#holiday (but not yet gift exchange)
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Confection 4
Welcome back to Confection, which began its life as last yearâs holiday story but went on hiatus due to this yearâs gift exchange story, which in turn ran far longer than it ever should have. But the whole point of a hiatus is that it ends, so: this part continues an AU wherein Bering and Wells are chefs competing on a TV show titled âThis Without That,â in which cheftestants are charged with making well-known dishes without their primary ingredient. The competition in which Chefs Myka and Helena find themselves is Christmas-themed, a fact that relates to their shared history... some of which was revealed in part 1, part 2, and part 3. I'd mumble something about the whole thing being undercooked, but that probably goes without saying at this point.
Confection 4
Decide, and do it fast, Myka told herself as she examined the produce and other ingredients available to the contestants. Cranberry sauce without cranberryâa tart fruit. Could she reasonably tweak a sharper version of her fruit pickle into a sauce, but maybe using raspberries, for the appearance? Yes, most likely, but only if she could find raspberries. She scanned the refrigerator... okay, raspberries found.
Move on, and do it fast.
Candied yams without yams? She saw golden beets and envisioned (entasted?) merging their earthiness with some similarly earthy sweetness (to be determined), plus a creamy element (also to be determined) that might evoke the traditional marshmallows.
For now, she was satisfied with her choice of major components.
These were decisionsâfast ones, even! Now all she had to do was cook.
Okay, fine: and keep from distracting herself with glances at Helena, who was clearly also deciding fast, gathering ingredients, her overflowing-with-produce arms transforming her into some metaphoricalâor maybe actualâgoddess of the harvest.
Quit thinking like that! Myka admonished her overheated, now goddess-oriented, imagination.
No! that imagination shot back. She is a goddess!
Myka marshaled every bit of her superego to command, We. Are. Focusing. On. Beets.
And yet her id kept sneaking glances.
Her ego, meanwhile, noticed that Chef Artie wasnât having to decide fast. Heâd done nothing, even as Myka, Helena, and Chef Walter, his attitude notwithstanding, had filled their stations. His indecision prompted a producer huddle around him, and Myka heard snatches of phrases: âyou could use,â âor maybe try,â âokay, weâve got.â
****
Mykaâs departure from Apples had happened quickly: two days after the Christmas party, she interviewed for the job at Secret Service, getting the offer on the spot, and that evening she gave her notice to her direct supervisor on the line. Not to HelenaâChef Wellsâfor the chef hadnât been present in the kitchen.
That was unusual... did it have something to do with strings being pulled? Myka told herself she didnât need to know. She told herself, equally untruthfully, that she didnât need to care.
Not that HelenaâChef Wellsâwas even going to notice Mykaâs absence. People came and went all the time in restaurants. What did one line cook matter?
After leaving, Myka tried not to ruminate on how much she had wanted to matter.
She tried also to evict Helena Wells from the top of her mind. She didnât give in to the temptation to walk by Apples; that would have been another of those teenage-reminiscent impulses she needed to prevent her presumably adult self from indulging.
The setting of a Google alert, however, she justified as professional. Practical. Keeping track of a former employer.
Which was how she learned that Helena Wells would be appearing on This Without That.
Which she tried to convince herself she did not need (need...) to watch.
Which attempt was, she had even then acknowledged, doomed to failure, because watching the show meant she would at least be able to look at Helena, a thrill of which sheâd been deprived for what felt like forever. Need... need. She couldâand didâreplay her memories, but she was starving for new images.
The show didnât disappoint on that score. Myka was captivated anew from the first shot of Helena in talking-head closeup: her hair was down, lusciously so, and if Myka hadnât been anxious to see how the competition would unfold, she might have stopped the show there, just to savor the sight.
When asked to describe her style in the kitchen in one word, talking-head Helena said, âTake no prisoners.â
âOne word,â an off-camera voice said.
âItâs hyphenated,â Helena responded.
Myka added the hyphens in her head, retrospectively.
She paid little attention to the introductory attributes of the other contestsâChefs Marcus, Leena, and Hugoâbecause: not for one instant did it occur to her that Helena might not win.
She was well aware that she knew nothing about television production but clichĂ©s; nevertheless, she found herself stuck on one in particular as far as Helena was concerned: âThe camera loves her.â And Myka found a similar loverâs elation, if tinged with a lurkerâs shame, in her surreptitious alignment with that camera and its gaze.
The dish for the first round, the appetizer, was clams casino without the clams. âMushrooms,â Myka said aloud the minute Steve Jinks announced the challenge. The rest of the dish was traditionally pretty simpleâbreadcrumbs, butter, bacon, bell pepper, lemonâwith the only even vaguely difficult part getting the proportions right. But mushrooms stood out as the clearest substitute, texturally, as long as they were cooked with great precision so as to simulate the clamsâ chewy-but-not-rubbery distinctiveness, and that would be, she thought, the real challenge. That and choosing an appropriate variety of mushroom, one that could be coaxed to a sufficiently correct mimic.
Myka was thus unsurprised, if gratified, when talking-head Helena said, âI thought immediately of oyster mushrooms. But then I discerned that Chef Marcus might be aiming for them... so I moved quickly.â
The next shot of the kitchen depicted Helena darting in front of Marcus, a tall and somewhat sinister figure, and appropriating all the oyster mushrooms. Then, as if just realizing the other chefâs presence, she said, âOh, did you want these as well? Surely there are enough for two.â
That struck Myka as pretty magnanimous.
She revised that down a bit after the next talking-head Helena said, âHad I kept them all for myself, how could I have demonstrated my superiority?â Then she smiled: wolfish, with the edges of her teeth. âNot to mention, I had a trick up my sleeve.â
****
As Myka began her preparations for her cranberry sauce without cranberries and candied yams without yams, she felt herself moving with extraordinarily swift precision... had she been dosed with performance-enhancing lightning? Or some other quantity granting an efficient-motion superpower? Then she realized: she was showing off. For the camera? No. For Helena. Who was most likely focusing far too closely on her own cooking to look over and be impressed by Mykaâs ability to prep beets for the oven at speed.
While the sauce-pickle simmered and the beets roastedâshe would soon peel and purĂ©e thoseâshe sought the finishing flourishes for the latter dish. In her search for sweet, she thought of molasses, but then she noticed Helena had that bottle at her station. Casting about, she found her eye caught by a jar, very small, of manuka honey, and its likely kiss of bitterness seemed instantly correct. To provide additional interest, she saturated figs in that honey in a sous-vide bath, with an aim of creating a soft-yet-chunky topping for the beets, texture balancing taste.
Cream, now: maybe yogurt? The tang of plain Greek yogurt rhyming with the pickleâs bite? But she needed depth... she toasted a vanilla bean, ground it, then mixed it into the yogurt; tasted; yes. A dab of honey, then, to match what it topped, and that element was complete.
She allowed herself a breather, while the pickle matured and beets reached peak melt-in-mouth texture, to assess the other competitorsâ approaches.
(Not Helenaâs, though. Helenaâs presence was distracting enough; attending to her cooking was likely to render Myka entirely incapable.)
Chef Artie was doing something with red beetsâsheâd heard those mentioned by someone (not Chef Artie) in that prior huddleâand something else with butternut squash. Chef Walter, like Myka, was working with raspberries.
Myka felt a flicker of Helenaâs âdemonstrate my superiorityâ bravado. She hoped it would prove out.
****
The trick Helena had up her sleeve turned out to be an innovation to replace the clam shell in which the clams casino was traditionally served: she scraped the ribs from a portobello mushroom cap, then dropped it in the deep fryer. She pulled the fryer basket out as the roundâs final milliseconds ticked away, then plated her entire oyster-mushroom casino with speed that Myka wouldnât have imagined possible.
But: This is Helena Wells, Myka reminded herself.
Anything was possible.
Helena was, unsurprisingly, right about demonstrating her superiority. Myka watched her smile as the judge charged with delivering the first-round verdict sent Marcus to his doom, telling him, âWe couldnât overlook that fact that the texture of your mushrooms was no match for that of Chef Helenaâs.â
âShe tricked me,â Marcus said into the camera as he exited the kitchen.
âShe outcooked you,â Myka corrected, a bare instant before talking-head Helena said, smugly but equally accurately, âI outcooked him.â
Myka would have reveled in their consonance but Steve Jinks then announced the entree challenge: beef Wellington without beef.
Now that was a challenge, and Myka was gifted a commercial break to ponder what she might produce. She came up with nothing more than âsomething else Wellingtonââsome other protein encased in pĂątĂ©-slathered pastry. But what protein? And this is why you arenât on the show, she told herself.
So she paid attention, if a bit begrudgingly, to the choices the other contestants made. Chef Hugo chose venison, which Myka had no trouble imagining would pair well with that expected pùté. Chef Leena chose chicken, but instead of pùté, she used a butter-herb mixture that Myka immediately recognized as intended to bring a cordon-bleu sense to the dish. It seemed nothing like beef Wellington, but it did seem special, invented just for this competition.
Helena was up to something special too, but Myka didnât fully understand it. She was wielding a mallet on a flank steak, rendering it thin, thin, thinner, and bringing the same thin-thin-thinner energy with a rolling pin to pastry. Myka couldnât see where the Wellingtonâits richnessâresided... maybe in the duxelles she was making, the sautĂ© of mushrooms that was sometimes paired with the Wellingtonâs pĂątĂ©, sometimes substituted for it. Helena had pĂątĂ© on her station, but she didnât touch it.
Myka waited impatiently through Chef Hugoâs venison and Chef Leenaâs chicken, until it was finally time for Helena to be judged. She cut into her Wellington.
Somehow she had managed to roll pastry, steak, and duxelles into... a pinwheel? Yes, a beautiful swirling pinwheel, with seemingly infinite layers.
Surely sheâd been saved for last because her dish was astonishing.
However: âYou seem to be attempting to subvert the rules,â a member of the panel, a Chef Kosan, told her. He looked down at his portion disapprovingly, then up at Helena the same way.
What was that about?
âDo I?â Helena was calm, the picture of confidence. Myka was reasonably sure she herself would have been dissolving in anticipatory terror...
âChef Leena and Chef Hugo both managed to make beef Wellingtons without the beef. You, howeverââ
âHave as well,â Helena interrupted. âWithout the beef tenderloin, âtenderloinâ being implied, even if not explicitly stated. Or has the constituent âbeefâ element changed since I was in culinary school?â
She was obviously right. The âbeefâ in the name didnât cover all beef. Myka would have made the same argument.
When the program returned from that commercial break, Steve Jinks rendered the verdict, drawing out the suspense, saying a long and lingering âChef....â
Myka idly wondered whether venison or chicken would lose.
âHelena,â Steve finished. âUnfortunately, this competition will continue without you.â
Myka blinked. Surely sheâd heard that wrong?
But Helenaâs incredulous expression suggested sheâd heard exactly the same thing.
Chef Kosan was charged with explaining the panelâs reasoning. He began, âIn your Wellington, we did find the lean flank steak well-balanced by the richness of the duxelles, even more so than Chef Hugoâs venison was by his pĂątĂ©âhe needed more of that richness.â Myka saw that as a point given to Helena. How had she lost it? He went on, âBut his failure in that arena was your fault. You appropriated all the pĂątĂ©, then gave only a limited portion of it to Chef Hugo, despite the fact that you clearly had no intention of using it the remainder yourself.â
âHe was entirely free to ask for more,â Helena said. She didnât say anything about her intentions.
Chef Hugo, meanwhile, looked bereft. Myka felt something like sympathy for him, for certainly interrupting Helena at work was a frightening prospect. Then again, he was supposed to be competing.
Chef Kosan narrowed his eyes. âThe ingredients are not yours to dispense. That struck us as inappropriate gamesmanship.â
âAnd yet this is a game, is it not?â Helena asked. Myka chalked up another point for herânot that this tally in her head would do anything other than torment her.
Chef Kosan continued, âNevertheless, in the end the substitution of one type of beef for another struck us as insufficiently creative, if not actually against the rules. Of the game. As did your use of the rather obvious mushrooms in the clams casino.â
If she squinted, Myka could maybe see his point with regard to the mushrooms. But wasnât changing the Wellington into a pinwheel a creative change? Why hadnât that outweighed the beef issue?
Helenaâs thought process seemed similar: âA puff-pastry pinwheel Wellington was insufficiently creative,â she said with heavy sarcasm. âAnd both were beautiful dishes, worthy of the Apples menu.â Did she now sound petulant? Myka couldnât honestly blame her.
âPursuant to that,â Chef Kosan said, âweâre genuinely curious: how did you manage to get the pastry entirely cooked?â
âSkill,â Helena said. That was a full sneer.
Myka had been curious about the same thing, but she was also imagining getting access to that skill, were she still at Apples and had the dishes made it to the menu... imagining what it would be like to cook those dishes on the line... imagining getting those mushroomsâ texture exactly right for the casino... imagining balancing the Wellingtonâs fat and lean, while seeing to it that the pastry was indeed entirely cooked. And all right, yes: she was imagining Helena leaning over her shoulder, breathing near her ear, insisting on all of that.
As Helena performed the apparently obligatory walkout of defeat, she pronounced, âIâm far more skilled than this result indicates.â Her tone situated scornful quotation marks around âresult.â
That had sounded very Helena. And very true.
Helena then said, âThis wonât be the last you see of me.â
Myka had at that point cut off the television and prayedâyes, prayedâfor that also to be true.
****
She did not recall the memory of that prayer in its specificity until she was competing alongside Helena in a Christmas-decorated studio in August.
Mysterious ways.
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Confection#part 4#AU week#holiday (but not yet gift exchange)#honestly the hardest part of this#is coming up with the dishes and substitutions#I would like to try everything out before putting it into the story#in a test kitchen as it were#but I've been a strict vegetarian for basically forever#so I have to imaginatively project most of the proteins
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I'm already listening to Christmas music in order to hype me to work on my gift for the acotar gift exchange
#ITS NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN YET#BUT MARIAH COME THROUGH#Lowkey want it to be the holidays already!#acotar gift exchange
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My co-workers: hey boss, would we be allowed to do a gift exchange this year for the holidays?
Boss: well, we've tried to do one of those before, and it did not work
Co-workers: what do you mean it didn't work?
Boss: we set a $10 minimum... and in exchange for my gift, I received an envelope with a ten dollar bill inside
#sauri says things#work blogging#oof#gift exchange#Christmas#holidays#it's not even Halloween yet and these guys are planning for Christmas...
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365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 359
Adjective: Absurd
Noun: Invitation
Definitions for those who need/want them:
Absurd: wildly unreasonable, illogical, or inappropriate; arousing amusement or derision, or ridiculous
Invitation: a written or verbal request inviting someone to go somewhere or to do something; the action of inviting someone to go somewhere or to do something; a situation or action that tempts someone to do something or makes a particular outcome likely
#so im a few hours late#no big surprise there#my girlfriend and i have been busy (as mentioned before in my other prompts)#we actually went to go see my family and spent time with them for the holidays#we drove over to see my cousin and his wife and their kid#and then we went to the house to spend time with my parents and exchange gifts and watch home alone and eat dinner#it was lots of fun#(and we got lots of lovely gifts from my parents including a big framed photo of when my girlfriend and i moved into our apartment)#then my girlfriend and i exchanged our gifts and they seemed to love the gifts i got them#and i love the gifts they got me#(a video game ive been wanting for years and a couple of beautiful prints and art prompt dice and a dvd of one of my favourite movies)#and we actually played a couple of board games we got recently#so i would say we had a pretty wonderful day#as the prompt i think its interesting cos there is a lot to play around with in terms of the definitions and interpretations of the words#im particularly interested in figuring out the how/why of the 'absurd' aspect#cos i dont quite have that pinned down just yet#same goes for the purpose of the 'invitation'#but im really looking forward to figuring that stuff with time#thanks for reading#writing#writer#creative writing#writing prompt#writeblr#trying to be a writeblr at least#*as for the prompt#*stuff out with
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ur dad!sukuna has me on a chokehold and i don't even like that man
lol same, it really came outta nowhere. woke up one day and decided to make him a soft girl dad :(
loosely inspired by this
sukuna had never understood the need to celebrate holidays with family, much less getting together for no reason. and yet, here he was at your grandparents' house in the middle of the school year.
there were a bunch of kids, from toddlers like your daughter to the teenagers of family friends. sukuna made sure you handled all the pleasantries, save the occasional polite nod. he was convinced the only kid worth entertaining was his baby girl, who clung to him as she tried to adjust to the new environment.
she was quieter than usual, and he observed her as she pulled at her lip, turning her head into his neck when unknown relatives crowded you to congratulate you on your little family.
you and sukuna found a corner to hole up in, talking to each other while you sampled all the drinks and food at the party. soon, your daughter grew restless, wanting to go play with other kids.
sukuna watched her with deadly precision as she and the other kids brought out toy cars and dolls, driving them around on the city rug below their feet.
he had crossed his arms, only for you to wiggle your hand into the crease of his elbow seconds later. eyes still on his daughter, he leaned his head down a bit to show he was listening.
"i thought you'd enjoy the free drinks." you said.
he snorted. "i'd enjoy my bed right about now."
you swat his bicep with your free hand before hugging into his side. "at least baby's having fun."
he just hummed in response. "she's gonna want one of those stupid rugs."
you roll your eyes. "you know she'll forget about it by tomorrow morning."
his lips pulled up. she would. and he'd still get it for her.
soon, gifts for the kids were being exchanged. why? just for existing, apparently. you left sukuna's side to capture your daughter's reaction on camera.
your baby glanced at you as she was presented with the gift bag.
"go 'head, baby." you nod, and she ripped the tissue paper to shreds before reaching her whole arm into the bag. she pulled out a tiara, studded with gems and painted gold, along with a fluffy dress.
an immediate chorus of awwws echoed around the room as she held up her loot. she raised the tiara over her head, but didn't manage to get it to sit right.
"help." she chirped, waddling over and holding the tiara to you in her outstretched hand. "mama."
sukuna's heart squeezed at the sight, gaze following you as you retreated to the bathroom to help her change into her costume.
a few minutes later, you emerged, setting her next to your grandparents.
another wave of awws made sukuna's head lift from his phone. always watching, he noticed how his kid's wide eyes darted from unknown face to unfamiliar face. her chin tucked down, her chubby neck doubling up as her bottom lip pushed out into a pout.
he'd know that look from a mile away. he stood a little straighter, frowning.
at that point, your mommy senses tingled, pulling yourself from the conversation you were wrapped up in. "aw, honey, no..." you cooed, stooping to her level and trying to catch her eye.
she whined, pushing off the couch and shrinking under the crowd of people, wringing the hem of her dress as she walked through the crowd.
her eyes were scanning the room, looking up at every adult and getting closer to tears when she saw they weren't the one she was looking for.
eventually she broke into the kitchen area, locking eyes with her father and barreling towards him. sukuna crouched down, his arms spread to catch her.
as soon as she gripped him, he lifted off. "hey, kid. rough night, huh?"
she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her arms hugging the expanse of his shoulders. he nodded and rubbed her back. "me too."
she raised her head abruptly and touched her tiara. her eyes so serious, as if she'd base her own feelings about her new stuff on how much her father liked it.
"yes, i see it. very pretty." he placed her onto the kitchen counter, smoothing the crinkled mess of her dress. his tone could be perceived as dry or near-monotonous, but his intention was the complete opposite. "my, my, were you ever going to tell us we were living with a princess?"
a toothy grin spread on her face, and sukuna was blown away yet again by the way he was able to make someone so genuinely happy.
