#i cooked them up on the spot for a christmas gift

[mountainashfae]

been thinking about @/scribblesscribblings's tags all morning on last night's art and felt the need to share what Winter Vio is actually like.

Absalom is a lot warmer than the River Kingdoms.

[fingertipsmp3]

My eczema is actually driving me out of my mind I swear to fucking god

[vunblr]

The Recipe for Us

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Bucky sets out to surprise his girlfriend with a simple yet meaningful gesture, but quickly learns that some things are easier said than done.

Word Count: about 9k.

notes: Second Christmas story for the Roots and Branches AU

The hot water streamed over Bucky’s shoulders, washing away the day’s grime and easing the tightness in his muscles. Sawdust and sweat swirled down the drain in pale rivulets, a tangible reminder of the hours spent at Sam’s workshop. He reached for the long-handled loofah hanging on the wall, pausing for a moment as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Seven months ago, he’d never have imagined himself using something like this. Hell, he hadn’t even known such a thing existed. But she’d gifted it to him after he’d grumbled too many times about sawdust getting into places it had no business being. “Just try it,” she’d insisted, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. “It’ll make your life easier, I promise.”

At first, he’d been reluctant, because why did he need a fancy shower tool? But now, as he scrubbed his back with the bristled brush, he had to admit that he couldn’t shower without the damn thing. It worked like a charm, reaching spots his stiff shoulders couldn’t. Another one of her small but thoughtful gestures that made his life just a little better, a little easier.

That thought lingered on his mind as he rinsed off. Christmas was coming up fast, and he hadn’t figured out what to get her yet. She was always cooking for him, spoiling him with meals that somehow tasted even better because she’d made them. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor.

His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over his damp hair. Cookies, he thought, wrapping the towel around his waist. How hard could that be?

The bell above the library door gave a soft jingle as Bucky stepped inside, shaking off the chill of the late morning air. The faint scent of old books and polished wood greeted him, a familiar comfort. He adjusted his jacket, glancing around until he spotted Martha at the front desk.

The elderly librarian looked up from her paperwork and her face broke into a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery man,” she said, setting her pen aside. “You’re just in time, I was about to set aside a copy of All the Colors of the Dark for you. Brand-new, hot off the presses.”

Bucky cleared his throat, brushing his fingers on the edge of the counter. “Not today,” he muttered. “I, uh, need something else.”

Martha tilted her head, rising her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Cooking books.”

There was a beat of silence before her expression shifted, and amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Cooking books? My, my, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly regretting his decision. “Yeah, well… I just need something simple.”

Martha leaned forward slightly, with curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Simple, huh? Expanding your repertoire, are you?”

“Not exactly.” He tugged at his jacket zipper, fixing his eyes on a spot just past her shoulder. “It’s for… someone. A gift.”

Martha chuckled, with a warm and knowing smile. “A gift, huh? Have you already decided what you’re making, or are you here to brainstorm?”

Bucky hesitated, his ears-tinged pink. “Cookies,” he admitted finally.

Her face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that? She’s lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

He fumbled again with his jacket, slipping the zipper through his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, moving to the shelves. “I’ve got just the thing for you. A beginner’s guide, easy recipes, step-by-step instructions. You’ll do great.”

As she handed him the book, Bucky accepted it with a quiet nod, clutching it like it was a secret dossier. “Appreciate it,” he said gruffly before turning toward the door, his heart thudding a little too fast as he stepped out into the crisp afternoon.

Sitting in his truck, he flipped through the pages of the brightly colored cookbook, furrowing his brow as he skimmed the recipes. The instructions seemed straightforward enough, at least none of them required anything he couldn’t pronounce. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realized he had just enough time to swing by the general store before heading back to the workshop.

The bell above the store’s door jingled as he stepped inside, the warm air carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. He grabbed a basket and made his way through the aisles, collecting the essentials: flour, baking soda, vanilla essence, and a few other things he didn’t recognize but trusted the book’s guidance on.

As he reached the seasonal display near the front, he paused in front of a rack of Christmas-themed cookie cutters. There were stars, trees, and even a set of reindeer shapes. He frowned, holding up two options and debating which would look more impressive.

He was still deliberating when the familiar sound of the doorbell chiming caught his attention. His stomach flipped as he saw her walking in, coat and hair dusted with snowflakes.

Panic shot through his brain. Without a second thought, he shoved both sets of cookie cutters to the bottom of his basket, quickly covering them with the flour and sugar. He angled himself away from the entrance, his heart pounding as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

He took a breath and glanced at his basket. The cutters were well-hidden, but now he was hyper-aware of the faint clinking of metal every time he moved. Muttering to himself, he steeled his nerves and started toward the checkout, keeping his head low and his focus on not drawing her attention.

And that might have worked if Bucky’s frame didn’t stand out so much. The low shelves did little to hide him, and before he could edge toward the checkout, her gaze landed squarely on him.

Her face lit up with that familiar, heart-stopping smile, and she made a beeline straight for him. He froze, gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow shield him.

“Hi honey,” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his free one. Her touch was light, and casual, but it sent a wave of nervous energy coursing through his body. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hey,” he managed to squeak.

Her eyes dropped to the basket with curiosity as she leaned closer. “What do we have here?” She peeked in, lifting her eyebrows as she spotted the ingredients nestled at the bottom. “Flour? Sugar? Vanilla ext-

“It’s for Sam.” he cut her quickly, too quickly. “He asked me to grab some stuff for… for the shop. I needed to come here anyway to buy something for lunch.”

“For the shop?” she echoed, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “He forgot to pick it up earlier.”

Her eyes darted back to the basket. “Okay, but what about you? What are you grabbing for lunch?”

His chest tightened. He should’ve thought this through. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, with a clipped tone.

“Not hungry?” she asked, “You’ve been working all day, Bucky. You should eat something-”

Her concern made his shoulders tense. He didn’t want her prying, didn’t want to screw up the surprise. “I said I’m fine,” he replied, harsher than he intended.

She blinked, taken aback. “Okay…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, as the guilt crept in when he saw the shift in her expression. Still, the panic swirling in his chest made it impossible to backtrack. “I just… I don’t have time to explain, alright?” he stated, in a hurried tone. “I need to get back to work.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’ll see you later,” he added, moving past her with a quickness that felt borderline rude.

“Wait, Bucky-”

“I’ll call you,” he said over his shoulder, already heading for the register. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the weight of her gaze as he paid and left the store.

Outside, the cold air hit his face, but it didn’t ease the heat of frustration prickling under his skin. He hated how his tone had come out. Too rough, too abrupt, but he was incapable of handling it differently.

She stood by the shelves long after Bucky had hurried out, the bell above the store’s door still faintly ringing in her ears. She replayed their conversation, or lack thereof, in her mind. His curt tone, the way he barely looked at her, it was unlike him. Maybe he was just having a bad day. She hoped that was all it was.

But then a few days passed, and she didn’t see him, and the messages were almost nonexistent.

What she didn’t know was that Bucky had been using every spare moment to tackle the recipes in that cookbook. Each attempt ended worse than the last: a disaster of burnt edges, underbaked centers, or cookies that crumbled to dust at the lightest touch.

He stood in his kitchen, staring at the latest batch, which somehow managed to be both rock-hard and sticky at the same time. He rubbed a hand down his face, the other gripping the counter as frustration curled tight in his chest. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It wasn’t just the cookies. It was the nagging feeling that he was failing at something so simple. The harder he tried, the worse it seemed to get. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. He threw himself into fixing it, retreating further into his house and unintentionally pulling away from her.

Each time she asked to meet, he had an excuse ready.

“I’m exhausted, darlin’.” he’d said one evening.

“Not feeling great, the migraine came back,” he told her the next day.

“Now’s not a good time,” was the worst.

When she offered to bring him lunch at the workshop, hoping for at least a few stolen minutes together, he deflected. “Shop’s too busy these days,” he had added gruffly. “Wouldn’t look good.”

Her heart sank every time he brushed her off. She tried not to take it personally, but the doubt started creeping like frost on a windowpane. Had she done something wrong? Was she being too pushy? Too clingy?

Sitting at home with her phone in her lap, she stared at his last message. The usual warmth in his words was absent. She bit her lip, scrolling back through their conversations, searching for some clue as to what had changed.

Eventually, Bucky grudgingly texted Sam's sister to ask for help. He stared at the phone screen, hovering his thumb over the send button. Every fiber of his being wanted to delete the message, but he was out of options. His fingers itched to toss the phone onto the counter and forget this ever happened, but instead, he hit send.

The reply came quickly:

Sure. Meet me at the diner during my break. You’re buying lunch.

The last part made him groan, but at least Sarah had agreed. She was the only person he could think of who could help him without making it a big deal. He’d dreaded this conversation from the moment he realized he couldn’t pull off the cookies on his own.

When lunchtime rolled around, Bucky made his way to the diner, with his stomach twisting with nerves. He slid into the booth across from Sarah, with tight shoulders and fidgeting hands.

“All right,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “You dragged me out here, so spill. What’s going on?”

Bucky shifted in his seat, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I need help,” he muttered.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “With…?”

He sighed. “Cookies.”

“Cookies?” she repeated, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, cookies,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. “I’ve been trying to make them for Y/n. It’s supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t get it right. Every batch is worse than the last.”

Sarah tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “Wait a second. How many batches are we talking about here?”

Bucky hesitated, dropping his gaze to the table. “A lot,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been working on it for… a few days now after work.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A few days? What, have you just been locking yourself in your house this whole time? Baking?”

The remnants of his grilled cheese sat on the plate in front of him, barely touched. she, on the other hand, was halfway through her fries, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she listened to him stumble through his explanation. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat. “Maybe. You know already that when I’m fixated on something I can get-”

“So let me get this straight,” Sarah interrupted, crossing her arms and leaning back in the booth. “You’ve been holing yourself up in your cabin, failing at baking cookies, and ignoring your girlfriend because you’re too proud to ask her for help?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, no? Then what is it like?” she questioned, crossing her arms.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heavy weight of her stare. “I just… wanted to surprise her. She always does so much for me, and I thought I could do something nice for her for once. But nothing’s working, and-” He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Sarah’s gaze softened, and her teasing gave way to something gentler. “Look, Bucky. It’s sweet that you want to do this for her. But you’re overthinking it. Cookies don’t have to be perfect; they just have to come from the heart, she would love them anyway.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he muttered.

Sarah laughed. “You think I was born knowing how to bake? Trust me, it took plenty of trial and error. And maybe a few smoke alarms.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a smile.

“Okay,” she said, brushing her hands off on a napkin. “Let’s start with the basics. What recipe are you trying to use?”

Before he could answer, the bell over the diner door jingled, drawing both their gazes to the entrance. It was just a regular patron, and Bucky’s attention began to shift back to Sarah. But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her. She stood just outside the window, frozen mid-step, a paper bag from the bakery clutched tightly in her hands.

Bucky’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t hear them through the glass, but the scene must have looked... bad. Him sitting with Sarah, leaning casually across the table, with an easy smile lighting up the booth, while his phone sat untouched, with her unanswered messages still lingering in his inbox.

He swore under his breath.

Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something, but then she looked away.

He could see the shift, the moment her walls went up. She adjusted her grip on the bag, straightened her posture, and turned on her heel, walking briskly down the sidewalk.

“Uh-oh,” Sarah muttered, flicking her gaze between them. “Good luck with that,” she added dryly, biting into another fry as he scrambled out of the booth.

His long strides closed the distance quickly, but as he reached out to touch her shoulder, he hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment before dropping to his side. Instead, he called her name.

She didn’t stop right away, her pace faltering for half a second before continuing, though slower this time.

He tried again and she finally stopped, turning around slowly, eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, the words he had lined up fled his mind.

“I can explain,” he said, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance.

She made a small motion with her head, a tilt that told him to continue. She didn’t trust her voice to speak just yet, tightening her grip around the bakery bag.

“I was talking to Sarah,” he began, “About... about a problem I’ve been having.”

Her brows furrowed, and he stumbled over his next words. “It’s-it’s nothing serious, just something I needed... advice on.”

“Advice?” she repeated, with a soft tone but tinged with something sharper.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah.”

She exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled a little. “You know, I always thought I was the person you’d turn to if you needed help.” Her gaze locked on his, vulnerable yet unyielding. “It seems like it's not the case lately.”

“That’s not true,” he stated quickly, words rushing together. “I… God, I’m sorry if I’ve been... distant. Absent. It’s not you, it’s-” He paused, groaning softly as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I have my reasons.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her next words were still calm but carried an edge. “We’re grown adults, Bucky. This isn’t one of those predictable novels where the characters dance around their miscommunication until everything blows up.” She crossed her arms, crinkling slightly the bakery bag . “If something’s going on, I expect you to be concrete with me, not feed me veiled comments or excuses.”

“I know,” he admitted, slumping his shoulders slightly. “You deserve better than that. I just... I didn’t want to mess this up.”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t drop her stance. “Then stop treating me like I’m someone you could mess things up with, and just talk to me.”

Bucky let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, with a low but resolute voice. "I’ll just… come clean."

Her expression stayed guarded, but he could see a flicker of curiosity as he shifted his weight, looking anywhere but directly at her. "I don’t… I’m not great at this kind of thing. Talking, explaining. But I know this. You, us… this thing doesn’t mean anything if it’s making you upset." He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "I’ve been working on something. For you."

“For me?” she asked, slightly raising her brows.

“Yeah.” He looked at her briefly before glancing away again, twitching his lips with nervous energy. "Cookies. I’ve been trying to bake cookies for you. For Christmas. I thought… you’re always cooking for me, always doing things to make my life easier. I wanted to do something for you. Something meaningful." He exhaled roughly, the words spilling out faster now. "But I’m awful at it. Every batch gets worse, and I’ve been so damn focused on trying to get it right that I didn’t even realize how I was shutting you out."

As the story progressed, she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed and fidgeted at his sides, and his eagerness to make things right even as he stumbled over his words. Her expression shifted, the initial frustration melting into something gentler as she bit her lip, her emotions caught between amusement and tenderness.

