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ceilidho · 9 months

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prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 3. (read 1, 2) tags: dubcon

The Christmas party presents a whole new challenge in trying to ward Johnny off.

It’s hard because at first you almost gravitate towards him, weirdly enchanted by his ugly sweater with red reindeer on the sleeves. It’s only when he finally spots you—and you shudder when you notice the way his eyes scan across the crowd of other employees, seeking you out—and he practically lights up that you snap back to reality.

He blazes a path towards you like a heat seeking missile, dodging around your other coworkers. You stand there awkwardly as he cuts across the room, wondering if maybe you should’ve just texted your manager some excuse about feeling sick and stayed home. Too late now though.

Fortunately for you, the assistant manager intercepts before Johnny’s able to make it halfway across the room, stepping between the two of you like they don’t even realize they’ve interrupted anything. There’s a split second where you can see Johnny wrestle with the urge to push them aside, fury clear in his eyes. Maybe only to you. The assistant manager opens their mouth and talks like nothing’s amiss, like it isn’t clear that Johnny is only a handful of seconds away from causing serious harm.

Then it passes; recedes into the dark. Johnny’s blue eyes go pellucid again, unbothered by the real world. The smile that spreads across his face seems sincere; if you hadn’t been watching him that entire time, you might not have even thought that he’d harboured any violence inside of him.

You saw it though. You saw it.

It makes sense in the context of his background. You’d never given the ex-military thing much thought, but every so often you can almost feel the ghost of its presence in the back of your mind. When his reflexes kick in or the gleam in his eyes grows dark. He doesn’t ever talk about his past life in specifics, only grand overtures meant to distract anyone listening, but what he does reveal sometimes makes your stomach clench.

You swallow and turn back to the conversation with your other coworkers, steadfastly avoiding Johnny’s eyes peeking over the assistant manager’s head.

The breakroom is decked out in cheap Christmas decorations, a fiber-optic tree set up in the corner, iridescent bristles shifting colours with every blink. Someone passes you a vaguely alcoholic drink and you sip at it nervously, reaching the bottom of your first cup faster than you anticipated.

Your secret Santa gift is on a table just outside the breakroom in the hall, along with all the other gifts. Something about it draws your eyes several times throughout the evening. Maybe something you saw but didn’t register. It’s hard to keep focused on the conversation happening around you when your attention oscillates between Johnny and the gift table, but you respond hastily when someone prompts you to answer.

It comes to light when someone clinks a spoon against their glass and directs everyone to gather in the middle of the room. Two of the warehouse guys awkwardly try to bring the table into the room without knocking any of the gifts onto the floor. There are a few casualties, but when they manage to twist it enough to get it through the door, someone pulls up a chair to stand on and read off all of the names to hand out the gifts.

Several people coo when you’re revealed as the recipient of Johnny’s gift. There’s no reason for it to come as a shock, but your stomach clenches anyway.

He stands practically right up against you when you open it. You know the second you unwrap it that the delicate bottle of perfume in your hands must have been in the three figures. All you did was get someone a handmade mug from a local craft fair. He stares at you when you unwrap it, beaming when you give him a very controlled thank you because the alternative is screaming that this is way too expensive for you to keep.

“Ye should put it on,” he tells you, breathing just a little heavier. “Really want ta smell it on ye.”

You don’t know what possesses you to give it a spritz on your wrist, letting him guide your hand to dab it against the base of your throat. It’s intimate enough that his eyes follow the movement of your throat when you swallow, mouth going dry. They drag up to your lips when they part, a hesitant thanks hanging off your tongue.

“Jesus Christ, get a room already,” someone near you murmurs, but it doesn’t take long for their attention to slip off you as the next gift recipient is announced. Not Johnny though.

Your mouth snaps shut.

He hovers at your back for the rest of the gift handouts, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him. You flinch at his bitten off groans whenever you so much as fidget, rubbing against him. Shaking him off seems like a hopeless task until someone asks if you have a lozenge, giving you an excuse to take them to your locker.

You can feel him stalking you like a shark around the breakroom when you chat with some of your other coworkers, the smile on your face becoming forced.

“Did’ya know Johnny actually—oh, sorry, burped—he actually paid me…to get your name?” your coworker giggles, absolutely sloshed. You’re tipsy too, but her words make you go a bit cold.

“Pardon?” you ask. The red cup crackles when your fingers tighten around it.

“He paid me. Fifty dollars. Jus’ to get your name for the…for the stupid Santa thing. The secret Santa.”

You can feel the way your mouth hangs open, just a bit. Her words echo in your head, the conversation long over. You let her prattle on, still stuck on the thought of Johnny paying someone off just for the opportunity to give you a gift. The longer you stand there and chat with your coworkers, the more difficult it gets to look normal.

“Isn’t that something?” she prompts, nudging you with an elbow. Even the slightest touch hits you like a battering ram.

“Yeah,” you parrot back, “it’s something.”

Perhaps you’re overdue for a conversation with Johnny about boundaries. More than overdue. The package has been signed, sealed, and delivered. It was overdue months ago, the day you started working at the same store as him. By now, you should’ve quit or transferred, hell you should’ve yelled at him that one time he stopped you in the garden section to apply his own personal Chapstick to your lips (you don’t think about how you’d bitten them raw from staring across the row of potted flowers as he stacked bag after bag of fertilizer onto a customer’s pallet before pushing it to their car, his sleeves rolled up and thick biceps on display the whole time).

Can anyone blame you for being confused? It’s obvious what he’s offering. He does nothing to hide it. It’s also obvious that it would be, unequivocally, a terrible idea to take him up on it.

Maybe you just need some fresh air. You make an excuse and peel off from the rest of the group, heading for the door. Someone lurches out of the shadows in the corner before you can make it out.

“Look, bonnie—mistletoe,” Johnny teases, not letting you so much as glance up before snatching you by the hips and reeling you into him.

The kiss he plants on you is filthy and wet. Open-mouthed too so he can slip you his tongue, licking over the roof of your mouth. Sucking your bottom lip when you can’t help the whimper that slips out and he breaks away for only a split second to whisper oh fuck under his breath. Your mind reels when he dives back in for another kiss. He’s as good of a kisser as you might have expected, messy but forceful, threading a hand into your hair to hold you in place. The way he roots you in place licks at something delicious inside of you, a secret, buried urge.

Johnny finally pulls away when he can no longer convincingly ignore the way you push on his shoulders and squirm in his arms. His lips are wet when he pulls back, a thin strand of saliva clinging between your lips. It breaks when he runs his tongue across the wetness.

Someone whistles and Johnny grins from ear to ear, bashful under the joy brimming out of him. You stumble away the second his hands loosen on your hips, wiping a hand across your mouth.

“Good for you, John!” someone shouts through cupped hands and several of your coworkers cackle.

This time you actually manage to make it out the door and down the hall to the employee restroom. You spend the next few minutes washing your hands until your fingertips go pruney under the warm water and you try to think of anything except the texture of Johnny’s lips.

You touch your lips no less than three times. Each time, your fingers come back trembling. It’s what you’d long expected from Johnny, from someone that looks like him, like the physical embodiment of ‘for a good time, call…’ written in lipstick on the back of a gas station bathroom door.

The last thing you want to do is give him an inch, throw him a bone—actually lead him on, as your coworker might say. Still, your finger trembles on your lip. You know he’d make it good. Even if he didn’t, looking like that, who could blame you? The thought makes you wince, conscience of objectifying him, but haven’t you been subject to worse by now? You’re due far more than some measly peck for how many times he’s slapped your ass, stolen your scrunchie (two so far), or said something nasty to you.

It’s not hard to track him down when he’s always hovering nearby, this time just off by the watercooler with your manager and a few other coworkers. The hand not holding a drink is buried deep in his pocket, the smile on his face strained by a mask of politeness; you can tell at a glance that he’s only playing at civility, that he’d rather be anywhere else but chatting with his boss and colleagues at the office party.

When he spots you approaching the group of them, his eyes widen, excitement bleeding back into them. It takes your breath away.

“Ah, there’s your other half, Johnny,” your manager says and you freeze.

“Aye, so she is. She’s a good little kisser, did’ye see?” Johnny gushes, pulling you in by the waistband of your pants. You’re a bit too tipsy to protest when he slips his hand around your waist.

It clicks into place. When he pulls you into his side, it feels like slotting into a space made just for you, unwelcome or not. You don’t even notice if your other coworkers laugh or not, fixated on his eyes. He can hardly pull them away from you. Every long shift waking up on the sofa in the breakroom with Johnny standing over you, eyes glinting like a predator’s in the woods, and every coworker’s joke about being Johnny’s girl feels like it’s been leading to this. You have to know what it’d be like.

“Um…Johnny?” you start, tugging on his shirt gently.

“Yeah, hen? What’s it?”

“Can we…um…do you wanna go somewhere more private?”

His breathing stops, body frozen against yours. “Ye serious, kitty? You’re not joking?”

You shake your head. “Just…just one time? Maybe?”

The first sign of movement from him is a full body shudder that nearly makes you step back. The frazzled look in his eyes borders on manic, flitting around the room looking for the nearest exit. Johnny tosses the group some hasty, poorly worded goodbye (you think he even flubs your manager’s name) and tears away from them, you still glued to his side. Someone giggles as you leave. You can’t pay them any mind though, not with how frantically Johnny pulls you out of the breakroom and down the hall, his long strides nearly making you trip over your feet.

“Johnny—slow down—”

“Hen, I’ll carry ye over my shoulder to the closet, I swear.”

He nearly barrels you over with how forcefully he pushes you into the closet, hot mouth latched onto the side of your throat. You hear the sound of the lock clicking behind him. The closet is swathed in darkness, only the barest hint of light bleeding through from underneath the doorway. It’s hardly enough for you to see anything in front of you, but that almost doesn’t matter with how Johnny curls around you, his body caging you in against the shelving behind you.

“Please, please, fuck, I cannae believe it, fuck—” Johnny groans into your neck, a pathetic desperate sound that you’ve never heard from him before. He even keens a bit. “Oh Jesus, baby, I’ve been—dinnae if ye knew or not, but I’ve been fuckin’ obsessed with ye for ages, Christ.”

You let out a laugh in disbelief, embarrassed by how breathless it sounds. “I—oh—I f-figured.”

His hands drag up and down your back, tugging at the fabric of your shirt and practically ripping it out of where it’s been tucked into your pants. If you had buttons, you think you’d burst straight off, zip off the walls and roll under one of the shelves. Johnny’s eagerness bleeds through—months of barely concealed lust unravelling right in front of you, his hands practically shaking when they grope along your sides and under your breasts. His fingers dig almost painfully into your flesh until you whimper and he murmurs a broken apology into your neck.

“Wha’d’ye want, baby? I can—fuck, anything ye want, I promise—” Johnny begs, the sound almost pitiful. It makes your pussy ache.

“Your—your mouth—”

The speed with which he drops to his knees almost makes you flinch. His kneecaps are only saved by the carpeted floor, present nowhere else in the employee section apart from the supply closets. His hands go to the zipper and button on your jeans, yanking viciously, almost snarling when they don’t immediately come undone. When you try to help him, he bares his teeth, more animalistic than you’ve ever seen him before.

“Do these fuckin’ pants even come off?” Johnny growls, giving another yank. You hear something rip and wince.

He manages to wrench your pants down until they pool around your ankles, only enough concentration left in him to pull one leg out and drape it over his shoulder.

“Johnny—my underwear—holy shit—” you gasp when he mashes his face into the crotch of your panties, laving his tongue over the fabric. You can feel the heat of it through the gusset of your underwear, each desperate lick trying unsuccessfully to pull them to the side.

“Fuck, s’ry, baby, I’ll take ‘em off,” he apologizes, voice muffled where his mouth is still pressed to your pussy. Reluctant to move even an inch away from you.

It takes him a couple more seconds before he’s able to move away just long enough to pull your underwear down as well, struggling with getting it over the leg still draped over his shoulder and nearly losing his patience twice over.

