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darkfluffydragon · 2 months ago

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CRK Character Analysis and Theory: Hollyberry Cookie

Hollyberry is so, painfully overlooked. And I think it's almost by design, really. She's a cheerful, strong-willed character who's never really seen to have been really upset, other than when the truth about White Lily was revealed. Sure, there were subtle signs of her struggle, but never anything that really stuck or was obvious enough that 'it seemed important'. This led to the fandom joking around about her traumas, dismissing what she experienced and acknowledging all the Ancient's hardships, except for hers. She became the joke of the group, the "Except Hollyberry" meme.

And yeah, it's funny when looked at in a quick, general view. It's also sort of...not fair on her. She suffered the same as the other ancients, just because she doesn't scream "I'M TRAUMITISED HELP ME", it doesn't mean that she doesn't have problems.

She may not be like Pure Vanilla, who lost his entire kingdom. She may not be like Golden Cheese, who returned to everyone she loved being dead. She may not be like Dark Cacao whose son tried to kill him, or like White Lily who has to experience the maddening guilt of the consequences of her own actions, but that doesn't mean that what she does experiences should just be dismissed because they're seen as "not as drastic as the others".

Hollyberry has always been shown to be a very family and relationship-orientated person. She cares for them a lot, and visibly cherishes her relationships with all her friends and family. It is her shame of being incapable of protecting them that made her flee, she deemed herself unworthy of being able to protect them. or calling herself not just her family's protector, but her kingdom's protector. This happened after she watched Pure Vanilla basically sacrifice himself to save them and the rest of Earthbread from Dark Enchantress, which she didn't. couldn't do anything to help. And she had been gone for so long, that the Hollyberry Kingdom had to start a contest to try and find a new heir. That entire time, did Hollyberry blame herself for "her failures? For the entirety of however long the period between the Dark Flour Wars was, to the present day?

Eventually, though, she does come back. She comes back and saves her kingdom from Pitaya again, so all is well. Right? Except not really? I've already mentioned that she's a family-oriented person. She defeated Pitaya with the help of Princess Cookie (and Knight Cookie), Princess Cookie who she basically missed her entire childhood of. She never got to see Princess Cookie grow up. The family lost Tiger Lily Cookie while she was gone, and she couldn't do anything. Because she wasn't there. Once again, she has failed them.

She's the Queen Mother again, she's come back and is the hero again with the shield and she defeated Pitaya Cookie once again. She got everything back, without getting any consequences from her disappearance. Pitaya returned because she had abandoned her kingdom. She's the 'hero again' and 'got her shield back again' because she threw them away in the first place. They lost Tiger Lily Cookie and they still haven't found her granddaughter, yet somehow the kingdom sees fit to call her the Queen Mother.

She may have all of this, but does Hollyberry actually think she deserves all of this? Is this not all stuff she would feel she should blame herself for? That she should feel guilt and shame for? Hollyberry has gotten her status back, but she hasn't gotten back the one thing that she cherishes the most. That is the close relationship she had with her family, because of just how long she's been gone. Like, during their reunion? Royalberry personally regarded Hollyberry only one time. The first time he'd seen his mother in who knows how long, and it was him questioning if it really was her or not. Almost like they're just...close strangers. To me, it didn't seem like a familial relationship or a reunion. Probably because that entire part was mostly focused on them talking to Princess, with Hollyberry in the background despite showing up finally for the first time in forever!

Despite the episode being about her, it felt like she didn't belong.

Moving on from the alienation within her own family, I think her drinking problem is really, really overlooked. Seriously, her fondness for drinking is one of her most notable character traits, often portrayed as a part of her hearty and celebratory nature. But there's a fine line between enjoying the drinks in moderation and using it as a coping mechanism. She drinks so much, that Wildberry Cookie is asked to watch over her and monitor her (presumably by Jungleberry as stated in the Legend of the Red Dragon storyline. Also, the fact that a third party has to be the one to ask, and be concerned about her drinking habits??? That it wasn't even her own son, that it was her son's wife. That Jungleberry decided to help, intervene not through confrontation, but indirectly through someone else.)

She drank so much, she literally had a goblet that would never run out of berry juice!

("Hollyberry Cookie's Never-drying Goblet: A goblet that is always filled with berry juice, full-bodied and fragrant. It gets refilled the very next instant one takes their sip, hence the "never-drying.")

Hollyberry drinks so much, in the past and now, that even her friends and the people who know her dismiss her actions and go as far as to even just assume that what she does in her free time, is drink berry juice.

Hollyberry's frequent indulgence could be seen as a means of numbing the emotional pain she feels, particularly in response to her failures and feelings of inadequacy. Her idealisation as a hero, protector, and "Queen Mother" might place immense pressure on her to appear unbreakable, pushing her to hide her vulnerabilities behind her jovial personality and a tankard of berry juice.

It's confirmed that when adventuring, she used to take on an alias name. Take on a different identity, hiding who she is as Hollyberry (the legendary hero, the ancient cookie, the queen of a kingdom), to simply be Sweet Pinkberry Cookie. This felt the need to use another name when travelling, Tarte Tartin Cookie knew her as Sweet Pinkberry Cookie, and the Dragon City knew her as Sweet Pinkberry Cookie, she specifically instructed Wildberry to keep her true name a secret and to call her by her alias while within the city. This could have been a method she used to have used to escape her duties and expectations as "Hollyberry Cookie", which had been tied to her name. Her responsibilities definitely weigh down on her, and it seems like her method of dealing with them is to run away. Whether it is through drinks, or through physically hiding who she is and leaving for an adventure. This is ironic, considering her CRK skill is quite literally her charging forward with her shield.

It is through obligation, and her will to protect those she cares about, like Princess and Knight during the Hollyberry Palace story, that she stands strong and firm as a shield. That's what she's passionate about.

Hollyberry’s coping mechanisms are more subtle but no less significant. Her drinking, cheerful facade, and detached family life all suggest an internal struggle that is often dismissed due to her strong appearance. Her trauma is less about obvious scars and more about the quieter toll of endless battles, unspoken regrets, and the pressure to remain a symbol of strength.

The way Hollyberry is perceived reflects a common issue in storytelling: characters who don’t display their trauma in overtly painful ways can be seen as having “less” to deal with. However, Hollyberry’s struggles with alienation and possibly self-medicating behaviour reveal a more subtle picture of a hero who, despite her laughter and strength, is quietly weighed down by the guilt she feels.