“Bucky,” she murmured, stepping forward before he could say more. She dropped the bakery bag and hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He froze for a moment before leaning into the embrace, hesitantly circling his arms on her back. They stayed like that, wrapped in silence, until she broke the quiet.

"You could’ve just bought me a can of cookies, you know. Then I could’ve used it to put my sewing supplies in there.”

He let out a low laugh against her hair. "Yeah, but what kind of gesture would that be?"

"A less stressful one," she teased, pulling back just enough to look up at him, with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," he admitted, his blue eyes searching hers. "But it wouldn’t have been the same."

“How about this,” she began, in a soft yet playful tone. “We make them together.”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “I’ll teach you how to make them. We’ll turn it into a little… date. You’ll learn how to do it right, and my gift will be spending time with you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a raised brow. “Before you argue, think about it. I don’t need some perfect Christmas cookies, Bucky. I’d much rather spend time with you, and make sure you don’t burn your kitchen down in the process.”

He hesitated, then gave her a slow nod. “Alright. We’ll make ‘em together.” Then a determined smile played on his lips. If learning to bake with her would give him another shot at perfecting those cookies on his own later, it was a win-win. And this time, he wouldn’t mess it up.

That afternoon, as planned, Bucky arrived at her house. When she opened the door, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him standing there with two overstuffed grocery bags in hand.

“You didn’t have to bring everything-,” she started, stepping aside to let him in.

“I did,” he cut in firmly, gripping the bags. “I’m the one learning here, and I’ll be damned if you’re the one paying for my mess-ups.”

She chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short just yet. You might have a hidden talent.”

He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t argue. Turning fully to her, he gave her a quick, self-conscious smile before she leaned up to kiss him, a soft, reassuring press of her lips against his.

“Come on,” she said, pulling back and taking his hand. “I’ve got everything set up.”

She led him to the kitchen, where bowls, measuring cups, and utensils were neatly arranged. A checkered white-and-blue apron lay folded on the counter, which she promptly picked up and handed to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the apron like it might bite.

“Your apron,” she said simply, unfolding it and holding it up to him. “It’s going to save you from ruining that nice shirt of yours. Plus, it suits you.”

He muttered something under his breath about dignity, but he didn’t resist when she slipped it over his head and tied the strings at his back. She stepped back, tilting her head as if admiring her handiwork.

“There. Perfect,” she said with a grin.

He shook his head, but his lips twitched in a faint smile. “Alright, what now?”

“Well, first,” she began, pulling out a notebook and pen, “which recipe were you trying?”

Bucky hesitated, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I mean… if you’ve got a favorite, we could try that instead.”

“Nope,” she replied, crossing her arms with a playful smile. “This is your project. I want to see what you picked.”

His ears turned red as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled recipe card with his handwriting, handing it to her.

She smoothed it out, scanning the list of ingredients and instructions. “Alright,” she said, looking up at him with an amused and encouraging smile. “Let’s see if we can make some magic happen.”

Bucky grabbed an elastic band from his back pocket, pulling his hair back and tying it into a short ponytail. His movements were quick and practiced, but to her, it was a sight worth pausing for.

“You know,” she said, leaning against the counter with a teasing grin, “you look ridiculously handsome like that.”

He glanced at her, his cheeks warming as he muttered, “It’s just a hairdo for workin’. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Still counts,” she replied with a shrug, stepping closer to nudge his arm.

He ducked his head with a quiet huff but didn’t say more, focusing instead on the task at hand.

When they started reading through the recipe together, Bucky's brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay,” he muttered, “this part says a cup.” As he spoke, he reached for a mug she hadn’t even noticed sitting on the counter, a large, oversized thing that looked more suited for a vat of coffee than precise measurements. She blinked, then glanced up at him.

“Bucky,” she said gently, pointing at the mug, “what have you been using for this?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Uh… one from my cupboard,” he admitted, his tone almost defensive. “The grey one with the red star?”

Her lips twitched, and she pressed them together to suppress a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not all cups are the same, especially when you’re baking. It’s not about a drinking cup, it’s about measuring cups.”

She picked up her set of cups, holding them up for him to see. “These are what you use for recipes. They’re standardized so everything comes out the way it’s supposed to.”

Bucky looked between the measuring cups and his oversized mug, and realization dawned on his face. “So… that’s why every batch turned out so bad,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baking is like chemistry.” She added with a chuckle, “The right proportions make everything work smoothly. I guess you didn’t differentiate the size of the spoons either.” When she saw his disappointed face she reached up to gently pat his shoulder. “You’re not alone. A lot of people make these mistakes when they start. That’s why we’re doing this together.”

They moved through the recipe step by step, she perched beside him, offering guidance but letting him take the lead. Bucky tried to focus on the instructions, but each step felt like a puzzle missing a crucial piece. As he measured out flour and sugar, he couldn’t help but second-guess every motion, leveling off scoops with exacting care that bordered on obsession.

It wasn’t just the baking, it was her watching him. Her eyes followed his hands with a soft patience that should’ve soothed him, but instead left him hyper-aware of every move he made. He could feel her gaze like a weight, one he didn’t know how to carry. His shoulders stiffened further when he noticed a bit of flour scatter onto the counter.

When he started mixing the dough, frustration began to creep in. “This stuff doesn’t want to combine,” he muttered, glaring down at the stubbornly clumpy mixture.

She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his back as she peered into the bowl. Her touch sent a jolt through his body not unpleasant, just… distracting. “It takes a little patience,” she said softly. “You’re doing fine, Bucky. Really.”

He wanted to believe her, but the self-doubt crept intrusive inside him. What if I screw this up? The thought lingered on a loop, heavy and unwelcome. He worked the spatula harder, tension tightening his jaw and making his movements stiff.

She noticed, of course she did. She always noticed. Setting her utensils aside, she slipped an arm around his waist, pulling herself close to his side. Her nose brushed against his chest as she nuzzled him gently, the warmth of her body cutting through the wall he didn’t even realize he’d been building.

“Relax,” she murmured, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re not dismantling a bomb here. No one’s born knowing everything, and you came today to learn. That’s already the hardest part.”

He let out a breath, as her words chipped away some of the tension clawing at him. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his movements were still careful and deliberate as if the dough would mock him for messing up.

She tilted her head with a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. He recognized that look and braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what she did next. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, still sticky with half-mixed dough, and brought it to her mouth.

His eyes widened as two of his fingers disappeared between her lips. The room stilled, and his focus narrowed to her. Her tongue swirled over his skin, warm and deliberate, as she sucked the dough clean. His heart thudded against his ribs, his breath catching somewhere in his throat.

“What… what are you doing?” he managed, his voice raspier than intended.

She released his fingers with a soft pop and a smug expression. “Waking you up,” she teased. “And there’s no way you could disappoint me anyway. I’ve barely been paying attention to the recipe.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

Her lips curled into a grin as her gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Big guy in my kitchen, wearing my apron, looking way too good with his hair pulled back. Take your pick.”

Heat crawled up his neck, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the bowl.

When the time to cut the cookies came, Bucky rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought and pulled out a set of festive cookie cutters. He laid them on the counter, and she squealed in delight, clapping her hands together.

“These are so cute!” she exclaimed, excited.

Bucky’s half-smile turned bigger. “Yeah?”

She nodded enthusiastically, picking up one of the cutters shaped like a snowflake. “Good choice, honey.”

His chest warmed at her praise, and for once, he didn’t feel quite so out of his depth. They worked side by side together, cutting the dough into cheerful shapes. She was quick, deftly pressing cutters into the rolled-out dough and transferring each piece to the baking tray with ease. He followed her lead, slower but methodical, determined to match her precision.

In what felt like no time, the oven was full of cookies, their sweet, buttery scent already starting to fill the kitchen. Bucky leaned back against the counter, pulling her into his side with one arm. She nestled into him, resting her head against his chest as they both stared at the timer ticking down.

“You’re getting pretty domestic.” she teased, tilting her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, letting her lips linger there for a moment. “So,” she began, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “how are you planning to decorate these?”

He froze. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the trays, panic flickering in his blue eyes. “I, uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Her laughter was light but not unkind. “It’s okay,” she said, patting his chest reassuringly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“That wasn’t the idea,” he protested, frowning. “This is supposed to be my thing. For you.”

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll teach you how to make royal icing, and then you’re on your own.”

The timer dinged, and they set about transferring the cookies to cooling racks. Once the cookies were ready, she walked him through the steps of making royal icing, from mixing the powdered sugar to coloring small batches with food dye.

At first, his hands were clumsy, unfamiliar with the delicate work of piping, but soon enough, Bucky found his rhythm. He focused intently on each cookie, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully outlined a reindeer’s antlers or added intricate snowflake details.

She stood back, watching with growing amazement. “You’ve got a steady hand,” she remarked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.

He shrugged, still concentrating. “I’ve had practice. Just… not with this.”

By the time he finished, the cookies were nothing short of impressive. Each one was decorated with precision, from cheerful Santas to elegant wreaths. He turned to her, brushing a streak of flour from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well?” She grinned, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re perfect, Bucky.”

The sky was painted in soft strokes of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping after hours spent hunched over the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave the cookies here to set overnight,” he said, glancing at the rows of perfectly iced cookies spread across her counter. “But I need to head over to the workshop. Got some decorations to drop off.”

“Decorations?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded toward the door. “Yeah, Sam thought it’d be nice if everyone pitched in this year. Made something personal for the display. I’ve got mine in the truck.”

Her face lit up. “Can I come? I’ll help you set everything up.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in her gaze was hard to resist. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go.”

By the time they reached the workshop, the place was dark and locked up for the evening. Bucky fished his keys out of his pocket. “Here we are,” he muttered, unlocking the door and holding it open for her.

The workshop smelled faintly of sawdust and varnish, even in the chill of winter. A few decorations already hung from the rafters: wooden stars, garlands crafted from pinecones, and even a clumsily painted reindeer that had Sarah’s handiwork written all over it.

She wandered further inside, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the holiday cheer. “This is so cozy,” she said, her voice echoing softly in the empty space.

Bucky stepped past her, setting a large box on the workbench. She peeked inside, smiling as she spotted a tangle of string lights. “Oh, these are perfect! Did you really make these?”

“They’re just lights,” he replied with a shrug, and a faint blush on his cheeks.

She picked up a strand and held it aloft, the tiny bulbs catching the last traces of daylight filtering through the workshop windows. “No, I can tell you put effort into this, they are gorgeous.”

Her words made his chest tighten, with a mix of pride and awkwardness. “Come on,” he said, reaching for the box. “Let’s get these up.”

They worked side by side, untangling the string lights with care. She gently teased him when he accidentally knotted a section tighter, but as they kept at it, she couldn’t help but praise him again.

“You’re so good at manual labor,” she said, handing him the next strand. “Carpentry at Sam’s, the cookies earlier, fixing things around my place... and now these lights? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her words stirred darker thoughts within his mind. Oh, if she only knew what else his hands were good at. Things that involve a knife, a rifle, or worse. The memories flickered like a shadow across his mind, a sharp contrast to the festive glow they were creating.

“Bucky?” Her soft voice pulled him from the spiral.

“Hm?” he mumbled, blinking as he looked at her.

“Maybe you could make some lights for me next year,” she suggested.

He exhaled softly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. “Sure.”

Sensing the remnants of whatever had crossed his mind, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his chest. Her embrace relaxed him, the warmth of her touch chasing away the cold corners of his thoughts.

“You still have the ponytail,” she pointed out, glancing up at him with a grin. “I love it.”

He rolled his eyes, though a faint flush touched his cheeks. “It’s practical,” he repeated, focusing on arranging the next strand of lights.

“It’s sexy,” she countered, her grin turning mischievous.

As he worked, her eyes fell on the remaining strand of lights still in the box, and a mischievous idea sparked in her mind.

“You know,” she began, picking up the last strand, “these could do more than just decorate the workshop.”

He looked up at her, brow raised. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

She shrugged, holding the strand up and letting it dangle between her fingers. “I don’t know. They seem sturdy enough to, I don’t know... tie something up?”

His head tilted, blue eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the teasing edge in her tone. “You mean like a post?”

“Sure, Bucky. A post,” she replied, quirking her lips into a smirk.

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “Or something else?”

Her grin widened. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable. Without a word, he plucked the strand of lights from her hands and looped it loosely over her wrist. Her heart skipped, as he moved with the careful, deliberate precision she’d just been praising. Before she could react, he had her wrists gently bound together with the lights, tying them off to the sturdy handle of the workbench vice.

“Bucky,” she murmured, tugging lightly at the restraint, “I didn’t mean... here.”

His brow quirked, as he leaned back, casually admiring his handiwork. “Oh, didn’t you?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she squirmed a little, testing the hold. “What if someone comes in?”

“No one’s coming in,” he said, his voice calm and confident.

“You don’t know that,” she countered, darting her eyes toward the locked door as though willing it to stay closed.

He stepped closer, crowding her space in that way that always made her pulse race. “Well,” he drawled, one hand tracing the strand around her wrists, “you should’ve thought about that before suggesting this creative use for my handiwork.”

Her lips parted, a retort bubbling on her tongue, but it fizzled under the weight of his heated gaze. “I didn’t think you’d actually... do it,” she whispered.

“That so?” His voice was low and teasing as he leaned in and his breath brushed her ear. “Then maybe you shouldn’t dare me next time.”

Before she could muster a reply, his free hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her into a rough, searing kiss. He took full advantage of her startled gasp to deepen it, lifting her effortlessly and laying her back on the workbench.  Her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists binded to the handle, a tether she couldn’t help but tug against instinctively.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a mix of arousal and reason. “We can’t... not here.”

“Can’t we?” he murmured, grazing his lips at the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. His hands, strong and sure, settled on her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.

Her protests faltered as his mouth found the hollow of her throat, trailing wet, deliberate kisses down to her collarbone.

“This is insane,” she whispered, though her fingers flexed against the strands holding her wrists.

“Maybe,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “But you don’t seem to mind.” Her body betrayed her, arching toward him, inviting his touch as he continued his slow, torturous path down her neck.