He takes to eating you out like something he’s done for years—naturally. Crudely. Eyes fluttering shut when he drags his tongue from your slit to your clit, unabashedly enjoying himself. His moans drag through you, making you nearly shake right out of your skin. His chin is already wet when you glance down. He spreads your inner lips with two fingers to open you fully to his gaze, lapping at your clit until he can hardly pull his mouth away from your cunt.

Johnny drags one of your hands from his hair to cradle the side of his face, turning into your palm to take a deep inhale. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, eyes several degrees hotter when they meet yours through the curtain of his lashes.

“Fuckin’ smell like mine too,” he growls. You jolt at his words. He draws a finger into his mouth and gives it a suck, making you trill.

“D-don’t get any ideas,” you gasp, other hand threading through his hair now, turnabout fair play. “S’just a—ah, ah—a one-time t-thing.”

“Aye, one time, one time,” he repeats. “Gonna make it so good f’r ye, baby.”

The two fingers spreading you open push against your entrance insistently. The initial stretch makes you tug at his hair, flushing when all that does is make him moan, mouth hung open sluttily. He looks even more strung out than you, eyes dark and heady. He’s also never looked more attractive.

Shelves jab into the small of your back, the ache growing the longer he keeps you like that with one leg slung over his shoulder, your knees almost buckling. Impossible to concentrate on the voice in your head screaming that this is a bad idea, not when he runs his tongue over your clit and sucks. Not when you’re forced to clamp a palm over your mouth to drown out your sounds.

The press of a third finger into you makes you flinch and yank at his hair, harder this time. Hard enough for Johnny to back off, an apology muttered into your wetness. The two splitting you are more than enough, you think, a bit wildly. He shouldn’t be prepping you for anything more. There’s a furrow to his brows though, a bit of frustration wedged in there. Like putting up with your complaints annoys him just a bit.

“John—c’mon, please, not so loud,” you beg.

He pumps his fingers into you, eyes trained on the spot where they disappear. The look in his eyes borders on reverent. “Always mouthin’ off, huh? Even when I’m getting ye off? On my knees ‘n everything?”

“There are p-people outside,” you hiss, clamping your hand back down over your mouth when he curls his fingers and presses up into you.

“Yeah?” The question sounds rhetorically, almost a challenge. The smile on his lips goes wicked sharp. “God, we wouldnae want ‘em ta hear, huh? What ye pulled me away from the party for?”

You don’t know why that’s what sets you off, but it does, eyes watering with the force of your orgasm. Back arched. Your head aches from where you knocked it back into the shelf behind you. Johnny groans when you clench around his fingers.

It’s a few seconds before you feel like you can speak again. The first thing you can utter is a hiss when Johnny laps at your slit again, far too sensitive for him to still be touching you.

“You can, ah…you can let me go now,” you pant. Coming back to your body takes an age, legs still trembling, held up by Johnny’s hands alone.

His fingers grip harder into your flesh. You stare down at him.

“Oh, pretty baby,” Johnny coos, eyes black with desire, “we’re jus’ gettin’ started.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ikea soap #soap x reader #soap/reader #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap mactavish #soap x you

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jo-harrington · 9 months

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Disaster Preparedness (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Maybe it's time to put a name to whatever it is you and Eddie are...but not without some misunderstandings first.

Previous Part: Peak Sales Hours

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Angst, Jealousy, Fluff, and a series of unfortunate misunderstandings with a sweet ending.

Note: A day late, but what can you do. This was sort of always a pre-planned part of the Store Manager Verse (and actually set at Christmas Time at StarCourt) but a very special prompt made me switch it up. So without further ado @allthingsjoeq and @bettyfrommars please consider this collection of Holiday shenanigans inspired by I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus my take on Prompt 14 from your Holiday Prompt Party:

You can tell that the mall Santa is a babe under that beard, and you decide to get closer to investigate.

With a little twist...

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

The holiday season wasn't Eddie's favorite, per se.

Just like Thanksgiving, it was a time to make do. Couldn't really celebrate when you were reminded of the things you'd lost or didn't have in the first place.

Still it had its high points. Cookies were great, having a little extra cash between Wayne's holiday pay and bonus and the handful of parties he'd be able to deal at, and let it be known that...Eddie Munson was a sucker for snow and always wished for a White Christmas.

And for his friends? Eddie would always muster up the Holiday Spirit and Christmas Cheer. A special one-off campaign for Hellfire, a potluck dinner with Corroded Coffin, and handmade gifts that he spent way too much time on.

This year...working at StarCourt brought its own spin on Holiday cheer and it was a little annoying.

If he hadn't worked the closing shift on the 30th, and seen all of the overnight workers and maintenance vehicles that rolled out of the service corridors as he walked out, Eddie would have thought that it was magic that transformed StarCourt Mall into a true Winter Wonderland come December 1st.

Because it was night and day.

Lights were strung around every store entrance, wreaths and garland hung every 50 feet from the ceiling, soap snow fell down from special blowers in the vents onto the food court, and the space in front of Montgomery Ward suddenly contained a special gift-wrapping destination.

And suddenly the mall muzak had a festive flair to it.

It was honestly kind of sickening.

He wasn't a scrooge or anything, it was just overwhelming and appeared all at once. And after how overwhelming Black Friday had been, how was anyone supposed to cope with the bright lights, large crowds, and repetitive music? He intentionally started turning the shop radio to a higher volume to drown out the bells jingling and carols mingling for the next few shifts after the decorations appeared.

"It's Holidazzle," you told him as he leaned against the entryway to your store--"the conversion Eddie, for God's sake!"--and watched you hang a special banner in the window, featuring the Gift of Piercing and cartoon bears ice skating around a tree.

"It's overkill," he argued.

"It's Mall Life." You climbed down from your ladder and surveyed your work with a critical eye. "You get used to the big everything that is Christmas and just deal with it, and then, come January, it all dies. We're decorating today, and next week we start wearing reindeer antlers on the sales floor. It just is what it is. Gotta get the customers into the festive spirit so they buy more before it all tapers out.

"Surprised Kyle isn't already wearing like...a Santa hat and a cheesy sweater with ornaments hanging off it or something."

And Eddie wasn't sure if you were somehow clairvoyant or just knew his boss well enough, but that's exactly what Kyle wore to his next shift and, indeed, every shift for the remainder of December.

Santa hats in every color--and he'd bought hats for everyone else in the store--and if there wasn't a Santa hat, there was tinsel in his hair. A piece of glittery garland strung around his neck and a mug full of cocoa constantly present in his hand, even when he was on the sales floor. And, somehow, a different cheesy holiday sweater on every single shift he had.

Where did he even get them?

"Listen," he clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder and shoved a candy cane in his hand. "I know you're Mr. Non-Conformity, but in this instance, you just gotta go with the flow. No one wants to give their money to the Grinch. But Jolly Old Saint Kyle? He's who they're trusting for their Christmas Gifts. You catch me?"

---

So Eddie tried.

He did. He tried.

For all of 3 days.

He wore the hat, he played the game, he did his spiel about gift certificates and BOGO, and he didn't even get a treat at the end of his shifts because you worked the opposite schedule from him. With school and all it was hard...

He just wanted to kiss you. Was that too much to ask for? It wouldn't be the most romantic place but he figured that he could set out some mistletoe by the baler and trick you into a festive smooch when you took the cardboard out. He could do that now, except he couldn't.

...but Wednesday night you'd both be closing. You'd swapped shifts with Mindy two weeks in a row so you could go to his show last week and she could go to her kids' Christmas Recital at the elementary school this week.

He definitely planned to make his move and get his reward. And give you a little reward of your own, seeing how hard you'd been working too. He wondered if this might be the chance to officially ask you to be his girl. Everyone had already made the assumption the two of you had been dating for months...why not put a name to it? And then he could take you out on a real date.

What could possibly go wrong?

Famous last words.

With a few minutes until his fifteen, anticipation building...Mike and Dustin ran into Tape World, looking out of breath and nervous.

Eddie was finishing up a special order for a customer when he saw them out of the corner of his eye. Little assholes, lurking by the door. Mitch had tried to walk up to them and give them the spiel but they waved him off.

"We're here for Eddie."

Great. This better not be about one of them missing Hellfire on Friday.

"What do you want?" he huffed, trying to be a little patient with them since it was the holidays after all. He picked on them enough at school. "It’s busy tonight."

"Well," Dustin shifted. "We were coming to see the new Ewoks movie--" Eddie snorted and grinned at them fondly. "--and we were just killing some time, when we passed by Mom's store."

Eddie couldn't help the bark of laughter he let out with that one. He told the guys to cut it out, this...continuation of calling you Mom since Halloween.

"You guys gotta stop calling her that," he scoffed. "Steve Harrington's your Mom. Get that straight."

"Well then Mom is upstairs right now flirting with not Mom," Mike sassed, hands on his hips.

Now that gave Eddie pause. Harrington? Upstairs with you?

Flirting?

“Kissing.”

Kissing?!

"What?" Eddie's voice broke a little as he reacted. He chuckled to try and alleviate some of his own nerves. "Isn't Harrington dating someone? Pretty sure I've seen him running around with that cashier from KB Toys."

"Well it was Wicks'n'Sticks."

"But we think they broke up!" Mike piped up. "Because Steve quit Scoops last week."

"Which means we need to pay full price for movie tickets again," Dustin nodded.

"But Nancy said that Robin told her…that he got a job at Santa's Workshop," Mike thumbed over his shoulder. "And we just saw Santa upstairs with Mom and she was wiping strawberry lipgloss out of his beard."

The first thought in Eddie’s head was that you didn’t wear strawberry lipgloss.

The next was that you didn’t wear strawberry lipgloss when you kissed him. What if you wore it for Steve?

No, that was ridiculous.

But unless Santa’s Workshop was operating as a functioning kissing booth and Harrington was looking for a quick and easy fix for a bunch of housewives smooching him after their kids asked for a new bike or Hot Wheels racetrack or Tina the Talking Tabby doll…there was no explanation.

Which, alright, Eddie wouldn’t normally consider himself a jealous person. An envious person. Yeah, he might have seen a little green at the edges of his vision when the kids fawned over Steve Harrington time and again, but ever since he was brought down a few pegs—humbled—he didn’t seem like the same old douchebag from Hawkins High that he used to be.

Eddie might even say Steve was kind of alright.

But you were his girlfriend…or something…

And the jealousy and possessiveness he often mocked others for over the years, as he watched meathead jocks tighten their arms around their girlfriends shoulders as he simply walked past, suddenly overcame him.

“Mitch I’m taking my fifteen!” He called towards the back of the store and strutted out of Tape World, all while Mike and Dustin called after him, fully intending to get to the bottom of this obvious misunderstanding.

---

He planned to ask you about Harrington the moment you opened the door to the loading dock, hauling the dolly of cardboard boxes behind you.

A simple "hey sweetheart, how was your day, anyone named Kris Kringle come to bother you?" and he would have had his answer and all of his doubt would have been alleviated once and for all.

Except that as soon as you appeared--with your disheveled hair and makeup, your slumped shoulders, and your groan of weariness--your eyes got brighter and you melted at the sight of him. So happy to see him, so relieved.

Then he melted.

"God, what a night," you groaned and let the dock door slam behind you. You abandoned your cardboard and walked right into his arms where he was standing by the baler; your arms wrapped around his waist and your face nuzzled into his flannel, just the way he constantly craved. "Some lady wanted an individual gift receipt for every single item she bought. Then Chrissy almost messed up this kid's piercing. Thank God I stopped her as soon as I saw."

"Oh yeah?"

"And then I swear I'm like...I just have one of those faces where everyone comes and complains to me as they're shopping. I have to hear about everyone's life story or their relationship issues, especially this one guy..."

Eddie's ears practically perked up at that.

"This one guy?" he urged you to continue, on the edge of his proverbial seat.

"I dunno," you sighed tiredly. "Not the first time he's come to me for advice. He's a nice guy and he means well, but it just seems I'm always the one. And I'm happy to help just...not during Q4, you know? He needs to figure out how to talk to his ex on his own. And not just...come in looking for extra glossy strawberry lip gloss thinking he's gonna kiss his way back into their good graces."

