spend time with you. the smaller, more confused version of you that would stay awake on christmas eve but not to hear for santa, instead to hear for their keys jingling through the house.

it only fuels the fire behind your eyes and the pain in your veins. so you walk, and keep walking.

you don't, or can't, catch your breath the entire time. allowing the heavy rain to beat against your skin as you keep walking. you pass the familiar streets and houses, all decked out with festive lights and decorations of joy, but you don't stop. keeping your eyes on the concrete, your vision still blurred by tears. the cold is harsh against the skin of your face and hands, so harsh it's almost oppressive. beneath your coat, your outfit is impractical for the weather, but you don't care.

you fight against the rain as you haul through the town, head tucked down and determined to push through it - which has only gotten heavier and is now beating against your skin like bullets and seeping through the fabric of your coat and onto clothes.

the hours leading up to this blur into a pile of madness in your mind, and you don't realise where your body has carried you until you're standing outside her door. bell already pressed and chest heaving to recover from the brisk pace you managed to keep up through the storm. the roof of the porch providing you with a much-needed break from the rain. it feels familiar, the same as it did all those years ago.

you stand still, clenching your jaw and fists in an attempt to still the chattering of your teeth and the shaking of your limbs as the cold finally catches up to you.

a shadow approaches after a few moments, and you hear the muffled laughter as they move towards the door. the door swings open after a second, and she's not there. instead, her mum stands on the other side of the threshold. a santa hat sat perfectly on her head, you can see the warmth in her cheeks from her familiar smile - though it falters when she meets your eye. her previous look is replaced with one of concern, her brows furrowing and eyes widening as she takes you in.

"amanda," you manage to whisper when you look at her. eyes pooling with tears once more. the realisation of your presence hitting her like a ton of bricks. "im so sorry to just turn up, but i didn't know where else to go and i just kept walking and then i was here and i-" you ramble out a string of words that just barely make sense until you feel her pull you into the warmth of the house.

"y/n, love, breath." she says softly, rushing to push the door shut with her foot as her arms move to unzip the drenched and practically useless coat from around you. she lets it fall to the ground with no regard for the carpet and moves to wrap her arms around your shaking body.

you relax into her embrace and continue attempting to drag deep breaths through your nose and into your lungs while mumbling an array of apologies. suddenly you're no longer an adult to her, you're the same child that would rush around after school to yank leah into the garden to play football. the same child she opened her home to countless times when your parents were away.

"y/n, sweetheart, you need to breathe," she says with more conviction this time, bringing her hand to your back to coax a deeper breath and attempt to warm the skin simultaneously.

you stand against her for a few minutes, until your breathing slows to a manageable pace and you can fathom words again. her hand still drags across your back as she lifts her head to turns it in the direction of the living you.

"bubba, can you come here?" the muffled conversations get louder when a door opens and then shuts with a small thud, and footsteps approach you both in the hall.

"what you doing out here mum? we're about to get uno out.." her voice falls quiet. "y/n?"

you turn to face her with tear-stained cheeks and a weak smile.

its been years, enough to forget and move on. but the look on her face has you cursing yourself for being away for so long, and you know that she hasn’t. she hasn’t forgotten. the way her eyes melt when they meet yours tells you everything you need to know. you go speak at the same time, but your voice is weak. it breaks and cracks and she falls silent, brows furrowed with concern as she shuts the front room door behind her, keeping this moment to herself and confined to the small room.

"they're not coming. no one is coming and I don't expect you to do anything, i haven’t even had a chance to settle in properly- but i didn't know where else to go." you breathe a shakey breath, it's quick and shallow but enough to fuel your next sentence. your voice breaks once more, and your shoulders fall into themselves as a low sob raises from your throat again. she makes her way across the small space between you and catches your cold frame with hers, arms wrapping tightly around you "no one is coming," you sob into her chest.

amanda leaves with a pat on your back to go find you some clothes to change into as the pair of you stand there for a few minutes. you feel small beneath her, her chin resting on your head as it lays against her chest.

"why didn't you call? i didn’t know you were back, i could've come to get you," she whispers,

"i left my phone at the house, and i just started walking, and then i was here im so sorry,"

"stop apologising. you know mum loves a guest, especially you." she jokes softly, and you feel her shoulders rise with her smile when you let out a breathy laugh against her.

after a little while, amanda comes back with a change of clothes and a fresh towel, pushing them towards you and gesturing her head up the stairs. "go and take a nice warm shower, then put these on love. that'll get you warmed up."

you reach out take them hesitantly, then pull your arms back by your side. "i'll make my way home in a minute amanda, thank you though-"

"you absolutely will not." she says with typical mum raised eyebrows, pushing them back to you "now go,"

you smile weakly and take them from her, "thank you." you whisper as she waves you off and up the stairs. you turn back to face them from the top step, both of them still watching on.

“just like old times, eh love?” amanda adds with a wide smile.

━━━━━━━━━━

the shower feels like heaven, the warmth spreading across your skin and warming you right to the bone. you take in the few moments of serenity the warm water gives you, allowing your eyes to close and your muscles to relax. you let your mind wander, let it drift away from the sad and harsh reality that has become your life. you use leah's shampoo to wash your hair, recognising the smell immediately and allowing yourself to laugh that she has used the same brand since you've known her.

once you're out you brush your hair, letting it fall down your back as you pull on the clothes amanda had pulled out for you. you recognise an old pair of leah's pyjama bottoms and a smile in acknowledgement of fond memories breaks across your lips.

you make your way back down the stairs a little later, feeling refreshed from your new-found warmth and comfier clothes that lack the ability to stick to every inch of your skin.

the house is the same, and the years feel like they melt away from you. you hesitate outside the door to the front room, a small smile on your lips at the house of laughter from the other side. you reach a knuckle to announce your presence before you open it and enter.

everyone is in their respective spots: david and amanda on the sofa, with leah at their feet sprawled across the carpet; her cousins surrounding her. you feel fourteen again, leah’s clothes still hanging from you in all the same places. you share a smile with everyone, holding up your hands in a make-shift surrender. “apologies for gate crashing, i still like to make an entran-” you don’t manage to finish before jordan and jacob, leah’s cousin and brother are up and wrapping their arms around you hurriedly - tugging you to the floor.

it doesn’t feel different, or strange. you fit back into the same place you left off all those years ago. you play a few rounds of uno with leah and her family, and drink countless cups of tea. amanda always made the best one, even when you were young, so you make use of her skill. it’s nearing 9pm when you finally decide its time to remove yourself from the bubble you’ve been in- and into the hallway beyond the front room.

you try to quietly and quickly slip your still wet coat back onto your frame, but your silent antics are interrupted by leah’s voice.

“where you running off to?” she asks, leant against the small table on the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

“just getting out of your hair,” you reply, smiling small. “thank you for letting me in, even just for a few hours. it was fun.” you turn back around to zip up your coat and begin dressing again.

“you don’t have to go yet, y/n,”

“i’m sure all of you have so much left to do in prep for the littles tonight so i’ll see you-”

“i mean it, you’re welcome to stay for a bit,”

“plus its christmas, who wants a stranger in the house at christmas?”

it’s as if you’re having two different conversations, at the exact same time. each of your voices overlapping and interrupting - unable to hold steady rhythm. as you speak you pull on your trainers one by one, not really paying attention to the words leah is saying, instead focused on your mountain of excuses to cut the visit short. it isn’t until you hear her voice drop, to barely above a whisper, that you process what she is saying.

“y/n!” her normal voice, calm and collected, snaps you out of your own mind. “please. stay.” its low and quiet, but loud enough for you to hear across the space between you. you whip around to face her, her eyes locked on you and her breathing steady.

“what?”

“stay.”

"leah," you start, head tilted. "i couldn't do that,"

"spend christmas with us," she pauses for a beat, eyes searching yours and your features. "with me,"

you feel like you somehow have managed to travel back in time, transported to the exact moment all those years ago when you told leah you were leaving. you remember how her face fell in the exact same way, how her hands twitched as she fought against the urge to reach for you and keep you with her forever, how she couldn't choke back her tears when she begged you not to go.

the same guilt and pain you knew all too well began to spread through you again, starting in the tips of your fingers and receding up your arms until it sat dormant in your chest.

"i can't." you whisper, unsure whether to yourself or to her.

"you can," she replies anyway. "i already spoke to mum, and to dad, and everyone else. we want you here."

"why?"

"because i'd rather you be here, with us, with me, than alone when you wake up on christmas morning."

you fall into silence, or silence full onto you, you're not sure. taking a deep and quaking breath that trembles through your lips.

you don't say any words, instead, just unzip your coat and slip your shoes off. pushing them back beside the drawers against the wall and hanging your jacket back onto the hook. you turn to face her with a small smile.

"okay."

she lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding and moves to embrace you, you melt into her arms and breathe with her for a few moments. "i would've looked like a real tit if you said no," you both share a laugh. not a small or pathetic breathy one, a proper laugh. a laugh that almost has you snorting like you used to.

"you look like a tit anyway," you add, as you both make your way back into the front room. you don't think twice as you walk towards amanda and david, who sit with their eyes fixed on the tv as an episode recap of eastenders begins to play. you lean between them both, wrapping your arms around the pair of them. it takes them by surprise for a second, before their arms are around you too.

everyone spends the next half hour all huddled around the tv, beside leah. more-so on top of leah. you share the armchair in the corner of the room, your legs on her lap and head fallen on her shoulder. breathing deeply with your eyes closed tight. you don't think you're asleep, too aware of your surroundings to be sleeping properly. but you're calm, very calm.

laughter from the floor is what makes you open your eyes and adjust to the lights again, met with leah's eyes as she nudges you with her shoulder. "alright sleeping beauty?"

"sorry, i didn't even realise i fell asleep," she shakes her head in response, dismissing your apology. "can you take me to mine in a minute, le?" the nickname slips out without you realising, but she doesn’t react.

“thought you said you would stay?”

“i am, i just want to go and get some stuff so that i can actually look nice tomorrow,”

“you always look nice,” she says lowly, looking back out to the distracted room. you roll your eyes, shaking your head at her and lifting a single brow as if to push her to answer your question.

“yes, go and get your shoes on and we’ll go now,” you smile to thank her and rise from the chair beside her.

"where are you two off to?" david asks as you walk past.

"just going to y/n's to grab her stuff to stay over,"

"well, don't be long, love actually will be on soon!" amanda replies excitedly, which david replies to with a roll of his eyes.

━━━━━━━━━━

whilst in your house, you took a moment to look at the presents beneath your tree. to look at the gifts you had accumulated through the months in hopes your parents would have the same childlike joy on their faces christmas morning as you once did. you considered leaving them, maybe shipping them off to their london house for them to enjoy alone. but deep down you knew they didn't deserve it. they didn't deserve the effort you had made for them.

you let your fingertips run across the presents, the new appliances and products you bought for your mum and dad alike. your fingers then fell to the labels you had added. you twisted the tag in your hand, reading the words you had written with love. you let it sit in your palm, dazed by the pain of your parents' missing presence.

"i'm sorry they're not here, y/n." you hear leah speak from behind you, leaning against the kitchen island.

"i'm not," you begin. "i'd rather spend it with people that give a shit anyway,"

you let your fingers wrap around the tag, slipping the attached string out of the piece of tape which was securing it down and screwing it into a ball. you did this to all of the presents, taking each of the tags one by one and removing them until they were left in a pile beside you. you took the presents, piling them into bags you had instructed leah to get from a cupboard in the kitchen.

"be a shame to let perfectly good presents go to waste," you said with a small sigh as you carried them over to your front door, making sure to grab your phone and pop it into your pocket.

you're gone and back in less than an hour, with a bag packed of clothes, your own pyjamas as well as everything you'll need for tomorrow and maybe another night in the williamson household slung over your shoulder and two large bags packed with presents in either hand. leah trailed behind from the car with an additional bag of gifts in her hand, helping you through the door and placing them on the floor.

you stand there for a minute, staring at the bags below you, leah locking the door and placing her keys in their spot before she joins you. standing shoulder to shoulder with you, in a comfortable silence. you feel her fingers brush the back of your own when she lets her arms relax on either side of her body.