As he spoke, his hand traced up her thigh, slipping beneath the woolen skirt she’d worn to keep warm in the crisp winter air. His fingers traveled with deliberate slowness, brushing over her stocking-clad legs until they reached her mound, cupping it through her already damp panties. She gasped, tugging against the makeshift restraint at her wrists as his touch sent a jolt of heat through her body.

“In fact,” he murmured, pressing his fingers more firmly against her, “you’re enjoying it.”

Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t summon a denial, not with the way her body was reacting. He smirked at her silence, leaning back slightly to survey the sight of her stretched out on the workbench.

His hands shifted to her hips, sliding her skirt up higher, bunching it around her waist. His gaze darkened as he poked at her clothed entrance, watching the way she arched toward him, needing more. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he let out a low groan.

“The jacket stays on,” he growled, commanding. She blinked at him, a question forming at her lips, but he shook his head. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you freeze on me.”

Before she could respond, he shrugged off his own jacket, tossing it onto a nearby stool. His hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle and zipper in his urgency. “I was gonna take my time,” he admitted, his voice rough with restraint, “but seeing you like this…” His gaze raked over her, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her jacket, and the way her legs spread just enough to accommodate him. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted softly “I want you too, Bucky.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he tugged them down her thighs, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly before he discarded them onto the floor. His own pants and underwear followed in quick succession, pooling around his boots as he climbed back over her.

The heat of his body pressed against hers was a stark contrast to the chill in the air. His rough hands held her hips as he shifted between her legs and captured her lips in a deep, consuming kiss, grinding his cock against her slick folds. She moaned into his mouth, instinctively lifting her body toward him, chasing the friction.

“Fuck,” he rasped against her lips, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “You feel so good, sugar. So wet for me.”

Her only response was another needy arch of her hips, and he growled softly, gripping her thighs as he lined himself up with her entrance. The tip of his cock teased her, as though he was savoring the moment despite his earlier haste.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need, “please.”

His jaw tightened, his resolve barely hanging by a thread. “Don’t be impatient” he murmured. “I want to-” He broke off, swallowing hard as his cock pressed against her entrance, her heat almost enough to make him lose control. “I want to just fuck you right now, but I didn’t prep you. I’m not risking hurting you.”

She groaned in frustration, tipping back her head against the workbench. In her heated state, her filter was long gone. “I don’t care, Bucky. I want it all, right now.”

His blue eyes snapped to hers, darkened with lust but narrowing with a hint of reproach. “Don’t say things like that,” he growled with a strained voice. “You’re making this harder for me.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile, even as she squirmed beneath him. “Good.”

Bucky let out a low, frustrated groan, gripping her hips a little tighter. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. She could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as he fought to stay focused.

He shifted, moving one hand between them to guide himself, while the other kept her firmly in place. Slowly, carefully, he began to push inside, stopping to let her adjust with each inch. Her walls stretched around him, the delicious burn making her moan, pulling her bound wrists reflexively against the lights as she arched her back.

She whimpered his name, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him closer. “More,” she pleaded, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

“Darlin' I’m trying,” he rasped, pausing to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against hers. “But you gotta let me take care of you.”

Her head tilted, locking her eyes with his, and there was so much trust and desire in her gaze that it almost undid him. “You are, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I need it now.”

His restraint cracked, and with a low groan, he pushed deeper, sinking into her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her.

Bucky groaned as her walls clenched around him. She mewled softly, tilting her head back, her bound wrists tugging at the lights as she instinctively moved her hips upward, desperate for more.

“See?” she murmured, brushing his lips with hers. “I told you I could take it.” She teased.

His jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to thrust forward again, deliberately slow despite the tension tightening every muscle in his body.

Her whimper sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock as her legs tightened around his hips, meeting his shallow movements. “Please, baby,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you to move.”

“Just… wait,” he ground out, his jaw tight as he tried to keep himself in check. His restraint was hanging by a thread, but he was determined to go slow, to make it good for her despite the fire licking at his nerves. The way she shifted beneath him, her hips rolling against his, hot, wet, and utterly desperate, was unraveling him inch by inch.

And then she did it, arching her back, pressing her chest against his, and nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue darted out to soothe the sting. “Please,” she pleaded, locking her eyes onto his with wild abandon.

He snapped.

With a guttural groan, he slammed into her, hard and deep. She cried out, a sharp sound that made him freeze with guilt.

“Shit,” he muttered, his body taut with tension. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head furiously, her eyes glassy with need as she squirmed beneath him. “No. God, no,” she whimpered, her voice broken. “Don’t stop. Please, Bucky, don’t stop.”

He exhaled slowly, rough and ragged as he fought to steady himself. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, with a strained voice.

He started again, his movements slow at first, but the way her body responded to him, -arching, trembling, pushing- had his resolve crumbling all over again. He tried to quicken his pace, thrust harder, deeper, but the workbench beneath them was unforgivingly hard, and he growled in frustration, halting mid-thrust. With a muttered curse, he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips, lifting them slightly as he pushed her skirt higher and entered her again, this time setting a punishing pace, the new angle pulling a sharp cry from her lips.

“Better?” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “You just couldn’t wait, didn’t you?” he grunted, gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her.

Her only response was a desperate moan, rolling back her hips against him as though to urge him deeper.

The sight of her body rippling down his, her restrained hands trying to hold onto something, and her flushed face pressed against the wood was enough to drive him wild. “Look at you,” he muttered. “So perfect like this, all laid out for me.” He pulled back, straightening, and gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks as he plunged into her with renewed force. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he pushed her higher and higher.

Every time she gasped his name, every shudder that ran through her body, spurred him on. He felt her tense and start to tremble, and he knew she was close. His fingers slid down to where they were joined, brushing against her clit, and she nearly screamed, trembling and spiraling closer to the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, rough and coaxing. “I know you’re close. Give it to me, sweetheart.”

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up, crying out his name, dragging him into his own release with a hoarse groan as he buried himself deep inside her one last time.

They stayed like that for a moment, with his body draped over hers, ragged breaths mingling in the chilled air of the workshop. He pressed a soft kiss at the back of her neck, and gently nipped the sensitive skin peeking through her jacket.

As the heat of the moment faded, a flicker of practicality broke through the haze clouding Bucky’s mind. His gaze drifted to the polished surface of the workbench beneath her, and the realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. If he weren’t careful, they’d leave an undeniable -and very permanent- mark on the wood.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

She turned her head slightly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft and hoarse from her cries moments ago.

“The bench,” he grumbled, steadying her hips with his hands. “I didn’t think it through. If we…” He hesitated, just the thought of explaining the stain on the workbench’s varnish was almost as mortifying as the act itself.

Her chuckle was low and warm. “Are you serious?” she teased, her body still pliant under his hands.

“Very. Sam’ll notice, and I’m not about to answer questions about this.”

“Fine,” she giggled, smirking over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”

First, he tugged at the string to sever it and free her from the handle, then, instead of pulling out abruptly, he eased back, hands steady on her hips as he helped her shift, guiding her carefully to sit on his lap. Her knees wobbled, still weak from the ordeal

“Bucky,” she began, her voice playful but still breathless, “if this is your way of sweeping me off my feet-”

“Shut up,” a soft laugh rumbled from his chest. He adjusted his grip, shifting slightly until he was closer to the edge of the workbench. With a deliberate steadiness, he leaned forward and gently lowered her until her feet touched the cold floor.

She gasped at the chill against her bare toes, instinctively leaning back into his warmth. “Not exactly a graceful dismount,” she quipped, curving her lips into a smirk as her hands found his forearms for balance.

Bucky winced, a hint of pink creeping up his cheeks. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he muttered, half under his breath.

She grinned, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “You can thank the Wild West novel I’m working on for that one.”

His brow arched as he helped her steady herself. “Oh, so you traded the laird’s sword for the cowboy’s long gun, huh?”

Her laugh bubbled out, leaning into him as her shoulders shook. “You know,” she teased, poking his chest lightly, “you’re catching on a little too quickly to these tropes.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to her wrists, still loosely bound by the string of lights he severed from the bench. His lips quirked into a mischievous smirk as he reached down, gripping the strand and giving it a gentle tug. “Oh, maybe I’m just entertaining the idea of you being my captive, in retaliation for the sheriff messing with my business,” he said, his voice low and playful.

Her laughter cut off with a soft gasp, and she feet her cheeks starting to heat. “Y-you talk about your sister’s novels,” she stammered, narrowing her eyes at him. “But I’m starting to think you’ve read this kind of thing. As a horny teenager, or… I don’t know!”

He chuckled. “You think I spent my teenage years reading romance novels?

“Well,” she said, with a playful tone, “not everyone had the internet back then, and I’m sure there was a limit to how many dirty magazines a boy could buy with his allowance. Especially in a small town.”

Bucky’s brow shot up. “Dirty magazines, huh?”

She grinned, shrugging as she leaned into him. “What can I say? I can totally imagine young, innocent Bucky Barnes, desperate for... enlightenment, flipping through anything he could get his hands on.”

“I didn’t-“

“Don’t try to deny it. It’s not like you had endless options. A boy’s gotta make do.”

Bucky shook his head, his ears visibly red as he muttered, “We are not having this conversation.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” she teased, her grin widening as she poked his chest again, delighting in his flustered expression. “Come on, enlighten me. What did you do for fun in a town like this as a teenager?”

“Worked,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would end the conversation.

“Worked?” she echoed, incredulous. “That’s it? No sneaking out, no rebellious shenanigans, no awkward first crushes?”

Bucky sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor as if avoiding hers might shield him from the conversation. “I guess eventually you’ll find out,” he muttered, “since it seems the people of this town love to gossip like it’s a local sport.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by his sudden reluctance. “Oh? And what juicy tidbit am I missing out on?”

He hesitated, pressing his lips into a thin line before finally relenting. “I was... erm, popular with the girls ’round here,” he confessed in a low and gruff tone, like he was confessing a crime.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she barely contained a laugh. “Popular? Like, homecoming king popular or...?”

“Not exactly,” he cut in quickly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have to grab a magazine to see... you know...” He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand that only deepened the flush on his cheeks.

Her mouth fell open in mock shock, one hand flying to her chest. “Bucky Barnes,” she gasped, “are you telling me you were the town’s resident heartbreaker?”

“I didn’t say that!” he shot back, his ears turning red.

“You didn’t not say it,” she teased, leaning closer with a wicked grin. “Now I need details. How many hearts did you leave shattered? How many windows did you sneak out of at the crack of dawn?”

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his flustered tone betrayed him. “And I didn’t sneak out of anyone’s window, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s hand dropped from his face, his expression shifting into something more subdued. “Anyway,” he said, his voice quieter, “it was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like it was another life.”

Her playful grin softened at his tone, her teasing instinctively halting as she watched him carefully.

“I left the town when I enlisted,” he continued, glancing away as if looking for the right words. “And only came back after fifteen years. When they...” His jaw tightened for a moment before he finished, “...decided I wasn’t enough anymore to be serving.”

Her heart ached at the weight of his words and she stepped closer, reaching for his hands as she studied his face. “Bucky…”

He shook his head slightly, offering a small, forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “’s fine,” he said, though the tightness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Her grip on his hands tightened. “You’re more than enough. To me. To everyone who really knows you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his smile turned genuine, though still tinged with a trace of sadness.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Suddenly she sneezed, suddenly and sharp, breaking the fragile silence. Bucky blinked as if pulled out of a trance, and his gaze swept over the two of them.

He was naked from the waist down, her feet still bare on the cold workshop floor. His brows knitted together as he tousled his hair, flush creeping up his neck. Without a word, he reached for his boxers, handing them to her in a silent but clear gesture.

She took them, understanding immediately, and began to clean herself as he turned away slightly, reaching for his pants. The sound of fabric sliding and belts clicking filled the space, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Once his jeans were on and fastened, he turned back to her with a soft expression. “We should go. We already did what we came to do…” his lips quirked in a faint, amused smirk, “and more. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Do you really have to go back to the cabin?” she asked, “My house is closer to the workshop. You could sleep a little longer before work... and you’d get a proper breakfast.”

Bucky paused, studying her face as if weighing her offer. “You trying to bribe me with food?” he asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She arched a brow, feigning indignation, “Do I really have to bribe you to convince you to sleep with me?” she asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

“I-” He opened his mouth, then closed it, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted to the floor. “T-that’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

She tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I know, honey,” she murmured, affectionally. “I was just messing with you.”

“Still,” she continued, her gaze searching his as her hands settled gently on his chest. “Will you come? I really missed my man these days of cookie quarantine.”

Every time she called him her man, Bucky’s chest swelled with an unspoken pride. His blush crept up from his collar, painting his cheeks faintly pink as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a low murmur, a small but shy smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll give my woman whatever she needs.”

Her grin was warm and triumphant, and she gave his chest a playful pat. “Good answer.”

Bucky chuckled softly, pulling her into a loose embrace. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

She tilted her head, with an amused glint in her eyes. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity. “Well, if you were a little more selfish, you’d know that you could ask me anything, and I’d give it to you.”

His brow furrowed slightly at her words, “Anything?” he asked softly as if testing the weight of her promise.

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his chest. “Anything,” she confirmed warmly.

For a moment, Bucky didn’t reply. Then he gave her a faint smile, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, tracing a soft arc along her back with his thumb.

His gaze flickered to the window where the night stretched on and cleared his throat. “We should head back,” he suggested. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into a soft smirk, adding, almost shyly, “Maybe I’m feeling a little selfish tonight.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Bucky shrugged, drifting his hand to the small of her back as he gently nudged her toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come home with me and find out.”

Dividers by: @/saradika

[calmcoldevening]

Santa Art the clown x reader headcanons

Tw: blood, murdering, some smut, no minors

Note: I just watched the Terrifier 3 and I'm impressed. Can't not to write about this guy

• I hope you've been a good girl all year, because this Santa loves it when you're good. Be sure, he will give you any gift you wish.

• But if you've been a bad girl, that's good too. He loves every side of you, it makes his pants tight. Especially if you flirt with him.

• It will be cool if you like his new costume. Of course Art still has his good old black and white makeup on but the costume is red now. You don't mind, do you?

• Just sit on his lap while he's in the suit and whisper in his ear the most dirty desires you have. God, sugar, he's crazy about you. His buddy will instantly get rock hard and provide you with an unforgettable Christmas.