Extra glossy strawberry lip gloss.

Eddie wondered if he was pushing his luck if he were to ask if this nice guy was dressed in a Santa suit.

Still his heart soared nonetheless. He should have known that it was nothing to worry about, that those little shits just put two and two together to make five, and that mom wasn't actually kissing Santa Claus.

It was just a misunderstanding.

"How was your night?" you backed away from him slightly to look into his eyes. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

It was like a weight on his chest had been lifted, as he stared into your sparkling eyes.

"Same old, same old," he chuckled away the doubt. "Probably worse because no one knows what they want to give as gifts for Christmas and they're not listening to me."

"How dare they not take the advice of the great God of Music!" you feigned outrage.

"Gonna give me an inflated ego, sweetheart."

"You mean you don't already have one?" you teased.

Whatever fleeting bits of doubt remained disappeared as his fingers found your sides and he tickled you as punishment for the jab. Even more so as you grabbed his face and kissed him to get him to stop.

---

You'd spent the remainder of your break on Wednesday night softly kissing on the loading dock. You held hands as he walked you back to your store. Then once the mall was closed, you continued the kissing against the side of his van in the employee lot as the rest of the cars disappeared one by one.

With one last kiss goodbye, you agreed to Christmas movies and cocoa at his place on Sunday.

But as he sauntered into the mall on Sunday morning, twirling his lanyard on his finger as he headed to Tape World, Eddie swore that the universe was mocking him--

Or it was just that trademark Munson Bad Luck.

--because with a quick glance up towards your store, he saw you, holding the gate up with one arm, talking and laughing with someone conspicuously dressed in a Santa suit.

Well, he couldn't really see the holly jolly bastard that was up there making you smile, but just a quick glimpse of red velvet and white fur and all of his doubt was back.

The two of you still hadn't put a label on your relationship yet. He'd wondered the other night as he drove home if it was a little juvenile to want to call you his girlfriend. Was it too high school? What did a real life, grown up boyfriend do? He only had TV shows to go by and he figured you'd laugh if he tried to give you his '84 class ring that was stashed in his sock drawer. In fact, he was sure of it.

But how was he supposed to get past the visceral need to be your boyfriend when you were up there being wooed into potentially becoming the new Mrs. Claus yourself?

By Santa Harrington no less.

The doubt was back with a vengeance.

Kyle--decked in red onesie pajamas, butt flap and all--clocked his woes as soon as he walked into the store.

"Don't tell me she broke up with you," he guessed as he counted up the registers for the day. "I know it's not the end of the world, but you guys barely got started. What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Eddie answered honestly as he restocked the front display.

"Hmmm, actually come to think of it, that might be exactly the point."

"I don't think we were ever together, if I'm being honest."

"Dumbass," Kyle chuckled under his breath. Eddie, exasperated and just needing someone to commiserate with, explained the whole thing to his boss, who simply ate it up like a gossiping housewife and then laughed louder. "No seriously, you're a dumbass. This is the Mall at Christmas, dude. You're gonna start going cross eyed if you're looking around every corner for a suspicious Santa Claus flirting with your girl.

"Why don't you save yourself some heartache and just talk to her. You know, like you should have been doing this whole time? So, one time only because you're my buddy, I'm letting you take an extra break so you can go up there and talk to her."

And Eddie knew Kyle was right: it was all about communication.

Communication, or the lack thereof, was how the two of you had gotten this far, right? You'd known each other since May? June? And had only figured out that there was some mutual attraction in...what? September if Eddie was going to be honest with himself. Two weeks ago if he wasn't.

Lack of communication, caused by self doubt and fear, cost him...months...of getting to kiss you and hold your hand. And while he cherished the time spent being your friend, he was always gonna wish he had all that time being more.

So no, he shouldn't let it draw out much longer.

---

Unfortunately, he really was a dumbass.

So instead of taking advantage of it being so early in the day that there were practically no customers in the mall to go upstairs and clear things up with you and maybe ask you out on a real date...

Eddie booked it across the mall to Santa's Workshop.

There he stood, wasting his extra break in line with the handful of proactive parents coming in early to get their family pictures with the Big Man himself.

"What's on your wish list this year?" A little boy in a tiny navy suit tugged on the leg of his jeans and asked him.

"Uh..." He was at a loss when it came to kids and his hands wrung around his lanyard. But he couldn't just leave the little guy hanging. "A new amp...and maybe a Skeletor action figure."

The boy's eyes got wide and blabbered on about his desired Castle Greyskull while his mom ran a comb through his hair.

"Eddie?"

Eddie froze and his attention shifted from the kid, up and up green velvet clad legs then torso, to a familiar cherubic face and tousled curls covered by a pointy hat.

"Gareth?" he chuckled, staring incredulously at his friend dressed as one of Santa's Helpers. "...what is this? I didn't know you..." his eyes slid down to the little boy, then back to his friend. "...were an elf."

"I was trying to keep it under the radar," he shrugged and gestured down to his costume. "Especially since they have me dressed like this. Uh....anyway, why are you in line for Santa?"

"Uhh..." Eddie scratched the back of his neck then folded his arms across his chest. "Gotta get my wishlist in before all the good gifts are taken."

Gareth narrowed his eyes in suspicion and Eddie hoped that he would just chalk it up as another one of the million things he'd seen Eddie do over the years of their friendship.

"Can I keep the picture?" Gareth finally asked mischievously. "Or was Wayne planning on sending out a special card this year?"

"Nah man," Eddie nodded, grateful not to have to answer any more...invasive questions. "It's all yours."

"Nice." Gareth held his fist out for Eddie to bump and then let the family ahead of Eddie in to see Santa.

Which meant he was next.

Now, Eddie wasn't big on confrontation, so unless he was actively thwarting bullies and deterring them from picking on his friends, he wasn't the type to pick a fight. He also wasn't the type to have a calm and rational discussion and get to the bottom of a problem either.

So this was new territory for him.

What would he say?

What could he say?

"Now listen here Harrington," he muttered. "You...she...I..."

He ran a hand over his face and shook his head.

"I heard you're having some relationship issues," he tried again. "But you can't keep sniffing around my girl. My girl? Ugh...but what if she isn't."

There were a few flashes of a camera and by that time, Gareth was back to lead him to his execution.

"Alright, young man," he snickered. "Are you ready to meet Santa?"

"Shut up," Eddie shoved him and stalked along the carpet into the little photo area.

He was too preoccupied with the task at hand, too consumed with thoughts of you laughing with Steve Harrington and exactly what he was gonna say, that he didn't notice that it wasn't Steve under the beard and hat until he plopped himself directly on Santa's lap.

Santa groaned as Eddie settled himself and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Aren't you a little too old for this Munson?" Santa deadpanned. "Or is this one of your little Hellfire pranks."

Eddie froze at the familiar voice, as years of hearing that grumbling gritty tone at Benny's and the police station and around town flashed through his memory.

"Hop?" he whispered in horror.

"Who were you expecting?" Hopper grunted.

"Why are you Santa?"

"...don't tell me you thought Santa Claus was real, kid?"

"No, I just--" Eddie stammered, looking for the right words. "I...Why?"

"I'm doing this to surprise Jane," he explained in exasperation. "Buddy of mine runs Santa's workshop and Joyce said she'd bring the kids to the mall today, maybe get a picture. So I pulled some strings. I don't know what to get her for Christmas; she's keeping her wish list under wraps."

It all started making sense for Eddie. Jane was friends with Dustin and the others so he'd seen her around Hawkins High, even though she wasn't interested in DnD. She was a good kid, if a little shy. Of course Hop was doing this for his adopted daughter, wanting to give her a perfect Christmas.

"But you...were up at Claire's earlier?" Eddie narrowed his eyes, the reason for him being there still eluding explanation.

"Because that's Jane's favorite store. I swear I'm single handedly keeping them in business with the number of earrings and scrunchies I buy every week. The manager promised she'd keep an eye out if Jane and Joyce popped in today, let me know everything Janie was looking at if this ended up being a bust."

Hopper shot Eddie a pointed glare and Eddie, correctly, looked ashamed of himself.

"Alright, less talking," the elf at the camera rolled their eyes and waved for Hop and Eddie to scoot closer. "More smiling. Say jingle!"

There was a flash and a polaroid was shoved into Eddie's hand as Hopper shooed him away.

---

"What is this?" you pulled away from Eddie's soft, warm lips as your hands felt something foreign in his back pocket.

The Year Without Santa Claus wasn't the most romantic Christmas movie, but Eddie was feeling a certain type of resentment when he had chosen the movies at Family Video, and it was mostly going ignored in favor of cuddling and kissing and sweet words.

Until your hands worked their way downward to pull Eddie's weight further into you, and you found--

"Did you go take a picture with Santa?" you giggled as you inspected the Polaroid. Eddie groaned and rested his head on your shoulder. "Can I keep this?"

"Believe it or not," he sighed, "Gareth already has dibs."

"May I ask why?"

"Because he likes to ruin my life. Pretty sure he's gonna take it to Fox Photos and get it made into t-shirts."

"No, why did you go take a picture with Santa silly," you shoved him. "It's really sweet."

He turned to look up into your eyes, to get the courage to just...tell you how silly he was being...to ask you out for fuck's sake...but the way you looked at him, the softness of your gaze, the way you reached out and pushed his bangs out of his eyes...he didn't want to ruin it all.

"I promised I was getting into the holiday spirit didn't I?" he shrugged pathetically. "Couldn't let the opportunity pass without getting photo evidence."

You stared fondly at the picture for another moment and then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"It's perfect."

---

After Eddie had chickened out, you planned your get-togethers for the rest of December.

Or rather, the lack of them.

With finals coming up and the semester coming, and then mall hours getting later and later the closer to Christmas it got, the opportunities to hang out became sparse.

The best the two of you could unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it--come up with was Christmas Eve.

You'd fight off those final last-minute holiday shoppers, and come 6pm when the mall closed, you'd both be off to Benny's for the special pot roast dinner that he put up for anyone who didn't have family to go to, or didn't want to go see the family they had.

With Rick out making the rounds, and Wayne scheduled for that sweet time-and-a-half holiday double most years, Eddie usually ended up at Benny's anyway.

This year, with you, it would be perfect.

He just had to get through the next few weeks without a hiccup.

The universe, once again, decided to test him.

Mock him.

It was almost comedic at this point.

Santa was everywhere.

Of course, he would be, it was Christmastime but...everywhere in relation to you.

Thankfully, it wasn't Harrington he needed to worry about.

However, that meant it wasn't just Santa he needed to worry about.

It was all of the mall Santas.

Hop had shown his face in the red suit and beard once or twice more and scared the life out of him. Especially when Eddie walked smack into him on the way to drop an Orange Julius for you on the night you closed.

The church's community choir had spent one Saturday afternoon caroling by the Sears, all dressed as Santa Claus. As the two of you made your rounds window-shopping and chatting on your break, one of the Santas grabbed you and spun you around in a circle during a jazzy rendition of The 12 Days of Christmas where you, apparently, were the true love bestowing the many gifts.

How Eddie let a bunch of Santas serenade you before he got a chance to, he would never know. Nor would he let himself live it down.

And then one awful day, he found you sitting at your usual table in the food court with a charismatic older man in a Santa suit--sans hat or beard. The man sat in Eddie's usual seat and leaned quite close, making you look entirely uncomfortable; he couldn't help puff up his chest to ward off the intruder by the time he reached the table.

"This is Henry," you introduced as politely as you could. "He's gonna be the manager at the new Spencer's store when it opens in January."

"Figured I would do the neighborly thing and just say hi," he chuckled and looked down at his attire. "Oh? This? Figured that this would be a great way to do something nice for the community in the mean time."

"That's great," Eddie sniffed judgmentally, getting a weird feeling about this Henry. "Nice to meet you. You're in my spot though."

"Eddie!" Your eyes went wide and you bit your lip to stifle your laughter.