Now, into more...theorising territory. Specifically, how I think Eternal Sugar's story will go.

Hollyberry's drinking and avoidance are not just coping mechanisms; they also tie into the theme of sloth in a...nuanced way. Sloth is traditionally understood as laziness or a reluctance to act (WHICH CAN BE SEE IN THE HOLLYBERRY PALACE STORY), which can also manifest as emotional avoidance and a failure to confront difficult truths (GET OUT OF HER PURE VANILLA THIS AIN'T ABOUT YOU still love you though <3). For Hollyberry, her drinking and retreat from her responsibilities reflect a deeper avoidance of her guilt and emotional turmoils. Rather than addressing the pain of failing to protect her family and friends, she withdraws from it, numbing herself with berry juice and pretending that everything is alright.

She seeks solace in alcohol, allowing herself to temporarily escape the weight of her responsibilities. While drinking may seem harmless on the surface, it represents the passive avoidance of the emotional work needed to heal and make amends. This is where sloth comes into play. It is not the lack of physical activity or courage since Hollyberry is brave and strong, but rather a reluctance to face uncomfortable emotions.

Her drinking can also be seen as a way of slipping into complacency, allowing herself to remain stuck in a cycle of self-pity and guilt, rather than taking active steps to repair the damage done to her family relationships. The choice to rely on alcohol becomes an act of sloth, where it's easier to drown her sorrows and pretend they don't exist than confront them.

Each trial the Ancients had gone through so far had been related to the Beasts and their previous virtues. Pure Vanilla learnt Knowledge about the witches, about the beasts, about White Lily, and had to face a cruel mental quiz by Shadow Milk. Dark Cacao had a battle of will as he travelled up a seemingly endless journey, and had to keep his resolution as he watched all the people he cherishes fade into flour. While for Golden Cheese, it isn't clear yet what it is her trial will be, there has been quite a literal sense of destruction for her (cough cough 🍗 cough cough), and with her hiding the Soulcheese and all she cares about in a vault to avoid having them be destroyed in the following battle against Burning Spice Cookie). It would be safe to assume that the trial Hollyberry would have to go through would be emotional by nature as well, which conveniently fits the issues currently being discussed.

The theme of sloth in her character arc highlights how emotional avoidance can lead to great suffering, not just for herself but for those around her. By choosing not to face her pain, Hollyberry leaves her family to suffer the consequences of her absence, most notably the loss of Tiger Lily Cookie. Her Sloth is not just about failing to act physically, but about failing to engage with her emotional responsibilities. She allowed her guilt to paralyze her, keeping her from returning to her family and from offering the protection and love she knew they needed. Though this has been resolved, the emotional difficulties haven't, and rather, they've all been glossed over.

I believe that Eternal Sugar will use this against her, as her virtue is Happiness. In relation to sloth, happiness can sometimes be a way to avoid dealing with difficult emotions or responsibilities. Rather than actively pursuing genuine fulfilment, one might settle for a superficial, temporary happiness that prevents them from engaging with deeper, more challenging aspects of their life. This type of happiness can be slothful, as it involves choosing the path of least resistance, avoiding discomfort or personal growth. This fits in perfectly with Hollyberry's use of alcohol, avoidance, and happy attitude,

For Hollyberry, real happiness would come from reconnecting with her family, healing from her guilt, and accepting responsibility for her actions. By avoiding these challenges, she sacrifices the possibility of deeper happiness in favour of a shallow, slothful contentment. The cost of this avoidance is not only her own emotional well-being but also the relationships that matter most to her, as her absence leads to greater harm for her loved ones. In order to overcome Eternal Sugar, she'll need to learn to finally confront these problems. Finally learn to properly heal, and not rely on the berry juice to solve her problems.

#fyp #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #cr kingdom #hollyberry cookie #eternal sugar cookie #character analysis #fan theory #the jokes are fun at all #but i've seen so much #i wonder if people genuinely think she hasn't experienced any trauma

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httpswritings · 5 months ago

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if you were my little girl: the series part 5

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

a/n: i was a little bit disgusted writing some parts of this, that's why it has taken more than usually to post it. if you feel the same way when you read it, i guess i've captured well the feeling with words. part 6 will be similar to this one.

Flour dusted your cheeks as you nervously kneaded dough with Alexia. Outside, the rumble of the vacuum cleaner announced your parents' frantic cleaning for the family reunion. Alexia, ever perceptive, noticed the tightness in your smile.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice a warm reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere."

Relief washed over you as Alexia squeezed your shoulder, a silent show of support. But then, a wave of shame crashed down. You loved having Alexia by your side, but you dreaded her witnessing the potential chaos of your family reunion. You squeezed the cookie dough in your hand a little too hard, wishing you could bake away the impending awkwardness.

An hour ticked by, the house humming with the final flourishes before the guests arrived. Relief battled with a gnawing anxiety in your gut. Family members began to trickle in, greeted warmly by your mother, who then ushered them towards Alexia. As introductions were made, Alexia couldn't help but marvel at the warmth radiating from this seemingly happy family. But a dissonant note jarred the picture. Her gaze fell on the clinking beer bottles your uncle brought, a familiar dread sparking in your eyes. Alexia's heart clenched. There you were, barely a shadow against the backdrop of the bustling room, yet the fear etched on your young face spoke volumes. A fierce protectiveness ignited within her, pushing aside the initial wonder. This loving facade, this was the "devil" you'd spoken of?

The spotlight naturally fell on Alexia during the family reunion. A constant stream of questions flowed her way, each inquiry a beat in the symphony of getting-to-know-you. Even your parents joined the chorus, their voices brimming with pride as they declared to anyone within earshot how lucky they were to have an small Alexia as their daughter.

But the facade cracked when one of your uncles, amidst the laughter, uttered a comment about women's football.

"She's good," he chuckled, "but be careful she doesn't turn..." his voice trailed off, replaced by a knowing wink, "...lesbian, you know?"

A ripple of laughter spread, leaving you and Alexia as islands of silence. The term "lesbian" was a nebulous thing, one you'd heard hurled as an insult at girls who excelled at sports, but you know ot meant a woman that loved women. You didn't understand why it was bad, just that the tone felt wrong.

Across from you, Alexia stiffened. Her jaw clenched, and a flicker of anger ignited in her eyes. Yet, she swallowed the retort, the fierce protectiveness she felt for you overriding her own indignation. This wasn't about her. In the stifling atmosphere, a silent vow solidified. She was there to shield you, even if it meant enduring veiled barbs and swallowing her own voice.