• On Christmas morning, he will meet you tied up under the tree with some beautiful ribbon. Or your ex's guts. If you're lucky.

• During Christmas, he will be incredibly romantic and will give you a lot of gifts. Sure he stole them, but when did you care?

• Whenever possible, he will try to pull you onto his lap so as not to leave the image.

• He will be glad if you make chocolate cookies and milk for him. He liked this treat too much in homes with children who were waiting for the real Santa.

• In this costume, Art will fuck you like never before. He loves his sweet girl so much. And after all these murders, he feels even hotter, so intimacy will be accompanied by the presence of someone else's blood on his red suit. It may be unpleasant and disgusting, but you're already used to it.

• As long as he wears the Santa costume, he feels warm and cozy. Therefore, he becomes even more clingy, Art literally always wants your hugs or just to keep you close.

• The thought of you looking at him while he's making his new sophisticated weapon makes him so damn hot and hard. But he's still so focused on what he's doing that he can't get distracted. But after that, Art will really give you time.

• He's a damn possessive guy, so now people can often spot you in the arms of a weird Santa. Art just doesn't want anyone staring at you with dirty thoughts. It's better to let these rude people look at him, as long as only he can touch and love you.

• He would love to wrap you in wrapping paper and leave you under the tree as a “gift” to see how long it would take you to get rid of the wrapping paper. He would probably laugh if he saw you in agony. Especially if you were wearing some nice but bloody clothes. Art would have found it damn hot.

• Teach this guy to drink and he will often spend evenings with you in the company of wine or something similar. Of course, this is not his style, but the heat from alcohol in his veins vaguely reminds him of adrenaline and the pleasure of killing. Especially if alcohol makes you more relaxed and playful.

• Art won't let you spend Christmas with anyone else. So just decorate the house and, for example, cook a festive dinner. Art will return and you will spend this magical "family" night together.

[kaivenom]

Since February 9th is my birthday I got an idea, how about what one piece dilfs do on your birthday?

What the OP Dilfs do on your birthday

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: oowwwww, happy birthdayyyy, i am so glad that you asked me for this.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He prefers a rather small event, just him and you, maybe Perona and even Zoro if he can.

But if you want a party with other people, then he would try to tolerate other peoples presence.

Picture this: the backyard of your families house, all with balloons, food and all your relatives from all ages.

Then Mihawk with a glass of wine having to stand children and annoying aunts.

When you didn't found him anywhere, you searched for him and found him with your grandma (or another old female relative) gossiping.

When you left the house and finally are alone, he finally gave you your gift... probably jewelry.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He doesn't make it an official holiday but every one takes it like that cause there is a parade all over the city.

Like a Valentine's day 2.0

Privately he does a big feast on the castle and it's the only time you got to sit on the throne (and not his lap).

Like he says "You are the queen for the day"

He even orders some people to do humilliating things to make you laugh, but you have to stop him and reassure him that you just need to be with him on the moment.

Every one of the crew was invited to the party which means that Doflamingo ordered them the exact gift they have to get you, so you can have everything you want.

Baby 5 told you his plan so you went to thank him for the party and for being so sweet and lovely, at least for your special day.

Sr. Crocodile

A surprise trip, to anywhere you want like... you woke up and he asked you were you wanted to go, you said and hours later there you are.

You went to all the sites you wanted and he even ordered some fireworks for midnight.

He reserved on your favourite restaurant and he even "asked" (he literally threatened their families) to do your favourite cake.

Of course, all the things you've been wanting since christmas, he got them from you.

In the case the trip couldn't be made cause you already had plans with friends and family, expect him to celebrate before you go and wait for you to continue celebrating.

He understands that you can share your time with other people and he won't interfere but he absolutely would use all the other time you had.

Quality time and gifts are his love language so expect that a lot.

Smoker

You both go a day out at work for personal affairs.

He mades you breakfast and put it on the bed, this day, you are the only thing on his life.

You do everything you want this day: a picnic? done, a fancy restaurant? movies and popcorn?

All of it? also yes.

He even tries to cook himself a birthday cake but the attend gets so bad that you had to help him.

He is reticent about it but when you suggested him that this is the perfect couple birthday activity, he accepted.

The ussual movie flour fight type of thing, but you ended up doing the dessert and you finally made your wish.

But there is no better wish than to have spent the day with him.

Akagami Shanks

You are free from all your responsabilities on the ship.

You are the first to be served on lunch and everyone left you alone to be at peace.

More than that the day went awfully normal, even with Shanks, you started to even feel crazy cause nobody even said "good birthday" but they clearly know due to their behaviour.

Then Shanks ordered to arrive on an island without warning, was almost night so you decided to go to your room, a little sad about the day.

So, half an hour later, Shanks lifted you up and forced you outside, to the night, and you saw how they had prepared a surprise party.

You almost slapped all of them for the secretism but you know you have a soft spot for these idiots.

Food, alcohol and cake passed among everyone and lasted all night.

Shanks took the moment when they all were drunk to be more affectionate and attentive with you, showing you how much love he was acumulating all day for the brithday girl

[mayajadewrites]

birthday sex

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆synopsis˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆: you're kento nanami's wife, and today just so happens to be his birthday.

warnings: creampie, mentions of babies, unprotected sex, oral fem! receiving , face riding

happy birthday to nanami kento, i hope you're relaxing on a beach in malaysia <3

"And, done." You lit the last candle on the table before looking around your home that you share with your husband, Kento Nanami.

Instead of taking his birthday off, he decided to work today. He said he'd rather miss you all day and come home to his favorite gift of all.

Life with Nanami is so simple. Once you wed, you became a stay at home wife. Your choice. You love cooking and cleaning for your hunk of a husband, so this is almost a dream job.

You pad over to the full length mirror that stays between the entryway and the living room, making sure your outfit, or lack there-of, looked perfect.

Last week Nanami took you to the mall to go lingerie shopping, to which you picked out a handful of pieces. You took note at the look on his face for each outfit, even though he loved all of them - there was one in particular that made him almost feral.

Your hands dragged over your voluptuous curves, which you knew made your husband go mad. He describes you as 'soft' and 'delicious'. You're wearing a teal lacy one piece, with a deep v that has your tits spilling out. You have a matching mesh robe laying over your body, cascading to the floor in the most angelic way.

Your hair is curled, skin is moisturized and scented with your favorite perfume that Nanami got you for Christmas the first year you started dating, which smells like roses, with a hint of vanilla.

You didn't apply much makeup - it would get ruined tonight anyways.

In the kitchen is a table full of all of Nanami's favorite dishes: sandwiches with your homemade bread, as well as miso ramen. He loves fruit, so you had a plethora of options for him, but you knew he would love the strawberries you picked from your garden that you both love to work on on the weekends.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

You heard tires roll onto your driveway - your husband is home.

To this day, you still get butterflies whenever you're anticipating his arrival.

Like clockwork, he locked the car, twice, opened the door to the mudroom and took his shoes off, then opened the door into the home.

"Happy birthday, baby!" You open your arms as his eyes meet yours. A smile creeps onto his face as he sets his briefcase down, walking quickly towards you to pick you up and spin you around.

"The best gift." Nanami pressed his lips to your forehead, nose, then to your lips. "Thank you, darling."

Nanami's eyes dragged over your figure once he put you down, his calloused hand pressed to your plush hip. "Is this one that we bought last week?"

"Mhm. You like?" A smile tugs at your lips as you give him a twirl.

"Honey, I love." He almost growled, pulling you into his bubble. You wrapped your arms around his neck, piling kisses onto his lips. His mouth wandered to your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on your skin.

"Kento, we have to eat dinner first." Your back arched as you spoke, feeling your husbands fiery lips kiss the sensitive spot on your neck.

"My dinner is right here." He spoke in-between kisses, making sure not one centimeter was left untouched.

"No dessert before dinner my love, you know the rules." Reluctantly, you pulled away to walk into your kitchen. Nanami's eyes widened at the foods on the table - he didn't know where to start. He loves how you always make sure he's taken care of, in every sense.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

"Delicious as always, darling."

"Of course, Kento." You washed the final dish before turning around to face your husband. He's in front of you now as you lean back against the sink, his broad shoulders hovering over you.

"Now can I get my dessert?" Nanami pressed a hand to your hip, rubbing small circles on your skin as the other hand pushed a hair out of your face.

Without words, you answered him by pressing your lips to his. Your lips moved slowly, leaving room for your tongue to invade his mouth. His arms caged you at the counter - the veins on his arms clearly visible. Your hands glided up his chiseled chest, feeling the beat of his heart in your palm.

"You have my entire heart, darling." Kento purred into your mouth as he moved his lips against yours, lewd noises coming from your mouths colliding.

You could taste the strawberry on his tongue as you kissed him, only intoxicating you more. Nanami's hands gripped your hips as he hoisted you onto the counter - him in between your legs as he continued to kiss you.

You looked down at him, relishing this moment. He seemed to be doing the same, his honey colored eyes glistening.

His hands gripped your lace bodysuit, pulling on it ever so gently, making sure not to rip it. Then they traveled up your soft tummy to your chest, kneading your tits with more force.

You pressed a hand to the back of his head, feeling his fresh undercut that he got done yesterday. His mouth landed on your chest, biting, sucking, and kissing the sensitive skin. You felt his fingers push the fabric away from your tit, revealing your erect nipple.

Kento peered up through his lashes, watching your expression as he took the nub into his mouth, sucking slowly. "Oh, Kento." You moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist. Never ignoring your other breast - he gripped it with his other hand, massaging gently.

One thing about your husband - he wants to give you the most pleasure, even on days that are supposed to be about him.

Kento continued kissing, sucking, and biting your breasts, leaving purple marks all over your chest.

"Baby, bed please." You whine, your voice breathless as you feel your body heat up, gripping his shoulders the best you could.

"How can I say no to you when you say please like a good girl?" He purred, holding you up as he stepped back from the counter. You smiled as he walked the both of you to your bedroom, which was also lit with candles. You kissed his cheek gently as he walked, feeling his back muscles contract as your nails dragged along the fabric of his shirt.

He laid you down gently onto the plush fabric of the comforter, watching your hair splay out. He laid down on his back next to you, pulling you on top of him. "Are you having a good birthday, Kento?" You whisper, rolling yourself onto your stomach. He reaches for you, pulling you onto his lap.

"Mm, yes." He gripped the fat of your hips, pulling your body towards his face as you straddled him. "I'm ready for my second course."

"We just ate, Kento-" You giggle as he pulls your aching core onto his face, his hand moving the fabric away from your cunt gently.

"I'm still hungry." You watched his eyes flicker up to you as he plunged his tongue inside your core, earning a moan from you.

Kento fiddled with the body suit, eventually snapping the buttons so he could pull you fully onto his face.

"You know I love when you sit on my face, angel." Kento's hands planted on the fat of your ass, kneading your cheeks as he wrapped his lips around your clit.

"K-Kento-" Your thighs start to quiver as he takes turns sucking on your clit, to burying his tongue inside of you. The room filled with the sounds of Kento devouring your cunt like it was his last meal.

You rocked your hips against his face gently, feeling the contours of his face on your cunt.

He knew that you were close, so he brought one of his hands that were on your ass to your aching clit, massaging it in circles with two fingers.

"F-fuck, baby, ah-" Your thighs pressed together, squishing his face as you came. Instinctively, you lifted yourself up but Kento pulled you right back down.

Once he felt satisfied with his meal, he pulled his face out from under you, which was coated in your juices. He dipped his index finger inside you, then bringing the digit to your lips.

"Taste." Kento demanded. One thing about your husband, he wanted you to know how obsessed he was with you. He wanted you to taste how delicious you are.

You open your mouth slightly as he pushed his finger past your swollen lips.

"Delicious, hm?" He wiped part of his face with the back of his hand before gently pushing you off of him to peel off his clothes. You watched as he the fabric fell to the floor, mesmerized by his physique.

˚ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ⋆

"Kento." You whispered, as if you weren't in your own house. As if other people could be listening.

"Yes my love?" His large hand rested on your shoulder as he pulled the straps down of your lingerie. He marveled in how good the color looked against your skin, his fingers gliding down your arm.

"I-I want a baby." Your doe eyes find his, searching his eyes for an answer before his mouth says it.

"A baby? Are you sure?" He pressed his hands to your thighs. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do that just for me."

"That was always the plan, Kento." You moved your body closer to his on the bed. "We've been married for four years. I'm ready."

A smile graced Kento's face as he kissed you more times than you can count.

"How did I get so lucky with you?" He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

You felt the same. Being married to Kento feels like a fairytale every single day. Like you won the lottery.

"Happy birthday, baby." You pressed a sultry kiss to his lips, cradling his face in your hands.

He look a deep breath as he kissed you, slowly pushing you down on your back onto the bed. You looked down at his lower half, your breath hitching when you see his impressive cock. Even though you see it constantly, every time feels like you've never seen it before.

Kento aligned his leaking pink tip with your cunt, gently pressing as he moved his hips. He kept his eyes on yours as he sheathed himself into you, your walls stretching around his cock.

You closed your eyes as he pushed his entire length into you, his heavy balls hitting your skin.

"Keep your eyes open, honey." He brought his finger to your chin, lifting it so you're looking into his eyes. "I want to watch you as I put a baby inside of you."

Your mouth turned into an 'o' shape as he gained his rhythm, never leaving your gaze.

"You're taking my cock so well, you're always so tight." He praised you as he buried himself into your cunt. "Like a good girl, hm?"

You fight the urge to close your eyes as he thrusts into you at a quicker pace, the sound of his balls hitting your body as he plows into you.

"A-ah, I'm close darling." He watched you as his strokes became uneven. You watched the fire in his eyes as your walls fluttered and squeezed against his cock, milking him dry.

"Kento, fill me up, please."

He could never say no to you. Ever.

His entire body twitched as he put in his last strokes, his breath staggered. "I'm gonna put a baby in that belly of yours, you're gonna be swollen with m-my seed."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed himself into you one last time, coating your walls with his juices.