"i'm glad you're here,"

"you were the one convincing me to stay,"

"no, i mean here, back in england."

you draw in a breath. "me too." her fingers brush yours again, this time she allows her pinky to link with your own. her hands warm against the chill of yours. "im sorry i left,"

"yeah, me too," she replies lowly.

you stay there for a bit, lost in the forgotten comfort of her and her presence. it feels right, normal. no anxiety or awkwardness. so you bask in the stillness with her, away from prying eyes and the events of life that came before this very moment. you enjoy the hush of the hallway together, standing still, pinkies intertwined. you don't know what to say or to do, so you don't do anything or say anything. you just breathe, together.

"come on then," she says quietly breaking the silence after a minute or so. "we better put these presents under the tree, santa's orders,"

you cant help but laugh at her, and nod along to her words. picking up the bags and pushing them through into the front room, leaving the moment to fester alone in the four walls of the hall. jacob and his family had already made their way to the spare bedroom, and jordan and hers had made their way home - so when you walked back into the living room, only amanda and david remained waiting for you both.

"what on earth is all that!" amanda asks from the same position as when you left, eyeing the bags in your hands.

"presents," you push them to the floor and begin taking them out of the bags.

"y/n, you didn't have to do that love." dad says, shaking his head at you.

"i know, but i would rather give them to people who deserve them. i'd rather you guys have them, and use them and appreciate them." you say, rarely looking up from the gifts as you place them into piles, suddenly too aware of the eyes on you. "it's not a big deal, and i don't want to make it one. christmas isn't about that. but i hope you guys will take them, and enjoy them. just think of them as a thank you, for all you've done for me over the last decade." you say the last bit through a laugh, and finally look up to them. each of them looking back at you with nothing but love in their eyes.

"oh, y/n," amanda says softly, waving you over to them both, which you do - pulling yourself up off the floor and to stand in front of them. you don't get a chance to say anything to add to your previous point before amanda's arms are around you for what feels like the hundredth time tonight alone. "i am so, so happy you decided to stay." she whispers for only you to hear, then pulls away. "and to be honest i was sick of leah barking on about how much she missed you," she says in jest and gets up to walk to the kitchen, "every bloody day," which makes you laugh.

david juts his hand between you, and you take his in yours. "welcome home, y/n love." he says, pulling you into a dad-like hug before following his wife into the kitchen.

the living room was a picture of warmth and cheer, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a gentle hue over the neatly wrapped presents beneath it. the smell of pine mingled with faint smell of tea through the house, you turned to survey the room around you - including leah.

"i feel bad that i haven't got you anything," she says, looking at you from her spot beside the tree.

"this is enough,"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean this, being here with you, with all of you."

the four of you spent another hour awake, watching the rest of love actually and chatting about life. catching up on the years missed from either side. when the fill finally draws to a close, amanda and david say their goodnights and head up to bed, leaving you and leah downstairs on the sofa. the room was lit with nothing but the lights from the tree, and the tv.

you yawn, so large it makes your eyes water and turn to face leah. "you can go up to bed, don't let me keep you down here." you say to her, snuggling your head into the pillow beside you for comfort.

"you not coming up?"

"i can sleep on the sofa leah, its fine."

"but what about santa?" she teases, poking you.

"im fine down here, really."

"come up with me," she speaks whilst trying to find the remote that has somehow disappeared. "it wouldn't be the first time we're shared a bed,"

"i know that," you roll your eyes, stomach flipping with the thought of sleeping beside her.

"then come to bed," finally, she finds the remote and shuts off the tv. her words spoken as if they are final, causing you to sigh.

"fine."

you work together to lock the doors and turn off the lights, then make your way upstairs. so now, you find yourself tucked into leah's childhood double bed. laid stiff as a board beside her as she flicks through netflix for something to fall asleep to. it shouldn't feel different, you've been here, in this exact position a thousand times. but it does, it feels so different that it's blinding. the sound of your heart in your ears is deafening, but you try your hardest to ignore it.

she asks what you fancy absentmindedly, unaware of the way your stomach swills when she speaks. you tell her to pick whatever she wants, unable to process a proper answer in your current state. you try your hardest to swallow your anxiety, to not draw attention to the way your body lays entirely still next to her.

she hands you the remote after she has chosen, in case you want to change it. you don't, instead you smile and put it onto the dresser next to you. you feel her shuffle to get comfy, then she's facing you, hands tucked beneath her head and chin.

"stop freaking out, y/n." she mumbled with a sickening smirk.

"im bloody not,"

"liar."

"shut up,"

"lay down and i will,"

"oh i have not missed this,"

"lay down then,"

"yeah i will,"

"come to sleep,"

you roll your eyes at her persistence, nothing has changed. you have probably had this conversation a thousand times in the years you have known her, and you know better than to try and fight it. so, you turn to put your phone on charge and then turn back to her, mirroring her position.

"goodnight, leah."

"goodnight, y/n."

"merry christmas,"

━━━━━━━━━━

oh em gee i hope you all enjoyed part 1!! part 2 will be released soon! (hopefully)! lots of love! x

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: [Nanami x Reader] Kento returns to you on Christmas Eve after a long mission. Your evening is a little ... derailed by his desire for you. Written for the lovely @sandsorghum as part of a Secret Santa exchange. Contents: Fluff, romance, slight angst, smut CW: Explicit sexual content (MDNI) Banner art: 'Woodfall' by Liam Devereux Dividers by: @aquazero

“The sun goes down and the sky reddens,

pain grows sharp,

light dwindles. Then is evening

when jasmine flowers open, the deluded say.

But evening is the great brightening dawn

when crested cocks crow all through the

tall city

and evening is the whole day

for those without their lovers.”

~ Kurontonkai 234

Love carries a scent, a subtle one.

You’ve tried, repeatedly, to pin down the elusive troubadour that holds court in your lungs, robbing them of breath when Kento enters a room. Words, words, more words, all a meaningless jumble that never emerges quite in the way you desire.

Kento smells of crisp, clean linen, sunshine on dew-laden grass, the headiness of rosemary studded like jewels in a freshly baked loaf, the metallic earthiness of rocks fished from a clear riverbed.

Even now, after your long years of association, after the (admittedly awkward) dance of courtship, after you’d both confessed your feelings and revelled in the intimacy gifted by the bower of your blossoming relationship, you still struggled to convey how his presence affected you.

As tender, passionate and considerate as the man was, there was always a certain reserve to his manner that you respected through your actions. You knew that he didn’t like to be overwhelmed by sound and sensation after a long day with Gojo hanging mercilessly off his shoulders, like a mink coat that decided when it would wear you.

He liked to greet you at the door with a steady, warm kiss, head inclined sweetly towards yours as he banished the cold he’d brought in with the groceries. He appreciated the way you’d tenderly capture his face in your grasp, holding him there, drinking in the lacquered honey of his eyes, the slight quirk at the corner of his shapely mouth, the wash of heat as his breath ghosted across the bridge of your nose and slightly parted lips.

He liked that you’d warmed the apartment to just the right degree, that you’d removed the decorative cushion from his favourite armchair, that you’d always trace over his knuckles before slipping your hands into his, the callouses on his palms scraping pleasantly as you’d raise them and press feather-light kisses where your fingers had pioneered.

Today, however, was different. Today, you paced fitfully.

It was Christmas Eve, and you were missing him dreadfully. The soft lighting, the rich aroma of sugar and cinnamon-clad nuts, the smooth countertop transitioning to the rough stone of the feature wall over the hearth, all passing under your restless fingertips. Nothing soothed you. None of it mattered.

He wasn’t here.

He hadn’t been present for the last three days. Something had occurred in Okinawa, and he’d been posted there for surveillance.

You could imagine how he’d have looked, receiving the assignment at this time of year, how his jaw would have tightened briefly, how he would have subconsciously reached for his tie, loosening it, how his stride would have taken on a more rapid, irregular rhythm on the way to the subway.

A few days ago, when he’d walked through the door to give you the news, there was little sign of that brisk, impatient man. For you, there was only melancholic tenderness, the drape of his arms almost helplessly around your form, the way his head sought the support of your shoulder, the soft fall of his hair against your neck. This was the side of him that nobody else encountered.

Your Kento, an unadorned, sturdy torch held aloft in the hand of some fickle God, the flame of his spirit stubbornly flickering.

You needed him. You wanted him here. You worried for him, especially when he left to undertake missions like this one, where communication was all but impossible. You wanted to tear him from the grasp of his never-ending duty for one day, just one, and –

The turn of a key in the latch startles you from your reverie.

It has to be –

You reach the door before the thought completes itself. There he is, tall, broad-shouldered, framed against the swirl of snow that blows across the darkened apartment hallway, against a world that no longer matters.

And then he is inside, in the foyer, pulling off his shoes, stepping into his house slippers. You give him room, standing at the edge of the wooden step, body coiled in readiness.

He joins you, standing toe to toe, and you still don’t rush him. You savour the moment, exerting a self-control you had no idea you were capable of.

It only takes a minute to unravel.

Your exhale mirrors his, arms coming up around him with almost convulsive strength. His breathing hitches slightly and you take your cue to bury your nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.

This time is different. This time, you don’t hold back. His skin is gloriously cool from the frigid wind outside, his hair and lashes darkened by melted snow. Your hands map out the breadth of his back, the fabric of his shirt (soft, so soft), and the hard planes of him beneath. Such was your Kento.  

A low rumble begins somewhere in the region of his abdomen, rising through the column of his throat, which your face is still pressed against. His chest vibrates beneath yours, a huff of laughter escaping, blowing the hair away from the base of your neck.

“I won’t disappear, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Of course you won’t. Not when I’ve baked a pie.”

His hand comes up, fingers carding through your hair, cupping the back of your head. His touch is familiar, yet fills you with fresh, agonised delight each time, a spear slid between the ribs. Low and filtered through with that ache of longing, echoing your own, he speaks against the shell of your ear.

“May I have my kiss now?”

“As many as you want.”

Something is different today. You lean back, the heft of his arms easily taking your weight, and glance playfully up into his face. You’ve satiated (temporarily) your need to be ensconced in his scent. Kento, however, doesn’t look quite as satisfied.

There is a kindling in that honeyed gaze, the eternal fire that flickers just beneath his cool exterior, that licks closer to the surface of his skin when he is with you. It’s even more noticeable on the nights when you’re both in the sanctity of your bedroom, the sheets rippling like water over a restless lake as his hips surge between the spread of your thighs.

Your response to him now, seeing him look at you like that, is sudden, primal, crushing the air from your lungs with need.

What are you doing? What time do you have to waste when he’s here, in this place, where you can finally treasure him the way he deserves?

The pie is forgotten, for now. His appetite, along with yours, has clearly shifted to more immediate functions.

You barely have time to process the thought before he stoops a little, arms hooking around the backs of your knees. The quickly stifled laugh that escapes you is drowned in the ecstasy of his lips on yours, crashing, melding, sliding away, returning, always returning.

Kento is seldom this carried away, his feelings and urges always so tightly bound to order and logic. There is certainly nothing orderly, however, about the way he hauls you into the bedroom and deposits you with a small toss onto the bed, his natural strength on rare display.

Rushed, clumsy, the war of tongue and teeth steals away your breath with its urgency. In between the slide of zippers, the slip of fingertips on errant buttons, you whisper to him, hushed and reverent.

“Missed you – hmm – wait, I need – “

“I missed you – “

“Needed you here – “

“I know, darling, I – “

“Don’t – ah – don’t let them – “

“Won’t pry me off you with a hollow purple – “

You tip your head back and laugh again, tension suddenly leaving the line of your shoulders and he pauses, looking down at you. Hair tangled by the passage of your fingers, burnished to bronze in the dim light of the bedroom, eyes alight with that searing softness meant only for you, Kento pushes you back against the pillows.

He is looking at you as if you’ve cast a diamond net around his unresisting form, reeling him into the undersea palace of your embrace, body moulding against yours in a dance as ancient as the slide of tectonic plates.

Pleasure erupts from your groin upward as he grinds down on your core, letting you feel how hard you’ve made him. Bold, sensuous, so unlike his strait-laced demeanour outside these walls.

Kento, your beautiful Kento, leans in to capture your lips once again, harshly. You claw at his shoulders, pulling him closer, pushing him away, neck extending and body arching as he rocks his hips in steady devastation against you.