"look." she started twirling around.
sukuna shook his head with a low chuckle. her spin was anything but graceful. he applauded her showcase, his back shielding them both from the noise surrounding them. a little bubble just for them <3
your hand rested on his back, signaling your approach. sukuna lifted his arm, resting it on your waist when you stood at his side.
you frowned as you studied your little girl. "you feeling okay, baby?"
she poked her tongue out.
"i'll take that as a yes." you kissed her cheek. "wanna get outta here?" you ask your husband.
"fuck yes." he grumbled, immediately slinging the baby bag over his shoulder and grabbing your daughter. you three were out the door in the next minute.
your toddler started screaming at the burger king y'all were passing on the way home. you gave sukuna a look, silently warning him not to do anything illegal in order to appease her request. as usual, he soothed you with a squeeze of the hand, pulling a jerky, very illegal u-turn across oncoming traffic into the burger king lot.
you sighed, your daughter giggling happily as the car came to a stop.
after you got your food, she placed the crown she got on her father's head. "princess." she said.
"oh?" you side glanced your husband, his glare unsuccessful in deterring you from snickering. you encourage your daughter, "yes, baby, isn't he the prettiest?"
"no." she looked at her father in disgust. "me."
"oh, my apologies. you are so right."
sukuna scoffed. "where'd you think you got your looks from, silly girl?" he crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth. he made no move to take off the cardboard crown, though.
you gave him a look. "i helped too??"
he grinned deviously and pulled you into his side, squeezing your hips. "don't kid yourself, doll. you didn't even try."
© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#sukuna comfort#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen comfort
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hello hello hello!! this is your pocket firehouse holiday exchange buddy here with a few questions! đđđ
what colors do you lean toward/love most?
what quote do you love/really speaks to you? it can be a song or otherwise.
whatâs your holiday drink of choice?
hello!!! I'm so happy to hear from you!
pinks and purples are typically my favorite! (also I wrote that and immediately thought of the Taylor Swift lyric "purple pink skies." I guess she's always there at a subconscious level)
the quotes one is tough! it's one of those questions that when someone asks, you've suddenly forgotten every possible answer. I'm in the midst of writing papers for classes so my first quote to offer you is the entire poem "Perhaps the World Ends Here" by Joy Harjo. I think it's beautiful, and I'm writing a paper about food and place for class and I'm tempted to work the poem in somehow.
thinking about song lyrics, some of my favorites that come to mind are
the entire bridge of "You're Own Your Own, Kid" by Taylor Swift
"Outside they're push and shoving/ You're in the kitchen humming" from Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift
Honestly any Taylor Swift song is fair game
"Oh, it's like I'm looking down from the ceiling above/Never in the moment, never giving enough" from Why Am I Like This? by Orla Gartland
and finally, I love hot chocolate! I'm realizing I haven't had any yet and I need to remedy that immediately
#asks#anon#firehouse holiday exchange#i recommend that joy harjo poem to everyone!#but i'm also realizing that if i get a gift with that song I'll associate the gift with the paper I'm writing#so let's hope I do well on this paper#that i haven't started yet and is due wednesday#and i'm sure there are more lyrics i love#but this is all i've got for now!
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secret santa dilemma
second year!miya atsumu x fem!reader
oneshot, fluff
"That's a nice charm,"
"Huh?"
"That charm on yer phone, it's nice," Osamu says, nodding towards the little phone charm dangling from Atsumu's phone, which he's currently scrolling through. Atsumu's eyes shift to the charm, a tiny jellyfish with cute beads, triggering a pleasant memory in his mind.
-----
"Whatcha all think 'bout Secret Santa?" the class 2-2 vice representative asks, her voice loud and energetic, filled with excitement. A chorus of 'ooohs' echoes around the classroom, the students liking the idea presented by the girl standing in front, facing the class with a grin.
"But 's not even Christmas," a male student remarks, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"Who cares? 's just a fun idea before the mid-semester holidays start!"
"I agree with that idea!" "That's a very nice suggestion," the voices blend, filling the atmosphere.
Atsumu remains unbothered, his attention away from the class vice president as he gazes out the window, his head resting on his palm. He finds the idea ridiculous but doesn't bother to oppose it.
"It's decided then! Everyone write your names on little papers, and we'll draw from this jar!" the class vice announces, presenting a jarâwait, where did she get that from?
Atsumu sighs, feeling pressured to tear a piece of paper and write his name as his classmates do the same. The papers are collected in the jar, and one by one, his classmates draw from it.
A figure stands beside Atsumu's desk, offering him the jar filled with papers, smiling at him, signaling him to draw. He reaches in, pulls out a paper, and unfolds it as the girl moves to the desk behind him.
'Y/N'
Who the hell even is 'Y/N'?
Atsumu surveys the classroom, mentally ticking off the names of classmates he recognizes as he examines each face.
"Who did ya get, Atsumu?" his friend, seated behind him, inquires, craning his neck to glimpse the paper in Atsumu's hand. Turning around, Atsumu asks, "Who's Y/N?"
His friend's eyebrows shoot up, a silent accusation of 'how do you not know your own classmate?' etched on his face. "Oh, Y/N? That's her over there," his friend gestures towards a girl sitting alone, her gaze fixed on her paper until her eyes meet Atsumu's, only to quickly look away.
"Looks like she picked ya too, pretty lucky, huh?" his friend teases, nudging Atsumu's arm with a playful smirk. Atsumu exhales in mild frustration, then turns to face the front and rests his head on the desk.Atsumu plans to stop by a convenience store before returning to his dormitory after practice.
He'll just ask the cashier a gift for girls and settle it quick.
The bell rings loudly, signaling the end of the school day. Yet, none of the students in the class rushed to leave as they usually do; instead, each one appeared rather enthusiastic, holding a wrapped gift in their hands. The air is filled with excitement as everyone eagerly anticipates exchanging surprises with their secret Santas.
Atsumu doesn't share the same excitement as everyone else; a paper bag remains untouched on his desk. He doesn't bother to wrap gifts like others do, as he considers it an unnecessary hassle for the simple gifts he purchases. The assembly commenced, with the crowd's chatter growing louder.
"M'kay everyone, we can start exchanging our gifts now!" the class representative declares, the vice representative grinning on his side.
As everyone started moving towards their recipients, a medley of sounds and laughter permeated the air. Atsumu's gaze searched for you, and he quickly spotted you as you made your way towards him.
The surroundings seemed to fall silent as you faced Atsumu, clutching a cute pink box adorned with a pretty bow, while he held a plain paper bag. Atsumu thought you looked really cute with a flushed face and a hint of blush as you walked nervously, but he quickly dismisses the thoughts. Your eyes locked with his as you tentatively extended the box, stuttering as his assertive gaze bore into you.
"S-sorry, Miya-san, if the gift is not to your liking," you said, watching him take the box and extend his paper bag towards you. Teasing 'oohs' echoed, and you were certain Atsumu heard them as well. You accepted the paper bag, murmuring a small 'thank you.' "Thanks⊠And sorry too if you don't like my gift," Atsumu spoke, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the warmth spread to his ears. He felt somewhat embarrassed, aware of the simplicity of his gifts to you: a small strawberry keychain and some chocolates, as if to compensate for what he feared might seem like an unimaginative gesture.
Atsumu sees the small smile on your face, and he swore his heart just skipped a beat at the sight. You walked away from him, uttering another word of thanks before grabbing your bag to leave the classroom.
He gazes at the box he has received, and as his hands begin to open it, a small box of cookies encased in a clear plastic container is revealed, filling nearly the entire space of the box, with a tiny bag tucked into the small opening. The cookies are beautifully decorated, each one a small work of art, and the aroma wafts up, making his mouth water.
"Yeah, got it from my secret Santa," Atsumu said, responding to an unasked question, but one Osamu might want to know.
"Oh? The one who gave ya the cookies? Man, they were so good! Why doncha ask her to make some more? I'm willing to pay for it," Osamu suggested.
Atsumu wore a look of disgust, annoyed by his twin's excessive enthusiasm for food. Yet, deep down, he considered Osamu's suggestion a good one, as it would give him a reason to approach you again. Osamu continued to rave about the deliciousness of your baked goods, eating his food, while Atsumu's gaze shifted to a familiar figure he expected to see today. You were passing by on your way to recess, and his eyes lit up when he noticed the strawberry keychain on your purse's zipper.
He pondered whether you would mind if he asked you to bake some cookies again and, perhaps, for your number.
#miya atsumu#atsumu miya#miya twins#miya atsumu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#inarizaki#anime#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya x reader#hq atsumu#atsumu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#msby atsumu#msby black jackal#haikyuu msby#hq x you#hq x reader#hq fluff#hq#hq smau
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Not So Secret Santa
javier peña x fem!reader
this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!
summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.
warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.
tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.
word count : 4.4k
⊠: merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)
no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.
lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics
âPlease, Steve, Iâll give you a week's pay.â You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.Â
âNot gonna happen.â He doesnât even bother looking up from his computer.
âA month.â Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up. Â
âJesus, you canât be serious.â Heâs examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.Â
âMy entire Christmas bonus.âÂ
âOkay, stop.â He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. âWeâre not allowed to switch.â
âWhen did you become such a stickler for the rules?â You cross your arms in front of your chest.Â
âItâs just a secret Santa. Heâs our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldnât be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.â He loosens his tie as you sigh.Â
âItâs not just a secret Santa, Steve. Itâs an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didnât do something right. No matter what I get him, it isnât going to be good enough.â Even as youâre saying it you can see that he isnât going to change his mind about this.Â
âHeâs a dick to everybody. Thatâs inevitable, it just means heâs comfortable with you.â Heâs already turning back to his work.Â
âPlease, Steve.âÂ
âNo.â
You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.Â
When itâs clear that he isnât going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.Â
âDonât forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!â His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.Â
Once youâre out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper youâd drawn earlier today.Â
Javier P.Â
Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname youâd given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time youâve worked for the DEA heâs gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, heâs your âfriendâ, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way heâs constantly making passes at women around the office.Â
And itâs not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows youâve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.Â
Every single woman, except you.Â
Youâd never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesnât help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints youâve sent Steve about his persistent partner.Â
Heâll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you youâre filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldnât stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesnât already know exactly where youâll be.Â
âAre you doing anything this weekend?â Heâd asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.Â
âI have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.â Youâd turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.Â
âWhat about Saturday?â He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.Â
âThe Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.â You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.Â
âI love your nails.â Heâd pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.Â
You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.Â
Red chipped paint.Â
You couldnât help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.
It wouldnât matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.Â
Probably.Â
It doesnât matter, itâs never gonna happen so why let it bother you?Â
With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.Â
Stupid fucking Peña.Â
Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.Â
âFuck.â You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.
Before you know it youâre back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.Â
Youâre dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.Â
Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because youâll get more work done if he isnât constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and itâs always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. Youâd bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still havenât heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.Â
Jesus.Â
You know way too much about him.Â
You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.Â
âYou should paint your nails green, I love green.â He had said through a drag of his cigarette.Â
Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldnât help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe heâd even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you werenât the lucky lady heâd run off with that night.Â
Thereâs no time to be thinking like that.
You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.
Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When youâve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving youâre finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.Â
The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when youâve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.
âThank you, seriously, it means a lot.â You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.Â
âAnytime, although Iâm surprised you didnât just ask Javier.â You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.Â
He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.
More people show up than you could have expected.Â
You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.Â
Youâre getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.Â
Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.Â
You should leave them alone, especially if heâs trying to make a move on her. But you canât help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.Â
String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as youâre about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.Â
âI had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but itâll be worth it to see the look on her face.â His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.Â
Heâs probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and thatâs why Steve didnât want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.Â
Whatever, you canât be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you donât get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.
One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that itâs time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift. Â
You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.Â
âYou picked me?â He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.Â
âIt was short notice so we didnât have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, Iâm so sorry.â You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isnât that big of a deal, itâs a busy time of year and people can forget things.Â
âNo worries, do you know who it was? Iâd like to at least tell them itâs fine.â You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javierâs before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.Â
Javier traded for your name?Â
As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk heâs now sporting.Â
â âŠbut itâll be worth it to see the look on her face.â
Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.
Huh.
That doesnât feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You donât really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you itâs drowned out by the music that starts once again.Â
Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldnât have cared, youâd have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasnât an accident.Â
Maybe he didnât really think of you as a friend.Â
Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you donât want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you canât find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration youâre currently feeling only makes you more emotional. Â
You donât want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you canât go to Steveâs office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there wonât be people.Â
Javierâs office.Â
You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isnât until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.
Today is just not your day.
Did he know youâd come here? How the hell did he beat you here? Heâs fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.Â
Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.Â
âGive me my keys.â You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesnât hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.Â
âI really liked your gift. Seriously, this is⊠outrageously thoughtful.â He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. âWhy are you so upset? What happened?â He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.Â
What a foolish question.Â
How could he possibly not know?
âI want to leave, Iâm sick of this party.â You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.Â
âCome on, the parties barely started.â Heâs on his feet, he doesnât try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.Â
âAnd I want to leave.â When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.Â
âDonât tell me youâre mad about the secret Santa.â His brows furrow.Â
âThis isnât about a stupid secret Santa.â
âIt sure seems like it is.â Heâs still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist? Â
This isnât about the secret Santa. Itâs a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.Â
âThis is about the fact that you donât even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I donât care that itâs just a stupid prank. It still- Itâs still a shitty thing to do.â Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesnât matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you arenât friends.Â
âSo this is about the secret Santa.âÂ
Of course he wouldnât get it.Â
âYouâre an idiot.â You finally pull your wrist from him.Â
You arenât sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.Â
âCan you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?â You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.Â
âFuck Javi- let me go-â You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.
âJust wait- listen to me.â He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. âShit- I-Iâm sorry.â He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.Â
You never thought youâd see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He wonât look you in the eye.Â
âIt- Itâs fine, Javi.â You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just canât catch a break today. âIt was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.â You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and youâre more than ready to call it a night.Â
âItâs not an accident.â He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. âYou should probably go.âÂ
If itâs not an accident you donât want to go.Â
You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesnât react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.Â
Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. Heâs everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.
When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.Â
âI loved your gift, I wasnât joking, itâs perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I donât care about you. Of course weâre friends, you-â As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.Â
âTalk later, this now.â You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.Â
You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now youâre spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.Â
You donât get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and youâre pulled back into the moment.Â
Jesus youâre soaked.Â
You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. Heâs too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and youâve waited too long for this, you donât want to wait, you just want to have him.Â
Heâs tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly canât control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, youâre briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the musicâs so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.Â
You donât stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. Youâre agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, youâre about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isnât wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.
Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.Â
Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.Â
You canât nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.Â
You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like heâs been waiting for this for so long and now he canât help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that youâre certain heâll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.Â
Youâre vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.Â
âJavi, Javi, Javi.â Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. Youâre so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.
He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.Â
Did that really just happen?
He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.Â
âAll good?â He whispers, gentler than youâve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.Â
âGood enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.â You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.Â
âMaybe this was your present.â He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.Â
âThat was the perfect gift then.â Probably the best youâve ever gotten.
âAre you gonna stay for the rest of the party?â He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.Â
âI think I need to go to bed after that.â You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.Â
It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isnât a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that youâre going to get all of that. But right now youâre tired, so the rest can wait.Â
âCan I walk you to your car?â You nod as he murmurs.
He doesnât let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that heâd call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.
Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.Â
[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]
Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javiâs familiar messy handwriting.Â
from : your secret fucking santa
a/n : happy holidays everyone!!
#pedrostoriesgift23#lincolndjarin#taro-666 <3#javier pena smut#javier peña#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal
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LOVE YOU, SANTA!
pairing: re2 leon kennedy x fem reader.
summary: You were feeling a little bit depressed since this was your first Christmas away from your family. Thank God your best friend was there to comfort you.
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, smut, best friend Leon, p in v, soft sex, unprotected sex, (don't be like them) praise words, both Leon and reader are quite inexperienced, confessions, two dorks in love, Leon dresses up as santa, just Leon being silly.
word count: 6.2k
minors do not interact, please.
You werenât feeling the Christmas season.
Youâve always been family orientated. Christmas for you was the perfect excuse to connect with long lost relatives and of course spend quality time with your loved ones. Video calls and interminably lengthy texts didnât fulfill your desire to be surrounded with your family.
The Christmas lights illuminated your features as you stared at your own tree with teary eyes. Alone, in your living room, you thought about the amazing time you would be having if luck was on your side.
Weeks prior, you had bought a plane ticket ready to fly and visit your family. You had already prepared everything. Gifts? Checked. Souvenirs? Checked. Tons of stories about your university life? Double checked.
But you couldnât have prevented the fact that your flight would get canceled at last minute. You were offered another one, airline policies or something among those lines. It was an understatement to say that you were mad, angry, and frustrated. It wonât be the same if you travel two days after Christmas. The holiday would be already over.
So, you did what anyone with rational thoughts would do. Drown yourself in sadness as you sank deeper into the couch. Your eyes traveled from your Christmas tree to your TV which was playing The Grinch, very fitting.Â
You checked your cell phone, and you were welcomed with countless pictures. Most of them were very family appropriate. âFar apart during this Holiday, but totally together in our hearts and minds. Merry Christmas!â Ok, your grandma had no need to remind you you were miles away. But you replied with a short phrase as well.
A sigh left your lips as you set aside your phone, trying to focus on the movie. You watched as the Grinch ripped the tablecloth off the table and none of the items fell from it. You once heard that Jim Carrey defied the laws of physics as the dishes and plates were supposed to fly off. Funny, you thought.
Your phone suddenly buzzed. With an annoying grunt you expected another call from a relative saying how much they were missing you. Yes, it fulfilled your heart knowing that you were expected at home, a family to come back to whenever life gets too rough. But right now, as much as you needed a hug, you didnât want a reminder of your own solitude.
You grabbed your phone and saw the caller id. âLeon?â you murmured as you picked up the call.Â
Leon was your best friend, or at least you wanted to say that. You appreciate him as a friend since he is the sweetest guy ever. A gentleman through and through, holding the doors open for you, helping you with your housework whenever you needed and giving you a shoulder to cry on when life was too hard.
He was the epitome of being a best friend, right? However, the way your mind seems to wander to other places when he was close to you made you feel guilty. You thought he only saw you as a friend, nothing more yet you couldn't control your own mind and imagine him in more intimate settings.
Whenever he talks about his training at the Police Academy, how he tells you about every little thing that had happened to him back at the supermarket. Simple things like that make your heart do laps. The way his lips move and how his tongue would stick out from time to time led your brain to create the most romantic scenarios.
How would it be to kiss him? To feel his lips locked with yours in a heated but meaningful exchange of love? Dear God how you wanted that and at the same time you wanted to slap yourself.Â
Guilt ran deep down in your system when you thought of him like that. Your friendship with him mattered more than anything but the heart wants what it wants, as dramatic as it sounded.
You responded, bringing your phone to your ear.
âHey Leon.â Nonchalantly as always, you didn't expect Leon to call you, especially when you knew he didn't exactly celebrate this holiday. He has a family, he was just not as close as you're with yours.Â
âHi, how are you?â Now that's weird, the conversation seemed so uptight, too rigid. Not like every other call you have with him. His voice tone also changed, curiosity filled your mind as you tried to search the meaning behind his call.
âI'll be honest⊠not too well. You know I was supposed to fly a few days ago? Well, my flight was canceled so here I am.â You explained to Leon the time-line of disasters you have faced.Â
âYeah, Rebecca told me.â So that's why he called! Word has traveled until it reached Leon's ears and as attentive and sweet as he is, he couldnât stay still and let his friend be alone on a day like this.