He emptied himself into you for what felt like minutes. Slowly, he removed himself from you, a whine leaving your lips. You're spoiled with him, truly.

He panted, squeezing your body against his gently as he kissed the side of your face. "Are you okay?"

"I always am my love." You nod as he caresses your face with his knuckles. "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

"I always do with you. And next year, maybe we'll have a little one to celebrate with too." He pressed his hand onto your tummy, rubbing it gently as if theres already a baby Kento growing inside of you.

One thing led to another, and there you were... on his cock... again.

"We gotta make sure there's a baby in you by tonight." Kento chuckled as he pulled you on top of him once again, kissing your swollen pink lips as you pushed yourself onto his cock once again. He watched his length disappear inside of you as his hands slapped your ass cheeks, his head laying on the pillows.

You looked down at your pussy swallowing his cock, shaking your ass is you move up and down his length. Curses and moans left his lips as you rode him, your walls squeezing tight around him.

"K-kento, I'm gonna come again."

"Go on darling."

You rocked your hips against him, your walls twitching around him as you used his cock to fuck yourself. The euphoria hit you hard as you came, your hands clenching his biceps as your entire body twitched.

As he watched you grind on him, he felt another wave of pleasure. He pressed his cock up into you, filling you again.

You're both panting as you come down from your highs, smiles on your faces because you both fucked each other dumb.

"Thank you for being my other half." Kento pulled you into his arms, your face on his chest as you felt his heart rate slow down.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you more my darling."

[princessbrunette]

All i can think about is rafe cameron buying you stupidly expensive lingerie sets for christmas😵‍💫 and then after breakfast he asks you to model them🤭

SANTA BABY ♡

gettin me in the festive spirit hehehe this made me wanna spend xmas with the cameron’s so bad :((

cw: christmas duh, family bonding time, i aged Wheezie down to be like 6 years old bc i think it would be cute idk LMAOOO , suggestive themes but nothing too crazy ❀

At his core, Rafe Cameron liked to think he was a family man. He’d often flip out, misbehave, and shit talk his family members it’s true, but Christmas was a time he liked to put it all behind him (Atleast until the new year starts, and he can start up his usual BS)

As you can imagine, Christmas at the Cameron’s was something extravagant. Humungous white christmas tree with silver decorations at the centre of the house, the outside of the house decked with lights that required enough power to start up 3 yachts, fake snow on the porch and Frank Sinatras Christmas album playing round the house at each corner. The years had only softened Ward, and whilst he could be cruel, hard on Rafe and borderline forgetful of Wheezies existence — Christmas was where he shone brightest, just wanting to do right by his kids and now, you, his sons girlfriend.

Receiving presents from the family was a whole different ballgame to your usual Christmas at home, Ward having grinned ear to ear when he handed you the box with the Tiffany’s heart tag charm bracelet glittering under the Christmas lights of the early morning (Wheezie being Wheezie woke everyone up at 6AM sharp.) Rafe, who’d insisted you’d curled right up to his side on the couch wearing his robe resisted an eye roll, his dad always having to out do him, but you seemed elated and he felt his heart warm.

They went all out, Rose handing you a literal 90’s Blumarine runway piece she’d simply overheard you talking Rafes ear off about, the next 5 minutes spent by you and Sarah fawning over it. Sarah’s gift was next, a set of SKIMS dresses you’d been saving to your Pinterest which she couldn’t help but notice, and of course Wheezie proudly handing you a glittery macaroni necklace she’d crafted you at school, which you had no choice but to act like it was the best gift of all.

Come Rafe’s turn, he simply offered his family a smile and patted your side, turning his head to look at you. “I’ve got her presents in my room, figured I’d give it to you privately.” He teases, ignoring Sarah’s ‘Barf’ comment from her cross legged position on the floor beside her little sister.

The family dispersed for a little while, Sarah helping Wheezie set up her new toys on the carpet infront of the tree, Rose and Ward going to start up the food in the kitchen (Ward insists on cooking everything themselves instead of having the chefs do it, because it was tradition.) Before you could wander in there and offer your help, you were being pulled back gently by the arm into your fluffy robe clad boyfriend wearing a poorly masked excited smile. “What, you don’t want your present from me?”

He slides a box from under his bed when you get up to his room again, covered with thin pink gift paper to hide the logo. He sits on his chair, robe falling between his legs and bare knees exposed outwards. “C’mon, sit on santas lap.” He grins and you mirror him, skipping over, happy and spoiled and perching on his leg. He puts the box in your lap and you peel away the paper to see the Agent Provocateur logo with the iconic black ribbon. You widen your eyes at him as if to say ‘Okaaaay, good job’ before wedging your fingertips carefully beneath the cardboard lip and lifting it, seeing 5 sets before you that was perfectly accustomed to your taste.

You remember your trip to the city with Rafe, it was business of course — but you were happy to tag along and walk alongside him watching him handle things for you and his family. You’d spotted the fancy lingerie store, practically pressing yourself up against the glass of the window as you look inside rambling about how you had so many of the sets saved to your Pinterest, pointing out each with your finger smushed to the glass. Rafe nodded distractedly, phone pressed to his ear, leaning on his hip in his gridded shirt and khaki pants that fit too good, before gesturing to you with his thumb that the two of you needed to get moving again, or else you’d be late to the appointment with a buyer. You pout and peel yourself away from the store.

But that was like what, September? Did he go back and buy it all for you? Order it once he’d returned home with you? You’d know Rafe to hold a grudge, but didn’t know his memory served in a positive manner too. “Rafe…” You coo, plucking out the sets and holding them up to admire the intricate lace detailing, spotting matching garters and whatever else you’d mentioned laying in the box. The thought of him fumbling through your underwear drawer trying to figure out your bra size made you giggle, wrapping an arm around his neck in an appreciative squeeze.

“How’d you remember?” Your voice was high in awe, wanting to hold on to this sweet side of Rafe forever.

“Please, I pay attention sometimes y’know.” He smirks modestly, eyes on the box as he admires his work. “So you like it? Yeah?” His hands finding your hips and giving them a soft squeeze.

“Love it, Rafey.” It comes out muffled, because you’re busying yourself with pressing big wet kisses to his cheek, and then eventually his mouth. He pulls away a fraction, lips still brushing yours and eyes cracking open.

“Gonna try it all on for me though, right?” He drawls in that classic Rafe way that you can never say no to and you nod so vigorously you nearly headbutt him. He pats your butt with a pleased hum and pecks you once more. “Atta girl.”

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

<3

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning. 

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino. 

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,” 

“You’re kidding,” 

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal. 

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever. 

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes. 

“Seems you’ve all been good,” 

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor. 

“Shut up, boy,” 

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact. 

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot. 

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal. 

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins. 

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee. 

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge. 

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll. 

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted. 

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,” 

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then. 

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present. 

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes. 

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place. 

“Gee, Thanks,” 

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him. 

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree. 

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy. 

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday. 

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact. 

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness. 

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,” 

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly. 

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see. 

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room. 

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not. 

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!” 

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself. 

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,” 

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment. 

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering. 

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised. 

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you. 

“Everything alright?” 

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm. 

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen. 

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand. 

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you. 

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one. 

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,” 

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,” 

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. “I’m going to go get dressed,” 

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt. 

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back. 

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle. 

There was war after that, plain and simple. 

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door. 

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold. 

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day. 

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo. 

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present. 

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets. 

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it. 

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened. 

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird. 

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds. 

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead. 

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good. 

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball. 

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same. 

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel. 

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face. 

“He’s a penis,” 

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts. 

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul. 

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,” 

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful. 

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you. 

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred. 

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety. 

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,” 

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino. 

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered. 

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,” 

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,” 

“And that’s my problem, why?” 

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously. 

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,” 

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen. 

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep. 

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking. 

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker). 

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,” 

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,” 

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,” 

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull. 

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits. 

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,” 

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,” Kino quipped. 

“Intentional, sweet boy,” 

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed. 

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing. 

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke. 

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes. 

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children. 

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind. 

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over. 

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons. 

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist. 

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,” 

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,” 

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa. 

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath. 

“Are you going to piss or what child?” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration. 

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,” 

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life. 

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,” 

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?” 

“Mel, I-” 

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,” 

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed. 

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,” 

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component. 

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker. 

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate. 

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,” 

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,” 

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands. 

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt. 

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,” 

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,” 

“It does?” 

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door. 

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest. 

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,” 

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,” 

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,” 

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,” 

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,” 

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?” 

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,” 

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both. 

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached. 

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway. 

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm. 

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear. 

10

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same. 

9

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure. 

8

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter. 

7

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you. 

6

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor. 

5

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

4

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace. 

3

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her. 

2

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

1

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen. 

Happy New Year!

[candycandy00]

Welcome to Christmas Island! - A Sanji x Reader Fanfic

You work on Christmas Island, where every day is Christmas! All guests get to make a wish to Santa and have it granted. When the Straw Hat pirates show up, you decide to grant the wish of their handsome blonde cook. 

Smut. 18+. Sanji x Fem Reader. Implied that Sanji is a virgin. Oral sex. Cream pie. I haven’t written Sanji in 20 years so I hope I got him right!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

You’ve lived and worked on Christmas Island for the past few years, but you still get excited each time new guests arrive, especially when they’re famous. 

It was only a matter of time before the Straw Hat pirates landed on this little island, and all your coworkers were equally hyped up to meet them. You’ve all followed their exploits in the newspapers for months, becoming fans along the way. Even the owner of the island, “Santa”, admires them! 

You’ve looked at all their wanted posters countless times, but one of them stood out to you: a silly looking blonde man named Sanji. While your friends were more interested in the more “cool looking” pirates, you found Sanji charming. You know it’s a silly picture, so you’re interested in finding out what he actually looks like. 

Your chance comes when the Straw Hats arrive and check into the enormous resort that takes up the entire island. They walk in, most of them gawking at the huge lobby full of Christmas trees and twinkling lights. They’re chatting and laughing amongst themselves, and their reputation for being fun-loving seems to be accurate.

Taming your excitement, you hurry over to greet them in your candy cane striped dress. 

“Welcome to Christmas Island!” you say in your cheeriest voice. “Please come in and sit down. I’ll explain how things work here.”

They begin taking seats in the plush red sofas positioned in the middle of the room. You do a mental headcount as you watch them, trying not to seem like an overly eager fan. 

Sanji spots you before you spot him. He steps up beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Such a lovely lady here to welcome us!” he says, placing a quick kiss on the top of your hand. “This island is a dream already!”

When he raises his face to look at you, a breath catches in your throat. He’s way more handsome than you expected! His wanted poster barely resembles him, but the blonde hair and curly eyebrow are unmistakable. 

He smiles at you and takes his seat. You give the group a moment to settle down and get quiet before you begin. 

“On Christmas Island, every day is Christmas! At this resort, you’ll each write a letter to “Santa” asking for a Christmas present. You’ll receive that gift during your stay. Keep in mind we can only grant wishes for material goods or services. We can’t give you impossible things. For example, you can’t ask us to withdraw bounties or give you skills that can’t be learned while you’re here.”

They seem to understand, a few of them nodding. You pass out fancy notecards for them to write their Christmas wishes on, along with red envelopes for them to seal the “letters to Santa” in. 

A woman you recognize as Nami looks a bit skeptical as she eyes the notecard. “How much does this cost?”

Some of the others look at you, curious about the answer. 

You smile and shake your head. “No cost at all! There’s normally a fee, but since we’re all fans of the Straw Hat pirates, even Santa said to give you all the VIP treatment at no charge!”

The group seems happy to hear that, a couple of them actually cheering. Then they all begin writing on their notecards. Once they’re finished, you retrieve them and another employee shows the guests to their rooms. They’re all given private rooms, each one beautifully decorated with festive trees and lights. 

Later, you and two coworkers are reading the notecards to begin processing the wishes. 

“Look,” your friend says, giggling as she holds one out. “The captain just wrote one word: Meat!”

You laugh as you glance at a card in your own hand that says, “A year’s supply of cola”. 

Most of the requests are fairly reasonable and fit the crew members’ reputations. But at the bottom of the stack is one that stands out to you. 

“A sweet lady who wants to spend time with me.”

Your heart nearly skips a beat. You expected something perverted from the famously horny cook of the Straw Hat pirates, but Sanji’s request is surprisingly cute. 

“Can I take this one?” you ask, a little worried that one of your coworkers might have their eye on him. 

The two women look at each other and shrug. “It’s yours if you want it,” one of them says. The other nods in agreement. 

Thank goodness! You didn’t want there to be any awkwardness with your friends, but you were prepared to argue for this. Thankfully you don’t have to. 

One of them leans toward you conspiratorially. “What if he just wrote that as a nice way of saying he wants someone to fuck him?”

You grin at her. “Actually, I’m kind of hoping that’s the case!”

The others squeal in delight and cheer you on. “You get it, girl!”

You return to your own quarters to freshen up and change into your cutest red dress, then you head down the guest hall to find Sanji’s room. You only have to knock once before he opens it. Was he waiting by the door for his “present”?

He blinks as he looks at you, then smiles. “Oh, you’re the one who welcomed us!”

You return his smile. “I’m surprised you recognized me.” There are lots of women working here who wear the same dress you had on earlier. It’s basically the uniform. 

He steps aside, opening the door wider and gesturing for you to come in. “I never forget a beautiful lady’s face,” he tells you as you walk into his room. 

The comment makes you blush, but you giggle nervously and change the subject. “Are you settled in okay? Do you need anything?”

Looking around the room, you can see the closet door slightly open, and a few dress shirts neatly hanging inside. The bed doesn’t appear to be messed up at all, and everything is in its place. On a small table with two chairs, there’s a glass ash tray that’s nearly full. 

“I don’t need anything at all,” he says as he pulls out one of the chairs for you. “But can I offer you something to drink? I’m sure you know what the options are.”

You do. There’s a small variety of alcoholic drinks in the mini fridge, plus a hot water machine with various teas and coffees. 

As you sit in the offered chair, you accept his offer, taking a cup of tea. In all honesty, you just want to watch him prepare something. His skills are quite well known.  