"Hey, nope, totally get it," Henry held his hands up and stood from the seat. "Those lunch breaks are short, especially when you want to spend them with friends and not a stranger like me. Nice to meet you guys. See you around."

Eddie dropped into his seat and you waited until Henry was well out of earshot to scold him.

"That was not nice."

"I'm not nice," Eddie grumbled. "He was looking at you weird, like he wanted to steal your soul or something. Did you not get creepy stalker murderer from him?"

"No, I totally did," you nodded. "He was like...dead behind the eyes. I know, that's awful to say. Anyway, are you feeling soft pretzels and cheese because I--"

"Are you a Santa magnet or something?" Eddie interrupted you and you looked like a deer in the headlights.

"What?" you giggled. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Seems like they're just always around."

"It's Christmas, Eddie," you frowned in confusion. "Even I have a little Santa dress that I'm gonna wear to work. Everyone's just in the spirit."

"Yeah well..."

"I thought you were trying to get in the spirit too," you reminded him and then reached over and plucked at the fair isle sweater Kyle had gotten the whole TapeWorld team so they could match for a group picture. "Exhibit A, Mr. Grinch."

"I am trying," he whined. "It's just hard to be extra jolly when someone's always sniffing around your girl."

"Am I your girl?" you asked. You were obviously teasing him, but still...Eddie froze. "You haven't asked me if I want to be yet."

Everything inside of him was on red alert at that moment.

Evasive maneuvers? No, that was a bad idea. All power to the forward shields, which were holding but weakened. He didn't have enough firepower for this.

"No..." he replied awkwardly. "I haven't."

The way your expression dropped broke him, and he knew he had fucked up.

---

"I'm disowning you," Kyle shook his head in disappointment by the time Eddie got back from lunch. "In fact. We all are."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie groaned.

"Mitch! Paulie! Eddie's disowned."

"You can't fire him, he's closing tonight," Paulie argued.

"Not fired," Kyle pointed across the store with authority. "Disowned. And such a shame; Edward Tapeworldington, first of his name...you shall never be king."

Eddie stewed in the laughter of his coworkers.

"Why don't you ever listen to me?" Kyle threw an arm around his shoulder. "You could have asked her out right then and there. Been like 'hey you wanna be my girlfriend?' And it would have been like...the happiest day of your life. Hell, happiest day of my life. Cuz then I wouldn't have to hear you bitch about it all the time."

"Didn't know I complained that much," Eddie muttered self-consciously.

"All the time," one of the other guys chuckled.

"It's not complaining," Kyle corrected. "It's just that...we want you to be happy. As cliche as this sounds, we're like a family right? Hey, psst, all of you? Savor it, you're only gonna hear me say it once.

"If one of us is miserable, we're all miserable," he continued. "And you've been kind of a miserable piece of shit for a while, Ed. I'm sure your buddies would tell you the same thing. Lovesick puppy act's only gonna get you so much sympathy until you're the one getting in your own way."

Eddie felt his stomach turn because getting in his own way really did hit the nail on the head.

He thought about it for an eternity--really only 30 seconds--went about asking himself what had held him up for all this time. Fear of rejection obviously but even he started to think that some of the things that had gotten him so caught up were just...excuses.

Even now that he knew you liked him just the way he liked you, they were just excuses.

"So why can't I just...say something?" he finally asked.

Kyle clapped his hand down on Eddie's shoulder twice and then turned so he could head out for his own break.

"Only you can answer that question kid."

---

"Hey do you wanna go out sometime? Ugh."

So he practiced.

"So remember how we're supposed to go to Benny's for Christmas Eve? No."

For days he practiced.

"You know how the first time we went out for pizza I mentioned it wasn't a date? Well this one is. No god, you're an idiot."

Through the rest of the semester, during band practice, he even almost flubbed the lyrics at the gig at the Hideout on the Tuesday before Christmas. There were only so many days left until your dinner together at Benny's and he really wanted it to be your first official date.

But if Eddie was gonna fix this, if he was gonna ask you out, he needed to get it right.

"Hey sweetheart." He muttered as he counted down Paulie's register at the start of his closing shift. "I know I really flubbed it last time we talked but I really like you and I want to know if you'd be my girlfriend.

"We've already kissed enough for it," he added at the end and then winced.

"How about you just lose that last bit," Paulie offered beside him and signed a few receipts. "And then it's perfect."

"Yeah?" Eddie asked hopefully. "Alright. Cool. Great."

He would do it after work tonight.

"Edddiiiiieeee!!!" a screeching voice called from inside the mall and Eddie and Paulie both watched as a Santa with flailing arms ran into TapeWorld. "Eddie man, I really need a favor. I need to use your bathroom."

"What the f--Gareth?" Eddie looked around the store to make sure he wasn't just hallucinating. Gareth was already shedding the hat and the fake beard and unbuckling the wide belt from around his waist. "What the hell are you doing here? Why are you Santa? I thought you were an elf?"

"There's no time to explain," Gareth panted. "But there's a line through the food court to use the bathroom and I couldn't wait, so you either need to let me into your back room or I'm gonna exorcise a demon right here on your sales floor man. Please."

"Ugh," Eddie wrinkled his nose and pointed towards the stockroom. "Yeah, sure whatever. Gross."

"I owe you one," Gareth tossed the fluffy jacket of his costume over the counter at Eddie and then ran into the stockroom. Hopefully just in time.

"So glad I'm cleaning the bathrooms tomorrow night," Paulie scrunched his nose in disgust. "Alright, you and Mitch need anything before I go?"

Eddie was about to say no, was about to send Paulie on his way.

But then he looked down at the coat and got an idea.

An awful idea.

Eddie Munson got a wonderful, awful idea.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Eddie grinned and shrugged the coat on, then the belt, and as he glanced up at Paulie, his coworker groaned, clearly able to read Eddie's mind.

"I thought we agreed no more gimmicks," Paulie exclaimed. "You're just gonna go up and talk to her."

"Yeah," Eddie nodded. "I, Santa Claus, am gonna go up and talk to her. I'm not even gonna take my full break, just five minutes, and then you can leave."

"This isn't gonna work man."

"None of my plans ever do," Eddie shrugged and pulled Paulie into a big hug. "But if it does, I owe you my whole life."

And off he went, across the mall, and up the escalator. He adjusted the coat and the hat and then remembered that he forgot the beard on the counter.

No matter, of course; he really didn't want to get fake beard in his mouth when he planted one on you.

There was practically a line out the door by the time he got to your store. He was able to see you through the window, on the register checking one customer out after another.

You were in the zone, but you didn't look stressed. You smiled a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, but every so often Mindy would crack a joke beside you and it did.

"This actually might be the worst idea," he muttered to himself.

But it was too late.

It was now or never.

You were gonna kill him.

Some of the younger kids in the store started muttering in excitement when they spotted him, only for their parents to say "that's not the real Santa" and "Santa doesn't wear ripped jeans" but you were oblivious until he was standing right beside you at the counter.

"Excuse me," he took a breath and lowered his voice like he would during Hellfire. "I heard there was something special on your wish list this year, young lady."

"Sorry sir," you answered without a thought. "I'll be with you in a second."

"You can't even take a second to help jolly old Saint Nicholas?"

You turned your head, obviously about to tell him off as you schooled your features into something plastic and robotic and customer friendly, until you realized it was him. Then something visibly short-circuited in your brain and he smiled brightly.

"I'd like to apologize to all the boys and girls shopping tonight," he announced to the customers theatrically. "But I have very important Christmas business with our dear Store Manager here. It'll only take a minute."

He was surprised when a few of them started laughing and clapping.

"Alright Santa," you finally composed yourself to answer, arms crossing over your chest in annoyance. "What official Christmas business can I help you with?"

"Well, I was reading over the wishlist that you sent up to the North Pole," he explained. "I don't have it with me, you see. Had to leave it down in the workshop so the rest of the elves could work on the scrunchies and the lipgloss you wanted."

"Uh huh."

"And the new windshield wipers that you refuse to let Santa replace."

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand to get him to go on.

"But there was one thing on the list that...maybe it's these tired old eyes--"

"Old?" you giggled and reached out to tug on his curls. "Your hair isn't even white Santa."

A bunch of nearby kids boo'd.

"Clock's ticking," you whispered. "Get on with it, or I'm gonna have to kick you out Ed."

"--maybe these tired old eyes weren't able to read. See I thought it just said friend. But my trusty elves Kyle and Paulie and Mitch assure me it says boyfriend."

Mindy cooed an awww from beside you and Eddie felt his confidence grow.

"So, Miss Store Manager," Eddie held his hand out to you. "Which one is it? Because I happen to have some high quality...boyfriend material that I can use to make your wish come true. Is that what you'd truly like this Christmas?"

Mindy immediately slammed a hand onto your shoulder and squealed, and although your lips were clamped shut and nose was scrunched, Eddie was sure that you were holding back a smile.

It was the longest 30 seconds of his life.

"Yes, actually," you finally responded. "That's exactly what I want for Christmas Santa."

Eddie's heart surely grew 3 sizes in that very moment as a bunch of customers clapped. And he was eagerly about to jump forward and plant a kiss right on your lips when your hand slammed against his chest to hold him back.

You laughed and your eyes sparkled with promise as you pointed to the door, a silent understanding that you'd continue this conversation later. But for now?

"Get out of my store!"

---

Eddie found you leaning against the side of his van when he clocked out. Your car was parked beside his, running idle, as you waited. The radio softly played the Nutcracker Suite and you hummed along to it.

"Alright," he began when he got close enough. "I know that what I did was a big no-no, but I think everyone was in good spirits about it."

"You're lucky they were," you glared at him in--what he hoped was-- fake annoyance. "I really would hate it if my DM got a call complaining about that. Then I'd have to break up with you before we were actually even together."

"I wouldn't blame you," he winced and then looked down at his feet. "So...do you wanna go out sometime?"

"Like a date?"

"Yeah," he glanced up at you and then back down at his feet. He shuffled them back and forth. "Dinner at Benny's on the 24th? How does that sound."

"Ugh, I dunno," you sing-songed and took a few steps to close the distance between you. You grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shook him a few times.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he questioned as you lifted his hair and turned his head back and forth.

"I'm looking to see if this was the quality boyfriend material that Santa just promised me a few hours ago."

"Hey now," he grabbed your hands in his. "I most certainly am. We've just...been friends for so long. I didn't know if..."

"I do," you answered before he could finish.

"But what if I..."

"You aren't."

"I was gonna say 'what if I fart under the blankets while we're cuddling.'" He deadpanned. "See, this is why it's important not to make assumptions."

"Alright, Fartmeister," you challenged him. "If you want to Dutch Oven your girlfriend, I guess I can't fight you. But don't be shocked when I do the same thing to you eventually."

"That's all I want from a girlfriend," he said. "A strong sense of retaliation and justice."

"Alright then."

"Alright." He shook your hand like you were making some kind of deal. "Christmas Eve at Benny's for our first date."

"Sounds perfect," you agreed.

"Good."

You launched yourself in his arms and pressed your lips to his and he swore, probably for the first time in his life, he believed in the spirit of Christmas.

---

Next Chapter: Standard Operating Procedures 1.06

#promptparty #Eddie munson x reader #store manager verse #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #Eddie munson #christmas fic

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st-el-la-luna · 9 months

Text

Thinking about @bluegiragi Monster AU

Specifically; Crow Harpy Gaz

He's such a sweet little thing, still as cheeky as ever, not one to back down from a fight.

When he sees you for the first time, his eyes widen imperceptibly. He tilts his head to one side, then the next, blinking curiously.

He realizes you've said something and he lets out a tiny coo in surprise before clearing his throat. He offers you a taloned hand and a smile. "Name's Gaz... Lovely to make your acquaintance."

He's definitely got bird like mannerisms. Bobs up and down when he's excited, bouncing from foot to foot. He always calls out when he sees you, unable to suppress the happy crowing when you walk into the room. Usually, just your name or some term of endearment, occasionally accompanied by a horrid melody of chirps and tweets (crows are not known for their musical ability).