It was nearly 1PM and the barbecue started.

Alexia understood right away what you meant with the drawing.

She saw how everyone besides your grandmother was drunk, very drunk.

There was a heavy beer odor in the atmosphere, that made Alexia feel nauseous, and she remembered how upset you got when you had smelled that odor in her some weeks ago.

Everything made sense.

The clock ticked relentlessly towards 1 pm, the hands seeming to etch closer to the moment the festivities would truly begin. A plume of smoke rose from the barbecue pit, carrying with it the unmistakable, acrid scent of burning charcoal and sizzling meat. Alexia inhaled sharply, the pungent air triggering a memory. It was the same heavy beer stench that had twisted your face in disgust when you caught a whiff of it on her. A sudden understanding dawned on her. You hadn't been exaggerating in your frantic drawing. Glancing around at the scene before her, confirmation washed over her like a cold wave. Bodies swayed precariously, laughter devolved into slurred shouts, and empty beer bottles littered the once pristine picnic tables. It was clear – everyone, with the possible exception of your stoic grandmother perched primly on the edge of the scene, was demonstrably, uncomfortably drunk. The nausea that had been a mere flicker before now blossomed in her stomach, as thick and unwelcome as the oppressive atmosphere surrounding her. Everything about this picture, from the reeking air to the sloppy revelry, suddenly made even more sense, terrible sense.

Alexia watched you across the chaotic scene. Here you were, amidst the laughter and smoky haze, surprisingly relaxed. You even seemed genuinely amused, sharing jokes with your family. Could she blame you? This was your normal, the background noise you'd grown accustomed to, the beer-soaked gatherings, the boisterous laughter that teetered on the edge of aggression. Maybe you hadn't even noticed the way everyone seemed a little off-balance, their voices a touch too loud, their movements a hair too jerky. Perhaps you'd simply normalized it all, the way one gets used to the hum of a refrigerator after a while.

The thought made her stomach clench. Then, as if on cue, a beer bottle clattered to the ground, shattering with a jarring crack. You flinched, a flicker of alarm crossing your face before it was quickly masked by a strained smile. Alexia's observation sharpened. Your pupils were dilated, and your hand, reaching for a bread roll, trembled slightly.

A primal urge for safety surged through you. The boisterous laughter that had seemed amusing moments ago now felt like a cacophony, threatening to drown you out. Instinctively, you gravitated towards Alexia, seeking refuge by her side. You'd always admired her hands, strong and capable – the kind that left colorful imprints on both your canvases and your skin during your painting sessions. Back then, they'd been instruments of creativity, but now, they transformed into something more – a potential shield against the unsettling atmosphere. The unspoken promise of protection emanating from those hands offered a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

The moment of amusement with Alexia evaporated like spilled beer on the picnic table as you got near the men of your family to get some water. Your uncle, emboldened by a few too many drinks, lurched back into his usual pattern of inappropriate comments. His voice, thick with slurred words, boomed across the gathering. "If I were you, I'd keep an eye on your little girl. She seems very content with Alexia." A forced laugh escaped his lips, but it held a nasty edge. Shame burned in your cheeks.

Relief washed over you as you realized Alexia hadn't caught the undercurrent of the conversation happening a few feet away from her. Your father, flanked by your two uncles, was fielding questions cast in slurred tones.

"Why is she here, anyway?" your eldest uncle rumbled, his voice thick with suspicion.

"Alexia's been a great help with the girl's journey on football. She's a good woman."

The youngest uncle leaned in conspiratorially, his breath reeking of stale beer. "Yeah, well, good woman or not, is she one of them?" He punctuated his question with a jerk of his thumb, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

"One of them?"

"A dyke, do you know if she's one of them?

A knot of anger tightened in your stomach. You still loved your family, even after everything they had done to you, but suddenly, the thought of being related to them, felt painful. You longed for the escape of your room, a place where the world couldn't twist your innocent friendship into something ugly. You stole a glance at Alexia, catching the way she laughed with your grandmother, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

This was uncharted territory. Usually, Alexia stood as your shield, but now, a fierce protectiveness surged through you, a need to defend the one who'd always been your rock. The conversation went over your head. Dyke. A word associated with something you didn't quite grasp, yet somehow felt ugly. Why were they calling Alexia that? You'd never heard her mention a boyfriend, but girlfriends were a blank slate too. But, what if she liked girls? Why was that a problem?

As you kept listening to them talk, your innocence felt bruised.

"She's hot. It'd be a waste if she's really a lesbian.

"God only knows if I have the chance."

A tear escaped, then another, and you bolted for the safety of your room.

Alexia, her heart echoing your pain, sprung up and followed. "Hey, little one," she called out, her voice laced with concern. "What happened?" Before you could answer, the others arrived, their presence only amplifying your tears. What was once your haven now felt tainted, the air thick with their presence. Your drawings, your toys, even your bed seemed to echo the intrusion.

Your mom reached out, but you burrowed deeper into Alexia's embrace, her familiar scent of fruit offering a sliver of comfort. "Her stomach hurts," Alexia lied gently, a shield against the storm brewing around you.

A semblance of normalcy returned, but you were a shadow by Alexia's side. When Alexia asked what had made you cry, her worried eyes met yours. A truth dawned on you - the depth of your love for her. No longer an idol, she was your fierce protector, an angel in this sudden hell, a sister.

"Just... uncomfortable," you mumbled, unable to voice the unspoken hurt. Alexia saw through it, but held her tongue. This burden was hers, a consequence of leaving you unguarded. Maybe a brief escape was possible.

"Can I take her to the park?" she asked your parents, hoping for a distraction. Your father, still wary of Alexia under his uncles' scrutiny, hesitated.

"Let them go," your grandmother unexpectedly intervened. "The child looks bored of only being surrounded by adults."

To your surprise, the park became a reality. It was your first outing with Alexia, just the two of you. She challenged you to a race, a playful glint in her eyes. Despite her victory, it was her joyous laughter that soothed you, a melody of safety.

The park itself welcomed you with open arms. You made a beeline for the slide, a picture of carefree happiness. Watching you, tears welled in Alexia's eyes.

You were feeling very happy when a gaggle of children, trailed by their parents, swarmed Alexia. Requests for selfies and football games flew through the air.