You watch him fix your tea, his hands moving expertly to prepare it in the perfect manner. Then he sits the steaming cup in front of you and takes the seat on the other side of the table. 

The tea is delicious of course, leaving you wondering what you’ve been doing when you make it for yourself. He seems to like watching you enjoy it, a smile practically glued to his face. 

“It’s wonderful! I can’t believe it’s from the same tea we use!” 

After a few minutes of friendly chatting, you sit down your empty cup and get down to business. “Regarding your wish…”

His smile falters, a blush creeps over his face. “It’s okay if it can’t be granted!” he says quickly. “I’ll just take some new utensils, or maybe some rare spices if you have them here.”

Does he not realize you’re his present? He seems to have the wrong idea about your visit. Just how many times has this poor guy been rejected? 

You reach across the table and put one hand on his arm. “We can easily grant your wish,” you say. “In fact, that’s what I’m here for.”

He freezes, staring at you. His stunned eyes shift down to your hand, then back to your face. “You… want to spend time with me?”

“I’d love to!”

He still seems to be in shock. “Are you sure?”

You reach into the pocket if your dress and pull out a folded paper. You smooth it out on the table and slide it over to him. It’s his wanted poster. 

He blanches when he sees it, but before he can say anything, you blurt out, “I’m a fan of yours!”

“Huh?”

Now it’s your turn to blush again. “I mentioned before that all of us here are fans of the Straw Hat pirates, but we each have our favorites. You happen to be mine.”

He’s rapidly turning red. “Really?”

You nod. “I even keep your wanted poster in my pocket at all times.”

He glances at the poster. “But it’s such an unflattering picture of me…”

“You look fun! You look like someone I’d like to hang out with. And yes, you’re way more handsome in person.”

If this were a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of his ears. He almost seems to melt into his chair. “You think I’m handsome?!”

“Of course! I was so excited to meet you, so I happily volunteered to grant your wish!”

He has tears in his eyes as he takes both your hands in his across the table. “This place really is like a dream!”

And so the two of you laugh and talk and enjoy more tea for the next hour. He tells you funny stories about their travels and you tell him about some of the craziest wishes you’ve received. 

At some point, perhaps growing bold from the friendly atmosphere, you say, “To be honest, I wondered if maybe ‘spend time with you’ was code for something else.”

He seems genuinely confused, which is adorable. “Something else?”

You lean forward, subtly showing off your cleavage. “Something more… intimate.”

It seems like a shiver runs through his body, but then he composes himself and says, “I didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to do that.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” you say, looking as disappointed as you can, “because I was hoping it was code.”

His mouth falls open, the cigarette slipping from his lips. You can almost see hearts in his eyes. He seems to be trying to form words for a reply, but failing. 

You stand up and walk around the table to be closer to him. “I’m your present tonight, so you can do whatever you want with me.”

He swallows, looking up at you as if you’re a goddess that has come down to him from heaven. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

His eyes dart about the room, as if he’s worried this might be some prank and someone else is waiting to rush out and tell him so. After a moment, he looks back at you. “Can I k-kiss you?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

He stands up from the chair and steps right up to you. He slowly places his hands on your shoulders. So gentle! He’s treating you like a delicate little creature that will flee if he’s not careful. 

As he leans down, his eyes flutter closed, and you can see the blush across his cheeks. You feel the tips of his golden hair first, then his lips softly press against yours. It’s a chaste kiss, his hands lightly trembling on your shoulders. 

You’ve heard so many conflicting rumors about him. Some say he’s a totally lecherous horndog who fucks anything that moves. Others say he’s a sophisticated gentleman who respects women. Still others say he’s a pathetic virgin who can’t get laid to save his life. You’re beginning to suspect the truth is some strange mix of all three. 

You reach up and put your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss. His tongue finally slips into your mouth, and he tastes like cigarettes and the tea you’ve both been drinking. 

When the kiss breaks, he looks positively lovestruck. But his arms are around your waist, holding you closer to him. You can feel the bulge in his pants, and you lightly grind yourself against it. “What else would you like to do?” you ask playfully. 

“Lady’s choice,” he says, the smooth gentleman peeking out again. “I’d love to know what youwant to do.”

You grin mischievously at him and say, “Sit down and I’ll show you.”

He moves back to sit in the chair so fast, your eyes could barely follow him. You giggle at his eagerness as he stares at you. You take a moment to pull up the edge of your red dress on one side, up to your hip. It’s enough to show him you’re not wearing panties without revealing the whole present. 

His eyes bulge, and you’re guessing something else is bulging even more now. You prance over and then lower yourself to your knees before reaching out and unbuckling his belt. You hear him breathe in through his teeth, and you look up to see his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breaths. You smile as you open his pants and slide one hand in, using it to pull out the prize you’ve been seeking. 

He’s bigger than you expected, and elegantly shaped. It’s such a nice cock, such a waste that it’s been neglected for so long. You can fix that. 

Your hand wraps around it and you slide it up and down the shaft. You can hear him breathing heavily as he watches, stunned. When you lean forward and give the tip a little lick, his hands suddenly grip the arm rests of the chair. You can hear the wood creaking under the force. 

Smiling to yourself over the fact that you can reduce a powerful, famous pirate to this state with one lick, you wrap your lips around him and take his twitching cock into your mouth. 

He groans, his head falling back and his eyes closing again as you begin bobbing your head back and forth, your lips gliding along his length. Your tongue swirls his tip, your throat tightens around him when he’s deep enough, and his panting above you makes such sweet music in your ears. 

Finally he places his hand on your shoulder and says in a strained voice, “I’m… I’m about to…”

You pull back and grin. “Please cum in my mouth.” Then your lips are around him again, sucking lightly and lapping at his tip. 

He looks torn between desire and being a gentleman, but desire wins out. With a moan he releases his load onto your tongue, and you drink it down eagerly. 

After a moment, you stand up, licking your lips. You stand nearby while his breathing slows to a normal pace. Then he looks at you. “That was incredible… you’re an angel!”

You laugh and take one of his hands, placing it atop your head as you lean toward him. “You’re supposed to pat my head and call me a good girl.”

His face turns scarlet, but he does as you wish, lightly patting your head and saying, “Such a good girl!”

You giggle at that, then look down between his legs. He’s beginning to get hard again, which is exactly what you’re waiting for. 

“So? What would you like me to do next?” you ask. 

He looks a little shy and awkward as he says, “Can we… have sex?”

You reach down and pull your dress up, all the way to your waist this time, giving him an eye full. His cock instantly becomes fully hard, his eyes seeming to turn to hearts again. “I thought you’d never ask,” you tell him as you step closer and straddle his lap, letting his lovely cock rest against your slickened pussy. That alone makes his entire body quiver. 

When you rise up and position his tip at your entrance, then sink down onto him, a gasp escapes him. His arms wrap around your body, holding you firmly but gently. You have to wiggle a bit to get free enough to begin riding him, your hips swiveling. 

Sanji groans as his own hips buck from the chair, pushing deeper inside you. Then he pauses, a worried expression on his face, and says, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

You smile, pushing your own body down to take him even deeper. “It feels good when you go deep,” you say, and his breath hitches, his eyes widening before he starts fucking up into you, slowly and deeply. One of his hands is on your waist now, the other buried in your hair. 

As you grind down onto him, his taut skin rubs against your clit, making your own breaths shallow and quick. His tip hits your cervix, and a shudder ripples through you. When you moan out his name, his cock throbs inside you, making you arch your back in pleasure. When you do, he buries his face in your chest, his tongue peeking out to lap at one pert nipple. 

He raises his face to look you in the eyes. “I’m in love with you!” he exclaims, his hands tightening their grip on you slightly. 

You smile, but don’t reply. Men always say that while they’re inside a woman, but you have no expectations. In a few days Sanji will sail away from here and you’ll never hear from him again. But you’ll treasure these memories of being with him for the rest of your life. 

He feels so good inside you, your clit is practically pulsing. He kisses you again, so sweetly. It’s a romantic kiss, the kind shared by people in love, and his hand slides down from your hair to rest softly on your neck. 

It’s all enough to push you over the edge, and you cum while still riding him, your body trembling in his arms. 

Watching you cum seems to push him to climax as well, and he suddenly pulls you tightly against him as he shoots his load into your core. 

The two of you remain intertwined for a while, both of you breathing hard, then his arms loosen around you and you slide off him, your legs partially numb. 

“I’m all yours while you’re on Christmas Island,” you say as you pull your dress back down. “Just call for me whenever you want.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “Why don’t you come with us?”

You freeze. “What?”

He stands up and buttons his pants, then pulls out a fresh cigarette. “I can talk to Luffy. He’s pretty easy going about these things. You could join our crew and sail around with us. We get into a lot of dangerous situations, but we always pull through, and I can protect you.”’

You, joining the Straw Hat pirates? You’ve never even considered something like that before. But it sounds like a dream. You smile broadly at him. “I’d love that!”

He smiles back. “It really is Christmas every day here. I got more than I could even hope for!”

[neiptune]

santa, boy, you're the worst

cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, oliver aiku is the most infuriating idiot you know and this holiday season you unfortunately discover he just so happens to also be maddeningly soft and generous at the community centre where he volunteers as santa for children in low-income families

“Here, this is where you can get changed”, Chiyo smiles kindly as she guides you into a small room filled with dusty boxes and christmas decorations, “thank you so much for doing this, we really needed some help this year”.

“Don’t mention it, I was really hoping you’d find a spot for me”, you take off your backpack and place it on an old table, “are you absolutely sure I’m going to be fine? Eiko said I just needed a costume but I’ve never-”

“Absolutely”, she vaguely gestures with one hand, “just follow Santa’s lead. He’s the one who’s good with kids”.

“I’ll just put this on, then”, you jut your bottom lip out, still not entirely convinced. She smiles again.

“I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be in the main hall!”.

They made a new elf costume just for you. Despite Eiko having a dreadful cold being a big bummer, you’re happy a few coincidences aligned to finally allow you to make something meaningful of the time you’d usually spend home, moping underneath a billion blankets.

There are no mirrors in the room, therefore you can only hope the costume looks good enough. You feel a bit ridiculous but, apparently, the hat is mandatory.

You leave your phone in your backpack and take out all the plastic bags filled with food instead: when you called her to inquire about what you could bring, Chiyo explained that they were all set with gifts but could’ve used some additions to the buffet. You brought all the alternatives for the kids whose gluten intolerance makes it hard to enjoy yummy snacks: carrot cake, peanut butter cookies, brownies, pizza, so many quiches. The previous day was spent cooking and baking but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The main hall is filled with colorful christmas decorations and a table so long, filled with so much food. Chiyo spots you right away and rushes to help you carry all the bags.

“I got this, you can go help Oliver”, she efficiently starts pulling out the containers and you’re flabbergasted for a second.

“Who?”

“Santa! They already started, go, go!”, she indicates the other end of the hall, where a guy in a Santa costume sits on a chair and all around him there’s a numerous group of children on the floor, fawning over him. A giant bag filled with what you can only guess are gifts, is placed at safe distance from pouty lips and grabby hands.

You make your way to them with a big smile, only slightly tense at the corners because you only know one guy with that name but what are the chances? He’s the most insufferable person you’ve ever met. A constant flirt with anything that moves, way too confident for his own good, so unfairly attractive and quick witted. What would he even be doing here, so close to the holidays? No, it must be another Oliver.

The way Santa spots you and instantly opens his arms, warm and welcoming, tells you otherwise. Fuck. You’re now close enough to recognize eyes no one in their right mind would be able to ever forget.

“If it isn’t my favorite helper!”, his tone is jovial and deep, a perfect representation of a jolly Santa. Suddenly, so many little heads whip around to look at you.

“Hello!”, you excitedly wave, “nice to meet you, everyone!”.

“She’s not the elf from last year”, as you position yourself right behind Oliver’s chair and next to the gifts you’ll later help him distribute, a little boy furrows his brows with a slight pout. Before you can come up with something to say, Santa ho-ho-hos his way into the conversation.

“That’s exactly right, Kenji. She’s my side piece”.

You choke on your own spit. A little girl politely raises her hand and Oliver grants her permission to ask her question.

“What’s a side piece, Oli?”.

Oh, god. This is so much worse than what you could’ve anticipated.

Once more, he doesn’t allow you to reply and the grin underneath his fake beard is nothing short of infuriating.

“It’s an elf who helps when my other helpers are too busy”.

“So she’s your side elf? Is she as nice as the other?”.

He shifts in his seat and you quietly sigh, still smiling awkwardly to the children curiously checking you out, prepared for another jab.

“She’s the best”, Oliver turns to look at you with a small wink, drinking in the surprise written all over your features, “why don’t you introduce yourself, side elf? My kids are great, they’re gonna love you”.

There’s really no time to ponder over the words, how sweet they sounded. He’s only been with them for what, a few hours, and is already so protective of them? If he’s faking it, he really is one hell of an actor.

You attention soon shifts to the little, curious faces staring back at you and the thought of Oliver is pushed to the back of your mind. You’re there to make the afternoon special for those kids and you’ll give it your all, whatever it takes.

He ends up being right, they are great. So intelligent, affectionate and welcoming. You introduce yourself and it only takes a few minutes for them to accept your presence completely. There’s an odd sense of familiarity in the way they climb onto Oliver’s lap one by one, sometimes wrap their arms around his neck. They play with his silver beard as they answer questions about what they asked for christmas and he leans down to whisper secrets to their ear from time to time, to either make them laugh or put them at ease.

Some of the younger children grow restless after a while and you patiently placate small quarrels, pick up kid after kid while they wait for their turn and jokingly twirl until they’re giggling against your shoulder, the fabric of your costume squeezed by little fingers.

“Does Oli really work for Santa?”, Riko asks. She’s been in your arms for a while now and you balance her better against your chest with one arm, your other hand wrapped around Kenji’s.

“He does. We’re both in direct contact with him”, you smile.

“Do you ever go to his workshop?”.

“Sometimes we have to, yeah. Santa always gives us so many cookies and big glasses filled with milk”.

Riko hums, enraptured.

“Will I smell as good as you if I eat so many cookies and drink big glasses of milk?”.