âSo⊠are you at home right now?â Leon continued speaking, you could sense he was smiling at the moment, as he stretched that so. You know him too well to know that he's planning something.
âYup⊠It's just me and The Grinch.â You laughed at your own statement and your eyes instinctively roamed over the TV that kept playing the movie.
âAm I allowed to be the third wheel?â He joked, you were used to his funny side or at least he tells you it's funny. You really did find him hilarious, but it was even funnier to pretend his jokes didn't phase you.Â
âI donât know⊠Donât you have plans for tonight?â You asked, playing mindlessly with a strand of hair that has fallen to your shoulder. You have been friends with Leon for years, and you knew for a fact that he usually spends most of his christmases in solitude. Always telling you that everything is alright. Sometimes, you wanted to invite Leon over to your family dinner. But you always imagined the endless teasing your poor friend would be a victim of. âIs that your boyfriend?â âOh what a handsome gentleman!â So, you never asked him out.
âNot reallyâŠâ Leon admitted, his voice slightly lowered as if ashamed to accept that he had no plans nor family to visit on an important day like this. âBut I could have a Christmas date if you accept. You wouldnât like your best friend spending Christmas Eve alone, wouldnât you?â You could almost hear him laughing after saying that. What a little bitch he could be sometimes. But you love him nonetheless.
âOk ok. Donât sound so coy. It doesnât suit you.â Both of you laughed. It was indeed nice hearing his voice on this lonely night. But the fact that he was eager to make it better made your heart flutter. He told you he would be there in about twenty minutes. So you were left alone once again.
After hanging up, you stared blankly at the TV for about fifteen minutes. Your eyes were not really focused on the movie anymore. You allow your mind to give into its desires, you donât know what this night has in store for you, but you expect something more than simple hugs and cuddles. You were dying to feel him way closer than that and stop debating if you should break those walls of simple friendship or not.
The loud banging on your door made you yelp. You drop your phone on the couch as you quickly approach the front door.Â
âOk I got it! You can stop knocking!â You shouted as your hand met with the cold sensation of the doorknob. You were expecting to see Leon in his usual type of clothing. A pair of jeans with a basic blue t-shirt. But your eyes werenât prepared for what you were about to see.
âWhat the fuckâŠâ You muttered as soon as you opened the door. Your arm fell to your side as you watched Leon with a dumbfounded look on your face. Your mouth hung wide open as a nervous but amused chuckle left your lips.
There was Leon, dressed from head to toe with a classical Santa costume. He was wearing black boots, red fluffy pants, a red plush coat and even a white beard. The only thing he was missing was a white haired wig yet his blonde hair made up for that.Â
âHo ho ho?â Leon sheepishly whispered, bringing a hand to his hair. You couldnât see it but you knew he was turning bright red under that white beard of his. His baby blue eyes meet yours as you try your best to hold back your laugh. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he waits for you to say something.
âLook, can I come in? Someone else might see me. One of your neighbors already did andâŠâ Leon stumbled on his words. He foolishly thought that the trip from his car to your front door would be uninterrupted yet luck wasnât on his side when your neighbor â an old âsweetâ lady â thought he was breaking in. That led to an argument of five minutes where Leon had to explain that he wasnât a robber⊠What kind of robber would dress up as santa? He had sarcastically said. Maybe he shouldnât have said that since it made the granny way angrier.Â
âYâYeah sure.â You shook your head as your words trailed off. You can't make up your mind on this ridiculous situation. The more you look at Leon the more⊠grateful you get. You can no longer laugh at his attempt to cheer you up since it was no longer an attempt â he succeeded. As you stepped aside and made some room for Leon to enter, your eyes traveled over his figure, it was a really silly outfit indeed.
You gave him no time to react as you threw your arms around his neck. Indulging in the warmth that his embrace âand fluffy outfitâ provided. Even though your heart was beating so hard that it could basically break through your skin â you tried not to pay attention to that fact since you really needed that hug.
âThank youâŠâ You murmured against his neck, your nose ever so slightly tickling his skin. This was more than friends do. No friend would basically drown themselves in their friend's natural scent.
âIt's okay. Just⊠let me take care of you.â And no friend would let his hands wander over his friendâs body. A pat on the back was everything he needed to do. There was no need for him to allow his curious hands to caress the sides of your waist and lower back.Â
The hug lasts longer than a friendly hug should but neither of you seemed to care right now. You kicked the door and closed it with your foot as Leon moved the both of you to the couch. Not even attempting to untangle himself from your arms.
Eventually, he breaks the hug as he makes you sit down on the couch. His eyes linger on yours for a few seconds before pressing a quick but sweet kiss on your forehead. Yeah, totally what friends do, right?
âI'm gonna make us some hot chocolate and then watch some movies, ok?â He didn't even let you reply before he basically teleported to your kitchen as if it was his own.Â
It's not difficult to let him do his thing. Ever since you met him, he's always been like this. Like a puppy who is eager to please its owner. But you weren't an owner. Hell, you sometimes thought that it was the other way around. The dynamics in your friendship were not clear, and both of you have gotten lost in those blurry lines of pleasing and being pleased. It was as if you two were trying your hardest to do your best in front of the other. Too scared to make a mistake, too scared to let their walls crumble and show their most inner desires and wishes.
After a few minutes, he comes back with a wide smile on his face and two mugs on his hands. If he had a tail, it would be wagging right now. Yours too. Puppy love at its finest.
He hands you your mug before placing his on the coffee table. You laugh as he takes off his white beard and instinctively scratches his jaw.
After a while of watching those poorly-made Christmas movies where the city girl spends her Christmas in her old hometown and meets the love of her life, both of you found comfort in cuddling each other. You place your head on his shoulder. That gave Leon the opportunity to lay his on top of yours.
âWhere did you get that costume from?â you casually asked, your eyes not moving from the tv. You were comfortable enough to drift off to sleep but there was no way you were falling asleep right now.
âYou know how I sometimes have to do the things most of my colleagues don't want to do? YeahâŠâ Leon chuckled shyly. You didn't know the extent of his words but you could imagine the situation. Him losing a bet, him having to go somewhere dressed up as Santa. Leon's luck can be the worst from time to time.
âSo⊠you decided that it would be an amazing idea to show up at my house dressed up as fucking Santa Claus?â Your voice was filled with light teasing, but the way your eyes shone even if they weren't looking at Leon, told him everything he needed to know. You were thankful that Leon could be next to you right now. And deep down, Leon was feeling all sorts of emotions because at last, he could spend this holiday with you from all people.Â
âYeah. Liked the idea? I think these Santa pants fit me a little too well.â Leon laughed at his own joke. You laughed too, and the vibrations of your giggles brushed against Leon's neck, sending shivers down his spine.
As you laid your head on Leon's shoulder, his eyes meet with yours. If looks could speak, he would have already told you how much he desired to have you now. Even if it meant throwing away years of friendship and trust you have built.Â
Maybe it wasn't wrong. Maybe both of you were meant to indulge in that desire and be blinded by it. No more secrets, no more shy glances and especially no more lies about your feelings.Â
Your eyes were half lidded, your heart was beating so fast you thought you were dying and every good and bad outcome played on your mind as your lips slightly parted. Hoping that Leon would welcome you as you wanted him to.
And dear God he wanted to do just that. When his eyes locked with yours, he was sent to heaven and back. Yeah, you have laid your head on his shoulders countless times. But now, it seems different. As if he could tell that you had made up your mind about this and no one could stop you.
And he will definitely not stop you.
The sounds of the tv that were filling the living room now served as white noise. The beating of your own heart was the only thing you could truly focus on besides Leon's lips, which were getting dangerously close to yours.
âCan I?â A simple yet important question. It carried years of yearning and pining. Of course he can. What a stupid question to ask. But deep down, you're once again grateful that consent was the first thing that came to his mind even when it was just a kiss. You have won the lottery with this guy.
âPleaseâŠâ Your voice came out a whimper rather than a simple whisper. But at this point you truly don't care. The world might end but right now you were at the top of it.
And he finally indulges.
His lips met yours in a slow and tender kiss. It hurt, but not in a bad way â your chest ached with longing. It felt so soothing and rewarding that both of you couldn't help but relax in it. As if a weight was removed from your backs, and now you were drowning in your most intimate thoughts.
Your muscles tensed as Leon pulled you even closer. His toned arm wrapping around your middle section. The need to feel you pressed against him was insatiable, especially when he was still so afraid of messing this up. You let him, you let his lips guide yours in a now messier kiss.
You felt his tongue poking against your bottom lip, as if asking permission to kiss you deeper, rawer. You once again allow him to. Whatever he wants right now, you want it too.
Now, the wet sounds from your sloppy kiss were like background music for both of you. Your hands found their home in Leon's hair as they tangled in his fluffy blonde locks. You hear him slightly moan in the middle of the kiss, too nervous to go further but too turned on to stop.Â
His hand trembled as it traveled from your waist, to your hips and finally they have found their destination on the flesh of your rear. Unsure, he caressed the area before he squeezed it. Immediately regretting it once he heard you yelp.
âSorry sorry sorry I don't know what came into me I jusââ
âLeon.â
âIf you want me to leave I cââ
âLeon, I want it too.â
And that was a surprise for Leon. It didn't matter that he basically had his tongue down your throat a few seconds ago. The fact that you wanted to go further with him was something he couldn't have imagined.Â
Your hand goes to his cheek, your thumb grazing over his skin as you noticed the rosy color forming in his face. The best sight you have ever seen. Especially how his eyes were glassy with pure love and raw desire.
âAre you sure?â Leon asked, a hint of shyness could be perceived in his eyes.Â
You nodded, giving him a comforting smile. You hoped that it could convey how sure you were about this. If it wasnât enough, you will surely know how to convince him that this was everything you have ever wished for.
You leaned closer once again and kissed him, this time it was even slower than the first kiss but not less intimate. You were careful not to startle him since it was obvious he was too sensitive and shy for his own good.
You delicately moved from his lips to his jaw, planting kisses along his jawline. You could hear how his breath was starting to get heavier and how his hands clenched the blankets instead of your body.
âYou can touch me.â You assure Leon between kisses, your lips were now on his neck gently kissing each one of his moles.Â
âIâOkayâŠâ He decides that he should stop being so reserved. The person that he has been in love with is basically presenting herself on a platter, just for him. He will be damned if he doesnât take this opportunity. âTell me if itâs too much.â Ever so gentleman, he was still so cautious of not making you uncomfortable, it was too cute.
His hands go immediately to your breasts as if he had already thought where he wanted to touch. He cupped them gently. caressing them over your thin piece of clothing. It was now his turn of kissing you. As his hand played with your sensitive skin, his flushed lips returned to yours, his tongue welcoming itself in your mouth.Â
âI have dreamed about this⊠you know.â Leon whispered before kissing you again. Neither of you were giving each other enough time to breathe. Too needy to be kissed, touched, and desired again. âFelt so⊠guilty each time I imagined myself touching you like this.â Leonâs hand snaked under your shirt and his calloused fingers found your nipples.Â
Arousal started to pool underneath you as you let out a whimper. His cold fingertips brought you so much pleasure that most of your words died in your throat. Nothing else was needed to say, your body will speak for yourself.
His hand stopped playing with your breast as it moved down to your thighs. He muffled any other sound you could make as his lips shut you up once again. It was like he desperately longed for something to keep his mouth busy. You could feel that he was still unsure of how to approach this new experience with you, yet this didnât stop him from trying to do his best.
The tip of his fingers grazed over your skin until they reached their destination.
Your sweatpants did a poor job at hiding your soaked mess. You instinctively lifted your hips as his hand teased over your clothed lower part.Â
âFuckâ Can⊠Can I?â You already know what heâs asking for and you waste no time, you nodded eagerly. It was pathetic how some simple touches could bring you over the edge but years of pent up feelings were the culprit of this situation.Â
As he saw you nodding, his hand traveled underneath your sweatpants and underwear before he decided that it would be better if he took them off. In the blink of an eye, your outfit was disregarded. Besides from your thin shirt that still covered your chest, you were fully exposed to Leon, who had a hungrily look on his face. His fingers once more traveled down and were instantly covered in slick as you pressed your back against his chest, feeling the fluffy coat warming you.
He was still wearing that damn costume.
You made a mental note to tell him to take it off later, But for now, you were focused on how Leonâs finger brushed against your clit. His middle finger slowly followed circular motions as you moaned against his neck. It feels so much better than your own â not because he was the most expert in the area â but because it was him. Nobody else was in your mind at that moment.
His finger rubbed your throbbing bundle of nerves one last time before they moved to your entrance. You unconsciously parted your legs even wider, throwing your head back. The couch wasnât the most comfortable place, but for now it will do.
He positioned his finger at your entrance. Over your shoulder, you glanced at Leon who was already looking at you. As if he could read your mind, he leaned closer and locked his lips with yours, intertwining in a tender kiss despite the lustful actions that were taking place.Â
He slowly inserted one finger, feeling your walls clenching around it. You panted in the middle of the kiss, his deft finger curled inside you as he slowly moved it, in and out at a perfect pace. You grip on the couch, soft whimpers left your lips as Leon tries to find your most sensitive spot.Â
âMy beautiful pretty girl.â Leon whispered against your ear, the words of praise slipping so easily out of his lips. He was no stranger to complimenting you, as you already knew he was an old fashioned boy, always so respectful and so cautious. And tonight, he wouldn't falter on his behavior, even if his actions were not so gentlemanly.
Although he was playing the role of a gentle lover, he was freaking out inside. He didn't know what to do next. Should he go slower? Faster? Should he keep talking? For now, he decided to add another finger.
Squelching sounds filled your dark living room, making you aware of how wet you were. Leon was eager to please you, maybe thatâs why he quickly realized how your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he moved his fingers in a certain way. He keeps up that pace, shamelessly plunging his fingers even deeper.
âFuck, youâre gripping me.â Now thatâs new. If you werenât literally drunk in desire you would be taken aback by the sudden phrase Leon has just said.Â
âLeonâŠâ Your voice came out as a desperate plea, your hips bucking against his fingers who kept pumping into your hole. Leon was in heaven, he has seen many of your expressions. Joyful because you got the job you were looking for, gloomy because you couldnât pass one of your exams or angry at yourself when you couldnât complete something. He has seen them all, or so he thought. But he has unlocked one more, which was definitely his favorite now.Â
Your dazzled expression made his cock twitch in his pants. He had forgotten about himself and his own pleasure as he was too focused on yours. Yet he couldnât deny the ache he was feeling and how he had already made a mess in his underwear.
âWhat is it?â There was a certain tone in his voice that you were foreign to. It was as if he had found a glimpse of confidence in himself that allowed him to act a bit bolder. However, his soft and gentle nature still remained. He slowed down his movements, which was even worse because he was dragging your climax in that way. âTell me what you want.â
âI want to feel you.âÂ
As soon as those words left your lips, Leon knew what he had to do. He removed his fingers from you, a loud whine escaped your lips yet he wasted no time to grab you and carry you bridal style.
He walked towards your room. With his hip, he opened up the door that led to your sacred place where Leon has been countless times but now his objective is different than simple cuddling or sleeping.
He gently placed you on the middle of the bed as you waited for him. You felt a little exposed now that you were fully aware of what was going to happen. You unconsciously closed your legs, your thighs pressed against each other trying to hide the leaking mess that Leon's fingers have left.
He crawls towards you, one hand moving between your thighs to open them once again. For now, he only remains on top of you, watching you attentively for any signs of doubts.
He sees none.
For a moment, you lock eyes. His dilated pupils watching yours in a welcoming silence. Eventually, both of you couldn't hold back your laughter and it came down as a waterfall. He nuzzles his face against your neck while he continues chuckling.
You stop for a moment, trying to catch your breath as your laugh slowly dies down. Leon lifts his head, your thumbs wipe away the tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes.
âWhat are we laughing at?â You chuckled once again seeing how red Leon was. It should be awkward, embarrassing even. But your fears were long forgotten the moment he first touched you. Taking this step with him wouldn't mean breaking your friendship with him but rather start something even more beautiful.
âI feel like we're laughing at different things.â You continued, your hand then went to his face, brushing away the curtain of hair that fell on top of his forehead.
âWell⊠I'm laughing out of nervousness. I didn't expect to be in this position with⊠you.â Leon sheepishly said as he leaned closer to your touch. His warm face seeking your hand. âI won't lie though. I like being on top.â
His confession makes you laugh, wondering if he knew how deep your feelings also go.Â
âAnd⊠I'm laughing because you still haven't taken off your Santa costume.â
Leon's head lowered to see that he in fact hasn't thrown off that not so sexy santa costume. He shakes his head before pressing a kiss to your nose.
âMaybe you have been naughty this year and Santa had to come all the way from the North Pole to see it for himself.â He laughed at his own joke, before he sat on his thighs and took off the coat.
âOh fuck you Leon. Can we at least have this moment for ourselves?â You chuckled nonetheless. Your eyes fixated on his broad chest. You have seen it before, but admiring it in the dim light while he was on top of you, ready to take you, surely changed everything.
âYes ma'am.â He grinned at you, before lowering himself and kissing you. Your parted legs gave him enough space to settle between your thighs. His lips were as soft as ever and now you were worried you wouldn't like to kiss anyone else but him.Â
Between the kiss, you reached for the buttons of your shirt. Undoing one by one before leaving you completely exposed to him. Before you could even start to feel self conscious, Leon's cold hand reached for one of your breasts, gently brushing against your nipple.
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chest, before lapping his tongue against your nipple. His lips circled around it as your back arched into his touch.Â
âLeon âfuckâ pleaseâŠâ You moaned, your body slightly shaking from the sensation Leon's tongue brought you. You couldnât wait to have him inside of you.
âMhm?â He murmured as he continued sucking your sensitive spot, the vibrations making you even more sensitive to the touch. His blue eyes meet yours as he looks up to see you.Â
âWant you inside.â you whined, looking at him with half lidded eyes.
âWhatever my princess wants.â Leon replied, placing one last kiss on your nipple.
He sat on the bed and quickly took off his pants with his underwear, throwing them somewhere around your room. He quickly returned to his position.
You couldnât help but let your eyes dart towards his already hard dick. The angry and reddish tip was the first thing you noticed, making your mouth water at the sight.Â
Leon forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be dominant in this moment, his rosy cheeks being painfully obvious to you. He internally reassured himself and ignored his own shyness, connecting his lips with yours in a sweet manner. His breath slightly shaking.
He reached down and positions the tip of his dick near your clit, collecting the slippery slick that was flooding your folds.
âTell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop.â He said with a warm smile, making sure to see you nodding. Once he had your approval, he pushed himself right into you. The room instantly filled with sinful heavy breaths as both of you got what you always wanted. He gasped against your mouth before he captures your lips in a messy kiss.
You hissed from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. Your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him even closer to you, the need to feel him near you was overwhelming, especially when he was literally deep into you.
He let his head fall against your forehead, following how your arms guided him closer. You can see a faint smile forming on his lips as he bottoms out. In that expression, you see years of yearning and well kept secrets.Â
For a moment, he stays still. Letting you adjust to his size with his left hand tracing patterns on your hips.Â
âAre you okay?â Leon asked breathlessly, his eyes were glassy with undivided desire as they bore into yours. Heâs patient, caring and loving, he has wished to feel you like for so long, he wouldnât mess up this moment.Â
âYou're not going to break me.â You laugh, but the way you scrunch your nose told him otherwise.Â
Leon chuckled and started thrusting, trying to be as deep and slow as he could. Your gummy walls gripped his cock just right and he may as well cum on the spot if you continue doing so. He wouldnât dare to do that, he wanted this to last. Just so you could remember how he fits you perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle.