He pulls away, one excruciatingly cold minute when his skin isn’t flush against yours, and he tugs your underwear down your thighs, the final barrier between you both. He never means to be explicitly rough with you, but his strength is now being led by the immediacy of his desire, and you reciprocate in kind.

The light cotton tangles around your ankle and you don’t bother kicking it away. Instead, you lock your legs around his waist, surging up from the bed beneath you, eyes hooded, lips parting, nipples stiffening under his fiery scrutiny.

You’ve never been this wanton for him before, and the groan that punches from his chest leaves you scraping across his back, eager, desperate. Your mouth falls open as the slickness of his erect tip dives between your labia, pushing upward, forcing out a breathless gasp as he catches your small, aching bud.

No, Kento has never been intentionally rough with you, but tonight everything feels different. He stills, breathing laboured, before lifting off you once again. Ignoring your indignant protest, his hand grazes along your hip before, to your astonishment, he flips you over onto your stomach.

He’s certainly never done … this before.

You only need a moment to regain your bearings. Instinct, long buried, wets your lips in anticipation, raises your hips slightly, spreads your thighs apart. At this angle he can see you in all your wet, satiny glory, the way your hair caresses one shoulder while you watch him over the other, warm, open, always inviting, only for him.

Kento’s eyes never leave you, body covering yours, his weight delicious and substantial over your slightly unsteady form. He doesn’t need to instruct you or hold your chin in position. You know not to break eye contact, even as his flesh parts yours and he enters you with a soft, slick noise, audible in the charged, erotic hush of the room.

You are now panting, swift and irregular, as he presses down on you further, filling you, stretching you, the sheets beneath cocooning the push of your body into the mattress. You gasp and whimper slightly, teeth coming down hard on your bottom lip as you watch the veil of lustful adoration descend over his gaze, misted, taking in your shuddering delight.

You quiver around his intrusion and one large palm trails softly down your back, briefly grounding you before he lifts and eases back into you, tearing a ragged cry from your throat.

He is merciless tonight, holding you so tenderly while he plunges and strokes, taking as much as he gives, hands planted firmly on either side of your breasts as he rocks into you, the full impact of his weight behind every thrust.

Kento isn’t taking his time with you, not just yet. Your need is as great as his, painting your inner thighs with damp heat, and you’re crying, begging. His own hoarse pleas and praises are roughened by the immensity of the pleasure you’re both building lavishly between your bodies, brick by golden brick.

Your fingers dig into the mattress as he rides you to a reckless, breathtaking climax, never pausing in spite of your hand pressing helplessly back against his abdomen. He knows what you want, even as you claw and slap at him, as you beg him to fuck you, yes, Kento, just like that, please, no more, so good, can’t take it -

He knows, somehow, even if this position is new to you both, how to slow his frantic pace as you convulse around him, mouth opening wide in soundless abandon, the skin of your back glistening with sweat, taut as a bowstring.

He stays still, the rigid discipline of hardened muscle keeping him poised against the plushness of your buttocks, kisses airy as seafoam trailing across the nape of your neck. Slumped boneless beneath him, mind still grappling with what you’ve just done, you lazily move, thrusting back against him.

He hisses, grip tightening on your hip.

When Kento is close to orgasm, you’ve learned how to identify the signs; the puckering of his brow, the intensity and focus that burns like ultraviolet across the length of your form, the sudden jerk and release of the supreme tension that cords the sinew of neck and arms, the small grunt followed by the intimate press of his forehead to yours.

Yet again, he surprises you. Raising yourself on your forearms, you turn your upper body to regard him, and oh –

Oh.

As soon as you face him, his lips find yours, barely forming a kiss, messy and wild, a man starved. And the sounds he was making –

You’ve never heard the like from him before, but today you’re quite fortunate. Heavy pants, grunts, moans that reverberate within his chest, surging along your spine, hot puffs of air sensitising your skin as he buries his face between your shoulder blades.

His teeth sink lightly into the flesh there, igniting embers that kindle a simmering furnace. Breathing now matching the pace of his, you start to measure your movements, each timed push backward on his length tightening the drawstring around the bottomless pool of honey you’ve laved him with.

Kento stiffens, hands dropping abruptly from your sides to the bed beneath. A sensation of wet, pulsing heat within you, once, twice. You reach for him, whispering heady praise into your kiss, tongue tracing delicately across his, a contrast to the animalistic fervour you’d both displayed earlier.

He eases his body from yours, fingers drawing familiar shapes along arms, neck, lower back. You turn your head to the side, taking him in where he now lies beside you, unable to help the smile that breaks across your face. He returns it, the firm lines of his mouth shaping themselves into that most secret flame that burns so bright, casting the shadows away from your life and his, even if only for this stolen moment.

Ah, here he is, your tired sorcerer, brimming with unspoken devotion and the dogged faith that brings him back to you, again and again.

Here he is, your Kento, to pare away the rough edges of pain and the bleak unsheathing of sorrow’s knife, to hold you so close while snow blankets the world outside.

Here he is, your lover, his scent as elusive as night-blooming jasmine, banishing the evening from your heart.

[charchev]

Happy Birthday Kaiser 👑

gn!reader x Michael Kaiser

The grand, glittering cityscape of Munich stretched out before you, but tonight, its beauty paled in comparison to the man standing before you. Michael Kaiser, in all his regal glory, wore a smug grin as he eyed you from across the private rooftop.

“You’re staring, Liebling,” he teased, brushing a hand through his golden hair. The way the city lights reflected in his eyes made him look almost otherworldly.

“You’re hard to look away from,” you admitted, cheeks warming.

The setup was simple but elegant—exactly what he deserved. A candlelit dinner for two, with a breathtaking view of the city he ruled on the field. The table was adorned with his favorite dishes, and the faint sound of classical music played in the background.

“I thought I’d keep it low-key this year,” you explained, gesturing to the setup. “But I wanted to make it special for you.”

Kaiser stepped closer, his signature confidence softened by a rare hint of vulnerability. He reached out, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual bravado.

“You always make things special,” he murmured, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to your forehead.

You smiled, pulling out a small box from your coat pocket. His eyes lit up with curiosity as you handed it to him.

“Happy birthday, Michael.”

He opened the box to reveal a sleek silver bracelet, engraved with a simple phrase in German: “Mein König.”

“For the king,” you said with a grin.

Kaiser chuckled, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist and admiring it. “You’re spoiling me now,” he said, though his voice was thick with gratitude.

“Only because you deserve it,” you replied.

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on your head. “You’re the best gift I could ever ask for.”

And for that rare, quiet moment, the Michael Kaiser—the confident, untouchable striker—was just a man deeply in love with you.

[ivystoryweaver]

'Twas the Night Before - Marc Spector

Marc + falling asleep together for @ladywynne

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Christmas night and Hanukkah 1st night are both Dec. 25 this year and I'm REAL excited!

Notes: Word Count 2.5k, Christmas & Hanukkah, gn!reader, kissing and flirting. Vague references to Marc's past but it's not angst. Marc is a flirty boy. He's younger than in the Moon Knight series (late 20s instead of late 30s). Just go with it. Overuse of italics, not beta'd.

You don’t believe it.

Even though you see him with your own eyes, you can’t actually believe Marc Spector is standing in his childhood driveway, which sits directly across the street from your childhood driveway.

From your old bedroom window, you can see him pause as his hands land on his hips. He’s facing away from you, but you watch his head drop as if he needs a moment to collect his thoughts or steel himself.

Resisting the urge to bang on the window, or open it and shout his name, you pause as his father, Elias throws open the front door.

Marc must hear his name, but not from you, because he finally looks up, waving halfheartedly before collecting a carryon size suitcase from the trunk of the car he drove up in. After grabbing a backpack from the passenger seat, he trudges up the walk, pausing momentarily before accepting his father’s handshake.

Even from your vantage point, you notice the tension he holds in his shoulders - broader and sturdier than they were the last time you saw him. When you were teenagers. Children, really.

His father claps him gently on the back before leading him inside.

Quite nonchalantly dressed in the cutest outfit you brought with you on the trip (besides your Christmas attire), you march the distance to your neighbor’s house, armed with a paper invitation to your mom and step-dad’s Christmas Eve/holiday party.

Elias would have received an invitation a few weeks back, but you want to be sure that Marc knows he’s invited.

And you want to see him.

Elias graciously accepts your invitation, promising to pass it along to Marc, who is out at the market. You express your disappointment in missing him, and Elias remarks how grown-up you look, and how he agrees that Marc has to see you during his brief visit. Finally, Elias invites you over for the first night of Hanukkah.

“Hey there, need some help?”

Yearning mingles with relief and excitement as you hear the soft tenor of Marc Spector’s voice later that afternoon.

Grocery bags in hand, you whirl around to see him - really, finally see him. No taller, but more handsome. He’s grown into his features. Some people are cuter as kids, while others grow into their best look as adults. Marc was never unfortunate looking, but adulthood suits him wonderfully.

His dark curls are longer than you’ve ever seen them, but styled neatly off his face, despite the rebellious curl or two threatening to fall across his serious, coffee colored eyes. Jaw squared, his throat bobs, full lips parting as he utters your name.

"You’re home for Christmas.”

You smile at him brilliantly.

“You’re home for Hanukkah.”

He quickly nods, reaching, without invitation, into the trunk of your mother’s car to retrieve the rest of the grocery bags. “Same day this year.”

"I know, I thought of you once I noticed it on the calendar.”

His eyes find yours. “You thought of me?”

“Of course,” you nod toward his childhood home. “I think of you every year when I come home, always wondering if this is the year I’ll see the elusive Marc Spector.”

Something darkens his countenance. You can guess what. But he grants you a wry smile anyway. “Lead the way.”

You do so, feeling your heart thump in your chest as he follows you up the front walk, through your front door, all the way into your kitchen as you announce, "Mom, look who I found!”

Your mom squeals in excitement to see the young man she used to know, rushing him through setting down his grocery bags on the kitchen island so she can give him a proper hug.

You hover closely, making sure she releases Marc at an appropriately brief interval. You don’t want him bristling and uncomfortable in your home. Not during the holidays, or ever.

Pleasantries are exchanged, Marc is offered a sizeable sugar cookie in the shape of a dreidel, which makes him chuckle. He nods for you to take one as well, and you choose one shaped like a candy cane, if only to keep him from eating his alone.

"Why don’t you two go downstairs and I’ll bring you some tea or coffee…or cocoa?” Your mom offers, that matchmaking twinkle in her eye.

"Mom, we’re not six,” you tease. “You have enough to do for the party.”

You turn to Marc, who is smiling warmly, something serene settling in his countenance as he watches his old neighbors interact. Just the sight of him steals your breath for a moment. He is truly, remarkably handsome.

He apologizes, letting you both know he has other plans for the afternoon, but promises he'll see you soon.

You show him out, bouncing at little on your toes at the chance of seeing him again.

"So, does this mean you're coming to our party?"

One corner of his mouth curls. "As long as we hide downstairs the way we used to. And dad says you might come over to ours."

“Definitely.”

The holiday party is a smashing success, as always. The whole neighborhood turns up, including Mr. Spector and Marc. Since he hasn't visited home in years, he draws a lot of attention, most of which doesn't interest him.

But he plays the dutiful son and the friendly neighbor, continuously gravitating back to you as a sort of touchstone. You make sure to "need his help" carrying dishes to the kitchen, taking out the trash - anything, really, to let Marc escape if he wants to. The two of you walk Mr. Spector back across the street, lingering longer than is necessary in your front yard.

"You don't have to go yet, do you?"

Scuffing his foot on the pavement, he hesitates, so you're quick to add, "We haven't dodged the rest of the party in the basement yet. And of course, there's the pool table."

"Right," he agrees, remembering the fun (and safe) times shared there.

"I saved some of the good whiskeyyyy," you tempt, taking his arm. "We can watch Eight Crazy Nights."

"Hell no. Die Hard."

Arm in arm, you sneak him back inside, texting your mom to let her know you'll help her clean up tomorrow.

She's quick to text back that you should 'take your time' and 'have fun' with lots of embarrassing emojis.

“Wow, it’s like stepping back in time. This place hasn’t changed one bit,” he marvels as the two of you descend the oddly curved, carpeted staircase to your basement/family room.

"I know. Time capsule,” you laugh, watching as he takes a gander at all the old photos framed and situated across the mantle.