Your stomach, previously a dull ache, lurched into a full-blown protest. It wasn't just a tummy ache anymore; it was a physical manifestation of your possessiveness. You didn't want to share Alexia with other children, let alone during this hell of a day.

You were her “little one”.

It was the same feeling other kids got when they wouldn't share their toys, their parents, or their siblings. Only, for you, Alexia wasn't just anyone. She was the closest thing you had to family, along with Alba.

The park's joy felt stolen as you stalked out, hand in hand with Alexia. Barcelona's streets stretched before you, but there was no peace to be found, not with Alexia surrounded by others. Alexia, ever perceptive, caught your downturned lips. A secret smile played on her lips. "Hey," she whispered, leaning down, "you know you're still my favorite little girl, right?"

You hugged her and she picked you up.

"I know you're not going to like this but we should return to your house."

You whined in her arms and she really wished she could've bring you home with her, invite Alba and had a peaceful night.

You fell asleep on her arms and she held you tightly.

"Wake up, little one. I need you to be awake until the reunion's over so I can stay."

The boisterous reunion noises held a sinister edge. A sudden crash shattered the fragile peace, sending a jolt through you as you entered the house. Before you could even whimper, Alexia materialized beside you, her eyes wide with worry.

The air crackled with tension, fueled by the adults' increasing intoxication. Subtle cues – the way your parents forgot about your daily bath, the strained silences – painted a picture of neglect that gnawed at Alexia. She retreated to your room, a sanctuary amidst the chaos, creating a world of happy dolls to distract you from the turmoil outside.

If she couldn't make the world a better place, she would create your own one.

As the clock ticked closer to 1 am, the party raged on. Your grandmother, her face etched with concern, offered Alexia a chance to stay the night. Your parents were too drunk to even care.

The familiar comfort of Alexia sleeping beside you, like a sleepover with a best friend, offered a flicker of normalcy. Yet, sleep remained a distant dream. The sounds of arguments vibrated through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's unsettling events.

You liked having Alexia in your room, like you were with your other friends in sleepovers.

She kissed your front as a goodnight and held your hand from her bed.

"Sleep well, my princess."

Sleep eluded you both. The boisterous voices from the living room seemed to vibrate through the walls, a constant reminder of the day's events. A sudden, jarring crash shattered the tense silence. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a panicked echo of the sound. Alexia, alert in an instant, was beside you before you could even cry out.

Her arms wrapped around you, a fierce embrace that spoke volumes more than any words could. You clung to her, your body trembling with a fear she'd never witnessed in anyone else. A single, fierce whisper escaped her lips, "I've got you. I've got you."

The chaos that had been simmering all day finally erupted. Even Alexia, who thrived on boisterous family gatherings, couldn't hide the fear creeping into her eyes. Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, searching for a lifeline - the police, her family, anyone.

But before she could dial, the door creaked open revealing your grandmother, her face etched with worry. "Take her with you, Alexia," she pleaded, voice trembling. "Please, take her."

Confusion clouded your mind, but a surge of bravery prompted you to peek out from behind Alexia. The sight that greeted you was a blur of motion - your uncles locked in a furious struggle, their playful banter replaced by guttural grunts. When they noticed you, they attempted a smile, the facade crumbling as quickly as it formed.

Alexia scooped you close, shielding you from the escalating chaos. Your grandmother, a pillar of strength amidst the storm, began packing a bag with your clothes. Alexia, fear momentarily forgotten, focused solely on getting you out of that hostile environment.

"You're coming with me," she whispered fiercely. "You're safe with me."

A flicker of doubt crossed your face as you looked at your grandmother. Alexia understood. She offered your grandmother a chance to escape with them, but the refusal was swift.

"My place is here," she said, voice heavy with resignation. "They're my sons. But she," she gestured towards you, "she doesn't deserve this. I want her to have a different life, a better life."

With trembling hands, Alexia scrawled her phone number on your grandmother's wrist. "This is mine," she instructed, voice urgent. "Please, don't let anyone else see it. I don't know what's coming next, but I can't bear the thought of her losing contact with you."

A silent understanding passed between them. Your grandmother squeezed Alexia's hand, then leaned down to kiss your forehead. Her voice held a lifetime of unspoken advice, "Remember what I always tell you. Education is your key. It's your power. Never depend on anyone, especially a man," just like she depended on her sons, she wanted something different for you.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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cardboardfeet · 9 months ago

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part 1 (you are here) | next

silly Ames sibling comic I'm working on

script under cut

[Finn, walking down corridor, sees new sign for the communal kitchen]

Finn: ..?

2nd panel

[Rayne appears suddenly, with a enunciated SLAM]

Finn, shocked: ?? RAYNE???

3rd panal

Rayne, dumbfounded: ...Finn?

4th panal

Rayne, now composed but agitated: UGH. Why are you here, moron??

Finn, internally: SHOULDN'T I BE ASKING YOU THAT??

5th panel

Finn: Mash asked me to pick up some ingredients...for a new pastry recipe he's trying...

Rayne, looking pissed: Is that so.

Finn, internally: WHAT DID I DO???

#mashle #muscles and magic #rayne ames #finn ames #my art #its v funny that appearently his name was upposed to be Rain but they messed it up and just went w rayne. dont quote me on that. solly #loser had to change his birth certificate. to me. or maybe its his reblellious MS phase name change that everyone had #legally he is rain ames. but to everyone who knows him its rayne. is my hc. its jow he got away w crime #hnmmnng....worried ab their dialouge .....but its fine wtvr #loved drawing finn jes a nervous wreck <3 #Flour and Reunions

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toelessbastard · 7 months ago

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my brother looked at my recent art after looking at my old art. and said it got yaoified.

#if ur wondering why flour and reunions hasnt updates. ITS HIM OFFICER

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sargebarnesx · 5 months ago

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Sweetness

Pairing: Jim Hopper x unnamed female OC

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: unprotected sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk, pining, spanking, Hopper's thighs in jeans (felt that this deserved to be here), little bit of instalove/lust

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: Jim Hopper could use a little sweetness in his life.

Author's Note: I’ve been working on this for forever but edited it pretty quickly so I apologize for any mistakes!

Monday

The bell over the door rang lightly. He looked out of place in the small bakery, the tan colors of his uniform contrasting with the baby blues and baby pinks adorning the walls. His eyes scanned over the various pastries, cookies, and cakes, sitting pretty in their cases underneath cozy lights.

“Good morning, how are y-oh hey Chief! How are you this morning?”

She emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a white towel. Her hair was pulled back in a clip but she had loose strands sticking to beads of sweat on her forehead. Bits of flour were sprinkled among a smattering of freckles.

Jim Hopper raised a hand in greeting. “I’m good, honestly just hungry. Thought I’d stop by and see what you had available this morning.” He stepped closer to the counter.

She swiped her towel over her face before tossing it on a back counter. “We have muffins, croissants, bagels, donuts. We also have a small coffee bar. Any of that sound good to you?” She met his gaze from behind the counter, a good foot shorter than him. Her apron was tied twice around her waist, emphasizing her full hips. He noticed that the same freckles that decorated her face also covered her hands, arms, and chest.

“A coffee and a…” he trailed off, leaning back to eye the other case, “Blueberry muffin please.”

“You got it, Chief,” she turned away to grab a paper bag.

He had known her for a while; he remembered her from high school but she was younger, maybe a freshman while he was a senior. Her parents were an integral part of Hawkins, the owners of a sandwich shop down the road.

He felt she had barely changed over the years, other than the fullness of her figure, the length of her hair, the warmth in her eyes. He recalled her younger brother’s recklessness, his run-ins with the law. She wasn’t anything like him, at least not to his knowledge. Jim couldn’t imagine the person who ran a place like this had any interest in being reckless.

“Here you go,” her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he glanced up to see her holding a coffee cup and a paper bag out to him. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, reaching for his wallet. She shook her head, “It’s on the house.”

“No way, let me-“

“It’s on the house,” she repeated softly, “Happy Monday, Chief.”

Jim smiled in thanks, taking his items from her. She smiled back as he retreated towards the door and back to his Blazer. He pinched a small piece off of his blueberry muffin on the way to the station.

It was the best muffin he had ever tasted.

Tuesday

She blew out a breath, nearly dropping a tray of bagels on the counter. It was 7:45 am, and Kimberly, her opener, was supposed to have been here fifteen minutes ago. She had been here since 3 am and frankly, her arms were tired and her back hurt. She really didn’t want to work all day but it was looking like she’d have to. She had planned to leave at 9:00 am when her other staff members were scheduled to arrive but such is the life of a business owner.

She hurriedly finished setting up her cases, taking note of what needed to be done that day. Hawkins was a small town but she was lucky enough to be a local favorite. She had made countless birthday cakes for the children of her former classmates, baked bread that would be sold at her parent’s sandwich shop, and catered desserts at the Hawkins High reunion every year. Baking was her passion but going to a doctor’s appointment and taking a short nap before returning to the bakery in the afternoon was taking precedence today.

She could hear a car pulling in and she hoped it was Kim, better late than never. She started walking to the door but hesitated when she saw him.

Jim Hopper was here.

Again.

She opened in exactly one minute and Jim Hopper was parked in a spot right outside her door, patiently waiting. As she stared at him, she noticed Kimberly walking quickly across the street. She unlocked the door and pushed it open as the young woman babbled, “Oh my goodness I am so sorry I’m late, I will stay late today to make it up to you, I am so sorry.”

“That’s fine,” she murmured, following her inside, “Can you refill some coffee supplies, please? I didn’t have the chance to yet.” “Sure thing!” Kim replied, grabbing handfuls of supplies and carting them over to the small table in the corner. She started her trek to the back when she heard the bell over the door ring.

“Good morning!” Kimberly called and she heard Jim give a gruff “morning” in response.

“Fancy seeing you here, Chief,” she said, leaning onto one of her cases.

“I won’t lie, I haven’t stopped thinking about that blueberry muffin I had for breakfast yesterday,” he admitted sheepishly, “And please, call me Jim.”

She was silent for a moment while she took in his appearance. He looked…tired. Stressed. She imagined that working as the chief of police wasn’t an easy job, even in a small town like Hawkins. And she knew that he had been through a lot in the past. Even with the slight discoloration under his eyes, she couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Honestly, she was harboring a small crush on him and had been for years. He was tall and strong, and she had always been fixated on his hands. They were large, with long fingers. She imagined he was the type of man who had rough, callused hands that would feel absolutely delicious dragging across her skin. She’d never tell him that, though.

“Alright…Jim,” she said with a smile, “What would you like today? Another blueberry muffin?”

His eyes scanned her case, “I’m thinking…a blueberry muffin and a banana nut muffin. And a coffee, of course.”

“Sure thing,” she reached for a white paper bag while her opener asked him about his coffee preference. God, now she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. And his beard. And his mouth.

She needed to stop.

Her cheeks were no doubt stained pink, she could feel the heat rising to them. She felt a hand on her arm. “You alright?” Kimberly asked, holding Jim’s receipt in her other hand, “Can I have his bag please?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” She folded the bag closed and handed it over. Jim was smirking on the other side of the counter, “Got a lot on your mind?” She chuckled, “You have no idea. I hope you enjoy your muffins.”

Jim nodded, “Oh, I know I will. That chocolate donut is catching my eye too though.” He pointed at one of her favorite desserts, a chocolate-frosted donut with sprinkles.

“I love those,” she said, “But they’re really sweet, maybe a little too sweet for breakfast.”

“Eh,” Jim shrugged, “I could use a little sweetness in my life.”

Wednesday

Hopper had a crush.

He was a 44-year-old man and he had a crush.

He couldn’t get her off of his mind. Her soft hair was always sprinkled with flour. Her eyes, the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen, surrounded by long, dark lashes. Her smile was framed by full, luscious lips. He thought about her first thing in the morning, thought about her making him blueberry muffins in nothing but his t-shirt while he got ready for work. She crossed his mind at lunchtime, distracting him from his paperwork with her puzzling looks and skilled hands. And at night, when he laid in bed alone with his cock squeezed in his fist, he would think about her naked and on her knees, with those sweet lips wrapped around his length.

Fuck.

He needed to see her again, but the phone was ringing off of the hook and the paperwork was piling up on his desk. There was no way he could make an excuse to take a mid-day trip to her bakery.

Unless…

Jim tossed the stack of paper he was rifling through onto his desk and stood abruptly. He grabbed his keys and his hat, placing the latter atop his head before walking out of his office. “Anybody up for some donuts?” he asked, not even stopping for an answer, “I’ll be right back.”

Powell and Callahan looked at each other in awe over a massive stack of folders between them. “Eh, at least we get donuts,” Callahan lamented, shrugging.