âIâ Am I doing okay?â Leon whimpered against your lips, his sticky forehead still connected with yours. His eyes flutter shut, the sensation being too much for him. He canât help but ask, no matter the situation heâs always a bit bashful.Â
You nodded, already wanting more.
His other arm decided to snake around your waist, lifting your hips up and bucking even deeper into you. The new angle allowed him to slide in and out with a faster pace now. The wet sounds were music to your ears, which you'd never grow tired of hearing.
You feel him everywhere. Inside you, in your stomach as butterflies. In your mind as his pornographic moans imprint on your thoughts. You wrap your legs around his waist, providing him even more space to deeply sink inside of you. The curve of his length hitting your g-spot just right. As if he was made for this, as if you were especially crafted for him.
With every thrust, sweet words leave his lips. âYou're so beautiful.â âPrettiest girl in the entire world.â Words of praise being sung like a chant, like a mantra he wanted to scream until it engraved in your mind as tattoos that would never fade.
You could feel your climax coming. The heat pooling in your abdomen was proof that you won't last longer.
And you knew Leon wouldn't either.
His hips were starting to miss their already set rhythm. His breath got heavier, and his eyes rolled back. His toned arms held you even closer if that was humanly possible.
Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you feel Leon's cock twitching inside of you.Â
âFuckâI.â His voice was dripping with desire as he felt your velvety walls squeezing him once again. The grip on your waist got tighter as his grunts grew higher. He watches your body writhing underneath him, how you shut your eyes down when you cum all over his cock. And he could die as a happy man knowing that he made you feel like this.
Eventually, the sway of his hips came to a stop as he also felt himself reaching the so awaited high he was looking for. Heâs too gone to even care about anything else when he spurts deep inside of you, white and thick load filling your aching cunt.
Both of you are breathless and sticky, Leon nuzzled his face against your neck and left a trail of pecks on your skin. His arms didnât leave your body. His weight on top of you coated you with a comfortable and soothing warmth. He pressed his lips against your cheek as he pulled out of you with a faint grunt. And for a few minutes, nothing is said. Neither of you wanted to break the silence that was embracing your souls.Â
âYou ok?â He finally asked in a hushed voice, his lips never leaving your skin as he pampered you with soft caresses around your face.Â
âMhmâŠâ You nodded, your eyes slightly closed as you took in what had happened.Â
âI swear I didnât expect this to happen. I mean, I wanted to take you on a date first, but ââ Leon let out a short laugh, stopping himself from rambling. âBut maybe we can have a little date tomorrow? You know⊠Our first Christmas together.â
His words lingered in the air, he waited for you to reply to his obvious confession. He didnât want this to end as a mistake or a one night thing. He wanted to court you properly and show you that he could also be the best boyfriend ever.Â
âSure. That sounds amazing.âÂ
The voices of your relatives fill your old home as everyone kept unwrapping their Christmas gifts. Leon was at your side, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. He admired the sight, one he wasn't used to.Â
Familial love.
Heâs powerless at the teasing words of your family, he takes pride in being independent, but right he canât help but cling to your arm when your grandmother pulls his cheek as if he was a toddler.
âWhat a sweet boy you are, Leon. See, I have some gifts for you!â Your grandmother gently but determined grabs your boyfriendâs arm, forcing him to follow her where a vast choice of boxes were displayed. He gives you a look that could be translated into Help me, please. I wonât be able to carry so many gifts.
You shook your head with a chuckle. When your grandma had an idea, nobody could stop her.
You sat on the couch, witnessing how your grandmother pulled out a scarf from one box. She wasted no time wrapping it around Leon's neck. You knew that he was feeling awkward and timid, true to his nature. But there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was really thankful, especially with the way his eyes seemed to soften once your grandma gave him a joyful smile.
âHow long have you been together?â A cousin of yours, a few years younger, asked you. Her eyes darted from Leon and then back to you.
âA year.â You smiled softly, your eyes reflecting how proud you were as you said those words. âExactly one year.â
author's note: please this took me SO LONG I'll never write smut ever again TT anyway re2 leon makes me go all soft please give this man an award for being the best guy.
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy smut#resident evil#FUCK IM SO HFHGDGF im so ashamed#i hate this so much#im just so sappy and..........
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Not So Secret Santa
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC
Summary:Â Eve Dillardâs favorite holiday has lost its sparkle since a painful breakup, leaving her to navigate another lonely Christmas. But when a familiar snow globe from a secret admirer resurfaces, sheâs drawn back into the past. The gift leads her to reconnect with Terry Richmond, a high school friend and long-lost crush whoâs returned from military service. As their reunion stirs up old feelings, Eve is reminded of the magic of the season and the possibility of rediscovered love.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Holiday Rom-Com Coded
Word Count: 11K+
2024
Christmas had always been Eve Dillardâs favorite time of year.
The cold winter nights were perfect for curling up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and fresh pine wrapping around Eve like a warm hug. Dressed in her favorite cozy pajamas, she'd let the crackling gas fireplace set the mood while losing herself in the comfort of holiday classics. Christmas wasnât just a season for Eveâit was part of her identity. Her parents had named her after the holiday, and her siblings carried that same festive spirit in their names: Joy, Noelle, and their baby brother, Emmanuelle.
In the Dillard house, Christmas was magic.
Her mother, Diane Dillard, always turned every room into a wonderland, filling it with sparkling ornaments and twinkling lights. The family hosted a Christmas Eve party that felt like a reunion, with friends and family gathered around a table full of treats: rich red velvet cake, fudgy brownies, and the smoothest frosted pound cake you could imagine. Eve and her siblings would stay up late decorating gingerbread houses, listening to the grown folks talk. Those late nights became a tradition that grounded her in the best kind of holiday joy.
But after Eve turned twenty-five, things started to shift.
Five Christmases ago, her on-again, off-again high school sweetheart, Keith, had shattered her heart. Sheâd tried to move on, ventured back into the dating scene, but each attempt ended in disappointment. With each passing holiday season, dating felt like an even more hopeless endeavor. The men in her age range were either already in relationships or still out here playing games with womenâs hearts. Unfortunately, Christmas had become a cold reminder of what she didnât have.Â
Her siblings were all paired offâher two sisters had married solid, loving men and were chasing toddlers around the house. Even her baby brother had popped the question and was planning his wedding. And her parents? Their love was still as strong as ever, evident in the flirtatious teasing and laughter that echoed through the house whenever they bickered. There she was, the odd one out, especially during the holidays, when it seemed like everyone else was wrapped up in their own love stories.
Now, Christmas felt like a series of awkward work parties and forced smiles, nothing like the fun she remembered. If it wasnât her aunties grilling her about meeting someone new, it was her cousins teasing her about her âbad luckâ with men. The office celebrations, planned weeks ahead so coworkers could celebrate before their holiday leave, left the season feeling drawn out and exhausting. By the time Christmas Day arrived, the festivities felt stale, and Eve found herself just going through the motions, making polite conversation while secretly wishing she could fast-forward to January.
This year, things had gotten even more vexingâEve had drawn Malik from IT for Secret Santa. Malik wasnât bad to look at, but he spent more time flirting with every woman in the office than actually doing his job. His antics were enough to make Eve roll her eyes, turning the already-dreaded gift exchange into yet another holiday hurdle. Eventually, she settled on a simple set of pens and a plain notebookâsafe, practical, and totally forgettable.
Even as she wrapped the gift, Eve felt the weight of monotony. With no new work crushes or dating prospects to look forward to, Eveâs workdays blurred togetherâendless paperwork, the same beige-gray office walls, and another holiday season passing in a haze of office chatter. It was easy to tune it all out, to just go through the motions. But then the day cameâthe day for the office gift exchange
âThis oneâs for Eve!â Ms. Ruby, the vibrant office manager, called out with her signature enthusiasm. At a proud seventy years young, Ms. Ruby was a force of nature, always stepping into the office with bold, jazzy outfits that matched her lively personality. âA gift from my husband, going on forty-something years strong!â sheâd say with a wink whenever someone admired her latest accessory. Mr. Charles was forever splurging on a new costume jewelry set or a fresh pair of colorful shoes, each piece a reflection of his love for her style.
Eve rose from her seat, accepting the green gift bag with a polite smile. Maybe sheâd never have a husband of forty-something years who appreciated her inside and out, but at least someone had remembered her favorite color. As she pulled back the tissue paper, her fingers brushed against something smooth and solid nestled inside.
When she lifted the delicate snow globe, Eveâs breath caught in her throat. Inside was a Black princess, a tiny crown perched on her head, surrounded by glittering snowflakesâjust like the one sheâd had as a child but lost during her senior year of high school.
"Oh my god!" Eve exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and joy. She looked around the room, eyes sparkling. "Who got me this? I love it!" Her gaze swept across her coworkers, but everyone just shrugged, their smiles barely containing their amusement. Eve's eyes locked with Ms. Rubyâs, who wore a knowing smirk, as if she were in on some secret.
Whoever had chosen this gift had clearly gone to great lengthsâit hadnât been made in nearly twenty years. Who knew her well enough to find something so perfect? Who cared enough to hunt down something so meaningful? She dug through the bag for a card, hoping to find a name, but there was only a blank tag.
She shook the globe, and her eyes lit up as the snowflakes swirled around the princess. But then, tucked underneath it, a flash of highlighter pink caught her eye. She picked up the sticky note, the handwriting oddly familiar, but she couldnât place it right away:Â
I hope you like this gift. It was difficult to find, but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your secret admirer.
Eve scanned the room again, but no one said a wordânot even Malik, who was wearing that same smug grin of his. Have I ever seen his handwriting? she wondered, cringing at the thought of him being her secret Santa. Still, the gift was too thoughtful to dismiss, and she couldn't help but feel touched. âWhoever did this, thank you so much,â she said, her voice sincere. âThis is honestly the best gift I couldâve gotten.â
The mystery lingered with Eve throughout the rest of the day. She couldnât help but keep glancing around, half-expecting someone to fess up about being her Secret Santa, but no one did. Eventually, she wandered over to Rubyâs desk, hoping for a clue.
âThat defeats the whole point of Secret Santa, baby,â Ms. Ruby said with a laugh, shaking her head as she shuffled through some papers.
Eve leaned casually against the back of Ruby's ergonomic chair. "It's only a secret 'til the giftâs out the bag, Ms. Ruby," she teased. âYou already went and told everybody elseâs Secret Santa. Whatâs so special about mine?â
Ms. Ruby glanced up from her stack of paperwork, her eyes twinkling with mischief before she moved quicker than Eve could have expected, swatting her lightly on the behind with the pile of papers.
âMs. Ruby!â Eve yelped, jumping to the side, a surprised laugh escaping her lips.
âI told you to leave me be so I can get some work done!â Ms. Ruby shooed her away, her lips curling into a mock-serious frown. Eve didnât have to look twice to know the older woman was more about looking busy than actually doing any paperwork. Working was just her way of staying activeâkeeping her mind sharp, like the rest of her.
As Eve turned to walk away, she grinned, rolling her eyes. âThat womanâs a whole mess,â she murmured under her breath, her lips curling in affection despite herself.
Thoughts of her mysterious Secret Santa stayed with Eve the whole way home, nagging at her while she threw together a quick dinner and cleaned the kitchen. She couldnât help but replay the moment sheâd opened the snow globe, trying to figure out who had picked it out for her. But by the time sheâd showered and got comfortable for the evening, her mind had wandered to other thingsâlike what outfit she was going to rock on Christmas Day. She was ready to stunt a little, show her cousins what being childless did for her pockets and her closet.
By the time Eve got to work the next morning, sheâd managed to push the mystery to the back of her mind. That is, until she sat down at her desk and spotted another sticky note with that same, familiar handwriting:
Iâm glad you liked the gift. I knew itâd bring that beautiful smile of yours to life. If you're wondering who's behind it, Iâd love to show you. Meet me for lunch at 1:00 PMâthereâs a new spot two blocks down, and Iâve got us a table. Hope you can make it, Eve.
Eve bit her bottom lip, torn between caution and curiosity. Meeting someone like this, all wrapped in mystery, didnât exactly feel safe or smart. Why all the secrecy? Why leave notes instead of just saying it out loud? How did they know about her smile without even being there? Could her Secret Santa have been watching from the shadows all along, without ever revealing themselves? The thought sent a chill down her spine. But in the end, curiosity won out.
Eve made sure to let Ms. Ruby know where sheâd be and when to expect her back. Ms. Rubyâs knowing smile eased her nerves just enough as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, the chill nipping at her cheeks.Â
As she walked to the restaurant, Eve quickly texted her siblings the detailsâjust to be safe. She wasnât taking any chances, especially with the mystery hanging over her head.
When she stepped inside the restaurant, her gloved hands folded nervously in front of her, she took in the cozy ambiance. Soft R&B holiday classics played in the background, and the space glowed with candlelight and pine-scented garlands. Couples leaned in close, lost in their own world. Eve hesitated, feeling self-conscious standing alone at the entrance, until a young waitress approached her with a warm, welcoming smile.
"Are you Eve?"
Eve blinked, startled for a moment. "Yeah, that's me."
"Come on, Iâll show you to your table."
With a mix of curiosity and just a touch of apprehension, Eve followed the waitress further into the restaurant. âWhere are we headed?â she asked, doing her best to keep her nerves in check.
âThereâs a private area in the back,â the waitress replied with a friendly smile, leading her behind a velvet curtain. Despite the uneasy flutter in her chest, Eve pushed her doubts aside. She wasnât about to turn back now after coming this far.
On the other side of the curtain, a single table was set up in the center of a cozy, golden-lit room. Sitting there, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and slacks, was a man she hadnât seen in what felt like ages. His rich honey-brown skin practically glowed in the soft light, and those blue-green eyes of his, sparkling with that same familiar warmth, made her heart skip a beat.
âTerry?â she whispered, the disbelief clear in her voice.
He stood, tall as she remembered, and before she knew it, she was in his arms. She jumped up, and he caught her easily, holding her close as she clung tightly to his neck
âItâs been way too long!â Eve exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as Terry lifted her off her feet, giving her a playful shake before setting her back down. The little girl inside her couldnât help but squeal.
"Far too long," Terry agreed, his eyes softening as he met her gaze, holding her just a moment longer than necessary before gently lowering her back to the ground.
Eve slapped his arm, still grinning. "What are you doing here? When did you get back?"
âYou havenât changed a bit, Eveâstill running that mouth a mile a minute,â Terry teased, his grin wide as he motioned for her to take a seat. Eve sank into the chair, but her gaze stayed locked on him, still struggling to believe he was really here.
Theyâd been close since childhood, but after graduation, Terry had enlisted in the Marines, and keeping in touch had been impossible. First, it was radio silence during boot camp, then sporadic updates as he climbed the ranks. Meanwhile, sheâd dived into her studies, focused on finishing college and earning her degree, though thoughts of him had never been far from her mind. Every time she tried to reach out, something always got in the way.
Eve found herself momentarily frozen, taking in the scent of his cologne and the sharp look of his neatly styled short Afro. "You look good, Terry," she said, though the word "good" didnât even come close to doing him justice. Heâd filled out in all the right places, his frame broader than she remembered. It was clear the Marines had only made him more disciplined, more focused. The tall, lean teenager she remembered had transformed into a man who was clearly all grown up, his muscular build a testament to the years he'd spent shaping himself.
"You look even better." His gaze swept over her, making her pulse race. Eve couldnât help the flutter in her chest, but she quickly shook it off. Sheâd grown into her own as wellâfilled out, gotten more comfortable in her skin, and her acne-prone days were long behind her. But this was Terry. He didnât see her that way, and she was far too grown to be stuck on an old crush.
"So, for real, what brings you back home?" she asked, forcing herself to focus on the present.
"I'm done with the service now. Retired," Terry said with a shrug. "Figured it was time to come back home, settle down, and start a new chapter. Everyone I care about is here, so it felt like the right place to make it happen."
"Your mama must be over the moon!"
âOver the moon is an understatement,â he chuckled, the edges of his voice softening. âShe wanted to throw me a big welcome-back party, but I told her Iâd rather reconnect with folks one-on-one.â
"Well, Iâm glad I made the list," Eve grinned. "I ran into your mom a few weeks ago, and she didnât say anything about you coming back!"
Terry smirked. "She didnât know yet. Canât give her too much notice, or sheâll have the whole blockâand probably folks from here to Californiaâwaiting to meet me at the airport." He chuckled, the sound rich and familiar, making Eve feel that comforting pull of home she didnât even realize sheâd been missing.
Eve burst out laughing. "My mamaâs the same way! I hear her on the phone all the time, talking about me like, âEvieâs still single, yâall; I guess sheâs waiting on Jesus.â" She mimicked her motherâs voice so spot-on it had Terry cracking up.
âWhat happened with olâ boyâwhat was his name again?â Terry teased, pretending to forget. Eve shook her head, rolling her eyes.
âYou mean Keith? We called it quits a while ago.â
âWhat happened? I thought yâall were gonna be the next Barack and Michelle?â
Eve laughed, the humor hitting her differently now. âLife happened. It just wasnât meant to be, and Iâm good with that.â She wasnât about to dive into the gory details. Sheâd healed and moved on. Keith was a chapter sheâd closed long ago.
âYou were way too good for him, anyway.â Eveâs heart skipped a beat, and she wasnât prepared for the warmth that spread through her at his words.
She raised an eyebrow, suddenly piecing everything together. âWait a minuteâdonât tell me you were the one behind those secret admirer notes?â
âGuilty as charged,â Terry said with a grin. âFigured I owed you a snow globe after all these years.â
Her eyes widened in surprise. âYou took my snow globe? I looked everywhere for that thing!â
âI didnât take it,â Terry admitted, a guilty grin tugging at his lips. âBut I did break it.â
Eve gasped, her hand flying to her chest as though heâd confessed to a grand crime. âYou broke it?â
âIt was an accident!â Terry quickly added, his chuckles softening the blow. âYour dad called you downstairs, and I got a little too close to the shelf. Next thing I knowâglass shattering, glitter flyingâeverything was on the floor.â
Eve laughed, shaking her head, already picturing her younger self stomping around in frustration. But now, the whole situation seemed almost too ridiculous not to laugh about. âHowâd you manage to hide it from me?â
âI cleaned it up quick and grabbed a towel from your bathroom. It was fineâexcept for the glitter. That stuff was everywhereâon the floor, on my hands. But since you never said anything, I figured I got away with it.â
âTerry Richmond,â Eve said with a playful squint, âYouâre a whole mess!â
âBut I made it right, didnât I?â His smile was a slow, satisfied curve, his blue-green eyes sparkling with the joy of being so close to her again. âAnd when I saw that look on your faceââ
âWait, hold up,â Eve interrupted, her eyes narrowing playfully, âYou were there yesterday?â
"Guess I forgot to mention it. We're coworkers now. Iâm the head of security," He leaned back, his eyes locking with hers. "Been around, making sure everythingâs tight," he added with a half-smile. He didnât mention how he'd been keeping an eye on her from the cameras, just to make sure she was safe from all those corporate threats: staples, paper cuts, and heavy boxesâŠyou know, the dangerous stuff. "It might sound crazy, but I couldnât come at you until I knew I had made things right between us."