“God, you look almost exactly the same,” he remarks, zeroed in on your senior portrait.

"For real?”

He regards you openly, warmth in his eyes. And something more, as if he appreciates the view. “You’re exactly the way I remember you. Must be nice not to age.”

“Yeah, right,” you chuckle. “But thank you.” A beat passes between you, gazes locking, before heat creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks. “You look different, though. Good different, I mean. You don’t hunch anymore.”

He laughs. “Steven hunches enough for the both of us.”

"Oh Steven,” you remember the alter kept so carefully hidden, but you knew. You always knew. “How is Steven?”

“Good, I think. Probably won’t pass up the chance to tell you himself,” Marc diplomatically responds. “He’s been quiet since we got…home.” He clears his throat.

Boldly stepping closer, you, gently grasp his forearm. “I’m glad you’re here. So glad.”

“Thank you,” he responds evenly, and it feels like something is healed in him since you last talked, and certainly since you last laid eyes on him. “You ready to get your ass kicked at pool?”

“Nine ball, corner pocket,” Marc announces smugly, taking his fourth shot in a row.

“I should so bump into you right now,” you tease.

“You can. I’ll still beat you,” he fires right back, sinking the shot, which makes you groan. So you bump him next time, hip to hip, and he misses.

“Your turn,” he offers, with mock graciousness, and you can tell he’s plotting his revenge. Eyeing him suspiciously, you call your shot and lean over to take it when you suddenly feel him crowding in behind you.

“This is actually my shot, cheater,” he breathes on your ear, strong arms encircling yours as his chest presses against your back. “We’re gonna play the rest of the game just like this.”

“Fine,” you pretend to shrug him off, as if you aren’t thrilled to have him close. He smells like sun-drenched sands and secrets and spice.

Your eyes drift closed as his lips almost brush your cheek. “You knew this would happen.” Wrapping his arms and hands carefully around yours, he executes the shot you called, clumsily but successfully - the two of you almost tipping over in the process.

Gripping your hip with one hand, steadies you, then maneuvers you to the other end of the table to set up for the next shot. “You always know what happens when you cheat,” he taunts, settling in behind you and announcing his next move.

“I think you want to play like this,” you fire back. "You probably love it when I cheat. Consider it your Hanukkah present,” you tease, thrusting back against him temptingly, yet playfully.

The slightest, satisfied growl rumbles in his chest as he leans you forward to make the shot. Then he turns you around, taking the pool stick out of your hand and stashing it across the table beside his own. Leaning forward, he cages you in with his forearms braced on the table's edge.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” His gaze drops to your lips.

“Yeah. Guess so,” you shrug. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Marc wets his lips with his tongue, his eyes incapable of focusing on one part of you for long. Eyes, mouth, neck, even your chest and he's not subtle about it. "Haven’t changed at all.”

“You have,” you tell him, grasping his biceps for support as he crowds into your space. “You seem...good.”

Sobering a bit at your observation, Marc eases back out of playful mode, and your personal space. “Better.”

"Good." Missing him so near, but feeling a little off kilter from his blatant flirting, you close the slight distance between you, palms pressing against the warmth of his chest. “Marc, I missed you.”

"I missed you too."

"Now this is a party," Marc says, resting comfortably enough on the lumpy old brown couch, socked feet stretched out in front of him on the coffee table, nursing the "good" whiskey.

"Told you. Thanks for sticking with me upstairs," you softly reply, not at all interested in the action movie sounds on the world's oldest TV.

"No problem. I don't mind it as much as I used to. Especially with you here." He offers you a sip of whiskey with such a familiar nonchalance, you almost feel like a couple.

"I can tell, you know - that the same things don't...I guess bother you as much," you gently prod. "Or maybe you handle things differently?"

"Hopefully," he nods, fingers brushing yours as he takes the drink back from you. "But what about you? How are you?"

So you catch him up on your life. College, significant others, job, your family.

"Your turn."

Then Marc tells you the most incredible story about Egypt and gods and magic powers. And how he is with Steven now. No more hiding.

"It's okay if you don't believe me," he concludes, knocking back the last gulp of whiskey. "I wouldn't."

"I'll always believe you. Tell me more about Egypt. About everything."

Marc has always been a fortress - always withdrawing into himself as to not disturb the space around him any more than was necessary. When his emotions did come out, it was usually...really intense, to say the least. Then he would run.

And that was Marc, for a long while. Feel, hurt, withdraw, lash out, run. It was one of the reasons you probably weren't together right now. Not to mention your own contributions to the issues between you years ago.

It's been a long Christmas Eve of wrapping and party prepping and hosting, and having Marc here this year is equally soothing and all-consuming.

Before you realize it, you've inched closer, arm pushing into his arm from shoulder to elbow. Your head drops to his shoulder as he continues talking. Eventually, he either takes a break or concludes his tale, focusing in on the movie. But in the mean time, his voice so soothes you that your eyes flutter closed before you realize it.

The movie ends, Bruce Willis saves the day, along with Reginald VelJohnson. "Let it Snow" plays during the credits and Marc softly calls your name. He suspected you were asleep, but now that he's certain, he doesn't have the heart to disturb you.

The gentle sounds of your breathing lull him into a state of calm he hasn't felt most of his life. He smiles to himself, lets his head drop back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

A couple hours later, you wake up, smooshed up against Marc's side, some Christmas movie playing on the TV. Marc's head has slumped down on his chest and you feel terrible because he simply can't be comfortable.

Calling his name, you shake him gently before easing down on the floor beside him to help him lie down. He stirs momentarily, bleary eyes blinking, struggling to focus.

Seeing you, he seems to remember his situation. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"No, it's okay. Lie down. I'll get you a blanket if you want to stay."

Perhaps he wants to walk back across the street, but it is the middle of a cold night, and this would not be the first time he spent the night in your basement.

But as you stand to get him the blanket, he seems to realize you're leaving. "No, stay," he pouts, still half-asleep. "You're warm."

You sleepily giggle, hesitating only a moment before settling into the tiny space he's created for you beside his stretched out body. "Marc, I don't think I'm a very good blanket."

"Just stay for a minute," he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. "Just one more minute."

"Okay, I'll stay" you agree, now wide awake as your heart races. It takes you a second to tuck your body into his.

You end up half on top of him and it feels so good you can't even think straight.

"You can go upstairs if you want," he offers, palm spreading over the curve of your back as he presses you closer. "Just wanted to hold you, is all."

"I want you to hold me," you confess in a rush, breath ghosting his cheek. "I want to stay."

Then you feel his lips on yours, warm, soft and demanding. You fall apart in his arms as he tastes you, tenderly tracing the shape of your jaw as he eases back.

You don't let him get far, pressing your mouth to his.

“Welcome home, Marc,” you whisper in the dark before you fall asleep together on Christmas morning.

Winter Wonderland Fluff Ficlets | Marc Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[subwhizz]

Can you write a short story featuring the ship Lou x Ox please? Maybe a Christmas special?

𝔸ℕ 𝕆𝔽𝔽𝕀ℂ𝔼 ℂℍℝ𝕀𝕊𝕋𝕄𝔸𝕊 𝔼𝕊ℙ𝔼ℂ𝕀𝔸𝕃 𝔸𝕌🎅🎁

So a year ago (same time you ask me this-damn), I WAS developing a Christmas story based on Secret santa game, but between studies and burnouts, I never completed it until now that I´ve revived!!

So very happy to finally show you this silly little AU!! that resulted from my coping mechanism while working in a company underpaid, overwork and under very questionable labor practices!!

—¡INSPIRATION WORKINGS ITS WAY FROM TRAUMA AGAIN YEIH! :D 

STORY IN: Wattpad (for ESP readers) and AO3 (for ENG READERS)

In the rush, i forgot the spy girls' designs but they´re also here-working as secretaries for different departments and executives.

(Also Huge thing: Michael is into bitcoins and always trying to get people into pyramids schemes. Just to give him personality here-)

(Also Mandy being Lou´s boss is something I love and I try to put that whenever I can-)

—Now with the plotline:

CONTEXT: A silly game at the office puts Lou in a tense situation, as his work priorities clash with the mystery surrounding his secret Santa, who seems to know more about him than they should....

Or When Ox reunites with his childhood friend at his new job, he finds out how hostile he's grown, and his efforts to get closer worsen when he learns that the other doesn't even recognize him. To finally reunite with him, he will surprise him by playing the Secret Santa game!! Unaware of the mayhem his gifts would bring to a company that's hungry for drama, gossip, and especially money

This was the last AU idea i have from this fandom, after this one my soul is finally free🕊️🕊️🕊️ From the short stories XD Still missing the long-ever lasting LEP fic- bUT ANYWAY-

Enjoy your holidays and hope life is treating you well!!

Merry Christmas❤️❤️❤️

[shepsfishtank]

once bitten and twice shy

female shepard / garrus vakarian • rated T • 5k words

Shepard needs someone to run back-up on a last minute mission; Garrus gets stuck with it. Too bad turians don't like the cold.

excerpt:

“Com — mander?” “Read you, Joker,” she says. “Damn it… okay. We’ll sit tight.” Garrus looks at the sensors again — EXTERIOR TEMPERATURE: -141.2°F | -96.2°C. “Still think we’re good?” She turns a withering look towards him.

📖 read on AO3

[urbaebarnes]

christmas eve

summary: all bucky needs to have a good christmas is you

bucky barnes x fem avenger reader

warnings: use of pet names (sugar, doll, etc), reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

it isn't christmas and hasn't been in a hot minute there's literally no excuse for me to be writing this

word count: 2.0k words

I can’t get the image of Bucky and you on your first christmas out of my mind. Not even your first Christmas- your first Christmas Eve. Like, you hadn’t been together super long, maybe a few months max- at least that’s when Bucky managed to pluck up the courage to ask you. He’d been pining for at least a year, practically following you around, traipsing behind you with hearts in his eyes.

Anyway, the point is that Bucky’s been with a few people since he got back. NOne of them meant anything, and nothing ever happened by the time the sun came up the next day, but you were different. You were his, and all of a sudden, every single thing he'd told himself he’d never get, like a wife and kids, a big house in the countryside, it all became much more real. Hence why he’s taken it slow, holding your hand, sweet dates and even sweeter kisses.

It’s not as if he didn’t think about you in that way, because obviously he did, but he wanted this to last, he wanted your first time together to be memorable, perfect. The only time he’d been around you past midnight was when you both fell asleep on the couch, your head on his shoulder.

He’d scolded himself immensely for that, the fact that he couldn’t even stay awake just for a little while, just so he could see your pretty face on his shoulder, just so he could stroke his hands through your hair. But instead, he gently shook you awake, pressing a peck to your forehead and carrying you back to your room, tucking you in under the covers as you grumbled something in passing as he left.

He longed for the days he could lie down next to you, pull the blanket over your bodies, pull you close to him, call you his, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep. But for now, he took it slow, playing by his own, stupid rules.

But this was different. You’d been practically buzzing around the compound all day on Christmas Eve, you’d baked cookies in the shape of christmas trees and enforced watching Christmas movies for the entire team. It was your favorite holiday, he knew that, and so could everybody else as you stayed in your Christmas pyjamas all day, little red candy canes adorning your clothes along with the massive fluffy socks, one of which resembled a reindeer and the other a snowman.

The smile on your face was something he knew he would remember forever, and as he sat there and stared at you, head tilted as he tasted batter from the wooden spoon, moaning at the sweet taste. You’d grinned triumphantly at his display of affection, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to his lips. 

Sam, per usual, was being an annoying shit about it- in Bucky’s opinion. Any time he’d see the two of you, he’d pluck some mistletoe from God knows where and dangle in between the two of you. Or, with the sole purpose of pissing the 100-something year old off, he’d tilt his head and pout as your soft displays of affection, “Oh, come on sugarplum, where’s my kiss?”

You’d giggle every time, handing him a teaspoon of cookie batter with a scrunch of your nose and the promise of ‘finding him a girl by valentines’. Bucky, however, couldn’t help but grind his teeth at the exchange.

You weren’t Sam’s sugarplum, you were his. His fairy, his sugar, his doll, his girl, his. 

Sam would hold up his hands at Bucky’s lethal stare, seeing his eyes squint, “All in good fun, my friend.” He’d laugh after thanking you for your generous promise.