His wings were always his pride and joy, but he takes even better care of them now, even when deployed. One day, when you both were back from leave, you complimented his wings.

"They look so glossy and soft! You've been taking care of them, haven't you, pretty bird?"

And oh how he preens. He practically melts.

Pretty bird. Pretty bird. Pretty bird.

He wants to hear you say it again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He gets the best products he can, enlisting the other members of the Task force (yes, even Ghost) to help him with his wing care. The feathers shine like they never have before.

Whenever you're around, Gaz will stand a little straighter. Puff out his chest. Raise his wings slightly and stretch them out just a bit. Feathers fluffing. You never fail to compliment him and he never fails to preen and to coo.

He starts bringing you things. Not to you, not directly at least. But to your barracks. You're able to figure out who it is easily enough.

"When I laid down to sleep last night I found this big rock on my bed, hurt like hell." You say off handedly one morning in the mess hall.

Ghost chastises you for not checking your surroundings. Soap laughs at you and your misfortune. Price asks if you're okay. Gaz deflates a little.

Ever since, the gifts are left on your night table.

You find small things at first. Stray bottle caps, shiny rocks, an old penny. Then, he becomes a little more bold.

Flowers, and berries and seashells and glass. He only realizes what's happening– that he's courting you– when you approach him with a container of brownies.

"What's this for?" He asks as you set it in his hands.

"You're always getting me things," you say with a smile. "Figured it's time I give you something too."

He tries to deny it. Really, he does. Cheeks burning, feathers puffed out. Tells you he has no idea what you're talking about. But then you set your hand on his and offer him a smile that has him weak in the knees.

"No use in lying to me, pretty bird. I know you too well for that."

He caves and accepts the brownies with a smile.

The gifts increase tenfold. No longer left shyly on your bedside. He seeks you out. Presenting you with the gifts like a cat bringing its owner a mouse. His chest puffed out, shoulders back, wings out. He's showing off.

He loves it.

What he loves even more is the way you coo at him and thank him. Your smile is genuine every time.

He starts bringing you things. Expensive things. Gourmet chocolates. Rings. Small jewels.

One morning, at breakfast, he takes your hand in his and fastens a bracelet around it like this is a normal thing to do.

Soap makes fun of him for it. Gaz doesn't even get the chance to be mad at the werewolf. Not when you press a little kiss to his cheek and thank him so sweetly. You tell him he doesn't need to spend money on you. He tells you he wants to.

One day, after a particularly hard mission, Gaz returns to his bunk and all but collapses in bed. There's a plate of cookies and a handmade bracelet waiting for him on his nightstand. And a little note with your sweet words of encouragement.

Immediately his fatigue is gone.

He's out of his room, hurrying through the hallways. Wings fluttering so much he's lifting a bit off the floor.

He slams your door open without knocking. You're lying in bed, reading. You jump, startled, blinking up at him in surprise.

"Kyle! You scared me!"

He's on you in a heartbeat. Arms and wings wrapping around you like they'll never let you go.

If ever you were unsure about his feelings for you, you weren't now. Now with the way he melts against you, pressing so close, so tight, it's like he wants to become one.

"Can... Can I... Can I please?"

He asks, breathless, eyes on your lips. His mouth falls open slightly and he lets out a stuttering breath as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You nod.

Gaz wastes no time. The kiss starts out sweet, soft and chaste. He peppers these kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your temples, you nose, your chin, your eyelids. Nowhere is safe.

But the kisses soon become demanding. All tongue and teeth. Hot and wet and desperate. Like he needs you like he needs the air he breathes. Like he needs you to live.

"You're mine, right?" He whispers against your lips, voice gentle, eyes pleading. "Only mine?"

"Only yours," you whisper back, a hand stroking the feathers of his wings. "And you're mine... My pretty bird."

Gaz preens as he dives in for another kiss.

Your pretty bird...

Yeah. He decides as he pushes you down onto the bed, tongue licking desperately at yours. Yeah, he can live with that.

Please reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist

#call of duty #cod #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #monster au #harpy gaz #x reader

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theladyragnell · 2 months

Note

Exchanging gifts for the first time: E/R

(This one Fought Me for no reason I can discern, but hopefully it does the trick!)

It’s taken them several years to invent what Joly dramatically calls The Birthday Party, with the capital letters every time even though he’s a slow texter anyway. Five of them have birthdays in the baking-hot months of June and July, and there was a year or two full of bar crawls and restaurant meals and rooftop parties where they all reached August exhausted and a little sick of each other’s company, so when Jehan, whose birthday is last in the sequence, suggested they just have a joint party in July, everyone was relieved to agree.

And then everybody wanted to give gifts and it felt weird for half of them to be opening gifts and the other half not, and then they all looked at each other at their half-hearted Christmas gathering, a holiday none of them feels quite easy celebrating, and then The Birthday Party became what it is, a chance for everyone to pass things around. Nobody gets special gifts for everyone, with that many to buy, but they pass around fancy chocolate bars and bottles of craft cider and handmade cards and it’s good. It’s better than awkward parties focused around one person.

Grantaire loves The Birthday Party. It’s one of his favorite nights of the year, and he spends the weeks before it closeted in his apartment, soberer and happier than he usually is, making matched sets of little paintings of the Musain or caricatures of everyone or handcarved soap dishes.

It’s just that this year, he and Enjolras are dating.

He’s very happy about that, to be clear, happy enough that he feels a little drugged most days, happy enough to embarrass himself if he examines it too closely, but it means he doesn’t have to restrain his foolish desires to give Enjolras lavish personal gifts anymore, and the consequence of that is that he no longer has any ideas for lavish personal gifts.

And Enjolras won’t care about that, obviously he won’t. Enjolras’s gift to The Birthday Party every year is a pot of something delicious to eat and a handwritten card each about how much he loves them, something Grantaire was unable to deal with when the notes for him were grudging and doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with now that they’re sincere. Enjolras doesn’t care about gifts and lives in a tragically spartan apartment largely because he’s too lazy to hang anything, and Grantaire isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary at The Birthday Party except maybe a kiss.

But he still wants to, and his friends are not helpful when he tries to subtly ask them what to do, so he finally caves in, makes a terrible choice, and asks Enjolras.

“I could tell you what I’m giving you,” Enjolras suggests in a meditative tone, propping his chin up on his hands where he’s laying on his stomach in Grantaire’s bed. Grantaire gets the urge to paint him in lush oils, but he gets that urge at least once a day, so it’s pretty easy to ignore. “If that would be easier.”

Grantaire doesn’t particularly care about surprises, but he has his pride. “Don’t do that, that’s one of those things that nobody says is bad luck but which really ought to be bad luck. Shaking one’s presents, of course, is a time-honored tradition, but hearing what they are from the giver? Unthinkable.”

“I’ll like anything,” says Enjolras. “It doesn’t matter to me what you give me, or if you give me anything at all. I’ll still be here.” And then, after some silence and one of his penetrating stares, “I made yours.”

“Noted, I’ll leave the diamonds at home and will only do a string of pearls if I dive for them myself.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes and encourages Grantaire to go to sleep, but it does, much as Grantaire hates to admit it, help.

He doesn’t wake the next morning overcome with inspiration, but he finds his way to it, taking time away from his gifts for everyone else to work on Enjolras’s.

The Birthday Party is as rowdy as ever, when it comes. Grantaire’s block prints impress everyone, and Enjolras’s curry is, as ever, delicious. As the night starts breaking apart, people admitting they have to go home, the more personal gifts come out, the ones they all put off so nobody feels left out or pressured. Grantaire, who finds sharing his feelings with Enjolras more embarrassing now that they’re reciprocated than he did before, waits until Enjolras is finished with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, until Joly has draped a new scarf far too hot for the season around Grantaire’s shoulders, to take Enjolras aside.

“You settled on something,” Enjolras says, and smiles.

Grantaire, flustered more than he cares to admit that he is by the smile and the situation and his stupid idea, produces the envelope that’s been weighting down his pocket all day, four pages densely written in his horrible handwriting that alternates between crabbed and flourishing, his own version of Enjolras’s yearly letters, only he’s never said in one paragraph what he could say in twenty. “I’ll do better next year, when I’m less nervous, but I thought—people give gifts they’d appreciate themselves, right? So this is me trying that out.”

Enjolras takes the envelope and opens it, breaking the wax seal Grantaire put on because he does have some standards, and only makes it a sentence or two again before he stops, which is good, because Grantaire might combust if he’s forced to watch Enjolras read that letter. “I do appreciate it, and I’ll read it when I won’t embarrass both of us,” he says, and produces a small package. “And we had the same thought, I think.”

Inside the package, of course, is a small canvas, maybe ten centimeters on a side if Grantaire were to care to measure it, with a very careful painting of Grantaire’s couch painted on it, every bit as earnest and every bit as unskilled as Grantaire’s letter. “Definitely the same thought,” says Grantaire, and has to swallow several times before he can say anything else. Even then, he has to seize on poor Feuilly as he walks by, knowing Enjolras will have something for him to give them both a break.

They both go back to Grantaire’s apartment when The Birthday Party is over and Grantaire puts his new canvas in pride of place next to his bed while Enjolras is brushing his teeth and then falls asleep before Enjolras ever makes it to bed.

When he wakes up in the morning, Enjolras is still in bed, a rare late morning, with all the pages of Grantaire’s letter arrayed on his lap and his stupidly beautiful nose a little red with leftover tears. “I love you too,” he says when he sees Grantaire is awake.

Grantaire didn’t write the words in the letter, they felt too soon, but of course Enjolras knew what he meant. He’s made a study of getting to the heart of Grantaire’s torrents of words. “I love you,” he says, belated but no less true, and lets Enjolras carefully fold the pages of the letter up and put them to the side before he presses him back into the pillows.

#answered asks #impetusofadream #sometimes i write stories #emotionally constipated revolutionaries

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auspicioustidings · 10 months

Text

Firewatch Part 8

Summary: An unspoken ceasefire takes place and you struggle with sleeping arrangements.

Words: 2k

CW: as always, this fic is reader falling for captors, but nothing specific in this chapter

You just existed around each other the rest of the day more or less quietly. They treated you like a housemate for the most part and you finally felt like you were settling down. It had been the worst 48 hours of your life and there were only so many high emotional outbursts you could go through without needing some quiet from your thoughts.

When you got out of your frigid shower Kyle said Price had went to pick you up some things. Neither him nor the asshole with the mohawk sitting sipping away at his coffee mentioned the sudden cut off of hot water or how you had screeched about it. Price came back with bags full of clothes and toiletries for you. They were your size and you decided you were not going to get into the fight that you wanted to over the fact that the shampoo, conditioner and soap in the bag was what you had used at home. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he had went to the expensive store in the town where everything was handmade by what you were fairly certain was some sort of witch and somehow managed to pick out the specific products you liked.

It felt nice to be in soft new clothes that fit even if there was a small pang of something at stripping out of Price’s clothes. When you saw the wet spots you bristled and scrubbed at them, wringing out the offending item as best you could before folding it and leaving the bundle of his clothes on the bathroom counter.

You called Dosia a traitor at least 4 times before dinner for how she slunk over to get scratches off of Price. You cooed at her just as many for when Soap tried to pet her and she treated him with complete disdain.

“Ye should have got a dug” he grumbled after another failed attempt to endear himself to your cat.

“What? So you could have a litter mate?” you shot back before going back to coo at your cat.

“Woof!”

Kyle made dinner and you asked if he always cooked (“only when we want something edible” “oi! I’m a braw cook I’ll have ye know!”) before scolding yourself for the umpteenth time for being so casual and curious with them, but once again you just let it go. You could start thinking about how to get out of this situation again tomorrow, you really could not put any more brain power into being angry and pushing them today. It seemed to be an unspoken understanding that they felt a little the same way with nobody really pushing at you or getting into your space.