âThat damn snow globe,â she mused, a smile tugging at her lips. Who wouldâve thought her favorite childhood trinket would be the thing that brought her favorite person back? She reached out, taking his hands across the table. âI wouldâve been glad to see you, no matter what.â He squeezed her hands, remembering the nervous flutter in his chest when heâd placed his bid on that snow globe. He wanted her to have it, and he didnât hold back. âI know. But you deserve thatâand so much more.â
Eve rolled her eyes playfully, though there was a flicker of something else in her gaze. âCut it out with the compliments,â she teased, leaning back in her seat. âIâm gonna be walking around with a big head at this rate.â
âYou already got a bigââ
ââDonât you dare finish that sentence, Terrence.â
They slipped into a comfortable rhythm, their banter flowing like it had never skipped a beat. It felt like no time had passed at all, like heâd never left and sheâd never hidden the soft spot sheâd always had for him. It was clear he still didnât realize how deep her feelings for him ran. Still, something told her this Christmas was going to be one sheâd never forget.
âWe should do this again sometime,â Terry suggested as they walked back to the office, his tone casual but the hint of something more lingering in the air.
âDefinitely,â Eve replied, but her thoughts drifted back to the past, to all the things sheâd buried. The what-ifs. The could-have-beens. For now, though, she was content. Whatever this was, it was enoughâfor now.
âHow about tonight?â Terry surprised her, his voice bringing her back to the moment. âWe could grab some dinner, or I can bring something over. You still love that fried rice from Gogi Grill, right?â He grinned, already knowing the answer. Eve had always been a creature of habit when it came to good food. She stopped in her tracks, a smile spreading across her face. âI canât believe you remember! Of course I still love their fried rice.â She stressed the word love, making sure he heard it loud and clear. âAnd theââ
ââvegetable spring rolls. Yeah, I know.â
âThat sounds so good.â she grinned, feeling a spark of excitement.
âWhat time works for you?â he asked, already getting his phone out. âIâll bring it all.â
âEight?â she replied, figuring that gave her just enough time to get home, unwind, and freshen up.
âIâll be there at eight. Let me get your phone so I can save my number, and you can text me your new address.â
They walked back toward her desk, and Terry promised to see her later. The rest of the afternoon dragged, Eve barely getting any work done as her mind wandered, fixated on what was coming next. The second five o'clock hit, she nearly bolted out of the office. At home, she was a whirlwindâtidying, organizing, putting everything in order. By the time the doorbell rang, she had just slipped into a comfy graphic tee and yoga pants. No need to impress himâthis was Terry.
âWelcome to my humble abode,â she greeted with a grin, stretching her arms wide as Terryâs gaze swept over her. She almost convinced herself she was imagining it.
âFeel free to bring the food to the living room. Iâve got plates and bean bags set up if thatâs cool with you.â
âWorks for me,â Terry replied, setting down the bags of food. As he dished out their plates, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, uncorking it and pouring them each a glass.
âYou still watch those cheesy romance flicks?â Terry teased, flipping through the channels with a smirk.
âNo,â she replied a little too quickly, though, she definitely did.
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. âYou donât have to front for me. I know you too well.â
She laughed, rolling her eyes. âYouâre right. Canât hide anything from you.â They eventually landed on a BET romance about a doctor secretly in love with his best friend, and Eve couldnât help but notice the irony of it all. She thought about asking him to change the channel but decided against it, instead letting out a long sigh, a wave of longing she couldnât quite explain washing over her.
âWhatâs wrong?â Terryâs voice softened with concern.
âNothing,â she said quickly, trying to brush it off, but his eyes told her he wasnât buying it.
âSomethingâs on your mind,â he pressed gently. âIs it the food? Or something else?â
âDefinitely not the food,â Eve answered, âI guess Iâm just not feelinâ the movie. Itâs... a little too cheesy, even for me.â Normally, these kinds of stories made her feel all warm and fuzzy, but tonight, it just hit differentlyâlike a reminder of the things she might never have, especially with the man sheâd always wanted sitting right next to her, still oblivious to her feelings.
âReally? I think itâs kind of sweet,â he said, and Eve froze mid-bite.
âSweet? Whatâs gotten into you?â she teased, her eyebrows arched.
He shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips. âWhen you like it, itâs romantic. But when I do, somethingâs gotta be wrong?â
She chuckled, shaking her head. âMan, every time I made you watch one of these back in the day, you complained the whole time,â she teased, her smirk growing.
âThat was a long time ago. I was just a kid then. Iâm a grown man now,â he shot back, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.
She looked him over, feeling the weight of his words in a way she hadnât expected. âAlright, grown man,â she teased, trying to mask the sudden shift in her chest. âGuess it just threw me off, thatâs all.â
âWhyâs that?â he asked, his tone a little more challenging now.
âBecause you were never the romantic type,â she said, but even as the words left her mouth, her heart couldnât help but wonder if that had changed.
âHow do you know that?â he shot back, his question hanging in the air like it meant something more. Eve felt a small pang in her chest. Maybe it was silly, but Terry always had a way of getting under her skin.
âI guess I donât know, Terry,â she admitted quietly. âYouâre right. I wouldnât know what kind of romantic you are. Youâve always treated me like family.â The last words came out with a little more weight than she intended, a quiet bitterness lingering at the edges of her voice. She didnât want to admit it, but it still stung.
Terry leaned in a little closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity she wasnât used to. âOnly because I didnât know how to be romantic back then,â he said, his voice dropping to something more vulnerable. âDidnât know how to flirt, didnât know how to say what I felt.â
Her breath caught, a sudden heat creeping up her neck as he continued, his voice lower now, more serious. âI treated you the only way I knew how. Walked you home every day, carried your bag, made sure to save some of my mamaâs fried dumplings for you. It might not have been flowers or poems, but I thought I was making it clear.â
Eve blinked, feeling the floor beneath her shift. âTerry, what are you saying?â The question slipped out before she could stop it, but her mind was already racingâwas he really saying what she thought he was?
âI always liked you, Evie. Always,â he said, his voice low and steady. âBut I thought... I thought you didnât feel the same.â
Her cheeks flushed deep, a rush of heat flooding her face at his words. The weight of the confession hit her in waves, stirring up feelings she'd buried for so long. "Thatâs not true. I was into you, tooâreally into you."
Terryâs eyes widened with surprise, a small smile breaking through as he processed her words. âBut you were with Keith. You got engaged.â Heâd seen the engagement photos on social media, and it had torn him up inside. Took everything not to call her phone and tell her she was making a mistake. But heâd convinced himself that the right thing to do would be to step back and let her find happiness without him.
She exhaled slowly, her throat tight with emotion. "He asked me to be his girlfriend... and later, to marry him. At the time, I thought it was what I was supposed to do. You were gone, and I didnât think Iâd ever get a chance to tell you how I really felt," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the words were heavy. "I convinced myself that if I just moved on, I could forget you."
âAre you telling me,â Terryâs laugh was low, almost incredulous, but there was a warmth behind itâlike he couldnât believe what he was hearing, âthat we both felt this way all along, and I just didnât see it?â
Eve let out a breath, trying to steady herself. âYeah, Terry. I think we both did.â
âEvie,â he began, his voice soft, almost reverent. His hand reached across the table, his fingers brushing hersâa touch so light it made her heart stutter. âAll these yearsâŠâ Her breath hitched. She didnât pull back, but she wasnât sure how to step forward either.Â
Memories flooded her mind, sharp and vivid as if theyâd happened yesterdayâwalking home together in the rain, Terry draping his jacket over her head to protect her crown. Splitting a basket of wings at the local chicken spot after school, making do with whatever change they could scrape together. His loud, carefree laugh always chasing away her bad days, like he could make the world feel right again without even trying. Those moments werenât just the past, they were the foundation of everything theyâd ever been. Terry had always been there, steady as sunrise, holding it down in ways she didnât know how to name back then.Â
His thumb brushed the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of her skin. He leaned in just a little, his gaze searching hers, the air between them thick with longing. âEvie,â he whispered, his voice gentle but heavy with desire. âCan I kiss you?â
Her eyes flickered down to his lips before she gave a subtle nod.Â
With a tenderness that made her heart race, Terry cupped her face in his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. They were softer than heâd imagined, and she let out a breathy sigh that sent a wave of warmth through him. His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips with a gentle squeeze as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She tasted sweet, like dark chocolate and candy canesâthe kind of holiday goodies she loved, and now he couldnât help but love them, too. Pulling away slowly, his gaze softened, serious now. âEvie, Iâm not looking for something temporary. I want something real. Something lasting. Not just for the holidays or a good time.âHe let the words hang in the air, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. âThisâusâI don't want it to be just another chapter in my life.â
"Terry," Eve whispered, her hand resting gently on his chest before sliding up to cup his face. "This is a lot⊠all at once. Before we go any further, I need to know weâre really on the same page." Her voice trembled slightly, her guard creeping back up. It wasnât easy learning to trust again, to let her heart stay open after everything sheâd been through. And with Terry... there was no way her heart wouldnât get tangled up in this. As much as he hated the idea of stepping back, Terry understood where she was coming from. She wasnât wrongâthey had too much history to rush into something without thinking it through. Their lives were intertwined in so many ways: mutual friends, their parents practically family. He nodded, his voice steady and sincere. âI hear you, Evie. I got you. Weâll take this slowâwhatever feels right for you.â
In the days that followed, Terry found any excuse to be around Eve. Heâd joke about âchecking the perimeterâ at work, but really, he just wanted to be near herâcatching glimpses of her at her desk, looking effortlessly stunning in those blue-light blocking glasses and preppy business casual outfits. Heâd leave her little treatsâthose chocolate âkissesâ she couldnât resistâand sticky notes filled with jokes or random facts to make her smile. And sometimes, he'd offer to grab office supplies for her, like highlighters or paper clips, even though she could easily pick them up herself. It was his way of staying close, of showing her that he was there.
His presence didnât go unnoticed. The women in the officeâMs. Ruby especiallyâseemed to flock to Eveâs desk, trying to catch a glimpse of Terry, pretending they needed something just for the chance to see him up close.
âIâm gonna tell Mr. Charles on you,â Eve teased Ms. Ruby one morning, grinning.
âWhat he donât know wonât hurt him, baby,â Ms. Ruby shot back with a wink, fanning herself as she smirked. âIâm just lookinâ. Ainât no harm in that.â
Eve and Terry started syncing their lunches, making sure to carve out time outside of the office to be together. Eve introduced him to her favorite local deli, where he quickly became hooked on the sandwiches and pasta salad. One afternoon, they shared a plate of injera at an Ethiopian restaurant while Terry told stories about an Ethiopian guy heâd served with, their laughter filling the space between them as they reconnected and deepened their bond. Throughout it all, Terry was the perfect gentlemanâopening doors, pulling out her chair, and offering her bites of whatever he was eating, especially when they ordered different dishes. It was those little moments, the simple kindness in his gestures, that made her heart swell and open to the possibility of a real future with him.
Even though Terry was crashing at his momâs place until he found his own, most evenings, he was at hers. Theyâd curl up on her couch, the TV left forgotten as they lost themselves in each otherâkissing, cuddling, fingers tracing over bare skin. No distractions, no rushâjust being together. On those nights, Terry shared more stories from his time in the service, each one peeling back another layer of the man she was just beginning to rediscover. In return, she recounted the ups and downs of her college yearsâlaughing over the good times and the challenges. She filled him in on her sisters, Joy and Noelle, and how they had both started families of their own. They laughed about how her brother, Emmanuelle, still couldnât resist sticking his nose into everyoneâs business, despite being engaged to the woman of his dreams.
Terry told her about his momâhow much sheâd been enjoying having him back at home. Sheâd been lonely since his dad passed, and had tried to fill that void with "friends" who never quite measured up to Terry Sr. Eve could hear the love and concern in his voice, the way he cared for his momâs well-being, even as he juggled his own life. Life hadnât slowed down while theyâd been apart, but now, with Terry back in her life, everything felt like it was falling into place.
Moving forward together felt just right, so Eve invited Terry and his mom, Gloria, to join her family for Christmas. It had been three whirlwind weeks since the Secret Santa exchange, but she couldnât imagine celebrating her favorite holiday without him. Her mom was overjoyed to hear that Terry was back in town, and her dadâtrue to his warm, welcoming natureâwas all for it, always saying, the more, the merrier. Gloria didnât hesitate to accept, admitting it had been far too long since sheâd seen the Dillards and even longer since sheâd enjoyed a big family Christmas.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the doorbell rang, and Eve opened it to find Terry standing on the porch, holding a foil-covered pan in one hand and shrink-wrapped sweet potato pies in the other. He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and navy blue slacks. Beside him, his mother, Gloria, was glowingâdecked out in a vibrant red outfit with jingle bell earrings that softly jingled as she smiled warmly.
The sight of them, so full of the holiday spirit, made Eveâs heart swell with warmth.
âYou didnât have to bring anything, Ms. Gloria!â Eve said, smiling brightly.
âI always bake too many pies, baby, you know that,â Gloria replied with a wink. âAt least they wonât go to waste this year.â
Eve chuckled, stepping aside to let them in. The moment the door swung closed, a mouthwatering scent filled the air, rich with the familiar, savory spices that brought her back to her childhood. Her eyes landed on the pan in Terryâs hands. âAnd whatâs that?â she asked, voice filled with eager curiosity.
âWhat you think?â Terry grinned.
âFried dumplings?â
âFried up just the way you like themâcrispy and golden,â he confirmed.
Eve couldnât help herselfâshe did a little happy dance right there in the doorway, which sent Gloria into a fit of laughter.
âI made them just for you, sweet girl,â Gloria said, grinning. âI remember how much you loved these back in the day.â
âYouâre the best, Ms. Gloria,â Eve said, pulling her into a tight hug. âNot a crumb of this is going to waste, I swear.â
Before Gloria could respond, a loud, familiar voice rang out from deeper inside the house. âRichmond!â Eveâs brother, Emmanuelle, appeared in the hallway, grinning wide. He made his way over to Terry, pulling him into a big, tight hug and giving him a friendly slap on the back. Terry adjusted the pan in his hand, leaning into the embrace. âMan, where you been at?â
Terry smirked, taking in the scene. âRight where Iâm supposed to be, I guess.â
âWell, good to see you back, bro. Ainât nobody here that can keep up with me on Uno except you.â
Emmanuelleâs loud greeting drew the rest of the family in like a magnet. Within moments, the entire Dillard crew had swarmed around Terry, wrapping him in hugs, back slaps, and warm greetings from every direction. Eveâs dad pulled him into a big rocking hug, her mom gave his shoulders a quick, affectionate pat, and her sisters squeezed him between chasing their toddlers, who zipped around the living room like little caffeinated elves, clearly hyped up on holiday treats. Terry soaked it all in. The Dillard house had always been full of life, and it was a relief to see that hadnât changed. Some things were different, sure, but the love and warmth that mattered most were just the same.
âLet me take that off your hands, bruh,â Emmanuelle said, reaching for the pan. âIâll put it with the rest of the food.â
âUh-uh!â Eve cut in, snatching the pan before he could touch it. âYouâre not slick.â
âSlick?â Emmanuelle raised a brow. âGirl, you that greedy? You canât even trust me to take a pan to the kitchen?â
âI canât trust you, period,â Eve shot back. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in close. âEspecially when I know you helped break my snow globe.â
Emmanuelleâs face twisted as he tried to recall what she was talking about.
âI know it was you,â she added, her eyes narrowing.
He smirked and turned to Terry. âYou told her, man?â
Terry chuckled, shaking his head. âI didnât say a word. You just outed yourself.â He hadnât revealed that he was shoved into the shelf, choosing to shield the younger man from being implicated in the "crime."
Emmanuelle shook his head, laughing. âThatâs foul, sis. You really out here holding on to something from a over decade ago just to call me out? You oughta be ashamed. All this over some food? You that greedy?â
âI have to be!â Eve shot back. âIâve been dealing with you my whole life. Ashley, I donât know how you handle this man. Heâs been eating entire meals by himself since he was ten.â
Ashley, Emmanuelleâs fiancĂ©, strolled by, tossing her husband a look. âGirl, I just cook double and call it a day.â The room erupted into laughter as the family buzzed around them, settling into the lively chaos that made Christmas at the Dillard house unforgettable.
An hour later, everyone gathered around the table, plates piled high with Christmas Eve dishes: smothered chicken over rice, cabbage cooked with bacon, buttery rolls, and generous helpings of Ms. Gloriaâs Carribbean spiced dumplings. The real feastâthe honey-glazed ham, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, smoked turkey, and sautĂ©ed okraâwas waiting for Christmas Day. But tonight, this was more than enough. They joined hands and bowed their heads as the family prayed, offering blessings for their health, happiness, and the year to come.
âSo, Terry, whenâd you get back, bruh?â Emmanuelle asked, already halfway through a second helping of chicken and rice.
âBeen about seven weeks. Almost two months now,â Terry replied, taking a sip of sweet tea.
âWhat?â Emmanuelle looked up, fork in midair. âWhy ainât I seen you yet?â
âIâve been laying low,â Terry said. âGetting used to civilian life again.â
Emmanuelle turned to Eve with a mock-serious expression. âEvie, why didnât you tell me my boy was back?â
She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I didnât even know he was back until a couple of weeks ago."
From the corner of her eye, Eve noticed her sisters straightening up, ears clearly tuned in. She knew that lookâthey smelled tea brewing. When she didnât respond right away, Emmanuelle leaned in, fanning the flames.
âHowâd yâall reconnect anyway?â he asked, eyes narrowed playfully.
Eve cleared her throat, keeping her tone light but firm. âWe work together now.â
That shouldâve been the end of it, but she could see her brotherâs curiosity growing. The last thing she needed was for her family to get too nosy about her and Terry. It wasnât that she was hiding anything, but it was still too early for outside opinions to complicate things.
âOh, okay, so you saw him at the office,â Emmanuelle said, smirking. âWhy didnât you say anything?â
âWhy are you grilling me, E-Man?â Eve shot back, raising a brow.
âGrilling? Iâm just asking questions!â
âTerry, what are you doing at the company?â her mom, Diane, chimed in, cutting through the sibling banter.
âSecurity,â Terry replied, pausing to wipe his mouth. âKeeping the building safe and making sure everything runs smooth.â
Joy, one of Eveâs sisters, leaned back with a sly smile. âDidnât know the corporate world was so dangerous,â she teased, sipping her spiked sweet tea. âBet all the ladies in the office are feeling extra secure with you around."
Eve shot her a warning look, but Terry didnât flinch.
âItâs not really about danger,â he explained. âItâs more about protecting sensitive info. Everythingâs a target these days.â He paused, letting his words settle as he caught the curious looks around the table. âBut itâs a good change of pace from the military. I like it. Plus, Iâm saving up to start my own private security firm someday. I want to give other brothers coming out of the service a chance to transition into something solid. Help them find their footing again.â
The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of his words settling over them.
âThatâs solid, bro,â Emmanuelle said, giving a nod of approval. âWe need more folks doing that. Respect, man.â
Eve caught herself smiling at him, a quiet pride swelling inside her as she watched how effortlessly he commanded respect from everyone at the table. Sheâd seen it in the weeks since theyâd reconnectedâthe way his presence shifted the energy in any room. People either stepped aside or flocked to him, drawn to his quiet confidence. He set the tone, and it was so damn attractive. Lost in her thoughts, she didnât notice how the affection lighting up her face hadnât gone unnoticed by the rest of the room.
âWell, are you single, Terry?â her father, Ed, asked without missing a beat. Heâd always had a feeling there was something between his little Eve and the Richmond boy. Heâd sensed it even back when Terry was still too young and unsure to act on it. But the man sitting in front of him now was someone he could respectâsomeone he could trust with his baby girl.
âDad!â Eve protested, her face flushing. But before she could say another word, Gloria, Terryâs mom, jumped in with a playful grin.