“You’re not my friend.” He’d say grumpily, standing from his seat and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him, watching as Sam went to pull out the mistletoe. 

He shook his head, smiling faintly at the two of you before making some excuse about helping hsi fish decorate its stocking, leaving the two of you in peace. You smiled, seeing his pouty lips and pressed yours to his, running your thumb across his lower lip as they curved upwards. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.” You grinned, kissing the curve of his shoulder. “I hope you like the gifty I got you.”

“You’re the only thing I could possibly want, doll.” He smiled, letting his thumb stroke over your cheek as you lent into his touch. “Just wanna wake up with you in my arms…” He trailed off, biting his lip as he realised the words that just slipped out. 

He searched your face for any change, any hint of disgust. Sure, he’d wanted you close all the time, he was clingy and seemingly, you loved that, but maybe this was a step too far. You hadn’t spoken about sleeping together, in either sense, and part of him didn’t really believe you’d want to share a bed with a man who’d done so much wrong.

“You’d want that?” You questioned quietly, lips staying parted as you watched him carefully, almost pleading with him for an answer, but he wasn’t sure with one. Bucky swallowed thickly as he nodded, almost ashamed, although you couldn't quite work out why. “Okay then.” You nodded, “I do wake up early though, especially on Christmas-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He shook his head, licking over his lips as he pulled you closer to him. “You’d… you’d want that?”

“Obviously.” You could laugh, why wouldn’t you? He was perfect, and he wasn’t the only one who felt the need to be around the other 24/7. “Let me put the cookies in the oven real quick?” You said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his palm before you looked back to him, still frozen, just staring at you, lips curved and parted. “Bucky?”

He snapped back to reality quickly, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head and nodding, “Right, sure, just let me-” He shifted so he’d sit back down as you took the tray of uncooked cookies and placed them in the oven.

The rest of the day passed and Bucky couldn’t quite process what you’d agreed to, instead finding himself in a lovestruck daze. You on the other hand moved on with your day, only bringing it up after dinner.

“You wanna sleep in your room or mine?” You whispered to him as the rest chatted, the Christmas spirit seemingly making everybody beyond happy, even Tony who’s usual complaints and sarcasm was replaced with laughter.

He shook his head, shrugging. It was beyond himself how he hadn't thought of this before that moment. He’d spent hours and hours thinking about how he would hold you, how your face would look as he fell asleep on the pillow beside his, but the details, well, they were always a little blurry. “Wherever you want.”

“I’ll come to yours?” You suggested as he nodded, pecking the skin beside your eye. His nose scrunched as a smirk made its way onto his face, “What are you plotting?” You laughed, poking his nose with your forefinger, his ‘scheming face’ as you called it a dead giveaway.

“I’m not plotting anything pretty girl.” He teased, lips ghosting your ear as he lent close. “I was just thinking, since it’s such an early morning tomorrow, we should probably get to bed around now.”

You laughed as he kissed your earlobe before making his way across your face with a flurry of tiny kisses. “Bucky, Buck!” You squealed breathlessly, “It’s only eight o’clock, we can’t go to bed yet!”

He pulled away, cupping your face as he pouted, bottom lip popping out as he sulked, “But we’ve already watched all your favourite Christmas movies, and I’m sooo tired, please doll?” He watched as your eyes drifted over his shoulder and as he glanced, he found Sam and Steve in a small huddle around Sam’s phone, which he was using to record the entire interaction. “What are you doing?” He squinted, straightening his posture.

“We had to get evidence of this on camera.” Steve smirked, pointing between the two of you.

“Please doll, I'm so tired.” Sam mocked.

“Yeah pretty girl I-” Steve got cut off my Sam who had bent over laughing, causing Steve too to burst into laughter. 

“Well now I’m tired and looking for an excuse to hide from them.” He huffed under his breath as you let your head rest on his body.

“Come on then.” You smiled, holding back your own giggle, “Suddenly, I’m just sooo tired too.” You pulled on his arm as he flipped the still recording camera off, letting you pull him away. “You go back to your room and I’ll just brush my teeth.” You said quietly, grin never leaving your face as you left him by the door of his room, disappearing into your own across the hallway.

Bucky had got changed into some seasonal pajamas you’d gifted him and by the time you knocked, he was sitting on the side of his bed, fiddling with the white sheets between his thumb and middle finger. “Can I come in?” You asked through the door and he smiled at your politeness, shaking his head as he got up to open the door for you.

“You could burst into my room and I’d thank you, sugar.” He grinned as he faced your figure, “My room’s your room.”

“Right back at you Barnes.” You smiled, stepping into his room as he made room for you, “So…”

He grinned at your slight awkwardness, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m so tired.” He fake yawned, pulling you closer and closer to the bed until your legs were pressed up against the bed frame, “Oh look, it’s a bed!” He fake gasped, picking you up and placing you on one side.

You squealed and giggled as he placed you down, pulling back the duvet so you could wriggle under before practically jumping around to his side. He hesitated before getting in, pausing, “Are you sure you’re okay with-”

You cut him off as you rolled your eyes, “If I don’t get to cuddle with my boyfriend in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna punch someone.”

He laughed at that, finally laying down next to you as you shifted until your face was rested in his chest, grinning like an idiot. “So violent.” He smirked, trying to cover up the pink flush that graced his cheeks at you being so close, at the fact you wanted him this close.

You simply hummed, snuggling into him until your voice was muffled. “Bucky?”

He repeated your name back with a smile, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“Thank you.”

He frowned deeply, eyebrows furrowing together, he should surely be the one thanking you for being here, for letting him hold you. “For what?”

You lifted your head a little, resting your chin on his torso, “For making this the best Christmas ever.”

“It hasn’t even struck midnight yet.” He laughed, “It’s a little preemptive don’t you think?”

You shook your head, “I have you, and you’ve already made this ten times better than last year.” Bucky had never thanked the room for being dark before, but now that his cheeks were bright red, he couldn’t help but thank whichever one of Thor’s friends or foes that controlled darkness.

His hands felt around for your hips, rolling you over onto your other side as his metal arm stayed under you, wrapping around you as he pulled you right into his chest, hsi other hand draping across your body, pulling you tight to him like a teddy bear. As you alternated between laughing and squealing, he kissed your shoulder, tightening his grip around you, “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to act normal about it. Needed you closer.” He practically whined.

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas.” You joked softly, letting your head nuzzle into his metal arm, getting comfy.

“I’m lucky all year round now I’ve got you.”

[vinniesmuse]

need him under my tree in the morning shirtless, messy hair, and with hera.

or in my bed naked. either works

[muldermuse]

does anyone remember that stepdad!butcher thing i wrote and it was about butcher being basically a father to your daughter bc you got together and you were a single mum???? but you kinda weren’t together anymore but butcher loves your daughter so much he stays in touch? and butcher is like im not the step dad- im the dad who stepped up??? ANYWAY i think about him all the time

your daughter being in the Christmas play and butcher running lines with her :((((((

christmas time means that your daughter is spending most early evenings with butcher as your work is hectic. you’ve given butcher his key to your home for the first time since your break up and every time you come home- butcher is sat on the sofa with your daughter pacing around the living room reciting lines to him

you try to go and give her a kiss before you start making dinner for the three of you but you get, “mom! butch and i are in the middle of rehearsing!”. butcher laughs as you roll your eyes and go to raid the fridge for any meal you can make for the three of you

you get two tickets for her show, one for you and one for butcher. butcher shows up dressed smart in a jumper and suit pants, which kinda takes you aback.

“you never dressed this nice when we dated” you quip harmlessly

“need to put on a good showing for my little mate, got ‘er some roses in my car an’all. I’ll give ‘em to her at dinner”

“dinner?”

“superstar has gotta have a slap up meal after all the hard work she’s put in- don’t ya think?”

butcher gives your daughter a thumbs up before her line and you can see it calm any nerves she had. butcher’s applause at the end of the play is louder than anyone else’s in the audience. your daughter runs up to the two of you and hugs you both so tight, thanking butcher for being the best

he's booked your daughter's favourite restaurant for her celebration meal and when he hands her the roses; you try so hard not to fall back in love with him. after ordering whatever she wanted on the menu and finishing with a huge chocolate sundae, neither you or butcher are surprised when she falls asleep on the sofa

butcher carries her upstairs and helps you tuck her in. she wakes up briefly to ask butcher if he can spend christmas here, "please butch... it doesn't feel like christmas if we're not all together"

he presses a kiss to her head and promises that he'll be back on christmas eve to help her get ready for santa <3

[icyhottodo178]

What you and your boyfriend do on Christmas Eve- Haikyuu

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧’𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙣 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚. 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙃𝙖𝙞𝙠𝙮𝙪𝙪 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙫𝙚. 𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨!!

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨: 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨, 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙆𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙤 𝙏𝙚𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙤, 𝙔𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙞 𝙏𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞, 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞 𝙀𝙞𝙩𝙖 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙊𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙪 𝙈𝙞𝙮𝙖

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1996

Kuroo Tetsuro: Going Ice Skating

For your date on Christmas Eve with your boyfriend, Kuroo Tetsuro, you decided to head to the ice skating rink as you both headed onto the ice once you both had gotten your skates on. You glided across the rink with Kuroo hand in hand as you smiled while the gentle breeze hit your face and you were having a great time. It had been some time since you last skated on Christmas but you were having fun doing it again. You let go of Kuroo’s hand as you glided alone and you launched yourself into a series of impressive jumps while Kuroo clapped.

“Wow babe. That was beautiful. You’re so graceful on the ice,” Kuroo said to you as you chuckle in response at his comment and you kissed his cheek. Kuroo decided to do some tricks of his own as you watched him twirl and jump a few times, clapping at his impressive moves. It was nice skating with your boyfriend as you skated side by side, holding hands, the silence comfortable and warm. The twinkling lights of the rink made the scene even more beautiful as you were having a great time with Kuroo and you broke the slight silence between you both.

“You know it’s nice to skate with you and after some time of doing it for a while. I’m glad to have gone skating with you for our date, Tetsu. I’ve enjoyed it,” You said to Kuroo who nodded in agreement as he squeezed your hand, his gaze lingering on your face on your face and he pulled you closer to him before he kissed you on the lips. You kissed him back as you both had stopped skating and held each other’s hands before you pulled away from the kiss, a small smile appearing on your lips. You both skated off the rink as you sat on the bench to take off your skates and put your trainers on while Kuroo did the same.

Once you gave back the skates to the person in charge of the ice rink, you both headed to the cafe where you could see a slightly long line but there weren’t too many people so you didn’t have to wait too long and you both joined the queue as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the cafe. After a couple of minutes you both had gotten your drinks as you found a small table for the two of you and you sat down while Kuroo sat in the chair across from you. You took a sip, the rich, creamy goodness warming you from the inside out as you sighed at how good it was and Kuroo took a sip too, enjoying the drink. As you sat there, sipping your hot chocolate and enjoying the comfortable silence, you knew this was a date you’d cherish forever and always. This date with your boyfriend was one of the best as you hoped you could go on similar dates in the future.

Yamaguchi Tadashi: Watching a movie

You were busy choosing a movie to watch with Yamaguchi as you finally picked one to watch and your boyfriend entered the living room with some popcorn for you both. Yamaguchi joined you on the couch as he gave you a small bowl of popcorn while he held his and you pressed play to start the movie using the television remote. It was Christmas Eve as the sun had set half an hour ago and you both had finished eating dinner together when Yamaguchi suggested that you both watch a movie together before going to bed. The lights had been turned off for a better movie watching experience as the movie soon began after a few minutes and your eyes were glued to the screen while you absentmindedly place popcorn in your mouth to eat.

Yamaguchi chucked quietly as he knew how focused you’d get while watching a movie or television series since you didn’t want to miss a single thing that was happening on screen and he found that bit about yourself cute. Yamaguchi turned his gaze back to the television screen as the movie was at the part where the male lead was talking to the female lead after they had met for the first time and it reminded him of the first time he’d met you which made him smile at the thought. Ever since he met you for the first time, Yamaguchi had always admired you for being smart, funny and helpful to others as he eventually got the courage to speak to you and soon you both started to go out to dinner or to grab a cup of coffee together until one day after three months Yamaguchi had asked you to be his girlfriend. Of course you said yes as you two became a couple and you both had been dating for almost a year now.