Jim made it to the bakery in record time. He eagerly reached for the door handle in the Blazer before he paused.

Relax.

He climbed out of the Blazer and walked coolly to the door, pulling it open. He heard the bell ding overhead.

“Good afternoon, Chief Hopper!”

It was the young girl who was working with her yesterday morning. She was nowhere to be seen. Hop nodded at the girl behind the counter. “Uh…” he started, “Can I get 2 dozen donuts, please?”

“Of course!”

Hopper tried his best to be inconspicuous as he looked above the young girl’s head into the kitchen. He didn’t see her anywhere. “Do you have a preference on which donut you’d like more of, Chief?” the girl asked, showing him a half-filled box. “Let’s get more of the chocolate iced with sprinkles,” he said, pointing to the remaining donuts in the display.

“My favorite.”

There she was. She must have come in from a back door because he hadn’t heard the bell ring. She was wearing a dark blue spaghetti-strap dress. It had scalloped edges, an eyelet design, and stopped just above her knees. Her hair was down from her normal ponytail and she was wearing a bit more makeup than usual. She carried an empty tray.

“We have more in the back to refill the case, Kimberly,” she mentioned to her employee passively while keeping her eyes on him, “I’ll check him out.”

“I’m sure you will,” he thought he heard Kimberly mumble under her breath as she closed the donut boxes and handed them to her. They stood facing each other now, with only a register in between them.

“Treating the guys at the station to some donuts?” She asked, punching in a few numbers on the register. Hop nodded, “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about them, so…”

Was he crazy or was the tension between them thicker than ever right now?

Jim eyed the outline of her dress, tracing the skirt down and then back up to her waist, noting the cinched fabric creating the most tempting slope, the perfect place for his hands. She watched him and yet he didn’t stop. Her skin was glowing with moisture from the summer heat and he imagined what it would taste like if he licked from her collarbone to her jaw. He imagined that she tasted like buttercream frosting and the thought made his cock half-hard.

“Definitely haven’t stopped thinking about them,” he repeated, meeting her eyes with a smoldering gaze. She grabbed his donuts and walked around the counter, holding them out to him. When he took them, his fingers brushed against hers.

“Thanks, Sweetness,” he murmured, a sly grin playing across his features, a playful glint in his hooded eyes. Her eyebrows knit together and she smirked, “Sweetness?” He didn’t respond, just winked at her as he took the boxes and pressed the door open with his backside.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She called after him, but the door had already slammed shut.

Thursday

Sweetness. He had called her Sweetness.

And he came to the bakery three days in a row. There had to be a reason.

She had known Jim for a long time, considering they had both grown up in Hawkins. She remembered when he was a young boy leading the pack, she remembered when he would smoke cigarettes under the bleachers and she would hear rumors about his flirtations, his skill as a kisser. How he’d trailed his hands under skirts in the backs of classrooms. She remembered when she came back from college and he came back from Vietnam, when he got married and had his daughter. She remembered the tragedy of his loss and the way it affected him. But she was always an outsider, a spectator, and honestly, an admirer.

He had been so handsome throughout every stage she had known him, especially now. His thick, sturdy, strong body towering over her, his beard with the beginnings of salt and pepper growing in. She always stared at his arms, his thighs, wondering what they felt like. Those strong arms wrapped around her, reaching down to grope at her ass. His thighs were a perfect seat for her to grind her desperate pussy on, while she dug her nails into his shoulders, his growls shaking her entire body.

“My God, you are so into him,” Kimberly’s voice broke through her daydream.

“Wh-what?” She stuttered, grabbing at frosting bags to keep her hands busy. Kimberly smirked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “You are so into the Chief,” she replied, “It’s obvious.”

“Kim, are you serious? I don’t know why you would think-“ she broke off when she noticed Kimberly’s look of doubt. Her cheeks turned an intense shade of red and she hid her face with her hands. “I am totally into the Chief,” she finally admitted.

Kimberly clapped her hands and squealed, “I knew it! You’ve been looking over at the door every hour to see if he’s coming in again today.”

Kimberly was right. The older woman’s eyes had been glued to the door all day, almost like a magnet was drawing them together.

“Can you blame me? He’s come in every day this week! I can’t help expecting that he’ll come in today too,” she explained, piping a border onto the small cake in front of her. Kimberly grabbed a coffee cup and a black marker and held them out to her, “When he comes in, you should give him a cup of coffee on the house with your number written on it.” She looked at Kimberly with apprehension, “You don’t think he’d see that as juvenile?” Kimberly shook her head, “I think he’d love it.”

She put down her piping bag to take the cup and the marker. Kimberly smirked again and left her to her own devices to tend to the front. Would Jim like that, her number written on a cup of coffee? She couldn’t help but think they were too old for these games but maybe he’d find it…endearing.

She heard the bell ring. “Oh, hello Chief Hopper!” Kimberly announced way too loudly to be casual. She would have to reprimand her for that later. But it was now or never. Make a move or regret it. She quickly scribbled her number on the side of the cup and once she knew it was dry, she pressed that side against her palm and walked towards the coffee bar.

His eyes were on her as soon as she stepped into view. “Hey,” he greeted, handing Kimberly a few dollars without even looking at her. She smiled in response and began filling the cup. “I’d been wondering if we were going to see you today,” she said, pressing a lid onto the cup. He chuckled, “Here I am.”

The coffee cup felt scalding hot against her skin, “Coffee on the house?” She offered it to him and knew immediately that he would refuse. “I can’t let you do that, please let me pay,” Jim reached for his wallet, fisting his pastry bag in the other hand. She held up a hand. “Jim, please,” she held it towards him once more, “It’s on me.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment and she could’ve sworn his eyes flickered to her lips before meeting her own again. He was in jeans today instead of his normal uniform - jeans that hugged his thighs and his ass in just the right way. God, she wanted him so bad. Wanted to feel those taut muscles under her hands, wanted to feel the brush of his beard on her skin. Could he tell that she was fantasizing about fucking him right in the middle of her bakery?

Kimberly cleared her throat, which seemed to break both of them from a trance. Jim wrapped his hand around the coffee cup and the sudden loss of warmth was jarring. “Thank you for the coffee,” he said, raising it like he was toasting to her. She nodded, “Thank you for stopping by.” And just as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone.

“Did you even notice the other customer that was here while the two of you were making goo-goo eyes at each other?” Kimberly asked, punching numbers on the cash register.