You weren’t about to look a surprise ceasefire horse in the mouth so you ate dinner, even gave Kyle a quiet thank you for cooking and Price an even quieter one for clearing away the table. There was one glaring issue that you were avoiding thinking about, the small matter of where you were going to sleep. Would they let you take the sofa or where you doomed to wind up in someone’s bed? You didn’t know how you’d fare with the threat to this shaky peace if one of these men nestled under blankets with you and held you the way Johnny had been when you had woken up.

You worried that as tired as your brain was from fighting and plotting and a thousand emotions happening at once today that you wouldn’t even stop them. That you’d take the comfort. And it would just make things so much worse when tomorrow came and you had rested and were ready to push at them again.

It had not occurred to you that there was actually a much worse option until Price told you that you could take Simon’s bed and left you in his room. It was simple but it had touches of the enigmatic man. A cute little crocheted skull on the dresser (had he been gifted it? Bought it himself? Made it?), a thriller book on the bedside table well worn (he must be the type of person to break books spines and dog ear them), a few sets of dumbbells in the corner that were disrespectfully heavy and a photo in a simple frame of him with the two Johns, Kyle and a man you didn’t recognise. If another handsome man walked into this cabin you would lose it, so he damn well better have just been a visitor.

The thing that really sent your heartbeat into overdrive though was right there lovingly pinned to a corkboard on the wall. Drawings. They were clearly from children and they showed their crude versions of him in his gear holding hands with them. These were what was taking pride of place in this simple room, these were what mattered to him.

You gently traced your fingers over one, trying to reconcile the drawing with the man in the closet who had left the mark still throbbing dully on your neck. You paused over a detail you had missed. The little skull sticker on the helmet. It made sense then the little crochet skull, but it also gave you such a vivid flashback that you heard a strangled sort of sound leave your mouth.

You had seen that little skull sticker before, on the man who had saved you. You thought it had been Kyle, but it was Simon. Simon was the one who carried you through the fire and laid you gently on the ground outside, whose eyes you had stared into and thought ‘oh, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen’ when you realised he was there and real and you were alive. It came flooding back with such force that you had to stumble away from the pictures and sit down.

It was only after a breath that you realised you were sitting on his bed and you flexed your fingers a few times, feeling the softness of the duvet. You wondered what blanket he would be using in the tower. It was boiling during the day but freezing at night, would he be cold? Certainly the sofa wasn't going to provide the same support as this mattress. It probably wouldn't even fit all of him, he'd have to curl in.

You couldn't. You could not sleep in this bed while he was in the cold, uncomfortable and barely getting any sleep at all, tossing and turning before getting up and looking out for any sign of trouble before repeating it again. No amount of telling yourself he was a bad person was going to let you do that with those kids drawings staring down at you.

So you stood, straightened out the duvet, wrapped yourself in the throw that had been draped over the dresser and curled up on the floor.

---

Price was on wake up duty. They had discussed sending Gaz since you seemed to trust him the most, but he had argued that in order to get you on side it was him you needed to trust the most. He reluctantly agreed when he thought about it, he was this teams Captain at the end of the day. And you were part of that now, his team.

He also did feel annoyed with himself at how he had dealt with you yesterday. He should have known better than to think it would all be easy and you'd be predictable. At least after a good night's rest he had settled a bit. It was strange how his feelings toward you had changed. They were more intense somehow, maybe a little rougher around the edges and complicated. But he was a problem solver and the way to solve this one was by trying to get on your good side, figuring out who you were when you weren't spitting mad at him.

There was a moment when he opened the door that he felt his heart stop. The bed was empty. And then he heard a soft sigh of discomfort and followed it to see you shivering away on the hard floor. It was then that John Price knew he cared about you. Not the you he had made up in his head, the you that had annoyed the life out of him yesterday and kept fighting him on every little thing. He hated seeing you almost whimper in your sleep from how cold and uncomfortable you were.

Why the hell hadn't you just slept in the bed? Were you trying to rebel by making him feel awful? Or could you just not stand the thought of sleeping in Simon's… oh. It was Simon's bed, you hadn't wanted to take Simon's bed. You felt guilty. Even through all that rage and exhaustion you felt guilty. Ah fuck, had to go and be a good person despite everything didn't you? You'd win the bet if he was a better man.

Soap and Gaz didn't question him when he emerged with you bundled in his arms still sleeping. It wasn't difficult to tell you hadn't slept well and while they did want to get you into a routine they had all the time in the world, one morning letting you sleep in wouldn't ruin everything.

He had considered just putting you into Simon's bed, but somehow that felt cruel. Instead he carried you to his room. Warmer than Simon's, more cluttered with years of knick knacks. It had a set of wingbacks with a table between that held a bottle of whiskey and some cigars. Price's room was where his boys could come for refuge if they needed someone to just listen.

You roused a little when he gently manoeuvred you under the blankets, instantly letting out a little sound of panic and trying to get up.

“Steady on little bird, it's my bed. Not making you sleep in Simon's. That a girl, go back to sleep” he said, as gentle as he could manage.

“I don't…” you murmured, not sure what you wanted to say.

You needed to talk to someone, you needed to get it off your chest, but there was nobody here but your captors. Nobody in this room with you but their Captain whose soft coaxing had made you relax despite yourself. It was pathetic and you knew that, but somewhere in the exhaustion it almost felt like this was a dream. Like what you said here didn't count in the real world.

“He's a good man isn't he? I could tell, from his room.”

Price hated how torn up you sounded, as if the idea of any of them being good men was breaking your heart. And while he wouldn't go as far as to call himself one, he knew with a fierce certainty that his team were the best of men. Would it hurt you to keep discovering that? Would it help you want to stay?

“Simon Riley is a good man” he confirmed, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and sighing as he ran a hand over your hair, soothing. “But he was rough with you for no good reason little bird, even the actions of good men have consequences. It isn't your fault he isn't here.”

Christ he should be trying to guilt you instead of this. He should be manipulating you into begging him to let Simon off of 24 hour watch. Twisting things until you loved them. He thought when they first decided to keep you that it would come easy. He never knew you'd be so hard to hurt.

You only made a soft noise in acknowledgement. You felt bone tired, completely wrung dry. You just couldn't find that fire within you right now that you had planned on stoking when you woke up. It wasn't fair for them to be good, for them to show you kindness. For them to be human.

You thought maybe a bit more sleep would help as you drifted off with John's hand petting your hair. That was what you needed, some proper sleep in a proper bed and then you could find that fight again. You hoped.

#mhairiwrites #cod #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #Noel is the big brain who suggested fire fighter Simon would have kids drawings in his room btw #I am nowhere near creative enough to have come up with an idea that cute #john price x reader

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bumblebeehug · 1 year

Text

Gave him her heart

Ship: Natsu Dragneel x Lucy Heartfilia Summary: Lucy worries about what to get Natsu for his birthday, not knowing how ridiculously easy it actually is. Day 5 of Nalu Week 2023 - prompt: gifts Ao3

***

Natsu was a good man. He was wild, fun, crazy, but most of all: good. Lucy was very aware of this and knew that such a good man truly deserved the best. So, naturally she felt slightly panicked when she realised his birthday was coming up.

Lucy liked to believe that she was good at giving gifts. She was observant, both on the battlefield and off, so she knew what people looked a little extra at when they browsed shops or went by markets. Wendy turned to sweets, cute dresses or jewellery, something Lucy was relieved over when she noticed it – Lucy was nothing if not good at picking clothes and accessories, and Wendy was transparent with her tastes (sweet = good, savoury = fine, if there was a good reason to why it was gifted, otherwise a little weird, and sour = danger zone. It could be risky, but citrusy tastes were appreciated in sweet desserts). Erza was also easy to please with gifts – either go the sword and armour route, or go the girly route, possibly with some suggestive books. Gray appreciated nice soaps and clean décor for his house, and if she wanted to be funny with him she could always gift him underwear, seeing as it was the only clothing that stayed on for a while (though since him and Juvia got together it wasn’t really an option – Juvia didn’t care too much about what Lucy gave him, underwear or not, but Lucy herself felt weird about it, so nowadays she kept to soaps). Carla liked tea and pretty dresses as well, but appreciated flowers and other handmade things, and Happy was never happier than on his birthday, when he practically could get buried in the number of fishes he’d be given.

Natsu, however? Lucy wasn’t too sure what she could give him. He liked loads of things – food, fights, adventures, funny hats, board games: few things were off the table with that guy. If she gave him a bouquet of flowers he’d probably smile and say thanks (and maybe he’d try to eat them once he got home), if she gave him tea, he’d probably set the leaves on fire and accidentally get high or something – she didn’t want to risk it either way. He’d be thankful for any clothes she would give him, but would most likely only wear them when he really had to, or to sleep if they were comfortable enough. He really liked his special made ones, that managed to stay intact no matter how hot his fire was. He would definitely try to eat the soaps, and that wasn’t worth it in her opinion, and if she gave him a fish he’d very likely think she was either giving Happy a gift through him, or that she was confessing her undying love for him, since that’s what it meant when Happy gave fishes as gifts to the opposite gender (of the same species, might be important to add).

Point is: giving Natsu gifts was hard when you knew him too well. She had even considered giving him jewellery that matched with the ones she had gotten from him recently, but it once again came down to him only wearing them as a chore, and her pride couldn’t really take that. She would have to put a pin in this challenge though, because she was expected at the guild to help cover a shift for Mira as she dealt with one of her requested missions.

As she entered the guild hall, she was relieved to see that it was rather empty. It had its perks, working at a bar in the middle of the day, and since she saw some of her closer mates, she knew she could take her chance to dig around and find out what others would be gifting him.

“Hi Master,” she greeted Makarov, still using the title he had tried to give over so many times already. Though technically he was still in charge, so Lucy thought it only appropriate to keep calling him master until he truly was off the position. “I’m covering for Mira this afternoon.”

“I heard,” he grumbled from his position in the wheelchair. “You’ve been behind the bar before, so you know the drill. In fact, could you bring me a plate of fried squid and a beer? Just put it on my tab.”

Lucy took his order and sent a note into the kitchen per his request. Normally Mira would help out in the kitchen as well, but since Lucy had limited experience with cooking the meals they were serving, she was excused to just manage the drinks and easier snacks, like nuts and chips. As she waited for the staff in the kitchen to finish the order, she poured a glass of beer for Makarov. Half with light alcohol, half with none. He was currently cutting down on his alcohol intake, Porlyusica’s demand, but to not make him fall back immediately from quitting cold turkey, they slowly made him drink lighter and lighter.

“So, Natsu’s birthday is coming up,” Lucy said, trying to cover it up as small talk, but realising it was obvious what she was trying to do.

“I’ve heard.” A smug grin graced Makarov’s face. The relations between the mages in his guild were always amusing, especially in the stage that Lucy’s and Natsu’s had been in the last couple of years.

“I’m a bit curious…” She gave him his order. “What do you think he wants? You’ve known him for longest.”

“Child, I’m too old to remember all my guild members’ gift preferences, and I’m definitely not rich enough to give away gifts like it’s nothing. For a long time now, I’ve allowed myself to forget who likes what.” Lucy smiled, ready to brush the topic off and take another order across the hall, but he continued. “I do, however, know that you could give him a stick or a pebble you found on the sidewalk, and that boy would treasure it like it’s his most sacred, most valuable item in his possession. Do what feels right, Lucy.”

She thanked him, but within she felt like she was back at square one. She knew he would be happy about getting any gift, but she didn’t want to give him just any gift. She wanted it to reflect how much she appreciated him and their friendship, and she wanted it to stick out. Maybe it could even suggest that she appreciated him more than a normal friend, but only if he started overthinking the gift (which she doubted he would do anyways). It was meant to be subtle, but not subtle enough for it to never be discovered by him. And if it needed to be discovered by him, whatever this little message it was she was trying to convey to him, then it would have to be flashing in neon lights above his bed when he woke up in the morning.