âHe sure is!â Gloria chimed in, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Terry shot his mom a look of surprise.
âReally?â Diane, Eveâs mom, asked, raising an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Eveâs siblings were doing their best to hide their snickering. Eveâs little niece sat on Noelleâs lap, eyes wide, watching the exchange with interest.
âYou know, Evieâs single too,â Diane added with a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself.
âMommyââ
âIâm just saying, baby,â Diane said, holding her hands up in mock innocence. The room fell into an expectant silence, all eyes locked on them.
Eve shot Terry a look, shaking her head. Their families just couldnât resist stirring the pot. She thought, Black folks and their matchmaking. Terry grinned and casually draped an arm over the back of her chair, giving her a look that said, Forget it. Might as well lean into it now. Several sets of eyes snapped in their direction, keen to catch every little moment.
Eve and Terry exchanged a quiet glance, a wordless conversation passing between them before she finally decided to rip the Band-Aid off. âWell, since youâre all in my business,â Eve said with a sigh, âTerry and I have been seeing each other. Just a little while, though. Weâre taking it slow.â
It was like a buzzer went off at a championship basketball gameâeveryone erupted with hoots, hollers, and excited chatter.
âI knew it!â
âTalking âbout Iâm not slickâ girl, you not slick!â
âThatâs why she been dodging my calls!â
Terryâs mom elbowed him playfully, her face lighting up with a grin. âWhy you didnât tell me, baby?â Sheâd suspected something was up with all the late hours he had been keeping, but sheâd kept quiet, not wanting to push him too fast. Now, though, seeing the joy on his face, she couldnât help but be happy for them.Â
Terry looked at his mom, his expression softening as he took in her beaming face. It had been too long since heâd seen her this genuinely happy. He gently covered her hand with his own. âWeâre still getting to know each other again, Mama. Taking it slow, âcause we want to do it right. Didnât want to tell anyone too soon, or get your hopes up, just in case.â
âItâll work out,â Gloria said with a smile that was both warm and knowing. âYouâre just like your daddyâconsiderate, kind, protective, dependable. Youâre a good man. Anybody would be lucky to have you in their life. And Eve, sheâs a great girl. The best, if you ask me. She knows you for who you are, flaws and all. Sheâs solid, knows herself, and sheâs the kind of woman you want by your side. Yâall can make it work, if you both want toâŠâ
Terryâs gaze drifted to the back of Eveâs head as she laughed and talked with her family, fully in her element. It was magnetic. He couldnât help but think, Sheâs the one.
ââŠand I suspect you do.â
Eve caught snippets of the conversation between Terry and her mom, her own voice blending with the chatter around her. âYeah, mama, weâll make it,â she heard Terry say, his voice steady, confident.
âYou calling it a night after this? Heading home?â Eve asked when her family finally gave her a break from answering questions.
âThat wasnât really the plan.â Terry smirked, his gaze steady on hers.Â
Bet, she thought, fighting the urge to grab his hand and tell everyone they were out.
After dinner, they exchanged Christmas Eve gifts with the family. Eve had gotten Terry a new tactical backpack for his camping trips. Heâd mentioned before how much he loved getting away to the woods, disconnecting from the world, and reconnecting with nature. She also picked out a cute elephant trinket for his mom, a nod to Ms. Gloriaâs sorority, representing strength and resilience. In return, Terry had gifted her parents a beautifully wood-burned sign that read Dillard Family Home. Her parents adored it, and her dad wasted no time putting Terry to work, hanging it up above the door.
Her nieces and nephews tore through their gifts from Uncle Emmanuelle, too big for them to manage on their own, immediately enlisting the adults to help set up toys, insert batteries, and get the noise blasting from their new gadgets. Eve played the dutiful auntie, pitching in to help get the kids settled before she attempted to make a quiet exit, a little earlier than usual.
Her sisters werenât letting her off that easy, though. They cornered her near the foyer while Terry helped his mom put on her shoes. âNo you donât, girl,â Noelle whispered, with a mischievous grin, while she and Joy surrounded Eve like two sharks on the hunt.
Eve tried to play it cool. âWe need to get Ms. Gloria home before it gets too late.â
Joy leaned in close, her voice dripping with teasing. âGirl, please. We already know whatâs up. After you drop Ms. Gloria off, youâre gonna be right back with Terry. I been sneaking around long before you even started.â
Eve rolled her eyes, trying to keep it moving while they giggled behind her.
Terry quickly helped his mom settle into her house while Eve sat in the car, fidgeting in the seat, trying to calm the flutter in her chest. When he stepped back outside into the crisp evening air, she reminded herself to get it together. Itâs just Terry.Â
The whole ride felt charged, the air between them thick with unspoken words, teetering on the edge of something both of them were ready to step into. Eve caught herself stealing glances at Terry, her stomach flipping each time his fingers drummed on the steering wheel or his lips twitched into a half-smile. By the time they reached the family home and she slid into her car, she could barely keep her composure. The drive back to her place was a blur of thoughts, her heartbeat drowning out the soft hum of Christmas music on the radio. Enough. Enough holding back.
When Terry knocked on her door a little while later, she didnât hesitate. She opened it, grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Without a word, she led him to her room. The space was warm and invitingâsignature seasonal scents wafted through the air, and a small four-foot tree twinkled in the corner. Low, sultry R&B Christmas classics filled the room, the perfect soundtrack for everything she wasnât saying.
âSit,â she murmured, her voice soft but sure, gesturing to the bed. She opened her bedside drawer, pulled out a small gold-foiled packet, and placed it on the comforter beside him. âI know what I want. I want you. I want us.â
She stepped between his legs, loving the way his strong hands explored the curve of her back and sides as their lips met. Sheâd had a quick sip of wine while waiting for him, just enough to quiet her nerves. The lingering warmth of it heightened every sensation, making her feel energized and bold. She gently cradled Terryâs head against her chest, her breaths coming soft and uneven as she tried to steady herself.
âIâve been all in, Eve,â he said, his voice low and unshakable. âAlways.â
She let her fingers trail along his warm skin, grounding herself in the reality of himânot just the fantasy sheâd kept alive in her mind. Terry was the dangerous kind of handsome, the kind that should come with a warning label. He kissed her softly at first, but his touch grew more demanding and insistent as she shed her clothes. Eve straddled his lap, moving closer, spurred on by the way he held herâlike she was precious, worth cherishing, and meant to be kept all to himself.
âYouâre safe with me,â Terry promised, his lips brushing her ear. âAlways.â
And she believed him. She melted into his touch, surrendering to the intoxicating thrillâand the quiet fearâof letting herself fall. Of trusting. Of daring to believe this could be the start of something real, as he effortlessly flipped them so that he was on top. "Thought about you like this," she admitted softly, helping him lift his shirt over his head to reveal the firm contours of his abdomen. "On top of me, just like this."
Terry's gaze locked on hers, dark and intense.Â
âTell me what else you thought about,â he said, his voice low and coaxing. He wanted her to let whatever she was feeling spill out. Eve was usually guarded, always careful with how much she gave, but now, with him, she didnât hold back.
She reached down, her fingers curling around his dick through his boxers. "Iâve been thinking about this," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "What youâd feel like... what it would be like to have you inside me. Iâve waited so long... I almost donât want to ruin the fantasy." She teased, biting her bottom lip, a playful spark in her eyes. She could feel itâthe way that set him on fire. Terry felt his control slipping. Every part of him was primed, ready to unleash it all on her. "Pull it out and see for yourself."Â
Eve wrapped both hands around him, her touch slow and deliberate, as her fingers explored every inch. She gasped softly at how hot and heavy he felt, even thicker she had realized. "God," she whispered, feeling her body respond to the sensation of him in her hand. Her mind raced with thoughts of him slapping that fat tip against her clit. She imagined how heâd feel inside herâwondering if heâd be slow and methodical, or more rushed and rough. Either way, she knew she wouldnât mind.
Above her, Terryâs breath caught as he tugged his boxers down, guiding her hand to him more firmly. His chest rose and fell as his mind tried to stay clear. She glanced up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes. Spitting a thick glob into her hand, she spread it over him with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes never left his, watching him unravel under her touch. His face was tight, eyes flickering between her movements and the ceiling as he groaned softly. The sound stirred something deep inside her.
"You want me to take you in my mouth?" she whispered, her voice soft and sweet, as if she were asking the simplest question in the world.
Terry couldnât respond immediately. His mind was lost in the heat of the moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold on. But when her fingers traced over his balls, kneading them with a slow, firm touch, he couldnât stop the groan that slipped from his lips. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his dick, her puckered lips gliding sensually over the slick skin. âItâs so beautiful, baby. Thick, too.â She giggled, enjoying the way his hips stuttered when she tongued the leaky tip.
âYouâre actinâ up,â Terry groaned, his breath shaky. With one swift movement, he shifted onto his knees, lining himself up with her mouth. âOpen up,â he urged, his voice low with desire. He couldnât wait any longer. Terry fed her his length, hissing loudly when her mouth closed around him, hot and wet. âMmm... Thatâs exactly what I want.âÂ
Eve surprised him by staring into his eyes as she worked her mouth around his length, brown eyes captivating him like a spell. Her hands moved over him, soft yet taunting until he was powerless under touch.Â
"Youâre gorgeous, you know that?"
"Yes, baby, keep working those handsâjust like that."
âYouâre perfect, Evie.âÂ
Terry groaned, his blue-green eyes locked on her. He could hardly believe he had the girl of his dreams under him, ready and willing to please him. "Nobodyâs perfect, but Iâll take the compliment." Eve paused, her hands gently running over him as she caught her breath, wetness gathering around the corners of her mouth.
Terry tugged at her bra strap, his voice low with need. âTake this off.â She shifted, unhooking it, and letting it fall to her lap. He stroked himself, remembering the night she let him play with her titties on her couch. He was worked up from all the kissing with no follow through, and she offered to help him release some of that tension. He kissed her breasts while she sighed and worked her hips against him. He tasted her nipples and she arched her back for more. He teased them with his fingers and his mouth, pinching and tugging until she was rocking back and forth in his lap. She panted while he held her in place, thrusting his dick up into her clothed core until they were both coming in their clothes. He almost stayed that night. She clung to him afterward, silently pleading for him to end their self-imposed misery. It took every ounce of restraint for him to leave, but he couldnât let her body make a choice her mind wasnât ready to make. Now, he had no more reasons to resist.
âLay back,â He ordered, shifting to straddle her waist. The new angle had him right where he wanted to be. Close enough to stroke himself against her soft skin and watch the way she responded to him.
"You want to let it all out, donât you?" She licked her lips, watching his dick twitch in his hand. "I can see it in your eyes. Looks like it's killing you." The tip was an angry red shade. His balls were drawn tight. Her clit pulsed with desire. âYou ainât gotta hold back with me. I want everything.â She promised, her voice soft and alluring, as if she could sense his every need. Terryâs breath hitched, his control slipping. Every part of him was drawn to her.Â
âYouâre gonna make me lose it, baby.â Terryâs voice was low, a growl in the back of his throat. He couldnât think straight, especially when she took him into her mouth again, the heat sending him into a frenzy. Her hands slid over her own body, teasing her breasts the way he liked as she felt the fire building in her. The way he reacted, panting and whimpering pushed her even closer to the edge. âHold upââ He started, but she was insistent, forcing her throat down his length until she was gagging. Terryâs body jerked above her, and he spilled warm cum into her mouth and then onto her plump breasts without warning. âFuck, Evie,â He groaned as she chased him with her mouth. Heâd meant to warn her, but that greedy little mouth of hers was too tempting. He fell into place next to her, catching his breath. She didnât seem to care about the mess. In fact, she looked pleased with herself, giggling as he apologized lowly. She told him there was no need.Â
"You know we donât have to pretend with each other, right?" She asked, sensually rubbing his seed into her skin. He watched her slow, seductive movements, wondering how he got so lucky.Â
âYouâre wild.â He felt his dick stirring to life again. âSit on my face,â he ordered, guiding her to squat above his head.Â
"This position is new for me," she confessed, feeling a flutter of excitement in her belly. âYou donât have to do anything but relax,â Terry hooked his arms under her leg and held her in place. âLeave the work to me,â Terry pulled her down, keeping a firm grip on her legs as he licked between them. At first, it was tentative, a slow exploration as he took his time learning her body, what made her sigh and moan. But soon, desire took over, and he became more urgent, more greedy. She ran her hand over his head, experimenting with the sensation of moving her hips.Â
âThat feels so good,â She whimpered, loving the leverage the position gave her. Terry seemed perfectly attuned to her every reaction, adjusting his moves based on what made her shiver or sigh. She shut her eyes and quickened her rhythm, breathing heavily with pleasure. With a smirk, Terry took a moment to tease her. âYou like when I lick your pussy like this?â
âYes!â
âKeep grindinâ this wet pussy on my face.â
Eve whimpered.
He encouraged her to move her hips faster with soft taps to her ass. She trembled, unable to focus on anything other than the way his tongue felt. Her eyes drifted down to the sight of him between her legs. âDonât stopâplease donât stop,â She mewled, no longer in control of her own body. It felt like watching a train wreck, knowing something earth-shattering was coming, but being powerless to stop it. âTerry, please!â She gripped the sheets as hard as her fists would allow, crying out as she reached her peak.Â
Terry spoke, his voice a low hum as he repositioned her, but she was too dazed to make sense of anything, still floating back down to Earth.
âYou good, Princess?â
She blinked, trying to focus as his face came back into view. "Huh?"
Terry chuckled softly, and she buried her face in his neck, letting her body relax against him.
"Evie?"
She felt his hands slide over her back.
"Hmm?"
"You ainât about to pass out on me, are you?"
"Iâm trying not to..." But he kept gently coaxing her, luring her toward sleep with tender kisses and soft whispers. âBut youâre tempting me.â She warned, feeling his dick harden against her stomach all over again.Â
She sat up on her knees, rubbing her eyes as she looked at him. "How do you want me?"Â
"Youâre too cute." He said, patting her bottom softly. âCome get in my lap.â
Terry kissed her sweetly, his dick hardening and prodding at her backside. She reached back to touch it, feeling that it was hard as steel and slick, all over again. âWow,â She laughed softly between their kisses, feeling the intensity of his desire. âYou can't get enough of me, huh?â
âYou have no idea.â He looked at her with an expression she couldnât quite read, the playful tension turning into something more serious. âI want you to know I thought about you every day I was gone. Couldnât get you out of my head. Imagining you like this... all mine.â He gently smoothed his hands along the sides of her hair, trying to tame the wild curls that had grown bigger with all the sweating and rolling around. âIâd lie on my cot, seeing your face in my mind. Every night.â
"Terry⊠you really shouldnât say things like that," she said, her voice soft with sudden shyness.
âWhy wouldnât I?â He challenged. Eve swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. Terry had a way of making her feel seen, like all her walls had been torn down, yet she was safe. She took a breath, reminding herself that she could let her heart lead with him.Â
"Because I'm falling for you and when you say things like that, it makes it so much harder for me to keep it together."
âWhy are you acting like you gotta fight this, Eve?â He tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. âItâs us.â He took her hands in his, stilling them.Â
âWhat if I told you I feel the same way?â She could hardly believe he was saying the words she had wanted to hear over a decade ago. Even if this was some strangely vivid dream sheâd drummed up as a result of her Christmas Blues, she wanted to soak in every word, every moment. âI love you, Eve Dillard. Iâve loved you for a long time. Iâm sure of it. More than anything else in this world.â
âTerry Richmond...â She started, almost at a loss for words. Hearing him declare it so openly made her feel like she was floating in the clouds. âI love you too.â
âYeah? You sure?â He teased.Â
âUh huh,â She hummed, feeling his fingers splay across her thighs.
âI wanna show you how much. Can I?"
She nodded.
âYou want me, Evie?âÂ
She nodded her head.Â
His hand landed firmly on her ass, and she let out a startled whimper as she lurched forward in his arms. The sound shot straight to his dick. "You gotta let me know, sweetheart."Â
âYes, I want you, Terry. All of you.âÂ
Eve didnât know what was possessing her, making her so open and submissive. She told Terry he was everything sheâd ever dreamed of and that she couldnât imagine a future without him. He told her she didnât have to. She kissed him deeply, tasting herself as he alternated smacks on both sides of her ass until he was satisfied and lining himself up at her entrance. Her mouth fell open as he pushed his way inside. âFuck,â Terry cursed as she clutched his arms with that shocked look on her face. He kissed her lips and then her jaw, all tender and sweet. âYouâre okay. I got you,â He promised, groaning when she began to open up for him. His large hands slid down her body, settling over her hips as he began lifting her up and down on his dick. Eve buried her face in his neck, biting her lip as Terry slammed into her. He grunted his satisfaction as she dripped down his length and made a mess.
âYou feel so good, Evie.â
âSqueezing me so tight.â
âAll mine.â
âGive it to me, Princess.â
His words pushed her closer to the edge until she could hardly breathe, gripping his neck and shoulders like he was her lifeline. âYouâre drivinâ me crazy!â She moaned into his ear, her walls squeezing around his dick. âGood,â Terry grunted, âThat's how I want you. Crazy about me and this dick.â Her eyes rolled back as he pumped his hips harder, the strain in his voice evident. âYou were made for this dick, just like I was made for this perfect little pussy.â He poked something inside of her that made her holler. But Terry was shushing her, holding her tight to his chest and cooing in her ear. "Let it happen, baby. I got you. I know what you need. You can take it."
She placed her hands flat against his chest. His grip on her hips were still iron tight. "Câmon now, Evie. Be good to me. You wanna make me feel good, donât you?" His words worked the way he intended. She surrendered, laying her head across his shoulders and holding on for dear life as he worked her over. "Thatâs it, baby. I told you you were perfect. How you feel now?"
She dug her nails into his skin and concentrated on keeping her eyes from crossing. You know how it feels, you bastard! She thought, but the only words spilling out of her mouth were sweet and agreeable. She told him how good he felt, how no one else had ever made her feel that way, and that she wanted him to make her feel that way for the rest of their lives. He told her that he loved her and she was the only one for him. She cried, warm teardrops spilling over his skin as she came, yelling his name. Terry held her in place, capturing her lips in another long kiss as he finished, wishing there was nothing in between them.
Eveâs head rested against Terryâs chest, her body limp from exhaustion. Breathless and completely satisfied, they stayed close for several minutes, catching their breath. Slowly, Terry began to stir, pressing a soft kiss to her damp forehead.
"You good, mama?"
âMhm,â She mumbled, nuzzling into his neck. âI'm just...worn out." She said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
âMe too,â Terry admitted, his hand caressing her back softly. He never wanted this moment to end. When she opened her eyes again, his gaze was on her, focused and intense. It took her breath away.
âWhy you looking at me like that?âÂ
âTake a guess,â he murmured, his voice low and husky.
She didnât need to guess. Everything between themâevery unspoken desireâwas no longer hanging in the balance. It had all become real. Her thoughts wandered to the futureâwedding rings, little feet running around. âYou want to marry me and have five babies?â she teased, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.
Terry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. âYou think thatâs funny, huh?â She shrugged, her fingers gently tracing his jawline, âGuess Iâm funny and fine.â His smile widened, his gaze filled with something unreadable. âBe careful what you wish for.â
Her fingers gently caressed his mustache, her voice a soft whisper as she murmured, "I love you, Terry. I really do."
"I love you too, Evie.â
2025
Christmas Eve had always been special, but this year, Terry was determined to make it unforgettable.