“You know this is a great movie and the scene where the male lead meeting the female lead reminded me of our first meeting,” You said to Yamaguchi as you had paused the movie with the remote and you turned your gaze to your boyfriend who nodded in agreement. Yamaguchi smiled as he loved spending time with you and this movie night on Christmas Eve was something that he believed would become a tradition between you both. Yamaguchi placed his small bowl down on the coffee table in front of you both as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him and he kissed you on the cheek.

“Yeah I thought the same thing. Let’s continue watching the movie, yeah? I want to see what happens next and I’m sure you do too,” Yamaguchi said as you nodded before you pressed play once again and the movie played from the scene it was on, your gazes were focused on the scenes happening on the television screen. After an hour had passed, the movie was over as you had fallen asleep during the end credits and Yamaguchi turned off the television before he fell asleep. This had been a wonderful Christmas Eve as Yamaguchi was looking forward to spending the next one with you and Christmas with you. You both cuddled closely together as you snored softly and the atmosphere was very quiet as well as comfortable for you both.

Semi Eita: Decorating the Christmas Tree

You opened a box full of ornaments to decorate the Christmas tree with as you take out a snow globe ornament before you place it onto the tree whilst Semi hangs some silver tinsel onto the tree and he helped you hang some of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. This was an activity you loved doing with your boyfriend as a Christmas song was playing on your phone and you enjoyed doing little activities like this on Christmas Eve. Once the ornaments were on the tree, Semi took out some Christmas lights as he placed them on the tree and he smiled at how colourful the tree looked with all of the decorations.

“It looks absolutely beautiful. Don’t you agree, Eita? Now there’s one last thing left and then the tree will be complete,” You said to Semi who nodded in agreement at how beautiful the tree looked with all of the decorations on it as you took out a gold star to put on top of the tree but you couldn’t reach the top properly so Semi helped you by picking you up and you place the star on top of the tree. Semi put you down afterwards as the tree was finally finished after forty minutes of decorating and you’d have to admit that this was one of the best Christmas trees you’d ever seen. The colourful lights, the silver tinsel and everything else about the Christmas tree made the room full of Christmas spirit as you gave Semi a high five to commemorate the achievement you both had managed to accomplish. It was hard work but it definitely paid off as you were very proud at how the tree looked after it had been decorated by the two of you.

“We did a great job decorating the tree and it looks wonderful. Now we’re ready for Christmas tomorrow. Merry Christmas my love,” Semi said as he pulled you closer to him before he kissed you on the lips and you kiss him back, pulling away after a few seconds later. It was fun decorating the tree on Christmas Eve with your boyfriend as you were looking forward to Christmas tomorrow and how your friends would react to seeing the tree since you both were hosting a Christmas party which was something you were very excited for. Now that the tree was decorated it was definitely going to make people gaze at it in awe and you both were proud at how the tree looked.

Miya Osamu: Baking Christmas Cookies

You had been busy baking with your boyfriend, Osamu Miya, as you both had finished placing the trays into the oven and Osamu was finishing up on the icing for the cookies while you had the sprinkles ready. Christmas music had been playing from your phone as you had a Christmas songs list prepared and you hummed along to some of the lyrics to the song that was currently playing. You watched Osamu making the icing as it was red and he set the bowl down once the icing was complete. The sound of the timer ticked away as the cookies were currently baking in the oven for twelve minutes, six minutes had already passed since the cookies had been in the oven baking.

You absolutely loved cooking and baking things with Osamu as it was your favourite hobby to do since it was a way for you to relax your mind but it was mostly because of the fact you liked to try new things to bake or cook. Osamu also felt the same way as he enjoyed cooking or baking things and sometimes you both would spend time baking things together which was always a blast. The timer dinged after the remaining six minutes were up as Osamu had his oven mittens on and you opened the oven door before you stepped back so that Osamu could take out the tray. Once he had taken out the tray, you closed the oven door as Osamu places the tray down onto the counter and he takes off the oven mittens, putting them off to the side.

“Now that the cookies are done we should wait a minute or two before we begin to decorate them,” Osamu said as you both waited for two minutes for the cookies to cool down and another Christmas song began to play after the last one had finished. After the two minutes has passed, you both got to work decorating the cookies with icing and sprinkles as this was your favourite part to do once the cookies were done. The cookies were soon completed as they had been placed onto a plate and you both clean up the kitchen which takes fifteen minutes before you both headed to the living room with the plate of cookies.

You both sat down on the couch together as you both took a cookie each before you bit into them and you hummed at how good the cookie tasted. Baking was a great thing to do on Christmas Eve as it was a favourite activity that you both enjoyed and the results of the baking was always so satisfying. Making Christmas cookies with Osamu was the best as you enjoyed it so much and you were definitely going to make this a tradition between you both.

𝙎𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙀𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩. 𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙄’𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙤 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚.

𝘼𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 @icyhottodo178 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚!! 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩!!

[corralinesage]

Learning you by heart (14/?)

Chapter 14: All in vain

“Natasha!” Wanda could hear the shout all the way downstairs, her intuition telling her that the tone of your voice was far from pleased despite the fact that it didn’t sound exactly alarming, a slight, ominous buzz finding the pit of her stomach.

“What is it?” Natasha exited the bathroom and came straight into your room, recognizing your displeased tone from years of petty arguments she had found herself in after stepping on your toes while learning to be in a relationship with another person. You had once taught her how to love, how to communicate, how to function like a healthy human being, which was why she wasn’t afraid of your tone. You turned to look at her, the shock on your face evident from your paling complexion. You looked drained of color, drained of light, truly disturbed. That was what brought the fear to Natasha’s chest. That haunted look was what made her heart jolt painfully inside her.

“What is this?” You offered the picture to Natasha, your fingers trembling visibly as you reached your hand toward her to give her the picture. Natasha needed no more than a glance to realize what was going on. She sighed quietly, bringing her hand to her mouth, her eyes closing in defeat.

“It’s…” She had no words. She didn’t know how to begin to explain anything to you because she knew it would never make sense. She would only come off as a liar, a downright delusional lunatic.

“Have you been stalking me?” The anger in your eyes hurt more than she could have ever expected, the ire that bore into her through your gaze intense enough to make her want to back away from you altogether.

“No- no, absolutely not-”

“Then explain this!” You shoved the Polaroid close to her as if burned by its touch. “What- what- Did you photoshop this? Edit my face into some random picture of your ex?” You could barely breathe.

“No!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. It’s right there!” You threw the picture at her, turning away from her as you brought your hands up to your face in an attempt to somehow shield yourself from the truth, but there was nothing you could do. She took a step closer to you, her hand extended forward as if aiming to touch you, but you flinched away, your trembling hands in front of you as if to ensure that she stayed away. “Don’t touch me”, you hissed, taking another step back.

“It’s not what you think it is”, Natasha began, but you wouldn’t let her finish, unable to believe that there was a single reasonable explanation that could have undone the agonizing heartbreak that you were going through.

“Then what is it? Tell me.” You crossed your hands over your chest, your patience wearing thin.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Natasha seemed uncomfortable, reluctant to even participate in the conversation.

“I know you are”, you retorted bluntly, but she ignored your hostility.

“I haven’t been stalking you”, she began, earning an angry scoff from you, her eyes glancing your way in disapproval. “You’re not going to believe me.” She didn’t see the point in trying to explain herself. You were never going to believe her. You had always had a hard time understanding magic and aliens. You had always required concrete proof of anything extraordinary to believe it.

“Try me.” Natasha gave you a wary look, unsure if you were actually looking to understand her or if you were simply looking for an opportunity to prove your own theory about her, yet she decided to give it a try anyway.

“There are multiple realities.” You scoffed dismissively, but she kept going. “There are places in this universe, this multiverse, where things are different.” Your demeanor was oozing disbelief. “There are parallel universes where different versions of people, places, and events exist, different versions of you and me exist.” She took a small breath, struggling to even think about your variant. She could sense that it was all coming down and she would have nothing left once it was all over. “The wife that I told you about… This is her.” She crouched down to the floor to pick up the Polaroid that you had chucked at her, her features softening at the image. “And it’s also you, just another version of you.” Your eyes were the size of dinner plates as you tried to make your lungs function properly.

“Oh… so you’re crazy-crazy.” Your eyes gleamed with tears, forcing you to look away from her to prevent her from seeing how affected you were by the disappointment you were facing. “This is… fucking perfect.” You let out a small chuckle despite not finding a single aspect of the situation even remotely funny. “So let me get this right.” You glanced at Natasha. “You come from another reality where you lost your wife. Your wife, who is also me. I’m your wife. You know things about me, random things. That’s why you were always so good with me, knew what I liked, what I wanted. And now you’re here because… You can’t process grief?” Your tone was mocking, every word that left your mouth clawing at Natasha’s raw heart. You didn’t believe her and you had no intention of even trying.

“We all have our own ways of processing”, she muttered quietly.

“This is far from processing anything.” You went over the events again in your head, trying to make the puzzle pieces fit together, but none of them were clicking because none of it was true, the anger inside you building up to double its initial intensity, the rage bubbling over and seeping into your tone and volume. You cursed loudly, facing the ceiling to force your tears back into your tear ducts. “Was this some- some kind of ruse to make me fall in love with you?” You yelled in disbelief, trying to wrap your mind around the possible motifs she might have had to conduct such betrayal and spit out such nonsense. It didn’t make sense. What reason did she have to play with your heart so cruelly?

“No. No, Y/N, I’d never do that. This isn’t a game or some evil plan. I missed you. I wanted to be around you. Whatever you feel for me is on you.” You went silent, slowly recognizing your own agency in the situation. She had no way of controlling your emotions. She had no ability to make you feel things that you didn’t actually feel in your heart. She was right. She hadn’t manipulated you into falling for her. If anything, she had tried to escape you when you had first met. You were the one who had gone after her, on both occasions. You looked at her through your tears, standing there helplessly before her, the anger slowly starting to dissipate from you as you were reminded of what exactly you felt for the woman standing in front of you. No matter how hard you tried to put up a wall between you, the pain that you felt was directly connected to the grief of losing her, the thought of having to let her go.

“I’m falling for you”, you whimpered, biting your lip to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Natasha’s heart jumped in anticipation, but your grim exterior held her back.

“I don’t see an issue with that.” She took a step closer to you, sensing that your hostility was moving out of the way to make more space for her.

“You’re crazy.” You shook your head, still trying to take in all the information she had given you. “You- you’ve gotta be lying. It’s impossible.”

“It’s not. Wanda can explain it to you-” The second the words left her mouth the realized that it might have been a mistake.

“Wanda knows?” You looked even more horrified.

“Not exactly but she can tell that I’m not lying.” Natasha jumped in immediately in an attempt to save the situation, but it was too late, your anger was back, hot and flashing.

“She’s in on this?” You looked like you could not take any more of her stories and explanations.

“No, Y/N, listen to me.” The entire situation felt hopeless. She couldn’t turn it around no matter what she did. It was all over.

“No. No. What kind of sick people are you?” You were shaking your head as if to shake out any of the information you had just received, your life crumbling apart right in front of you. The tears that had been clinging vehemently onto your lash lines finally rolled down your cheeks, your lower lip trembling visibly as you opened your mouth to speak again. “I want you gone.” Natasha didn’t want to believe you. “Take your stuff and go!” Before she had the chance to fight back, to beg you to give her another opportunity to somehow explain herself, the door to your room opened, Wanda’s horrified expression coming into view. She had heard the loudest of your yelling, which had prompted her to come check in on you.

“What the hell is going on?” Wanda shut the door behind her to make sure the guests didn’t have to listen to the emotionally charged dispute.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on”, you said in a hysterical tone, tears streaming down your face. “You two. I don’t know what I ever did-”

“Shh, alright, Y/N. Let’s just… calm down.” Wanda could immediately tell that you were in no place to start explaining the situation. You were falling apart, torn from the seams.

“How could you do this to me? I trusted you!” Your tone was heartbroken, shattered.

“Do what?” Wanda looked between you and Natasha, searching for an explanation.

“She knows about it all”, Natasha filled in quietly, her expression tense and filled with sorrow. Wanda sighed heavily, upset that her party was being interrupted by something that could not be brushed under the rug for the time being.