So, she spent a few hours continuing to ponder on what to do, as she was taking more and more orders as people kept dropping in. At around 6:30pm her true saviours arrived at the guild hall. Her team, plus a few other closer friends and minus Natsu and Happy, who were camping today and tomorrow, were back from one of their shorter missions, and they were probably starving for some dinner. Lucy was quick to come over and take their order, also grabbing her chance to question them about their thoughts on this conundrum.

“Hi guys, did the mission go well?” She greeted them, preparing her notepad.

“It went great!” Wendy beamed, and Lucy made a quick mental note to ask about the mission more in detail at a later date. She must have done a good job if she allowed herself to be this proud – Lucy always thought she was too harsh on herself when they fought on missions.

“Gray even kept his clothes on,” Erza added, praising the man on her right.

They took a quick moment to chat, and as they finally decided on what to eat, Lucy seized her moment.

“So,” she started, already knowing she would never live down asking a question like this, considering that many of the people at the table were quite transparent on their opinions on Lucy’s and Natsu’s relationship, “Natsu’s birthday, huh?”

The silence her sentence brought made her regret it immediately. She could already see how their brains were working on new ways to tease her for whatever she was going to say next, but she would have to swallow her pride once again. It’s for a good cause, she kept telling herself.

“Have you gotten your presents yet?” She chuckled awkwardly, hoping their answers would be enough to inspire her, so she could get their food and forget she ever brought it up in the first place.

“Mhm.”

“Yep.”

“I have too.”

“And I’m with Wendy on her gift,” Carla added, still making it painfully obvious that nobody was elaborating their answers. They were making Lucy work for it; she just knew it. They loved grabbing their chances to make her say embarrassing things, and today was no exception.

“Really…” She forced out a laugh. “So, what have you gotten him?” She tried again to prompt anyone at the table to speak up, but they knew she would have to continue pressing, and that it would sound more and more desperate the less information they gave her, so after they all stayed silent for another minute, Lucy gave in.

“I’ve just completely blanked out; I can’t even remember a single thing he likes! Please, help me! Give me some inspiration!”

Erza exchanged a glance with Wendy before she answered.

“Well, he likes fire.”

“And fighting.”

“And ugly tourist shirts,” Gray chimed in. Lucy groaned.

“I can’t exactly give him a clip card for sparring matches, and I’ve already considered a bonfire, but I wanted to have a get together later with all of us where we make a bonfire and drink hot chocolate and stuff.” She spared Gray a short glance as well. “And he only wears his special made clothes, so I can’t give him a shirt to frame for 200 jewel.”

“Then we can’t help you,” Erza said, flipping her bangs as she always does when she lies. Lucy pouted.

“I’ll get you your food, please help me afterwards?”

“Deal.”

After 30 minutes she finally had four hot plates balancing on her arms, ready to serve to her stubborn teammates. They were chatting along just fine now, so hopefully the would have forgotten their silent agreement to keep themselves clammed about their gifts. Lucy hurried to place out their food, hoping that they would notice her way of bribing them by giving them extra big portions.

“Now please...! What should I give him?” Lucy sat down at the table. She wasn’t going anywhere until she got an answer she was pleased with.

Wendy gave her an apologetic smile.

“Well… We can tell you what we think, but don’t you think he’d like it better if it truly came from you?” Erza nodded along.

“I’m going to give him a sword that’s enchanted with endless fire,” she revealed. “But you know, it’s not really a gift that screams ‘Lucy’.”

“Erza’s right. I’m giving him some scrap wood I found in the woods because I can’t really bother, but no gift we tell you to get will be as appreciated as the one you come up with,” Gray said, taking a sip from his beer.

“And we’re getting him a small cupon at a restaurant,” Wendy added.

Lucy sighed.

“I know it won’t be the same, but my creative well has completely dried up. Nothing I think of feels like enough. If I get him something I’d appreciate it would be like I don’t know him at all, and that doesn’t feel fair.” She started to feel hopeless. She didn’t like how drained she got from worrying about this – she loved Natsu! And she would love to properly show him how much she loved him, because he truly deserved that. Platonic or not.

“Hey, you look like you’re giving up, that’s not like you! Think of it like this, we’ve all combined our own interests with Natsu’s interest: Erza with the sword, Wendy and Carla with the food, and me with the scrap wood that shows that I have zero interest in him. Why don’t you write something to him? It may not look like it, but I think he know how to read. At least simple words.” Gray gave Lucy a half-hug from his seat in an attempt to comfort her.

“So… you think I should write him a letter? Would that be enough?” She felt sceptical, but it could work.

“You spitting on him would be enough,” Carla snorted, almost offended by her obliviousness.

“Carla!” Wendy burst out, not before Lucy raised an eyebrow in confusion. Her gut told her not to ask, and for once, she decided to actually follow that gut feeling.

“Do you really think a letter would be enough though?” She asked.

“How about you give him an experience? A friendly date of sorts,” Carla suggested.

“An experience?”

“Like going to the movies, or to a restaurant, or maybe picknick or stargazing?” It was Erza who spoke up this time, and Lucy thought she could see a sparkle in her eye. If she didn’t know better, she would almost think that Erza had been on dates like that herself.

“Hm… I guess you’re right. If he doesn’t like it, I’ll just have to ask him directly, I suppose.”

Lucy stood up from her seat at the table and bid farewell to her friends, along with her thanks. A letter would have to do, and she had a gut feeling that told her that she would figure out a good topic to write about. She hurried to end her shift so she could get to her gift-making. A good idea rarely stayed for long in one’s head.

When she finally sat at her desk, pen in her right hand and paper in front of her, she knew this was the right thing to do. What better way was there to tell Natsu how much she appreciated him, if not through words on paper? It was her speciality, after all. She had even lighted some candles to keep her company, since she knew she would sit there for a while. There was a lot of things she wanted to tell him and thank him for, and the letter would be the perfect way to convey these feelings. Right. Feelings. That could include her less platonic ones, and even if this was a great opportunity for that as well, she didn’t know if she was quite ready to go that far yet. In the meantime, she would just have to tell him she loved him in every way except the straightforward one.

Four hours and 16 pages later, she had her letter. It was ridiculously long, she knew that, and he probably wouldn’t be able to read it in one go, but her heart felt light. A letter was the perfect gift. She had even included multiple invites to ‘experiences’ she wanted to give him, and if he took as long to read it as she thought he would, then those experiences would be experienced with about one week in between them. Lucy gave the thick envelope a quick lick to seal it, and after that she couldn’t help but to give it a soft kiss. She had poured her heart out, and though it would be embarrassing for her to know that he would read such things, it also felt very right. It wasn’t a love letter, but in a way, it felt like it was. She had told him all the things she loved about him, all the moments she especially appreciated him being there, and how great her entire life was thanks to him. If read with the intent of reading a love letter, it could very well translate into one, and maybe, someday in the future, he could look back at it and see the hints she left him.

Lucy leaned back in her chair with a big yawn. It was well into midnight hours by now, and she really needed a refreshing shower. A thought went to how Natsu and Happy were having it right now, in a tent somewhere in the woods. Though she was happy to get to sleep in her soft bed, she was missing them. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. To speed time up she hurried to the bathroom so she could get into bed as soon as possible – her apartment wasn’t the same without those two.

Lucy cursed herself. Why, why, why had she written that letter? It was the most obvious love-confession anyone could ever read, how on earth had she not realised that when she read it through yesterday? She was dragging her feet behind her, because if the embarrassment wouldn’t kill her when he read it later, she would have to kill herself, and no one non-suicidal would ever look forward to something like that. So, her feet dragged. The letter felt heavy in her hands, and she knew that as soon as it would be opened, she would feel naked. Her gut was begging her to turn back, but her heart told her that celebrating Natsu today was more important than her pride. Him and Happy were coming back from their camping trip, and they promised her they would stop by the guild to say hi before heading home, and that’s when they would be surprised with a small celebration. Nothing like other events, where people went completely wild, but a celebration big enough to show him some appreciation.

Checking the clock one last time, she made sure that she was there before they arrived. They woke up pretty late generally and their favourite camping spot was about an hour into the woods. 10am. Maybe they hadn’t even woken up yet, but Lucy didn’t want to risk it. She wanted to prepare and decorate the guild, and then she would grab something to eat, considering she hadn’t eaten any breakfast yet.

As she entered the guild, she was relieved to only see her team and a handful more people. They were chatting and blowing up balloons, and they had turned one of the tables into a gift-table. Lucy hurried to put her letter amongst the others, eager to get the gift out of her hands.

“Good morning, Lucy!” Levy greeted her with a hug. “You’re pretty late, did you stay up last night?” Lucy chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I had something important to finish.” She felt her team’s eyes in her back – they knew she had stayed up writing, and though Lucy knew she hadn’t written a love confession of any sort (other than platonic) she still managed to feel a blush creep onto her cheeks.

“So, do you need help with the balloons?” She offered, greeting the rest of the group.

“It’s fine, you go ahead and grab some breakfast instead,” Mira smiled.

“How did you know I haven’t eaten?” Lucy sat down at a table.

“You have a tendency to forget to eat when you have other things on your plate,” Mira just answered, placing down a yoghurt bowl with homemade granola and fruits. Lucy could only smile sheepishly, slightly embarrassed how obviously nervous she was about this event. She was sure Erza had told her about her moment of weakness yesterday, so she reminded herself to try to keep herself under the radar. She’d just be here, sing a happy birthday song, eat a piece of cake and watch Natsu open his presents, then the day would be over and the whole Lucy-confesses-her-feelings-though-a-letter thing would be over! No unnecessary teasing from her friends, if all went well.

“I’m back!”

The guild door shot open with a noise loud enough to give the untrained ear a heart attack. Lucy however had a trained ear, so she just turned her head and met Natsu’s happy gaze, her heart fluttering at the fact that his eyes immediately searched for her and no one else.

“Happy birthday!” The guild cheered. Lucy stood up from her place at the table, not really knowing why until Natsu stood in front of her, just an arm’s length away. If she reached, she would be able to bring him into a hug, and it truly itched in her arms to do exactly that.

“Hey,” Lucy smiled softly. “Happy birthday.” Watching Natsu’s smile go from surprised and generally happy, to soft and caring made Lucy lose what little control she had, and she caved into her needs to hug him. As soon as she felt him hug her back, she knew that whatever the others thought about the content of her letter contained, as long as Natsu read it and took it to heart, all would be fine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tightening the hug for a second before he went ahead and thanked the rest of his friends, never straying far from Lucy.

The birthday party was overall a quite big success, everyone had a great time, and Natsu, who not so secretly had been itching to open the presents, finally gave in and announced what he was planning to do.

“Time to open the presents!” He cheered, almost jumping in place in excitement, clearly not representing the age he was turning (400-something years old) but making everyone smile regardless. Everyone except Lucy, whose heart flew up in her throat, suddenly getting the strongest urge to grab her letter before he got to it so she could throw it away or burn it. Not because she didn’t want him to read it – she would just prefer it if he read it somewhere more private, where the burning eyes of her much beloved friends could read it and jump to conclusions. So, she hurried close to whisper her plan to Natsu – despite him being the cause of these nerve-racking feelings, he was still her partner in crime, and she knew he would break his neck to achieve whatever she asked him to do. This time, what she asked him not to do.

“Psst!”

Natsu shot a glance to Lucy, who was whispering just quietly enough that no one else would notice, unless they had dragon ears and paid attention to her. Lucy, who saw that he had heard her, hurried to shoot her shot.

“My gift is the letter, I would kinda like it if you read it after the party instead? It’s just – it’s quite long and it won’t be any fun if you sat down and read it here, you know?”

The ball was in the air, and now she could at least sleep well knowing that no matter the outcome, she did try her best to steer the situation into best case scenario – all to her means of course.

Natsu, the king of pranks and someone who was surprisingly good at sneaking around, despite his usual love for the “let’s just barge in and fight anyone who tries to stop us” approach, still managed to keep up his gleeful demeanour as he had listened to Lucy’s request. He once again met her gaze and gave her a quick nod, ensuring that she had scored. The rest of the evening would manage to stay calm and uneventful. All thanks to their ways to keep down low. It was really convenient to have dragon hearing at times like these – though usually she had that thought on missions, and not happy, meant to be uneventful celebrations and parties.