Surprised, you fail to come up with an answer for a moment. Then you melt into a chuckle.

“But you already smell sooo good, Riko! I could eat you!”, she squeals with a laugh when you take a fake bite out of her cheek and Oliver turns to look at you both as he helps another little girl down from his knees.

“Trying to eat my kids, are you?”, he grins.

“Just this one for now”, you jokingly wink and Riko giggles once more. Kenji reclaims your attention by pulling at your hand.

“You have to do the thing”.

Lips still curled into a smile, you tilt your head to the side.

“The thing?”.

He nods, solemn.

“Oh, right”, Oliver snaps his fingers, “the thing. Let my elf go, Riko, we have to perform”.

“We have to do what now?”, as you carefully let the little girl down, Kenji slips his hand from yours.

“Santa baby”, Oliver pats his knees and, horrified, you realize it’s an invitation for you, “it’s their favorite song. We did it last year too”.

You let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m not a great performer-”

“C’mon, side elf! You gotta do it!”, Riko’s palms press to the small of your back and, as she pushes you towards an awaiting lap, you don’t have the heart to ask her to stop calling you that.

Oliver welcomes you onto his knees like you belong there, one arm instantly wrapping around your waist and the other on your thighs. He’s warm, solid underneath you. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him and you hate that you’re suddenly tempted to pull him even closer.

“No one told me about this”, you murmur between gritted teeth, tense smile causing a low chuckle to vibrate in his chest.   

“You’ll be fine”, the hand resting on your hip gives it a light, playful squeeze, “it’s acapella, by the way. Give it your all”.

You’re still smiling but fail to entirely conceal the glare as you try to position yourself better against him. Whether he does it istinctively or not, Oliver tightens his hold around your waist.

All chatter stops and, between hushed but still excited whispers coming from the group sitting at your feet, you start humming the familiar tune.

“Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl”, you briefly turn to the kids and give them an exaggerated wink that makes them laugh, “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”, you twirl part of Oliver’s fake beard around your pointer finger and when you meet his gaze, it’s surprising how serious it is. Time to get up, for your own sanity.

While he is supposed to keep up the act and match both your goofy tone and exaggerated motions to make the song playful and appropriate for children, he just keeps looking back at you with something unreadable in those dangerous eyes of his.

“Think of all the fun I missed!”, you dramatically drop to your knees and grab his arm, “think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed!”, he finally seems to be shaken from his weird stupor and gasps loudly, looking back and forth between you and the giggling audience.

“Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my christmas list?”, you pout as Oliver shakes his head no, feigning disappointment. A few kids whine in fake sadness.

“I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot… right?”, you beg for their approval and it makes you chuckle that they erupt in agreeing cheers right away, “been an angel all year!”.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight”, with a deep sigh, you desperately squeeze his hand for a moment before getting up once more and continuing your performance around the audience with a skip in your step, hands behind your back as you sway and twirl around them.

“Please help me ask him, everyone!”, you implore, “so hurry down the chimney tonight”. They do join you in your plea, to which Oliver audibly slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight”, you slowly approach his chair once more and the playfulness in his stare seems to vanish once more, fingers twitching on knees you don’t sit on, “hurry, tonight”, with a small smile, you twirl one last time and then bow deeply as the audience immediately starts clapping at the end of your performance.

“Oli, I want a yacht”, Riko pouts and her sister next to her giggles.

“I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart”, he smiles, then looks at you once more, “wanna help me give out this year’s gifts? Maybe we’ll find a yacht somewhere”.

He doesn’t even get to finish the question: in a matter of seconds, you’re both surrounded by exuberant little kids who are way too excited to find out what Santa’s helpers have in store for them this holiday season. The youngest of the group, six year old Tsumugi, raises her little arms and Oliver bends down to pick her up, balancing her on his leg.

You didn’t think the community centre would be able to put together enough funds to get… all those presents. There are so much. Enough for each child to get three or four. Clothes, audio book players, lego sets, tablets, dolls, water marbling kits, headphones, books. An entire, separate bag is filled with signed soccer uniforms. You discreetly glance at Oliver, busy helping Hiro unwrap his third present.

You remember very few details about the blue lock project, from which some of the current top players of the globe suddenly came out years ago. You know he was part of it at some point and of course you remember his past as captain of the former U-20 team. Oliver is still one of the best known soccer players in Japan and clearly he is friends with those guys. But the fact that he went out of his way to make sure he had all those uniforms for these kids, stirs something in your chest.

As you hand out the shirts, little squeals make you smile.

“Riko, this one’s from Nagi”, the little girl practically snatches it from your hand, “wait, don’t push, there’s one for each of you! Who asked for the Kaiser one?”.

“Oli, will you keep your promise next year?”, Tsumugi, still in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder as she hugs a new teddy bear to her chest. He hums, one hand rising to boop her nose.

“You have my word, sweet girl. I told Yoichi you wanted to meet him and he was so sad he couldn’t make it today. He promised he’ll come next time”.

“Look what he sent you”, with a grin, you hand her the shirt Isagi signed for her. The way her eyes light up makes you wish for Eiko to be sick once more, the following year.

It’s the evening when parents slowly start arriving to collect their kids and thank everyone for the organization. You and Chiyo welcome them by the door and offer warm cups of tea. Those who are not in a rush are more than welcome to eat something despite the buffet having been more or less devoured by now.

As soon as you’re alone with Chiyo once more, the last remaining parents shaking hands with Oliver as they say goodbye, you deflate in a chair. Your legs hurt, you didn’t eat anything and you feel so tired but also immensely rewarded.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”, with a smile, Chiyo pushes a water bottle towards you.

“So fun. You were right, he’s good with kids. Remembered all their names and everything”.

She chuckles.

“Well, I’d hope so. He comes every year”.

You stare back.

“Every year?”.

“Yeah, since forever. And he always gets so many extra presents for them, never accepted a single yen back”.

You sip on your water, unable to come up with something to say. Oliver Aiku, the same unbearably smug idiot who’d pissed you off endlessly each time you had the unfortunate chance of meeting him thanks to your cousin Shuto, seemed so different today. Patient, caring, attentive, fun. So generous.

You watch as parents bow to him and he bows back, ruffles their kid’s hair, laughs when Tsugumi hugs his legs. This is not good, not good at all, judging by the way your heart fumbles in your chest as he meets your gaze from across the room.

The elf costume is shoved into your backpack but the drawings and notes some of the kids made for you are placed on the table right next to it as you put on your coat. You’ll keep them in your hand, against your chest and underneath the warm fabric if you must, in case it’s still snowing outside. You’d hate for anything to happen to such precious cargo.

“You know, Riko has a point”, the gravelly voice so close to your ear makes you jump, “you really do smell good”.

“Try taking a shower”, your intention is to turn around with a scowl but the second you do, your back is pressed to the table as he leans forward and rests his palms on the rough surface. The sharp inhale you take makes him smile.

“Nah, I think it’s really just you”.

You stare back for a moment, then clear your throat, trying your best to not appear intimidated.

“Who knew you were so good with kids. They love you”.

Oliver pulls back, leaving you enough space to put a safe distance between your bodies.

“Well, who knew you were such a great cook. How long did it take to make all that food?”.

Much to your irritation, a smile threatens to appear on your lips. He deflects when complimented? Fuck. Off.

Your mind traces back to how protective he was of them. My kids. It’s sickening, really.

“You didn’t eat anything all day”, the softer tone catches him off guard for just a second, “take some leftovers”.

Oliver hums, something flashing across his features so quickly you may have imagined it. Then, he starts unbuttoning the red velvet jacket he’s still in.

“Don’t be so thoughtful, it’ll make me hard”.

Astonished, you look at him.

“What are you doing?”

He discards the jacket with a grin, hat and fake beard already discarded before entering the changing room.

“You didn’t think I’d leave in this, right?”.

“You could’ve waited until I left the room”.

Oliver rubs his chin in exasperating, fake pensiveness.

“Yeah, I could’ve”, his signature smirk makes you want to punch him in his handsome face, “but there’s this girl I like. Maybe if I impress her, she’ll finally give me a chance”.

You chalk the heat rising to your cheeks up to the thermostat temperature being too high. When you murmur a confused, hasty goodbye and attempt to make your leave, drawings safely tucked underneath one arm, Oliver gently wraps a hand around your wrist.

“It’s snowing. Let me give you a ride”, the way his thumb tentatively grazes the sliver of skin underneath your sleeve makes you shudder. He does it again, intentional, serious eyes boring into yours to make sure he's not crossing a boundary. Your mouth feels dry.

“Wait for me?”, Oliver offers, gentle. There’s no trace of his previous teasing and you’re painfully aware of how long the silence is stretching for, a weird vibration to the moment laced in your aching hesitation.

Another beat passes before you relax under his touch.

“I’ll be outside”.

[brynnterpretations]

Where Damage Isn’t Already Done

Victoria Neuman x Wife!Reader

The worst thing about it is the coffee.

⌗ fluff ⌗ fix-it ⌗ short-fic ⌗ title from "where damage isn't already done" by the radio dept.

Contains spoilers for The Boys, Season 4, Episode 8. Please do not click read more unless you have watched it.

You and Vic had talked about what your dream home with each other would be even when you first started dating. It was therapeutic, you supposed; considering you met each other at a Vought gala, you knew that you wouldn’t be very normal, nor would your relationship. Even if you somehow got everything you wanted — Vic as President, you practicing law, conflict of interest only in the bedroom — there was no such thing as retiring. Or relaxing, really. So, you talked about it. Vic wanted a beautiful home in Big Sur, overlooking the ocean, with an easy route down for Zoe to play, or maybe a Roman villa in the heart of the Spanish countryside, surrounded by sheep and farm animals — you’d be the ones taking care of them, though, Vic did not do farm animals. Certainly, it wasn’t this.

“Where is this, even?” asked Zoe. Honestly, neither you nor Vic really knew outside of being somewhere in the southwest, where even the bison looked miserable. You took another glance at your new ID on the table, your fake name and fake smile staring back at you. Despite you three being on strict orders from the CIA and the entirety of the Boys coup to never leave the house — thank God they’d given you basic living essentials — they’d still given you IDs just in case.

You sat down at the table. Victoria flipped through Zoe’s homework assignment, taken from a homeschooling book Hughie was kind enough to give to you all considering you weren’t permitted to use Internet, before passing it to you. You snorted quietly once you took a glance; it was English, a weak spot for Vic, considering her aversion to anything impractical. You doubted she wanted to hear anymore about Moby Dick than she’d probably already heard years ago. “Well, the thing they stressed was where we’re not.” 

Zoe made a sour face, but when Victoria pressed a kiss to her forehead, it dissolved. She passed you a cup of coffee and sat at the table. “How’s the book?”

“Fine,” shrugged Zoe. “It’s easy.”

Looking over Zoe’s essay, you could tell she’s telling the truth. “This is great, Zoe.”

“Thanks,” smiled Zoe. She ate her Cheerios with a bit more enthusiasm. You all were still getting used to not having fresh-cooked food. You took a look at the coffee. Truthfully, you and Vic had become huge coffee snobs after you came across the term “third-wave coffee” on Twitter, and as you looked into its inky depths, you tried to forget about Café Integral and Third Rail. Do not think of a rosemary espresso tonic right now. Do not think of a rosemary espresso tonic right now. 

“Oh, Jesus,” she said suddenly, spitting out her coffee. “I don’t think there’s even any coffee in this.” 

You looked over at Victoria, who was dressed in an argyle sweater, slacks, and fuzzy socks that you’d gifted her for Christmas, even though neither of you celebrated. It wasn’t often you didn’t see her in her power gear or without makeup, and she looked younger. Better. It would be stupid to think that it made her look carefree — you all were boiling with tension, terrified of laser beams blasting through the creaky, deteriorating front door — but it certainly made it feel different. As if, after you and Vic had bled and fought only to end up where you started again in New York City, you were finally somewhere that would bring different results.

“I’ll get you some water,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Maybe you weren't in a vista house or beside beautiful oceans or even in a place that had good coffee, but as Zoe and Vic began bickering over Moby Dick, you couldn't imagine why that would ever matter.

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Early Christmas Gift

Paring: Stucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Steve surprise you for Christmas.

Word Count: 820

Warnings: None just some Christmas fluff.

A/N: Happy Holidays to all💗

It was a crisp December morning morenotably, it was Christmas Eve when Steve and Bucky decided to surprise you early for Christmas. The plan had been simple. They'd show up unannounced to your apartment, sneak in, and catch you off guard before you could finish whatever holiday preparations you had in store. They’d expected to see you wrapped up in holiday cheer, maybe a little frantic, but still festive.

But when they arrived at the door and slipped inside quietly, they found something entirely different.

The apartment was warm and smelled of cinnamon, gingerbread, and butter, the scent of holiday baking filling the air. The kitchen, however, was another story. Flour was scattered across the counters like a soft dusting of snow, and pots and pans cluttered every available surface. You stood at the stove, hair tied up in a messy bun, flour streaked across your cheeks, and a little bit of icing smeared on your cheek as you worked over a batch of cookies, humming softly to yourself.

The sight made Steve’s heart swell with affection. Bucky, for his part, couldn't stop smiling as he leaned against the doorframe, taking in the chaos that somehow felt like home.

You didn’t notice them right away, lost in the rhythm of cooking and baking. You were wearing an oversized red sweater with a reindeer on it, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and a pair of old leggings that had seen better days. A pair of mismatched Christmas socks peeked out from beneath the leggings, and your feet shuffled back and forth as you worked, clearly oblivious to the world outside the kitchen.

It was the perfect kind of mess. The kind of mess that told them you were relaxing, wrapped in the joy of the holiday spirit and the comfort of your own home.

Bucky cleared his throat, and You jumped, nearly knocking over the bowl of cookie dough in your hands. You spun around, wide-eyed, a little flustered, and immediately blurted out, “You two are home now! I’m in the middle of baking, I look like a disaster, and—”

But Steve was already stepping forward, grinning as he gently cut you off. “You look perfect, Doll. We didn’t mean to surprise you this way, but we couldn’t wait for Christmas.”