“You’ve been lying to me. Both of you.” Wanda approached you despite your fuming, reaching her arms for you. “She’s fucking psycho, and you knew?” You yelled at Wanda who managed to remain calm, her hands squeezing your arms to ground you.

“She’s not psycho.” You paused at Wanda’s response, staring at her blankly. There was no way she was taking Natasha’s side.

“You believe her?” Natasha could hear the betrayal in your tone, the gentle crack in your hoarse voice emphasizing your pain.

“She’s telling the truth. This isn’t the only reality that exists.” You stared at Wanda, mouth agape. “Remember when I told you about that dream I had? The one where I met myself.” You nodded your head. You recalled it very vividly, and you recalled how impactful the dream had been. Wanda had met a witch in her dream, a witch that was an alternative version of her, one that told her she could travel through realities. “It’s true. She’s proof that it is true.” Wanda gestured toward Natasha. “I’ve had more of those dreams. Elaborate conversations with her. The multiverse is out there, and this is the witch’s way of showing it.” You stared at her, eyes wide, disbelief exuding from your expression. You couldn’t believe any of it. You didn’t want to believe it because it went against everything that you knew about the world.

“The Scarlet Witch”, Natasha said quietly, Wanda’s head turning her way in mild awe as if discovering yet another piece of her puzzle.

“Fuck. I need to get out of here. There’s no way. Fuck, shit, shit.” Your breathing grew heavy as you tore yourself out of Wanda’s grasp and took a few pacing steps, feeling claustrophobic in your small room.

“Breathe, Y/N. Look at me, honey, just breathe.” Wanda grasped you again firmly, forcing you to stay put. She forced you to look at her as she spoke. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You can think it’s crazy, you can think it’s all a lie, it doesn’t matter.” You seemed to slow down, deciding to hear her out. “It doesn’t matter because I’ve never seen you this happy. I’ve never seen you so open, so sweet and loving.” Wanda gave you an imploring smile that came off sympathetic to your situation. “You’re head over heels for a reason. Nobody can fabricate that.” You felt your cheeks heat from embarrassment. You had fallen for a lunatic. How could you humiliate yourself in such a way?

“Well, I’d rather be with a sane person.” You crossed your arms like a petulant child, unwilling to give in so easily. You were not going to be fooled or taken advantage of.

“She’s not crazy. You know that deep down. She’s already shown you that”, Wanda reasoned again, Natasha standing quietly on the side.

“She’s been stalking me or some shit. She knows all these things about me and she’s using it against me.” You turned to Natasha. “That’s why you were at the show more than once. You’re a crazy, obsessed…” You checked yourself before calling her anything worse. “You’re crazy.” Natasha wasn’t going to listen to you insult her when she had spent the last two months finding a way back to you. This was not what she had been after. She stepped closer to you, prompting Wanda to move aside.

“The first night you locked eyes with me was right after I had come into this reality. I came straight from a battlefield and searched half of Manhattan to find you.” Her tone was on the verge of anger and hurt. “I saw a poster for the opera in the subway and recognized your face. I caught a single seat from the final show for the day just to get a glimpse of you.” Natasha could feel her eyes water, the contradiction that she found herself in making her weary and confused. She wanted you. She just wanted you. She didn’t have it in her to fight, not anymore.

“That night I realized that I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t meet you because I knew it would end this way. You had your own life, one that was completely separate from mine, and I knew that no matter how much I loved you, no matter how much I wanted you, I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong in your life.” She let out a huff, struggling to voice her feelings out loud. “The second night at the show was my goodbye. I spent a month trying to get my own life here into order but for the most of it I was depressed in my apartment, mourning the death of my wife. I couldn’t actually face you. I couldn’t be with you, so I was going to leave you be. I didn’t want to interfere with your life.” Natasha wiped her eyes curtly with her index finger. It pained you to see her cry, your mind immediately recalling the first night she had spent over at your house. The pain you had witnessed on her face had been palpable. It was the kind of pain that nobody could fake. “But then you came after me, and almost got yourself killed in the process. I couldn’t resist you and your beautiful soul. I missed you far too much.” She shook her head in disappointment, glancing your way.

“Regardless of how this ends, I will never regret that decision. Never.” She gave you a broken smile, her eyes still glistening with tears. “Because I got to have just a few more weeks with you and it was more than I could have ever asked for.” You felt physical longing in your chest from having to watch her cry. You felt the urge to comfort her, to hold her because no matter what she was saying you still recognized the fact that you cared very deeply for her. You found it impossible to believe her story. It was beyond your comprehension, yet it was beautiful in a heartbreaking way. You looked at her for a long time, searching for clarity within yourself. You were in love with her. You knew that. You didn’t have to search for that. You had fallen in love with her far too quickly, and to know that she had been loving a version of you for years made you feel oddly secure, but despite all that, your rational mind was trying to reason its way out of the situation.

“Let’s say it’s all true…” You began a bit hesitantly, moving closer to her, your eyes analyzing her from head to toe. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I just want to love you. I want to see you and know that at least in one reality you’re safe and you’re okay.” She gave you a pleading frown. “I just want you. There’s nothing else I want in the world. You’re it. You’re all I need.” You couldn’t help the tears that found your eyes, the droplets spilling down your cheeks rapidly.

“I can’t do this. I need time. I- I need to be alone.” You turned away from both Wanda and Natasha, walking to your bed and sinking onto the mattress. You let out a loud sob as you curled up into a ball. Natasha was about to move into your direction, intending to comfort you, to hold you and try her very best to make you feel even slightly better, but Wanda stepped in front of her, gesturing toward the door.

Natasha left the house with tears streaming down her face, the icy air biting the apples of her cheeks as she hugged her coat tighter around her. Never in her life had she felt as lost as she did in that moment. She didn’t know what to do. The only thing that she could think about was you. She felt so utterly helpless. There was nothing she could do. She wanted back to you because you were the only semblance of familiarity she had in her new reality. She couldn’t function without you, nor did she have the reason for it. If you didn’t want her, her new reality was useless. She had no purpose. She had no one to turn to, nothing to do, so she headed back into her apartment and shut the world outside. She changed into more comfortable clothes, sitting in pure silence in her living room as she thought about her next move. She couldn’t stay in a reality where you had looked at her with such hatred in your eyes. She didn’t want to live a life where you were in her reach, but never to be hers. For all she cared, she could cease to exist altogether, longing for an escape from the grim reality she found herself in. She wanted to blame Wanda for ever sending her into another reality. She wanted to find the culprit behind her misery, despite knowing full well that she would find it if she just looked into a mirror. She was the one who had been so emotionally inept that she had traversed universes to escape a grief so strong that it nearly killed her. She had caused it herself, she had made the decision herself. Wanda had simply helped her carry through with it.

Looking for someone to blame wasn’t going to solve Natasha’s problems, so she reached out for a solution that had created the mess in the first place. She needed to escape. She wanted to go back home, back to a place where she at least still had friends and family around. She missed the people she had left behind, the people who knew her, knew what she had been through, knew insignificant details about her. She missed her sister, she missed her Wanda, she missed Steve, she missed Maria, and she missed Tony. Her heart couldn’t take the longing inside her.

“Please, Wanda. Take me back”, Natasha whimpered, curling up into a ball on the couch, hugging herself as tightly as she possibly could. She rocked gently back and forth in an attempt to soothe herself, her tears finally spilling over. “Please, Wanda. Please.” Natasha bit her lip harshly, holding in her cries. “I wanna go home.” She wasted a little bit more effort into holding in her cries before giving in, the sobs tumbling from her lips in sudden bursts. “I want home.”

Natasha remained on the couch for the rest of the night, crying after her old life, her old self, and most of all, you. She didn’t move from her spot until she had run out of tears, until she heard a knock on her door. Her eyes were raw, lips hot and puffy from all the crying she had done. Her muscles and joints ached as she craned herself up from the cushions of her couch, some semblance, some spark of hope providing her with the energy to bother getting to the door. She was hoping it was you, begging and praying that you had come back to make amends, but another, larger part of her knew that it wasn’t the case. You wouldn’t have looked at her with such gut-wrenching disappointment had you not truly felt it. She didn’t deserve your forgiveness for keeping something so huge from you. Nonetheless, she trudged to the door, yanking it open rather lethargically. The sight that came into her view made her break down all over again, the familiar face turning her knees weak. She immediately recognized the muted orange hair and the stance of her body. Natasha sank into Wanda’s embrace, her Wanda’s embrace.

“Oh, hey-” Wanda’s arms locked around Natasha automatically, holding her as tightly as she possibly could, alarmed by the rather obvious vulnerability Natasha was displaying. Wanda’s hand sank into Natasha’s hair, her strong body holding up Natasha’s. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. God, I missed you”, Natasha hiccupped, squeezing Wanda even harder, practically shaking in her embrace.

“Come on, let’s go inside. We’ll make sense of it all.” Natasha pulled away rather reluctantly, her hands clinging to Wanda on their own. They both got inside, returning to Natasha’s spot on the couch. It was only then that Natasha got a proper look at Wanda. She wore regular clothing, but the skin around her eyes had darkened noticeably, her features coming off as darker, deeper. She seemed worn down, drained, maybe slightly deranged, bringing attention to the fact that Natasha did not know what had been going on in her original reality, nor did she quite know anything concrete about Wanda’s new ability to travel the multiverse. All Natasha had ever heard when Wanda had offered the opportunity, had been a chance to get you back. Natasha couldn’t help but to hold onto Wanda with both hands, worried that Wanda was going to slip away from her and not take her with her.

“You cut the blonde out of your hair”, Wanda mused gently, taking a look at Natasha’s miserable appearance. The latter smiled slightly.

“I wanted a fresh start.” They both sat in the feeling of understanding until Natasha could no longer avoid the obvious. “How are you here?” She asked, her eyes filled with childish awe.

“I got this inexplicable need to check in on you”, Wanda explained quietly.

“Your timing is impeccable”, Natasha chuckled bitterly. It took a good while until she was able to fully gather herself and explain the situation to Wanda in its entirety. She told exactly what had happened, not sparing day details as she poured out her heart and soul into Wanda’s lap.

“It was horrible. The- the look in her eyes”, Natasha mumbled quietly, pulling away from Wanda to gain back her dignity. “I wanna forget it. I wanna forget it all.” Natasha took a shaky breath, Wanda grasping her hand despite the distance Natasha was trying to create. Wanda didn’t quite know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say at all. “It was all for nothing. Everything that I did to protect her… it was all in vain.” Natasha sniffled loudly. “All the effort, not letting her come to Vormir with me, shielding her during the battle, sending her to safety before all hell broke loose… I might as well have thrown her right off Vormir. The end result would’ve been the same.” She groaned in frustration, rubbing her hand over her eyes. “It should’ve been me instead of Clint.”

“No, Natasha. There was no right answer.” Wanda squeezed her hand tightly.

“I was always the right answer.” Natasha turned to look at Wanda, those sorrowful green eyes so certain and earnest.

“No.” Wanda’s expression was stern. “You couldn’t have changed what happened and you can’t undo what happened. None of this is on you.” Natasha looked like she wanted to fight back but she didn’t.

“I don’t want to be here. Not anymore. It’s too painful.” Natasha wiped her eyes dry with her fingers, casting a pleading look at Wanda. “I want home.” They looked at each other, Wanda’s eyes flitting back and forth as they searched Natasha’s for the right answer.

“It’s not the same anymore.” Natasha looked at Wanda with dread etched onto her face as she waited for Wanda to elaborate. “Tony’s dead.” Natasha let out a weak sigh, one that almost seemed like she was going to burst into tears, but she maintained her composure. There was a heavy silence that weighed down on both of their shoulders, but eventually, after Natasha had managed to wrap her mind around the news, she spoke.

“I need to get back home. I don’t have a purpose here.” It sounded grim, but it was true, and Wanda understood that. Being in a reality that was difficult to blend into was devastating, not to even mention all the reminders Natasha would have of you in that environment.

“Are you ready to leave her behind?” The silence following Wanda’s question was heavy and dragged on for what felt like ages. “You have two options: learn to live without her or try again.” Natasha looked ahead blankly.

“It’s not worth it.” Natasha shook her head in defeat. “I can’t take it. She doesn’t want me.”

“Then I think it’s better you come with me.”