Eve turned away from the window where sheâd been watching the snow fall gently outside. It was a rare sight in the South, a phenomenon that only happened once or twice a decade, and she cherished every second of it. Terry had left her by the window, disappearing into the bedroom, only to return a few moments later, standing by the gas fireplace with a small, neatly wrapped box in his hands.
âWhat you over there scheming?â she teased with a curious smile.
Terry looked over at her, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the nerves he was trying to hide. âCome here, babe.â
Eve took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. âWhatâs this? You acting all secretive now?â
Terry extended the box to her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. âJust open it and see.â
Eve carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the wrapping paper to reveal a delicate snow globe. She lifted it, tilting it slightly to watch the glittery snow swirl around the two tiny figures inside. At first, she thought it was just a beautiful decoration, but as she took a closer look, the details caught her eye: the woman inside wore a dress that looked remarkably like the one she had worn the year before on Christmas Eve, and the man was down on one knee.
âHold up... is this us?â Eve gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Terry, her heart pounding. âTerry! Where did you even find something like this?â She knew it wasnât something you could just pick up at a store. It was clearly custom-made.
Terry stepped closer, his deep brown eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity. âI wanted you to have something special, something that showed you just how much you mean to me. Every detail, every piece of it... is us.â
Eveâs tears spilled over as she held the snow globe close to her chest. âTerryâŠâÂ
He gently took her free hand, sinking down on one knee in front of her, mimicking the figurine in the globe. She stared at him, her breath catching, as he pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.
âEve, youâve been my everything from the moment I met you. It took too long for me to face that, but now, I canât imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?â
She nodded, tears spilling over before she could even speak. Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, "Yes, baby, yes."
Terry stood, pulling her into his arms as she laughed and cried at the same time. The snow globe rested safely in her hand, the tiny figures inside capturing the essence of their loveâtimeless, unwavering, and entirely their own.
A/N: Happy Holidays! Divider by firefly-graphics. The themes included were for storytelling purposes only. The holidays can be enjoyed with family, friends, or even on your own.
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#AARON PIERRE#TERRY RICHMOND#TERRY RICHMOND X OC#TERRY RICHMOND X BLACK!OC#REBEL RIDGE#AARON PIERRE FANFICTION
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đ deus auri
part 4/8 of âĄâ / đ đ đ đ âșâŠ, a zhongli 2023 birthday event
© zhongrin | 2023  ⌠ no repostă»translationsă»plagiarism of any kindă»ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea âĄ
𧷠tags â gn!reader, teeth-rotting fluff
𧷠a/n â merry christmas yall! i hope you're being surrounded by your loved ones today (be it physically or online). consider this a christmas gift from me to you <3
đđđ đ»đđđ đđđđ ⏠masterlist â 𫱠đđđđ·đđđđœđŸđ
⏠taglist â
đearly everyone in your neighborhood knew of your secret admirer, yet no one knew of their actual identity.
they had their speculations, of course. the elders just love to tell you all about their theories whenever they spot you with yet another fresh yellow hibiscus on your person. perhaps it was the young man three houses away, since mrs. feng saw him stealing glances at you? oh, or maybe it was the lady who moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, since the timing matched with when you started receiving the flowers? no, no, it must have been the blacksmithâs child who was just the perfect age for marriage, or the widowed greengrocer who kept giving you discounts, orâ
entertaining the musings of the older folks who had nothing better to do than gossip was not your specialty, so a forced laugh and an excuse later, you continued on your merry way, shaking your head with a breath escaping your lips as your fingers brushed the soft petal.
you used to keep the flowers in a vase or press them between book pages to dry them out, hoping to prolong their life, but these days you prefer to have it on you as you go about your day. sometimes youâd wear it on your hair, tucked behind your ear, or weaved around your wrist, and other times youâd slip it on your clothes, going as far as planning your attire around the bright yellow petals. and when the day ended, the bloom would have wilted, but you already knew that the next day, another fresh flower would appear right in front of your doorstep.
truly, a mystery.
as many moons passed, you became curiouser and curiouser. such dedication, such resourcefulness. just who was this silhouette in the dark you could not seem to shine a light upon? as silly as it sounded, you were slowly toeing the lines of curiosity and perhaps even affection, as stupid as that sounded.
there was a florist you would always pass by whenever you returned home from a day of toiling at work. a selection of flowers, though none matched the flower you tucked onto your belt loop for the day, lined the forefront of the little stall, its owner giving you a friendly smile as you approached.
you started placing marigolds on your doorstep before going to bed.
what made you choose the specific flower? you werenât too sure yourself. perhaps the colors and rounded shape of its floral head that day reminded you of mora, and it was an attempt at darkly humoring the stranger who had been spending their mora to buy all those hibiscus blooms. perhaps you just found them pretty and silently hoped your secret admirer would, too.
the marigold always disappeared the next morning, replaced with your faithful, bright yellow-petaled friend.
the ritual continued on, and just as tireless as your admirer was, you made sure to be just as persevering. not a day passed without the exchange of blossoms - not when it rained, nor when the holidays rolled by.
âmama, look! itâs the adepti!!â a little girl raced past you, dragging her laughing mother by the hand, jumping and trying to seek past the crowd of people flooding the main street at the end of your little neighborhood. the ginkgo leaves were falling, maidenhair petals matching the bright color of the hibiscus pinned onto your hair billowing past as you too, stepped towards the crowd.
they did this parade every single year, both to celebrate the end of a prosperous twelve-month period and to honor the very birthday of the geo archon, and every single time you thought you would ever get bored of it. a magnificent procession along the main streets, a week-long festival before and after, the various stalls opening along the streets, the hustle and bustle of the harbor amplified, joyfulness and the trees seemingly painting the air gold.
âah, the demon conqueror isnât joining us this year?â
âheâs the elusive sort, after all.â
âbut the great illuminated beasts are almost all here!â
it was hard to make out the words of the people around you as the crowd bustled in excitement and the processional march reverberated so loudly in your ears, so you decided to step and slip around the gaps of enamored people when you spotted your chance.
eventually, your eyes finally fell upon the group as they made their way through the stone paved path. the proud magnificent beasts were always a sight to behold; otherworldly and also imposing. golden and red, intricately sewn flags bearing the symbol of geo along with the harbor itself waved in the air as the sounds of the drums seemed to make the ground shake. the smell of incense filled your lungs, your eyes squinting as the sunlight caught the cor lapis ornaments affixed onto nearly every object and clothing of the congregation. and yet it was said that the celebration march used to be much grander, with dancers and flower petals and scriptures detailing the founding of liyue and the tales of the archon war being read out loud - but your lord himself insisted for it to be downplayed after several hundred years.
and speaking of the devilâŠ
âmay rex lapis live and reign for ten thousand years!â
âten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years!â
this year too, the deity sat upon the resplendent sedan chair carried by four mortals. this year too, he looked as regal in his dark garment patterned with glowing golden threads and - in your opinion - as bored out of his mind. this year too, a stem of-
-wait.
he didnât have those last year.
marigold eyes glanced toward your direction, and you thought you had induced yourself into having a fever dream when your gazes met. but no, the way his amber eyes slightly widened and the way he suddenly shifted, back straightening from its former slouch and the colors dusting his cheek were very much real. while your lips parted as you tried to process the information, his own lips stretched into a gentle smile; gloved fingers plucking the flower from its pinned place on his outer robe, before placing a fleeting kiss on the one-stemmed tagetesâ amber corolla.
and as the crowds moved, eager to follow your lord, you let yourself be carried away by the sea of eager citizens, your heart doing double flips inside your chest as you tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.
âŠâŠ.. you think your âsecret admirerâ might be the very god of your nation.
𧷠đđđđ·đđđđœđŸđ
⏠taglist â â @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#zhongli#zhongli x reader#rin writes#â / đ đ đ đ âș
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Confection
For the holiday this year I offer you a culinary AU Iâve been thinking about for basically forever but only now started to write down. Itâll be in parts, as I chip away in the spare minutes, with littler bits of story at a time, as when I first ventured contributions to this surpassingly wonderful fandom, years ago. I miss those long-gone Bering-and-Wells days: the speed, the inventiveness that so many brought to bear... anyway, however many parts this ends up being, itâs all just for fun. (And maybe a little ontological inquiry. Also just for fun.)
In any case, on this random Sunday, I wish everyone their preferred form(s) of activity and/or rest, as appropriate. Good feelings. Whatever it is weâre here for.
Confection
âCutthroat.â
So says the talking head on screen in response to the offscreen question, âDescribe your style in the kitchen in one word, Chef Helena Wells.â
****
âChef Myka Bering, describe your style in the kitchen in one word.â
âOne word? Thatâs a challenge. Diligent? Iâm really diligent. Or, no: focused. I definitely think âfocusedâ is more descriptive.â
Senior Producer Claudia Donovan, upon viewing this footage, had said to the editor sitting next to her, âCan you cut that to âfocusedâ and make it sound decisive?â But then she let herself have a second thought. âYou know what? Leave it all in. Compare and contrast.â
Cutthroat Wells first, indecisively diligent and/or focused Bering second... the third competitorâs response had been, in retrospect, hilarious. Claudia did appreciate how radically his pronouncement had failed to match his performance: âAwesome,â Walter Sykes had described himself, with no sense of irony whatsoever. Heâd been cast as a sacrificial lamb in the first place, but Claudia still snorted at the completely useless dudebro swagger.
The fourth chef, Artie Nielsen, had been brusque rather than bro, but with no less swagger. âClassic,â heâd said, like the idea of anybody even asking the question was a âdonât you know who I amâ insult. The editor angled a glance at Claudia and said, âYou were real with him about what show he was on, right?â
âThe old-school thing sets up the B plot,â Claudia told her. âHeâs known all three judges for decades.â
âDonât you think the Aâs a lot more fun?â the editor said. She clicked quick on the Wells âcutthroatâ clipâand Claudia had never in her life heard such an all-facts no-swagger saying of a wordâfollowed by a bit of the Bering: âI definitely think,â Chef Myka said, as if in answer to the editorâs question.
âI definitely think,â Claudia echoed decisively.
****
âThe name of our show,â Steve Jinks explains, as he does every week at the start of the program proper, after the contestants have described their styles, âis âThis Without That.â What this means, contestants, is that in each of three rounds, you will be asked to prepare a classic dish... but without its defining ingredient.â
****
âYou gotta do it,â Pete Lattimer had said. âBecause itâd be so cool. Gottagottagotta.â
Myka was leaning against the at-last-closed-for-the-night door of the restaurant where they both workedâMyka as sous chef, Pete grilling and fryingâand she wanted to ignore him, for her fatigue weighted her such that she could barely convince her spine to support her head. Forcing that head to lift, accompanied by actually working her jaw, felt well beyond possible.
And she would have ignored him, but she was the idiot whoâd made the mistake of telling him about âitâ: a producer from âThis Without That,â the wildly popular cooking competition show, had called to express interest in having her compete next month (next month being August) for their Christmas championship, to air in December.
Having been that idiot, she couldnât ignore him, but she was regretting the telling, so now she said, âNo I donât. I donât âgottaâ do anything.â
âBut you wanna.â
âI donât âwannaâ do anything either. And as for this, I donât want to do it.â
First, television. Second, a competition. Third, a Christmas competition. In August. She didnât want to. In fact sheâd rather have gnawed off her knife hand than do it. But then Pete moved from âgottaâ and âwannaâ (Myka hated those pseudo-word elisions) to âhafta,â adding âfor the restaurantââthe one they planned to partner to open someday, when they had saved enough money and/or could talk investors into believing in themâand Myka gave in. âIâll try,â she told him, and she meant sheâd try not to tank her upcoming interview with the producer, Claudia Donovan. She told him that too... but for integrityâs sake, she added, âI hate the whole idea of that show. âThis Without That.â It seems so dumb.â
He waved a hand at her, but slowly, showing that he was tired too. âLittle piece of non-tanking advice: donât say that to this producer. Besides, a hugeity-huge-huge audience loves it, which means itâs smart. Say that instead.â
That, she did ignore. âSmart? Itâs insipid.â Mimicking Steve Jinks, the showâs host, she quoted his dismissal of each roundâs losing contestant: âUnfortunately, this competition will continue without you.â
âI knew you watched it,â Pete crowed.
Ugh. âOnce.â She didnât tell him why. âBut it bothered me.â
âBothered you because you knew you could do better at making a thing without its major thing, right? Say thatâs why.â He added, âAnd by the way, I know you could too. So you should say it twice.â
His faith was sweet, but she told him the truth: âNo. It bothered me ontologically.â She didnât expect him to understand, but she tried to explain anyway. âBeef Wellington without the beef, for example, like they did in the one I saw. Thatâs just... Something Else Wellington. And then at the end, the judges pick whose Something Else Wellington they like best. The beef partâthe constitutive element!âfalls by the wayside. The thing itself doesnât even matter anymore.â
Pete shook his head. âItâs like you donât understand games. Something Else Wellington is the whole idea. If it isnât Something Else Wellington, then it isnât Beef Wellington without the beef. Youâre just ticked that the judges donât spend all their tasting time splitting ontological hairs about how close to beef that Something Else really is. Or isnât. Whichever way makes you happier, but it doesnât matter, because that isnât what theyâre there to do.â
Myka hadnât known he wouldâcouldâcome up with âsplitting ontological hairs.â That was another point in favor of her trying not to tank.
Also (and sheâd been thinking about this since the call from Claudia Donovan): her parents. They were reasons that were maybe (okay, probably) on par with âfor the restaurant,â because if she could she impress them by being on television... she really did hate the clichĂ©d nature both of their objections to her careerâtheir dismay that she wasnât âusing that brainââand of her response, a heels-dug-in âIâll show you.â These several years on, they hadnât yet acknowledged being shown. Maybe television would be the charm. Maybe if they could switch a channel and discover Myka there, doing what she did... maybe that would finally do that work of showing.
Pete said, âThey judge based on creativity, tooâhow out-there a Something Else idea you come up with. Imagination what? Plus you gotta do it fast. Thinking on your feet, right? Donât you love all that?â
As adept as Pete could be at saying the wrong thing, he was also, sometimes, exceptional at saying the right thing. âUsing my brain?â she queried, just to make sure.
He nodded, and Myka was pretty sure it was because he knew the history: the family, the pain points. Sheâd inflicted versions of it on him so many times. âThink itâs a smart idea now?â he asked, at his most canny.
Show them not only by being on television, doing what she did, but also by âusing that brainâ on television. To do what she did. To do it better than other people. To at last, in the end, show them. âMaybe,â she hedged, but her overriding thought was Yes, yes, at long last yes.
Not for one instant did it occur to her that she might not win.
****
Claudia had started on TWT in the casting department, over two years ago. Even though evaluating potential talent wasnât technically her job anymore, she did like to tinker. Particularly if she sensed a good story brewing.
When Myka Bering walked inâno, she loped in, her legs looking about as long as Claudia was tallâClaudia really hoped the good-story pings sheâd been sensing were real radar.
There was truly no time like the right-now to see what was what, so Claudia said, first thing after introductions: âJust FYI, Helena Wells is already locked as a cheftestant on this one. I hear you know each other.â
Myka, whoâd been settling into the chair across from Claudiaâs desk, froze.
So far so good, Claudia thought. But then she thought again, as she observed Mykaâs dart of eyes, followed by a small-but-visible twist of neck, both signaling obvious discomfort: No... so far so spectacular.
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Confection#AU week#holiday (but not yet Gift Exchange)#I find it unbelievable that 2022 is coming to a close#also unbelievable is how long so many people have maintained themselves on high alert#I among them#so maybe a silly AU#featuring some silly people#will help close this year and begin the next one#in a relaxing and/or mind-numbing way#also I've been writing Christmas stories for this fandom since 2014#and I see no point in stopping now#regardless of who cares at this point#FYI this will bonk around among the cooking show as it unfolds on TV#and what happened before filming#and what happened during#and then after#so I hope they can make those jumps and distinctions make sense#anyway it's all about the reveals#which in this case probably won't be overly revelatory#PS you get a point if you know how H's opening line is related to Goncharov
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Imperfections
Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy festive nonsense
Leon squints at the small piece of paper, trying to decipher the name upon it. Itâs not the handwriting heâs struggling with, more the fact he probably does need reading glasses and he hates to admit it. He looks around, making sure no-one is looking in his direction and holds it aloft, trying to find the perfect spot where the blurry squiggles will finally transform into a name.
A name he knows all too well, it turns out.
Yours.
Youâve been working for the department just shy of a year â a new recruit in February â and had been partnered with him on a fair few missions. Heâd underestimated you at first, mistakeably deemed you too sweet a thing to be wrapped up in this sort of business, but youâd shown him your mettle from the off and especially when things had got dicey â held your own, got the job done, saved his ass a couple of times and all usually with that beautiful smile on your face.
God, Kennedy, he chides himself, smitten or what?
He folds up the slip of paper, sticks it in his wallet for safe-keeping and his mind begins to whirl - what in the hell is he going to get you?
Secret Santa at the DSO â a bit of holiday nonsense put forward as a suggestion to âboost moraleâ and apparently the President had loved it, has thrown together a whole Holiday Mixer around having the exchange. Everyone working here isnât depressed due to a lack of Christmas spirit, more the state of the world itself and the dark depths theyâre forced to confrontâŠ
But, hey, Leon S Kennedy will do as heâs told as far as the Presidentâs concerned, and so heâd stuck his hand in the Santa hat when it had been thrust in his direction, full of his colleaguesâ names.
Thereâs rules â has to be in government-officiated fun â gifts to be exchanged at the Holiday Mixer in a weekâs time and, to try and avoid an influx of gift cards and novelty socks, it must include a handmade element, with a $25 limit.
âSo,â you plonk yourself down on his desk - right on a pile of manilla folders that were left there earlier for his upcoming briefing and heâd yet to tackle - and lean in, âwhoâd you get?â
He sweeps his hair out of his eyes and sits back a little in his chair to take you all in. âUh-uh, thatâs against the rules.â You roll your eyes at that. âAnd since when has Leon Kennedy been a stickler for the rules?â
âI just donât wanna be on Santaâs naughty list.â
âFine.â You pout, crossing your arms in fake annoyance. âI wonât tell you who I got either.â
âGood, cos I donât remember asking... And don't make an old man joke."
âWasn't gonna." He gives you a look and you can't help but smile. "Okay, but seriously - I get the handmade rule, I do,â you shuffle back a little more on his desk, making yourself comfortable as you get to your point, âbut what I donât get is why itâs mandatory to participate in the whole thing.â
âItâs not really mandatory. Weâre a small operation â you donât participate, youâll show up on the Presidentâs radar for not being a team player. You know heâs all about that.â
âWell, make us do a team building exercise - build a bridge out of newspaper, do trust falls or something besides try and be crafty.â
Leon scoffs. âIâm not doing a trust fall with you â not after last time.â
You open your mouth to reply â that was most definitely not meant to be a trust fall, Leon had just straight up fell - when Hunnigan pops her head around the cubicle, not even surprised to see you sitting on his desk, and gives the two of you a polite smile.
âKennedy â intel briefing set for 1200. You prepped?â
âSure am.â
Hunnigan eyes the pile of folders she clearly remembered placing on his desk first thing this morning, the exact ones which are nestled underneath your thighs.
âUh-huh⊠Conference room seven. See you there.â She turns on her heels and departs, and you feel Leonâs hand ghost your thigh.
You look down, a little startled â sure thereâs been flirtatious touches here and there, a time where you wouldâve bet that monthâs pay check that he was gonna kiss you after a particularly close call but swerved for your cheek at the last moment â and realise heâs tugging at the corner of a folder.