The birthday boy himself didn’t mind opening Lucy’s gift later. In fact, he was just happy he was getting something at all from her, considering how stressful most birthdays could be for her. Sure, she already knew what genre people liked, but getting down to picking the actual thing and managing prices was a hard task for Lucy to tackle without stress. So instead, he went ahead and opened the elongated, wrapped gift that said “Happy birthday, from Erza” on the card. He would make sure to ease Lucy’s mind today, considering how stressed she clearly had been the last couple of weeks.

Natsu couldn’t stop grinning. He truly had the best friends ever, and despite him not being a big birthday celebrator when it came to himself, it felt good to be appreciated. There had been good songs playing, yummy food to eat, and most importantly: good company. He especially loved the presents he had gotten, since they clearly were gifts that his friends had carefully thought through and taken into consideration before giving them – yes, even Gray’s gift was appreciated, because though it seemed silly, he did sometimes need firewood after hard missions to speed up his recovery. Everything was dear to him, so when he finally got home with that thick letter in his hands, he couldn’t wait a second more to open it. This, you see, might be the dearest gift of all.

The softly written “To: Natsu Dragneel” on the front of the envelope made Natsu’s heart beat harder. He knew that the content in it probably wasn’t anything out of the ordinary stuff the two of them said to each other, but still. He liked that Lucy had put extra thought into whatever she had written. Or, at least he hoped she had, seeing as he didn’t actually know what the letter said yet.

Happy peaked over Natsu’s shoulder, closing the door behind the two.

“So, what are you waiting for? Open it!” Happy urged, eager to see what Lucy wanted to say to him, but clearly couldn’t since she had to write it down. In his opinion a speech would be quicker, knowing how slowly Natsu read.

Carefully Natsu parted the sealed wax from the paper, making sure not to tear anything. If he could make some space, he’d want to hang everything on his memory wall later, and in that case he didn’t want to ruin it.

Still standing just inside the door, Natsu began to read. The letter started out rather normal. She was writing the obligatory happy birthdays and saying hi to Happy, who she knew would read over Natsu’s shoulder despite it being a private message. That part piqued Natsu’s interest a little extra. What did she have to say to him that not only had to be written, but wasn’t meant for Happy to know? It sparked some hope in his heart that she possibly could feel something special about him – special-er than what they already had. He continued down the page. She started reminiscing about the past, and about halfway through the second page, Happy gave up on Natsu’s slow reading and told him he’d simply read it after Natsu was done with it. Natsu took a seat as he joined Lucy’s trip down memory lane, enjoying the new information on how she saw him when they first met, during their first missions and more. He especially liked learning that despite his foul mood the first days together, she still had fond memories of him, like when he included her in his list of friends when they fought Macao (before they knew it was him, since he had turned into a Vulcan) and how the reason she didn’t refuse to get along with him after he had seemingly deceived her for a mission, was because he had managed to get a few lucky words in. Something like “because we thought you seemed nice” had made her stick, and Natsu could only thank his past self for accidentally pressing the right buttons.

As he continued reading, he was struck by the wonderful realisation that he truly mattered to Lucy. It’s not like he didn’t know that she enjoyed his company, but seeing in in black and white was completely different. It wasn’t just that she had written something along the lines of “I care about you, your existence matters to me” (though that would have worked as well), but the fact that she could remember so many small details of what he had said and done, that she may as well have written a complete book with all those moments, and it would probably be at least 200 pages long. He knew she had been cutting down on what memories she brought up in the letter, because enough talks with one person made them show how much brain capacity they had, and Natsu knew that her brain capacity was way longer than a 16-page letter. This was her way of being concise. Yet she still managed to bring up moments he only vaguely remembered, sharing almost exact quotes of what was said and by who. Mostly the who was either Natsu or Lucy, but it was still impressive.

Natsu had never been interested in reading. It was a chore he had to go through to get the money he needed for food, had never been any more interesting than that. Except for two occasions: Lucy’s first published book, and this letter. Sure, he had been reading it for almost double as long as it probably took to write it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. This letter was so far the greatest thing he had ever received, which wasn’t an easy thing to manage.

At 4am had he gotten to the last line of the letter. His eyes were trying to force him to rest, but his mind fought it like never before. He had skipped dinner for this, and he was not planning to give up last minute, just to succumb to something so superficial, boring and unnecessary as sleep. No, he gathered up some extra will power and pulled though. “Though you probably understand this after reading this letter, I am simply eternally grateful for everything you are, and what you’ve just read is the best I could do at describing my gratefulness in words. Thank you for all you’ve done, and for being unapologetically you. No one else could make me as happy as you have, so once again: Happy birthday, Natsu Dragneel.” She had signed it with her signature at the very bottom, ensuring that all he had just read was completely and wholly from Lucy. After reading the whole thing, he felt his legs itch. No, maybe it was his arms. Feet, hands? No, it was most definitely his soul that had started to climb inside his body. He wanted to go to her, and he wanted to see her. Preferably five minutes ago. He threw another glance at the clock. 4:50am. He had been tossing around, unable to even do as much as close his eyes, for the last 40 minutes, and he knew he wouldn’t feel better until he was within a 20-meter radius of Lucy. Or rather, 2-meter radius.

Not bothering to sneak around the heavy sleeper that the exceed was, Natsu jumped out of the bed and pulled on his slippers. In less than 3 seconds he was out the door, and in another 3 he noticed that he was running. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do when he saw her, especially considering that she most likely was asleep in this hour, but he simply had to get to her, quickly. The time was ticking, like he was a bomb soon to explode, like he was going to run out of time if he didn’t arrive soon. Wind blowing in his ears, he could barely make out the sound of his heavy breathing. He hadn’t run this fast in Mavis knows how long, and he might actually had made it outside her apartment in record time. His chest rising and lowering in big breaths, he managed to make something of a sigh in relief to see her window slightly opened. Climbing the wall quietly was no challenge with Natsu’s experience, so he swiftly pulled himself up, making sure to fully open and enter the window as quickly as possible – though this time with less success since he didn’t have as much experience with that part. Usually he just barged in after scaling the wall, seeing as the time he did it at was most often a time where Lucy either was away or awake.

Either way, he didn’t manage to sneak in as stealthily as he’d like. The window creaked and his body almost fell limp after getting a whiff of Lucy’s calming scent – that he had been running like a maniac to get there didn’t help either, and after a loud, nongraceful landing, Lucy was already awake.

“Natsu? ‘s that you?” She mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry for waking you,” he whispered, finding his balance on his legs again as he stood up.

“No worries.” Lucy had now swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat in a more upright position. “Did you need anything? Is Happy alright?”

“Yeah, he’s at home sleeping. I just felt like coming here,” Natsu said, full transparency.

“Alright,” Lucy said, now taking a better look at his face. He looked red and flustered, but with his heavy breathing it might just be the fact that he ran to her place.

“I read it.”

Lucy’s face started getting hot as well.

“The letter?”

“The entire thing.”

“Wow. Uh, so what do you think of it?” Had the hour been normal she might not have asked him such a bold question, but something about the way the streetlights and moon illuminating the room made her feel brave. Perhaps she still thought she was dreaming, but this felt much too real to be just a dream.

“It’s perfect.” Natsu took a few steps closer. He could now make out most of her facial features, sleepy yet alert of his presence.

“I’m glad.”

A few more seconds went by, though it felt like minutes.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“All of it. All the things you wrote?”

A soft smile graced Lucy’s lips.

“Of course. I would never lie about those things.”

Natsu knew he could be dense in most situations. He couldn’t always read the room, and he wasn’t good at subtext. This time however, he had felt something the whole time as he read that letter. Maybe it was what other would call “reading between the lines” but he suddenly had great confidence in something that could change their relationship forever. Of course, it was a very long shot, but perhaps the adrenaline from all that running was just what he needed to gather the courage to take it. He did, however, decide to test out the water first. Running headfirst was usually his go-to method if he could choose, but he wasn’t blind to the delicacy of the situation he was putting himself in.

“Can I assume things?” He tried.

“Assume things? From what I wrote?” Lucy asked, curious where he was leading this conversation. She was very aware of her heartbeat, but she didn’t know that she didn’t have to be this time, considering that all that Natsu was hearing was his own.

“Yeah.”

“It depends. What do you want to assume?”

Natsu swallowed. Did he always have this much saliva? If so, maybe something was wrong with him. He swallowed again, clenching and unclenching his fists. Had he ever been this nervous in a situation as calm as this? No bandits, no monsters, no big wild animals – not even an annoyed Erza was around.

“That…” he started, his tongue thickening as he spoke. Not literally, but it sure felt like it. He could barely concentrate on what he wanted to say, gazing into those doe eyes. She was so, ridiculously pretty. He knew that before, of course, but he almost found it unfair. How could he think of any words when she sat there, looking all nice and pretty. “That you like me?”

He had said it as a question, though it sounded more like a statement right now. Lucy’s heart must have skipped a beat or two. She was still sleepy, but the tiny possibility that this wasn’t just a perfect dream made her stop herself from straight up answering yes.

“Well… I hoped my letter was clear on that. You’re my best friend in the whole world, how could I not like you?” She let out a small chuckle at the very idea of disliking a friend. She didn’t, however, predict what he would say next.

Natsu reached out his left hand, touching a piece of her hair that had fallen out from behind her ears.

“But can I assume…” He put it behind her ear, “that you like me more than a friend?”

Natsu’s eyes were darker than usual in the dimmed light, but Lucy saw clearly that he was being serious. Though, this exact facial expression was one she had never seen before. She had seen his tender look, his soft look, his happy look, his loving look, but she had never seen this combination of all. And it was her he was showing it to. In fact, maybe it was exactly this expression that made her admit the truth for once. For so long she had been scared that he would feel bothered or surprised by the very idea of “liking beyond friendship”, or love, as she would prefer to call it. She had been afraid that he would find her fantasies of the two of them living their life together as a couple weird, or even mildly repulsive. That her confession would lead to their friendship breaking apart forever. That, however, could no longer be the case. Lucy wasn’t blind, and she certainly wasn’t dumb. If Natsu looked this… happy? To even assume that she likes him beyond friendship, then the outcome from telling him the truth couldn’t possibly be bad. She tilted her head lightly towards his hand, sharing another smile.

“Yeah. I do like you more than a friend, or a best friend.” Natsu took another step closer, now close enough to make her feel his hot breath on her face that he had tilted upwards, towards him.

“Then…” He bended down slowly to come closer to her sitting position. “Can I kiss you?” His words didn’t come out louder than a breath, but Lucy knew what she heard. Her heart had never danced as wildly as it did when she nodded and closed her eyes as Natsu closed the space between them.

The kiss itself was probably nothing special to someone watching. It was plain and soft, just two mouths pressing against each other. For them, however, it was nothing short of magical fireworks. Lucy’s cool, soft lips against Natsu’s hot, slightly rougher ones sent shivers throughout both of them, as if the small touch had opened a completely new door, a way for them to connect and become closer than ever.

Inexperienced as they both were though, they soon had to break it off to breathe. After less than 20 seconds, Lucy pulled their faces together again. How could they have been missing out on this awesome experience for all the years they had known each other? Natsu knew that this already had topped the list of his favourite activities – even placing higher than eating and fighting. The next time they went up for air, they couldn’t stop themselves from giggling.

“Can this count as a birthday gift if I haven’t slept since yesterday?” Natsu asked, more energetic than reasonable after his long day.

“If that makes you happy,” Lucy smiled, giving him another peck on his lips. Whatever they decided to do from this point on, Lucy knew they would figure it out. After all, if they had managed to overcome the obstacle of going from friends to whatever this was, then they could definitely manage anything and everything else thrown at them. What’s important was that they from this point out, took on every challenge together.

#fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #fairy tail fanfic #nalu fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fanfiction #natsu x lucy #bumblebeehug writes #yay i'm posting my fics on tumblr #thanks to mya's advice :)

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