“Nope,” she replied, rounding the counter and smirking at Kim, “Also, you should work on that whole ‘being casual’ thing.”

Friday

The number on his cup told him everything he needed to know.

He was going to make his move. Tonight.

He’d wear some jeans - she couldn’t take her eyes off of him yesterday when he had shown up in his relaxed-fit jeans. He’d wear cologne - nothing too heavy, just a little something to complement his natural scent. Whatever that was. Coffee and cigarettes? Women he’d been with before usually told him he smelled like a real man, so maybe she’d like it too.

It was 7:15 pm - her bakery closed in 45 minutes. He would make it there in ten minutes from the cabin. His palms were sweaty against his steering wheel, but he blamed that on the summer heat, not nerves, as he navigated the downtown streets.

He parked, noticing a lack of cars out front. Perfect. He could see her through the door as he approached. She was sweeping, wearing her usual apron, blouse, and loose jeans combo. Her hair was down, swaying with each brush of the broom. He pushed the door open and she turned at the sound of the bell.

Her cheeks tinged pink as soon as she saw him. “Hi Jim,” she said softly, leaning the broom against the closest table. “Hey Sweetness,” he replied gruffly, walking towards her, eyeing her up and down as he did so.

When their eyes met, it was like they were locked, and neither of them had enough willpower or want to find a key. Her eyes were warm, like a cup of coffee with a swirl of creamer. My God, she was so beautiful. What he wouldn’t give to trace his fingers along her cheek and brush his lips against her jaw. And fuck, he wanted to run his tongue down her neck to that expanse of skin that was exposed under her v-neck shirt.

“Something on your mind?” She questioned softly, her eyes flicking to his mouth. He nodded, “Yeah-“

But at that moment, he was surprised by her sudden movement to press her lips on his.

Jim didn’t hold back. He gripped her soft hips, pulling her into him, against his already hard cock. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, feeling her jaw move against his palm as she opened her mouth to welcome his greedy tongue.

“Jim,” she murmured against his mouth, groaning as he latched his lips to the skin of her neck and slid his arms around her waist. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” Jim admitted, his face still buried in the crook of her neck, “Everything I wanna do to you.” She nodded in agreement, “Me either. I want you…want your cock…fucking hell, Jim, I need you.”

He chuckled, sinking his teeth into her soft flesh, then placed a trail of kisses up to her mouth. She opened her eyes then, meeting his blue ones.

“For someone so sweet, you sure do have a filthy mouth.”

With that, he picked her up, kissing her again until their legs met the counter. He placed her there, nestling into her warm center, his cock pressing tightly against his zipper, desperate to be inside her. Her hand was on his dick immediately while they kissed, palming him and squeezing him over his jeans. “Oh fuck, hold on,” he gripped at her wrist as he breathed deeply, “Don’t wanna cum in my pants.”

Her lips were on his neck now, undoubtedly leaving deep purple marks. “Where do you wanna cum then?” She whispered in his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Jim grabbed her chin, “Maybe this pretty little mouth. Or that wet, hot pussy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.”

She spread her legs further and slid her hands into his back pockets, “Please fuck me, Chief. Right here, right now.”

Hopper growled in triumph, “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He pulled at the button on her jeans, ripping the zipper open with it. She pushed her pants down her legs and over her little white sneakers, all the way to the floor where they landed with a soft thud. While he was unbuttoning his jeans, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her panties - they were soft cotton in the palest shade of blue. He’d never seen anything more sexy.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, Sweetness.”

She bit her lip as she looked up at him, watching his face as the cool air in the bakery finally hit the burning hot skin of his cock. He could tell she wanted to touch him, to put him in her mouth, but all that would come later. Right now, he knew she needed him deep inside her.

He hooked two fingers onto her panties, “You wet for me?” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. He wrapped his fist around his cock, lining it up with her entrance before thrusting inside her.

Fuck, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this way before. Her pussy gripped his cock so tightly, so perfectly, like they were made for each other. He wasn’t going to last long like this. He wanted to rail her, rail her right here in her place of business on a Friday night, and make her cream all over his cock. Then he wanted to take her home and prepare a hot bath for her, then bury his tongue between her legs in his bed. Then on Saturday…

He wanted to take her to the diner for breakfast.

He wanted to curl up next to her on the couch for an afternoon nap.

He wanted to watch her put on her favorite dress and curl her hair and take her out to dinner.

Jim would do all those things. But right now, he was going to make her cum.

“Ugh fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, reveling in the obscene sounds coming from where the two of them met at their center. She was breathing heavily, whimpering with every deep thrust. He trailed his hand up under her blouse to squeeze her tits - another thing he’d have to give extra attention to when he could get her in his bed.

“Tell me how I’m making you feel, Sweetness. Baby, tell me how much you love this cock,” he was moaning in her ear, his climax building. He could feel her pussy clamping down on him with every writhe of her hips. She nodded, “Feels so good. Fuck, I love the way you fill me up. Better than I ever imagined.”

“Can I bend you over this counter?” Hopper asked, wanting nothing more than to have his hands on her ass. She nodded, gasping when he pulled out, leaving her empty. When she was bent over in front of him, he swept her panties down her thighs, using both hands to roughly grope at her ass. “Fucking sexy ass,” he muttered, smacking both cheeks in quick succession. She moaned, shuddering against him. “Harder,” she requested, “Please.”

He brought his hand down again, harder this time, and she jumped as it connected with her ass. Her skin turned red immediately and he rubbed her gently before doing the same to her other side. Hop placed a kiss on each cheek before he gripped her hips and pulled her back onto his cock.

“You feel even better - like this,” she choked out against a whimper. Jim could only smirk and continue to fuck up into her. He wanted to cum with her, feel her climax soak him at the same time he painted her insides with his own.

“You close, Sweetness?”

She nodded and Jim pushed harder, each drag of his cock bringing them that much closer to satisfaction. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up against him, “Wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

Her eyes were trained on his and her nails dug into his sides. He was so fucking close.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as her orgasm wracked through her body. He brought her left arm around her waist and his right hand to her face, kissing her as he exploded.

They trembled together, taking a moment to allow the pure bliss to course through them. He held her tightly until she turned in his arms. “I need to sit down,” she admitted sheepishly. Jim grinned as he walked her to a seat, making sure she was secure before he retrieved her pants.

“That was…the hottest thing I have ever done,” he told her as she pulled her pants back on. She giggled, “Honestly? Me too.”