“Thank you”, Natasha whispered, giving Wanda a sorrowful smile.

“Where’s your variant? It would be for the best to leave things as close to how they were before your arrival”, Wanda reasoned. Natasha looked beyond torn, regret contorting her features into a pained grimace.

“I killed her.” The air around them felt stagnant and almost suffocating. There was no going back. “I was careless, I know. I was arrogant and confident beyond reason.” Wanda seemed to need a moment to internalize what Natasha had done, but in the end, it did not come to Wanda as any kind of surprise. Natasha had always been possessive and protective over you. She would never let anything stand in the way of you and her, nothing, not even herself.

“Then I guess there’s nothing left. I’ll take you home.”

You didn’t go downstairs again once on Christmas Day, staying cooped up in your room until the next day. Nobody came asking for you, which you knew to be Wanda’s doing. She had gone downstairs back to the party shortly after you had told Natasha to leave, unable to welcome anyone’s presence. You could not handle anybody witnessing you in such a state of humiliation and agony. You couldn’t face anyone, not even yourself, replaying the things you had said to Natasha, the things you had shouted at her. You felt guilty, but you also felt angry, vacillating between feeling like your reaction was justified and like it was over the top. You had never cried so hard, never let out such agonizing sounds than after the guests had finally left the house and it was past midnight. The holidays were over. Christmas was over, and so was your relationship with Natasha. It all felt like a horrible fever dream, like none of it had ever been real. You spent the morning of Boxing Day in the same spot on your bed, your eyes sore, body cold and shivering. You hadn’t slept a wink, far too occupied with your jumbled up emotions to be able to close your eyes as you stared at your wall with empty eyes. The sun had come up despite how much you had felt like it was never going to shine again.

You had fallen in love. There was no way around it, there were no excuses for it. You had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with Natasha Romanoff and there was nothing you could do to hide those feelings or escape from them. You loved her, you were in love with her, but the messy thoughts in your head made you wary of that feeling. She was delusional, telling stories about alternate realities. You could never rely on someone who couldn’t even make sense of her own perception of the world. You couldn’t trust someone who would ever even have the guts to come up with such lies, let alone recite them without a speck of shame. It was lies, the whole relationship was lies. It was built on lies. It could never be anything, at least not anything healthy when it was based on delusions. You felt exposed as you imagined all the ways in which she had possibly invaded your privacy. You imagined her following around you in the city, coming to your shows, eyeing you at the grocery store, peeking into your bedroom through the window, like you had seen all the stalkers in movies and television do. You felt humiliated. Who knew what kind of violations she had done? Who knew all the ways in which she had stolen your right for privacy? You thought you had been able to trust her, you thought that she was someone secure and reliable. She came off as sane, rational and reasonable. She didn’t seem spiritual, or delusional in any other way. She had always seemed perfectly normal to you. If anything, she had seemed more reasonable and proper than most, but perhaps it was all too naive of you to believe that people could truly be who they display on the surface or even a little bit beneath it.

You wanted to believe her more than you wanted anything else. You wanted to be able to trust her, and somewhere deep down, emotionally, you did trust her, but your reasonable mind could not accept her story when you had spent all your life thinking that life outside of earth was not possible. Sure, people talked about aliens and magic beings, but they were always exclusively in fairytales. Some speculated about the existence of aliens and claimed sightings, but everyone knew those kinds of people to be slightly out of their minds, looking to escape their miserable lives. Natasha had suffered a tragic loss. It was only reasonable to be going at least a little bit crazy. Her wife had very clearly meant the world to her. It didn’t take much for anyone to figure that out. Natasha missed her wife dearly; perhaps it was exactly what was driving her insane. It was enough to drive anyone insane. You couldn’t really blame her.

But then again, if you did actually choose to believe her and trust that she was telling the truth, how could you ever compete? Natasha wasn’t looking for you. She was looking for a version of you that you didn’t even know anything about. You could never truly please her or match the expectations she had for you. It was impossible to make sense of. You wanted Natasha, you wanted her and no one else, but it also felt like she wanted someone you could never be. It was devastating, confusing, draining, and no matter how you tried to look at the situation, you felt like there was no winning.

“Can I come in?” You heard a knock at the door, Wanda’s voice muffled by the barrier between you.

“Yes.” Your whisper was so frail you were sure Wanda hadn’t heard it, but she opened the door anyway and came to your bedside, taking a seat beside you, close enough that you could rest your head on her lap over the soft fabric of her morning gown.

“Talk to me, honey. I’m starting to get worried.” Her hand found your hair, petting over it gently as she waited for you to speak.

“I’m just… processing.” You pressed your cheek tighter against Wanda’s thigh, craving some kind of human contact to alleviate the tormenting thoughts in your head. “I can’t believe it ended like this.” You let out a long sigh, feeling utterly defeated. Wanda remained quiet for a while, clearly in thought.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. You can still have her.” You almost didn’t want to hear her out at all, feeling defensive and overall bitter about everything.

“How could I ever trust her? She’s been stalking me or something for god knows how long”, you scoffed, turning onto your back to be able to see Wanda’s face.

“She hasn’t been stalking you.” You gave her an angry glare. “She has no ill intentions. She doesn’t want to hurt you”, Wanda reasoned gently, playing with your hair.

“She already did.” You had a sour look on your face.

“Not intentionally”, she reminded you.

“Then why does it hurt so much?”

“You’re in love, Y/N”, Wanda whispered tentatively, unable to believe that you were so blind to the cause of your own agony.

“No, I can’t. No, no- it’s not-”

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You won’t find another one like her. Take a leap of faith. She told you she wasn’t stalking you, she told you the truth. You’ll just have to blindly take her word for it. Take that risk because you might just never have to look for love again.” You let her words sink in at their fullest impact, pained by the fact that you would have to choose blindly and try to find balance between the rational and the emotional. You wanted to know what to do, what was the right answer but no one else could answer that question for you.

“Think about how happy you’ve been. Think about what you want from the coming year.” Wanda cupped your cheek, giving you a sympathetic smile. “She’s a good person. I can feel it.” Her smile only widened, her forefinger tapping the tip of your nose in a gentle, affectionate way. “And I think you know that too.” You shifted your gaze toward the window in your room, staring blankly into the white light that came from outside.

“I’m scared”, you whispered, barely getting a sound out of you.

“Life is scary. Love is scary”, she reasoned in a gentle hum. “Don’t let fear take her from you.” You closed your eyes, your lower lip trembling rapidly as blood rushed in your ears, tears finding your eyes again. “Why couldn’t she be normal? Why couldn’t she be a sane fucking person?” You sobbed out, burying your face into Wanda’s thighs.

“We all come with baggage. You just have to choose whether she’s worth dealing with it all or not.” Wanda pulled your face away from her lap, gently guiding you to look up at her. “Come on, honey.” She pulled you upright, bringing you into her embrace, her hand combing through your hair. “Either way, it won’t be the end of the world.”

“I want her”, you whimpered, failing to hold in your sob, a loud wail falling from your lips, prompting Wanda to squeeze you even tighter.

“Then let’s go get her.”

[unistaryo]

Tea Break [Walter C. Dornez x F!Reader + child!Integra(Oneshot)]

🌟Happy New Year everyone!

Summary: Just when you thought that you found a moment of peace during the holiday preparation in the estate, Walter and Integra have other plans.

 Finally, some peace.

 It was hard to find a moment like this one, here on the sofa that had been empty for almost an entire day. Maybe even longer–but who knew? With Sir Arthur’s grand New Year party coming up, no one had a minute of peace in this mansion, not even his daughter.  

 Poor Integra knew too much for her age already. She was only 5, yet she understood why her father took it upon himself to teach her about her destiny, why he didn’t spend too much time with her, or why her mother wasn’t around anymore. That’s why you were hired in the first place: to be a positive maternal figure and a constant caretaker for Integra. 

 Now, when you took this job you wouldn’t have guessed you’d also become some sort of housekeeper, but that’s how it turned out. You couldn’t back out, especially since the girl had become so attached to you.

  At least you could find a moment alone to relax, even just for a few minutes. With the staff preparing everything for the gathering and Integra asleep, you could finally enjoy a cup of tea in the library. It was a quiet, hidden place that was rarely crowded on a normal day, let alone now. A place where you could recollect yourself in peace, or so you thought. But just as the warm ceramic touched your lips, a familiar voice broke the silence.

 “Seems like someone finally decided that it’s time for a break.” Walter stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as always. The butler’s sarcasm was biting, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

  You smirked, “Well, maybe try to take a moment for yourself for once. Even Integra knows this and she’s a child.” Walter frowned, clearly debating whether to argue. Instead, he sighed, the lines of fatigue deepening around his eyes. You softened, patting the seat beside you.

“Come on, a few minutes won’t hurt, won’t they? I can also pour you some tea.” The butler appeared hesitant, but he quickly complied as you started to fill a cup.

 He drank it in silence, not muttering a word, and neither did you. The periodical glances told you everything you needed to know. His eyes were more relaxed than usual, holding a softness that felt almost sacred–one that even films couldn’t capture. Then, his hand slowly went towards your head, but just as it almost reached its destination a young voice interrupted it.

 “Miss (L/N)! Walter!” Integra entered the library, brimming with excitement. She looked like she had just woke up from her afternoon nap “What are you two doing here?”

 “We are just resting,” you responded as you picked up Integra, placing her onto your lap, “we are not as young and powerful as you are anymore.” Integra chuckled at this, grabbing you and the butler’s arms.

 “Well, you should be! Dad always says that he felt younger and more powerful around mom!” with that, she made your arms touch. 

 “Now, dear, that’s wishful thinking, we already had this discussion-” 

 Walter cut you off, his hand sliding around you and Integra while the other one took yours with an ease that made your heart skip. “Maybe we were doing something young people often do before you came in,” he said with a sly wink.

 Integra gasped and almost jumped out of joy, “I knew it! You two are a couple! You were kissing!” your face burned as Walter’s fingers traced soothing circles across your back. There was no escaping this, was there? Probably not.

[nicbutnasty]

in from the cold

Max F/Lando | 400 words | G rated for cosy winter fluff

Heavily inspired by Max and Lando's photos from their skiing trip.

Read on AO3

Max is already curled up in front of the fire when Lando walks in and unceremoniously deposits himself into Max’s lap, nearly knocking his phone to the floor in the process. There’s not really room for two people in the armchair Max has claimed, but Lando squirms until he’s mostly comfortable, still fidgeting until— “Mate, your hands are freezing!” Max yelps as one of Lando’s hands finds its way under his fleece, the other swiftly following it. He tries to pull away, for fear of losing his nipples to frostbite or something, but Lando’s got him trapped.   “What’ve you been up to? Your trackies are soaked, too, Bob.”

And they are: from knee to ankle, the fabric is sopping wet, leaving damp patches on the sherpa blanket over Max’s lap. No wonder Lando’s freezing. 

“Been making snowballs,” Lando replies from where he’s got his face buried in Max’s shoulder, his red nose a pinpoint of cold on Max’s jaw. This close, Max can hear his teeth chattering slightly. “Chucking them at Ed. For Instagram. Thought it’d be funny.”

“No gloves?” Max asks.

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tickling Max’s jaw with his bright pink beanie. 

Max shoves at him, ineffectively. “Alright,” he sighs, “Get up, strip those trousers off, and then get under the blanket. You’ll catch your death in wet clothes.”

“Buy me dinner first,” Lando jokes, flashing one of those ridiculous grins of his. As if he thinks he can stay curled up against Max, making the whole setup cold and damp, purely through charm.

Max doesn’t justify that with an answer, so Lando reluctantly extracts himself from Max’s fleece and slides off, making quick work of his wet joggers. 

“You’re the one with the Formula 1 salary, Bob,” Max finally retorts, probably too late. “Maybe you should buy me dinner sometime.”

He pulls back the blanket and beckons for Lando to join him, making room for Lando’s back against the armrest and legs across Max’s lap, socked feet tucked in. 

“Maybe I will,” Lando murmurs from where he’s pressed up against Max’s fleece again, head half-tucked into his armpit. “Maybe I will.”

Ed traipses through with the rest of them later, when Lando’s half asleep on Max’s shoulder, their legs intertwined. “Alright, you two,” he nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to see the two of them curled up together.

Which, he supposes, maybe it is.