âWhilst I wonât deny that youâre an awful pretty paperweight, mind if I get back to work now?â
 You slide off â managing not to take the folders down with you - and mock a salute. âYes, sir.â
--
The briefing is dull, which should be a good thing, really. No current BOW threats on the radar, though the threat level remains at orange. Leon canât remember the last time they lowered it to yellow, so it seems a pointless system to him but he still throws in his two cents when called upon. Heâs got another few weeks of desk duty to get through after Alcatraz after his medical - knows heâs not getting any younger and thatâs why itâs taking him a little longer to recover after quite the beating.
Dismissed from the briefing, Leon swings by your desk on the way back to his, only to feel a little silly when heâs disappointed at the lack of you at it. Thereâs a shoebox sat on your desk though, lid taped on with a few rounds of parcel tape, but overall it looks a more than just a little worse for wear - crumpled corners and scuff marks all over the cardboard.
âSnooping, Kennedy?â
He canât help the smile when you come to his side, your laptop tucked under your arm â mustâve had a meeting of your own. He holds up his mug, waving it from side to side in demonstration. âWas gonna see if you wanted a coffee, actually. That package looks a little suspect to get through the security check, right?â
You place your laptop down beside it and frown, before reading the return address. âOh, no. Itâs just some things that I asked my ex to send on. I forgot them in the move, only realized when I went to put my tree up last weekâŠâ
You trail off as you move the box towards you ever so slightly and thereâs a horrible clinking sound that makes your stomach sink.
You grab a biro, jamming it through the tape lined around the edge as a make-shift knife and tentatively pull off the lid, bracing yourself for what you might discover within. Whilst you had safely stored them away in layers of bubble wrap, each in its own bo, he seems to have dumped them all out into the shoe box, one layer of bubble wrap on the bottom, another on top and theyâve obviously cracked together in transit, resulting in the shattered mess before you.
âShit.â He comments, softly, watching as you pick up shards. âWhat are they?â
âMy grandmotherâs baubles.â Your voice goes flat as you pick up pieces of what once were precious memories and his heart aches. âShe was a really talented artist before the arthritis got bad⊠Used to paint these and sell them at Christmas fairs.â
Heâs silent as you continue picking through the pieces. Thereâs one that seems mostly intact, a smaller one but after further investigation thereâs a big chunk missing from the side and you drop it back down in the box in defeat. Leon lays his hand on your shoulder then, seeing how you almost deflate in front of his very eyes, and he hopes to give you a reassuring squeeze â to let you know heâs here, he's always here for you, even if heâs not going to say it aloud. âIâm so sorry.â
âItâs fine.â But he knows itâs not by how tight your voice is. Youâve never got emotional in front of him before, not even when youâd been injured had you let that stupid, gorgeous smile falter. âI⊠I have to head out. Iâll see you later.â
You place the lid back on the shoebox and shove it off the desk. It lands in the waste basket with another awful sound of broken ceramic.
âWhoa, wait, donât you wan-?â He begins to protest but you shrug his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head and now keeping your eyes downcast.
âSorry, I really have to go.â He swears you just about jog out of his sight, no real destination in mind.
Leon doesnât see you the rest of the day, though he swings by your desk a few more times when he gets up to stretch his legs. The maintenance team will be in later â dispose of the shredded paperwork, wipe down surfaces empty the waste baskets⊠so he doesnât think twice when he picks up the shoebox as he leaves, holding it tightly in the crook of his arm as if it were the broken pieces of your heart.
--
Later that evening after dinner, he sits on his sofa, changed into his sweats rather than stuffy shirt and suit trousers, a soda on the table in a heavy-bottomed glass â doesnât drink anymore, isnât worth it, but he still likes the weight of a good glass in his hand â with his laptop perched on his knees.
The cursor blinks in place before he slowly types in the search bar.
How to fix a broken ceramic bauble.
Heâs good with his hands from weapons maintenance, can handle delicate stuff, so why couldnât he glue some bits of ceramic back together into a sphere?
He scrolls down the search results â various how-to articles and videos. He reads through a few, learns that it can depend on such factors of where the break occurred, if itâs clean break or not, how thick the ceramic is and, after all that, thereâs the danger it could look like a kid put it together for their mom at kindergarten with a pot of PVA glue and got bored halfway through.
Heâs not put off, though, as he continues his scroll until something bright and gold catches his eyeâŠ
Kintsugi?
Huh. Sounds⊠promising.
--
He does a test first. Practice makes perfect, and heâs determined he will make them as close to perfect again as he can⊠once heâs sure heâs got the hang of it. He buys a box of six ceramic baubles from a nearby department store, whacks one off the table edge gently until it shatters into reasonable-sized pieces, then sets about setting it back together with the kit heâd bought online â paid for express next-day delivery as well, no time to sit and wait around for 3-5 working days, longer in the Christmas build-up.
Youâd not mentioned the baubles the next day in the office or how youâd rushed off, just came and sat on his desk with a coffee, had the usual back and forth banter but he can tell youâre a little flat, the light isnât quite reaching your eyes as it once was and he hates it. Youâd been excited for Christmas â even brought in a Christmas mug on the 1st of December â but itâs all been extinguished, now a DSO-logo stamped black mug in your hands.
It takes him the entire box over the next few evenings until heâs confident enough to tackle one of your prized possessions. Each bauble is unique â swirling patterns of pastel colours on all-white ceramic, but he treats the pieces like a puzzle as he slowly divides the piles into category of each bauble â four in total â and gently works out which piece belongs to which. There are bits that arenât going to be a clean seam but heâs prepared for this in his practice rounds, still a little shake in his hand as he finally puts two and two together.
He likes the meaning behind the practice - embracing imperfections, not trying to hide the cracks or broken bits, but instead highlighting it, making it a feature with bright and beautiful gold. Lord knows he isnât perfect, far from it, and he will never be the man he was before Raccoon City. A few years ago, when he was at his darkest, he wouldâve described himself as beyond repair â too smashed up to ever be whole again.
Slowly but surely, heâs began to piece himself back together, embracing the fact that whilst heâs not quite whole and might never be, held together by his friends, his will and some glue and now your presence in his life giving him a little bit of sparkle.
He shakes his head, leans forward and switches off the made-for-TV Christmas movie.
--
Friday evening is here before he knows it and, frustratingly, an intel mission heâs on runs a little long â gets caught up in traffic. He needs to swing by his apartment to pick up your gift and needs to get changed while heâs at it â the dress code quite clear. He enters the hotel ball room in a shirt, suit jacket and trousers, sans tie, an over an hour and a bit late, carrying the gift bag as carefully as he would a baby or a bomb. The mixer already seems to be in full swing - thereâs half a dozen round tables, discarded wrapping paper scattered across the tops of them as well as empty champagne glasses and he realizes he mustâve missed the gift exchange.
âThere you are! I thought you were a no-show.â You tease, appearing at his side a little too quick to not have been waiting for him. Youâre looking beautiful in your black cocktail dress, the one that hugs all the right places and your hair half up and half down, held in place with a red bow.
âDuty called. Did I miss the exchange?â
âEh, kinda. It wasnât a whole big thing. The Presidentâs not coming â double booked himself, so everyoneâs just been awkwardly exchanging gifts and downing more and more free drink.â
He tugs at the ribbon hanging down off your shoulder ever so gently.
âWell, you certainly look as pretty as a present. Please tell me you didnât panic and gift yourselfâŠâ
You ignore him, loop your arm through his instead and guide him over to an empty table â thereâs a large queue at the open bar and hopefully a few more minutes of privacy before making endless small talk â and encourage him to take a seat. As he does, you crouch besides another chair and fish for something underneath, pulling out a red and gold gift bag, an embarrassed smile as you hold it out to him.
âMerry Christmas, from your Secret Santa.â
He raises an eyebrow but still accepts the bag, placing it on the table. âYouâre kidding.â
âNo. Why?â
âYouâre my Secret Santa?â
âCan you at least hold in the disappointment until after you open it?â You pout.
âNo, I mean⊠I got you. We got each other.â
âWhat? Thatâs⊠weird.â You sit down heavily in the chair, looking a bit bemused. âWhatâs the statistics on that even happening?â
âDonât tell me youâre going to demand a re-count.â He rolls his eyes and holds out his own gift bag. âLadies first.â
You smile, brushing your fingers with his as you take it, before placing the gift bag down on the table and see four small cardboard boxes nestled within. You take out the first one and unfold the tabs, carefully, before removing the piece of red tissue paper heâd nestled on top.
What lies below it makes your heart stop.
Itâs your grandmotherâs baubles, or one of them, now held back in one piece and held together with threads of beautiful gold.
You look at him and then back down at the bauble.
âIs thisâŠ?â
âYeah.â
âLeon, IâŠâ
He sees the tears in your eyes as you take out the remaining boxes with a shaking hand, lining them up on the table and revealing each one in turn.
âI hope they arenât an insult to your grandmotherâs memory.â He blurts out after sitting in silence, unsure of what to make of yours. âThey were just about to be tossed and so I took them, did some research on repair techniques and, wellâŠâ
âDid you do this?â There it is â the smile, the real smile that lights up your eyes.
âWhat, you think this old dog canât learn new tricks? Everythingâs on the internet these days.â He shrugs off â he wonât tell you the hours he spent, the headaches he got from squinting as he pieced parts together. Hell, heâd do it all again if he had to.
âThank you. Theyâre beautiful. I⊠I canât believe you did this for me. I⊠I just, I meanâŠâ
He places a hand on your knee, gives you a soft smile.
âThereâs a lot Iâd do for you, you know, if youâd let me.â
Thereâs a moment as your eyes meet that you feel perhaps your cheeks have gone as red as the bow on top of your head and quickly try to deflect, nodding your head at his unopened gift bag.
âYou shouldâve let me go first - this is going to be such a disappointment in comparison.â
Leon gives your knee a squeeze before he peers into this gift bag, digging out a small gift box. He places it down on the table and tugs off the lid to find thereâs a beautiful ridged glass nestled in red tissue paper, heavy-bottomed â you know his preference all right - but thereâs something within the glass too. A mass of what appears to be red and green yarn, a little loop of black string at the top⊠He picks it up between two fingers.
âItâsâŠâ He trails off, looking at the colours. âItâs certainly festive.â
âOkay, I canât knit but I tried and thatâs the important thing here, right?â
âNo, no, itâs⊠cute.â He smiles. âAnd the glass â I love it. Just my style.â
You bite your lip, looking a little flustered and unsure, but he assumes youâre still feeling a little emotional over his present⊠until you try and yank the yarn from his hands.
âHey!â He gets to his feet out of instinct of being attacked and clutches whatever it is closely to his chest.
âLook, if you just give me it, I can try some other craft thing. Just I was in a pity party all week and I stayed up all night doing that and it shows.â You get to your feet then, trying to weasel through fingers into his to retrieve it. âI canât leave you with that, itâs not fair.â
âNo, itâs mine.â
You donât give up your attempt to wrestle it back, though Leonâs grip never falters. âYou donât even know what itâs meant to be!â
âSure I do. ItâsâŠâ He retaliates, whipping it quickly above his head and yours â too high for you to snatch out of his hands despite your heels â and squints once more, comparing it against some of the festive dĂ©cor in the hall.
âOh.â
âItâs so dumb.â You begin your protest again, now trying to grab it from above your heads. âI just tho-â Leon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you forward firmly against his chest, before he finally drops his other arm and cups your cheek, knitted mistletoe still in his fingers and kisses you firmly on the lips, swallowing down the rest of your sentence. He canât help but grin as he feels you relax into his embrace, pressing your palm now flat against his chest. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, poking ever so gently to seek permission and-
âAbout goddamn time, Kennedy!â The shout of an inebriated agent causes the two of you to pull apart and you feel flustered by both the overdue kiss and what feels like the eyes of the entire DSO on the two of you.
Leon takes it all in his stride though, keeps a warm palm right on your lower back as he smiles and nods at whoever the hell it was that had interrupted, before pressing a sweet, solitary kiss to your cheek.
âNow, seeing as Iâve got this mistletoe, how about we go back to my place and try it out a little more, beautiful?â
---
Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi
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wait but also, this being your first "proper adult job" so you're even less sure whether this is a normal thing to be upset about, or if you're just overreacting.
like, soap gets your phone number and address from the employee database thanks to one of his bros in HR, and shows up at your place one morning, saying something about, "starting a carpool program" even though it's only ever you two in the car???
or one day you're helping a customer and maybe standing a lil too close, so soap comes up behind you, grabs your loose hair and yanks just a bit too hard--your head tilts back until you're making uncomfortable eye contact with him. "Just putting your hair up for ye, luvie," he winks, while the customer suddenly feels like they're intruding on a weirdly intimate moment.
then for the holiday season, your team does a white elephant gift exchange and when it's your turn, you're unwrapping some very expensive perfume bottles--there's no way this didn't go over the $15 suggested limit. soap's sliding up next to you, saying something about he's dreamt of this fragrance on you and oh he sprays his bedsheets with this one so he can jerk off imagining you.
im shaking like a wet dog this is doing unspeakable things to me.
you don't even know this but he paid someone off to get your name in the secret santa gift exchange. like actually paid them fifty dollars just to have the opportunity to get you a gift. and you know the second you unwrap it that it must've been in the three figures. you just got someone a fancy mug. and 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."
he heaves you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. really digs his fingers into your sides. doesn't let you go right away when he puts you down. and if you make a comment about it being uncomfortable or it hurting you (you're an adult, you're not used to someone just lifting you up), he just coos at you instead, pouts and simpers like he's so sorry that you're not used to it yet.
maybe when you're assigned to the jewellery section, Johnny pops out of nowhere when you're helping a customer that's looking at some rings and he uses your hand to model some of the rings. and it gets. weirdly intense when he slides the ring onto your finger, like he's holding his breath. he even shudders a bit, presses himself right up against you behind the display counter until the customer leaves because it's genuinely off-putting lmao.
and if he comes in as a customer, jesus christ. be prepared for him to pester you the entire time, insisting on you helping him with his purchases. he'll brush off any other employees looking for you under the guise of you helping him shop, but then once they're gone, he'll go back to interrogating you about your childhood and your friends and whether you have a partner or any previous partners you might've had. makes you follow him to the bed section where he tries out all the mattresses and then asks you increasingly inappropriate questions like what mattress you have, what it feels like, how you sleep at night, what you wear to bed :\\\
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#soap x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap cod#soap mactavish#john mactavish#soap/reader#soap x you#ikea soap
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happy april fools day!
what would april fools day be like with the them?
Lucifer
he doesn't look like he enjoys it, but he's behind several pranks that nobody else has laid claim to. when you get pranked when you least expect it, that sly smile on his face says it all. when you confront him and ask, he simply replies, "oh? is that today?" cheeky bastard lol
Mammon
he tries really hard, but somehow it never works out. they always backfire on him no matter what he does, especially if they're directed at one of his brothers. but he tries every year. can't help by admire that determination.
Levi
he's not leaving his room for sure today. he's seen the way it goes in his household and he wasn't about to get caught in the crossfire. not again. he might not even let you in if he thinks you don't have a good enough reason
Satan
he takes it seriously, but only when it comes to pranking lucifer. yeah, that's literally it for him. he just wants to be an ass to lucifer and he's happy. he would much prefer to spend his time doing something he deems worth it, but if belphie wants help pranking lucifer and others, he will contribute. do not prank him though. that's a time bomb waiting to go off
Asmo
he thinks it's fun as long as nobody takes it too seriously on him. yeah it's funny when it happens to someone else, but the minute someone messes with his things is the minute it's over. like satan, don't make him mad. that won't be pretty
Beel
he only knows about this holiday thanks to belphie and his love for it. otherwise, he could care less. to him, it's just another day. as long as the prank isn't having to eat solomon's cooking, he's fine. prank his food? he's good he'll eat it anyways lol
Belphie
watch your back today, heâs a menace. if you just plead, he might spare you at the cost of a cuddling session. however, if he forgets to disarm one of his pranks, or forgets to let you know not to touch a certain thing, you can request something in exchange as well
Diavolo
pulls all the cheesy pranks and is overjoyed when they work out it's always so obvious that they're about to happen and where they are based on his reaction, and how he's always conveniently nearby. don't burst his bubble please haha
Barbatos
Not amused with a capital N. it's not an issue until it interferes with his work. he works hard to keep everything tidy and in place, and it really messes with him when someone decides to swap to the salt and sugar (diavolo), but won't say anything since he knows exactly who did it
Simeon
he will join in if someone asks, but he's more than happy to just sit back and watch. he'll get popcorn and relax as mammon yet again fails to prank lucifer. he's another one nobody expects, so if you can't figure out who played that prank on you, look to him, since he's even more unassuming than lucifer
Luke
let's be real, he's probably on the receiving end of most pranks just because everyone loves to poke fun at him thanks to the reaction he gives. however, when he tries to give pranks back, it's almost endearing and most people just let it happen to them even if they see it coming to make him happy
Solomon
he understands this human custom/holiday the best, so his pranks, if they can even be called that, are minor at best. expect something simple and cute, like gifting you chocolates he claims is dark chocolate but itâs actually milk! haha how evilly cute
Mephisto
he doesnât get it at first, but once he does and sees that dia is invested, heâs too into it. heâs the type to cut all the bristles off your toothbrush and then not understand why youâre mad. do something just as devious back to make him see why what he did was just infuriating
Thirteen
sheâs probably the most invested out of everyone! her biggest competition is belphie, so he gets the most pranks his way. however, thereâs something hidden around every corner for everyone. not even youâre safe, so say your prayers, or just ask lucifer haha
#obey me#obey me!#obey me x reader#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me levi#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me belphie#obey me simeon#obey me barbatos#obey me diavolo#obey me luke#obey me thirteen#obey me solomon#obey me mephisto#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me! shall we date
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Matching PJs
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
You and Natasha go to the Avengers Christmas party together
Note: Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! This is a quick little something. I hope youâve all had a blessed holiday!
Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist
âCome on babe, itâll be fun,â Natasha says, nudging your shoulder with hers. âEveryone will love it.â
âDonât you think itâs kind of cheesy?â You reply.
Natasha never thought that youâd be the one to not want to wear matching Christmas pajamas.
When Laura had sent her the link, she immediately bought them for the two of you. Now that itâs Christmas Eve sheâs trying to convince you to wear them to the Avengers holiday get together.
âPlease, baby. For me?â Nat asks sweetly.
âUgh,â you sigh. âYou had to say that?â
âI did,â she replies, a smirk on her perfect lips. âBut really, I love you and I want to do this with you.â
âOkay,â you finally relent.
Nat drops a victory kiss to your lips before running off to get dressed. You join her and get ready for the party. Yo have to admit the pajamas do look cute on.
You drive to the compound and the place is already booming. Of course Tony invited more than just the immediate team. But the more the merrier.
Natasha carries in way too many presents that you two got for everyone. You always go overboard for the holidays, but no one ever seems to mind.
âMerry Christmas!â You greet everyone.
Steve is quick to help Nat unload the presents from her arms.
âThanks, Cap,â she says.
âIâm obsessed with these pajamas!â Wanda says. She hugs you and Nat.
âSee,â Nat says with a grin.
âOkay fine. Maybe theyâre cute,â you admit.
âTheyâre super cute!â Laura adds in. âIâm so glad you bought them, Nat.â
âMe too.â
Soon, Tony comes in and makes a speech before everyone exchanges gifts. You and Nat have way too much eggnog by the time you open all of the gifts, but you still take plenty of photos.
She holds you close to her the entire night and whispers soft things into your ears. You have the perfect night. Itâs your favorite holiday together yet.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#soft natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff comfort#merry christmas
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