Jim fixed his clothes and checked his watch, “Do you need this door locked? You’ve been closed for the last 45 minutes.”

She nodded, “Yes, please. We’re lucky no one came in.”

Jim clicked the latch on the door to a locked position, then met her in the center of the room, where they had started that night. He reached for her and she stepped into his outstretched arms, resting hers on his shoulders while his encircled her waist.

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

He could barely get the sentence out before she gave him the best possible answer.

“Yes.”

#jim hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper stranger things #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #stranger things smut #stranger things #david harbour #david harbour smut

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cerealmonster15 · 1 year ago

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mission failed. we'll get em next time.

im going. to go to capoeira today. even tho i think it is just music and people will have their kids.... i will go i will try i will be NORMAL

#i got too scared LOL i went grocery shopping instead #im gonna. try to make arepa #which. im scared. not bc of how to make them or anything #i mean ive never made them but #i kinda hated them growing up LOL #i dont really like cornmeal #im using corn flour tho #either way is similar just dif textrue slightly #but like the flavor... idk i havent had arepa in years #my dad would make em growing up and id idnt like them #BUT i had some at a family reunion once and i think i liked those kinda. but i was also hungry that day #so. we'll see #arepas colombianas yahooooo #and maybe arroz con pollo. dad is always telling me to try to make it #and my latin american cookbook has recipes #he always tells me directions on thephone but like #how am i supposed to remember LOL

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vetteltea · 1 year ago

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Carlos Sainz and Hot Cocoa and Warm Hands [no warnings]

Day 5 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

Note: There’s nobody I’d ever want to dedicate a Carlos Drabble to more than his actual WAG, @silverstonesainz. Dani, not only are you such a creative, kind, beautiful and talented creator, you’re also one of the greatest friends I could ever ask for. I could not be more thankful that we crossed paths and that our stupid love of Spanish men brought us together. I love you so much, sweetpea.

It’s blistering cold in central Madrid, something you hadn’t witnessed since moving to the city with your boyfriend.

It wasn’t entirely your fault for not climbatising; after all, three days after settling into his home, the two of you had been whisked away to Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi, your body so overwhelmed from the Jet Lag that you had done nothing but sleep and watch with wide eyes as Carlos drove the SF-23 to the absolute best of his ability.

‘Only one more race,’ you had reminded him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek when he had clambered out of the car, wanting nothing more than for this season to be over. He was fairly certain the entire team felt the same. Every team felt the same, if you took away Red Bull.

No, what Carlos was excited for was to take a step away from the track, the bright lights and shades of red he was dressed in each weekend. The man had actually passed on the farewell party in Abu Dhabi; he had already said his farewells to the drivers and wanted to get back on the plane and take you home. After all, this would be the first time you could be together in your new home for more than three days.

The man would have been content to leave his suitcase in the walkway, lift you into his toned arms and bury the two of you underneath the blankets on his bed, silent from the outside world. However, as the days move by, Christmas begins to draw close enough for the two of you to put up decorations, bake cookies and watch movies. He’s never been this domesticated, not with any of his other girlfriends. He didn’t feel comfortable; Carlos has always been seen as a strong male, built with golf, gym and driving.

And yet…with you, he could relax. He could smile as you wiped flour on his tanned cheek, kissing you whilst another Hallmark movie played from the television system. Carlos remembered his father’s gruff voice, insisting that when he found the right woman, everything would change. Now, as his fingers laced with yours, dressed in his long winter jacket that you had insisted went well with your outfit, he finally understood.

The two of you had left your blissful home and Piñon for long enough to meet his family in the city. It wasn’t your first time meeting the Sainz’s, but Blanca had recently taken a new position in the city, whilst his mother had insisted they needed a reunion now you had moved in with her son.

Of course, you were all too excited to see them, unlacing your fingers from your boyfriend and dashing over to be scooped into the warm arms of your (one day,) Mother, Father and Sister’s in law, kisses pressed to your rosy cheeks and stories spread whilst you linked arms with Ana. Carlos stepped in line with his father, the elder man patting his son on the back.

“Ha sido bueno desde que se mudó aquí, ¿no?” He asks if everything has worked out since you had moved in; the grin on Carlos’ face answers the question.

“Perfecto.” He answers, springing into a spiral of how each moment, something as simple as waking up or making the bed was now romanticized, simply because you were there to share the moment with him.

Eventually, the group of you stop by the central grand-stand, traditional Christmas Music being played to everybody in the city. Your boyfriend takes the moment to slip an arm around your shoulder, his taller frame pulling you into his chest and a soft kiss pressed against your temple, beaming at having you in his touch. His brows tighten when he laces his fingers back into his palm, pulling away as if he had been violently shocked.

You’re confused, watching him mumble to both of his sisters, his mother, before tapping his father on the shoulder, the two Sainz men stepping away from the group. Curiosity willed you to keep your eyes trained, until Reyes cooed in delight, drawing your attention back to the stage as a group of children stepped on, ready to sing carols to the festive crowd.

The performance has you in such a trance that you don’t recognise your boyfriend’s return until you feel a hand on your lower back, turning in his touch, eyes widening when you see the deep red takeaway cup, filled with a rich, dark chocolate liquid. Your heart softens as he hands you the cup, seeing each of the women had been given an identical cup, letting the warmth spread across your fingers as you take a sip.

It’s heavenly; you’re almost certain you’ll be dragging the poor boy back into the city at any given moment simply so you could try this drink again. He wouldn’t mind, he would happily replay this moment in his mind for an eternity, so long as it was always with you.

The cup is lifted to his own lips, your own eyebrows raising as you wordlessly offer him a sip of the drink. Ana and Blanca are intensely focused on the interaction, their younger brother taking a sip of the drink and beaming at you, passing the hot drink between one another until the cup is empty.

“Are your hands a little warmer now, Cariño?” He’s concerned; although there’s a delight in being here with you, he doesn't want you to get too cold. Before you can answer his question, he simply takes your two hands into his own, cupping them in his larger palms and pulling them upwards to his lips, leaving soft kisses against your skin.

“You’re so cheesy.” You tease, taking delight in how he laughs like a schoolchild, pulling you into his chest and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Only for you.”

#Carlos Sainz #CS55 #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Carlos Sainz One Shot #Carlos Sainz x You #Reader Insert #F1 #Formula 1 #F1 x Reader #Carlos Sainz Blurb #Carlos Sainz x Y/N

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