Bucky snorted, stepping into the kitchen. “Yeah, Steve’s right. We love seeing you like this—chaos and all.”

You blinked, then looked back at the kitchen. You hadn’t expected your boyfriends to see you like this, especially not before Christmas. There were flour smudges on the floor, sticky sugar dribbled down the front of your sweater, and you felt like a mess. But as you met their eyes, both men looked at you like you were the most beautiful, glowing person in the world.

A little self-conscious, you wiped at your cheek. “Well, I guess if you two can handle the kitchen disaster, I’ll just have to finish baking,” you said, with a teasing tone in your voice.

Bucky chuckled and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. “Don’t mind us. We’re happy to watch and eat whatever you throw at us. This smells amazing!.”

Steve leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze soft and affectionate as he watched you. “Yeah, we came early to help, but looks like you're handling everything just fine.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You want to help?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, and Bucky immediately jumped up.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, his enthusiasm making Steve laugh.

You handed him a bowl of pre-made dough. “You can start by rolling out these cookies. Try not to eat too many of them, alright?”

Bucky saluted you, then began rolling the dough with a level of focus that was almost comical. Steve found himself a spot on the counter, watching you both work in a comfortable silence, the sound of flour dusting the air and the soft hum of the oven filling the room.

At that moment, you caught Steve’s gaze again, your smile soft and genuine. There was something about this chaos, about sharing it with them, that made the holiday season feel even more special. They weren’t just coming home for the cookies or the presents or the decorations—they were here because they wanted to be with you, mess and all.

Steve smiled back, his heart full. “We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, than with you” he leaned over and kissed your forehead. You hummed before going back to helping Bucky.

Sook the kitchen was filled with laughter, the clinking of baking utensils, and the warmth of love, it was clear that this Christmas would be one they'd all remember. No perfectly decorated tree, no perfect holiday meal could ever be more meaningful than moments like these. Just the three of you, together, enjoying each other’s company in the mess of the holiday season.

Tags 🏷️

@caothicshit @missvelvetsstuff @hallecarey1 @just-another-blog34411 @foxherder @springdandelixn @hannibals-favourite-meal @imyourbratzdoll @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @sarahrogersevans @tomandcakes @lyds247 @raajali3 @supraveng @kingkamk @loopsisloops @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @nana1000night @ladyofthestayingpower

[ioniansunsets]

I'm so curious how Christmas would go with each one of the heartsteel and what they would give us!

✖ Heartsteel Gifts + Christmas Date ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: This year there's a party at the Riot Music HQ and all the boys are invited to join with their partners heheheh its 8am did I spend the last 12h brainstorming and writing this? Yes. Not proofread. I am closing my eyes and enjoying my x'mas date and party wwwww ---- Shieda Kayn

The only time he wakes up bright and early. The second the sun rises he is up and waking You up as well.

Excited man child. Kayn would be the kind of guy that might dye his hair red and green instead just to enjoy the festivities. Paired with a full black Santa outfit that matches yours (he bought it for you).

Bringing you out to have a nice lunch with his dad before going on a shopping spree with you in town. Kayn’s Christmas plans for you both are non-stop activities from snowball fights to ice skating, before ending with a nice gathering at the main studio with the Heartsteel members, other Riot Music stars and some staff.

Kayn wouldn’t really have Christmas gifts planned for you, an impulsive lover he would just buy and give you whatever the moment he sees it. So when it came to Christmas itself, it was more on a gift that he spotted a little over a week ago that he thought would be perfect for you.

Wrapped surprisingly well in fancy paper and a cute bow he’d hand you a small box. It was matching rings with him. Not like fancy marriage or anything. Just fashion jewelry that had gems in your favourite color. Not to mention it might…have been something…he stole from his stylists last photoshoot… Let’s not make eye contact with them over by the snack table yeah?

Ezreal

Ez wakes up at a reasonable time around breakfast. But spends at least an hour just snuggling with you in his arms as he uses his phone to check up on social media. Humming Christmas tunes as he presses his cheek into you.

When he finally gets up, he drags you up along with him, getting ready by finding fashionable matching outfits for a date out in town. He was Ezreal after all. It was a day full of influencer brand deal Christmas parties that he was fully intending to milk for their freebies.

Branded bags, perfume, fancy lunch at a restaurant, caroling and then even more free facial products and clothes. Both your hands were full of PR goodie bags by the time you two had to leave for the Riot Music party.

Ezreal would have entirely forgotten about your present. Not that he forgot to buy it. But he forgot to bring it. Awkward laughing as he gives you shitty excuse after shitty excuse to try and slip away from you before the party. He finally manages to sprint/blink back home to pick up the fancy paper bag he had hidden under the bed for over a month.

Handing it to you with a smile as sweat drips down his brow. Ezreal sheepishly laughs as he watches you open it. A pair of sunglasses that not only match his but have both your names engraved on each arm. A unique and expensive gift that will no doubt remind you of him and tell others just who your boyfriend is.

Sett

Sett would be up early. Wanting to cook some of Ma’s signature family recipes. Making things to bring to Christmas dinner for the party with the Riot Music idols and staff later at night. He’d tries his best not to wake you though, so it is the warm smell of delicious food that pulls you out of bed after him shortly after.

He wouldn’t have planned a super eventful day, going to gym early before you woke, cooking things and packing them, getting dressed before going out with you. Hanging out at the studio with you in his arms as the two of you chat and catch up with friends. Its warm and homey the kind of feeling where old friends are just catching up with each other after a hectic year.

Helping to set up the party, Sett would pick you up to reach the top of the tree. Putting the star up. Decorating the walls and doors. Sneaking you off into the break room to snack on a homemade meal he made just for the two of you for lunch.

When it comes to gifts, Sett has this planned for months. Asking mom for help as he worked on it himself slowly in his free time between shows. Smiling proud as he hands it to you over lunch. He spent countless hours making a hand-bound scrapbook of all your dates for the year, receipts, memories, polaroids, ticket stubs, handwritten reviews on what he loved about each date as well as cute memos on your outfits too. Messy drawings and loving hearts drawn around you two. It was a sweet summary of the year to keep as memories for you both.

Aphelios

Staying up late the previous night, Aphelios would sleep in on Christmas morning, a soft mumble as he hugs you close in the cool weather. Pulling the sheets up high, making sure the two of you stayed warm in bed.

Only as hunger starts to catch up does he finally languidly get up from bed. The hustle and bustle outside from Sett cooking something paired with screams of kids in the streets finally forces him to wake. Pouting the whole time as he holds you tight

Disgruntled murmurs, all Aphelios wants to do on the holiday is to rest. Always up late working he just wanted to hold you in his arms as he lazes around until obligations catch up to him and that’s what he does. Offering to have a movie marathon with you. Raspy laughter as he wraps the both of you up in blankets. Inviting you to get comfy as he goes out to make the both of you hot chocolate.

Aphelios’ gift was something he spent a long time stressing over. It had to be perfect. It had to be something that you wouldn’t get for yourself. And so this is what he ended up with. A pair of headphones the exact same as his with the nifty little ability to share the same audio source he was listening to. Placing them gently on your head as he turns on the movie for the day.

When the two of you left for the party. It was his arm around your side his head resting gently against yours in the cab as Aphelios’ music gently plays in your ears. His fingers tapping on your side in beat as the two of you listen in together.

Yone

It was one of the few times that Yone actually gets to spend time at home with his brother, so when Christmas rolls around you were invited to come live with him at his old place in the suburbs. Chilling with him in the comfort of his old room as he shows you things around his place.

His Christmas plans included more mundane things, spending breakfast with you and Yasuo. Going out for a walk in the nearby park to see the Christmas decorations, bringing you out for lunch at places he used to frequent in his youth. As the sun begins to set the two of you set off for the party.

Showing up with drinks and gifts for everyone in Heartsteel. Yone ushers you in and settles his commitments before returning to your side shortly after. Holding up a small fancy gift bag, Yone awkwardly hands you the gift.

Pulling it out you see a wooden beaded bracelet made of a few different colored woods. Alternating into a beautiful pattern. As Yone helps put it around your wrist he brings up how he spent the time away from you hand carving each beat himself. Wanting to give you something to show how he is always thinking of you and how dedicated he was to his one and only lover.

K'Sante

K’Sante wakes up bright and early, excitedly waking you too. Telling you he has a day full of surprises planned and wants to make sure you’re ready for it. Breakfast in bed, fancy new outfit picked out for you already in your favorite colors. A secret schedule and cheeky smile as he leads you out to town.

Bringing you to the Christmas market, everything is on him. He tells you to buy what you want, eat what you want, he’d pay for it all. Pampering you with snacks and trinkets. Also assuring you that this isn’t his Christmas gift for you. It was simply something he felt like you deserved this holiday.

So when it came time to leave for the dinner party, the two of your were parked outside the studio for a little while. Finally, he uncovers the huge, well wrapped, present that had been sitting in the back the whole time.

A Christmas gift? More like Christmas gifts. K’Sante went all out giving you a whole hamper of things he thought of buying for you over the months. Fluffy bath robes, a silk mask, new skincare, a spa voucher, lotions, a new wallet and bag, tickets to a concert the two of you wanted to go as well as a matching reservation for dinner during the new years. He was your man, and no partner of his was going to not get a full self care package.

----

BONUS

Alune

A manager through and through. Alune would have a fun day of activities planned out for the two of you. Laughing happily as she helps tie a scarf around your neck that suspiciously looks not only hand knitted but also exactly like the one she has around her neck right now that you may or may not have mentioned finding it cute a while back when winter first rolled around.

The day is filled with cute things, ornament making, ice skating, a snowball fight with her brother and the kids in the neighborhood that ends in her laughing and hiding behind you as you get pelted with snow. All sweet winter memories that you two look back on.

As it nears lunch, you and Alune go on a double date lunch with Aphelios and his partner at a small cafe a few streets down. Reserving a specially ordered mini log cake that she takes photos of excitedly before sharing it with you.

Leaving for party later the two of you dress up in matching winter coats. Alune bashfully admitting to you finally that she spent the past month learning how to knit to make you a scarf. Hiding her face in hers slowly as she speaks, telling you how she wasn’t always the best at crafts and stuff but wanted to get you something that would smell like her and remind you of her so she ended up with this.

Reaching out to hold the back edge of the scarf up to your face, ignoring the slightly misaligned stitches, you see a heart with your initials next to hers. Giggling softly yet again as she looks at you, Alune tells you how she knows its kinda cheesy, but stuff like that were back in trend now anyways right?

[4only1]

Feliz Navidad - Secret Santa Part 3 (King's Edition)

Featuring: Jichang Kwak, Taesoo Ma, Seongji Yuk, Gitae Kim, Gongseob Ji, Seokdu Wang, Jaegyeon Na

Masterlist -----------------------

Jichang Kwak

Unfortunately, when someone has a job, it leaves them very little time to participate in something as silly as secret santa. Unfortunately, Jichang, the man you wanted to so desperately participate in secret santa, had a job.

You sat on a bench, pouting your lips. You really wanted Jichang to participate so you could rig it and give him a gift. Why can’t the gods do you a favour for once and let you cause some mischief.

You heard the crunch of boots against snow to your side, but decided to ignore it, too sad. Atleast, until a familiar voice spoke.

“Does me not participating in secret santa really make you that sad? Well then, I suppose I’ll have to participate next year, no matter how busy I am.”

Sitting up straight, Jichang was standing in front of you, a cigarette between his lips. You stared, at a loss for words. It only took him 5 seconds to see what was wrong with you. You felt stupid now knowing that even when he was busy, he made the time to come and find you. And you were just complaining about not being able to surprise him.

“It’s okay to be upset with me. I wanted to participate, but they needed me to work more hours. Come over for Christmas dinner though. We could use someone who actually knows how to cook” Jichang said, placing a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

As he walked away, a deep red blush appeared on your face. You curled into a ball, letting out a scream.

“Ahhhhhh, how can such a man exist”

----------------------- Taesoo Ma

Taesoo’s large hands were covering your eyes as he led you to who knows where. Well…he did, he just wouldn't tell you. You had almost tripped a dozen times by now, getting more impatient with each step.

Finally you both came to a stop. 

“Okay, you ready?” He grumbles out. His hands move away from your eyes and you stare in confusion.

In front of you was the wilderness, trees rustling with the wind. You stare up at Taesoo, waiting for an explanation on what was happening.

“You told me about how cool it is to own a mountain, so I got you your own.” He said, his voice dead serious.

Now that is not something you see everyday. You never thought this man would go out of his way to buy you something you had mentioned in passing a while ago. Your jaw was on the ground. In shock, at how much money this man actually had to buy multiple mountains.

Taesoo picks your jaw up, closing your mouth, before lecturing you a bit.

“Close your mouth or else you'll catch flies. Maybe I should have gifted you a smaller mountain.”

The mountain wasn't the problem.

----------------------- Seongji Yuk

You sat cross-legged, waiting for the treat Seongji had promised you. You know that he had limited money, so when he told you he got you anything at all, you were ecstatic.

A sweet smell lingered through the air, and a small crackle of sugar was heard. As Seongji handed you the finished product, he spoke, voice low yet clear.

“Wait for it to cool before you eat it. I don't wanna, or have the equipment, to deal with burns.”

The tanghulu was beautiful looking. The sugary syrup coated the fruit perfectly, not leaving a spot untouched. You waited patiently, both for it to cool, and for Seongji to join you.

“Sorry I couldn't give you anything else, I hope you enjoy this.” He said, sitting cross-legged next to you.

A smile crossed your face and you took the first bite, it was as good as it looked. Looking at Seongji, you spoke, excited, not thinking.

“Are you kidding me! What's better than a sweet treat with a sweet man”

You cringed at your words but he just smiled.

----------------------- Kim Gitae/Kitae

“Here”

It was one word but Gitae spoke it with authority, no room for arguments. He threw a package into your lap, causing you to fumble a bit. Picking it up, you examined it for a good minute before you asked what it was.

“Um…what is this?”

Curiosity tainted your tone as you continued to stare at the mysterious package. A small chuckle came from Gitae as he lit a cigarette. He took a puff before responding, amused at your reaction.

“Only the best of what I got. Use it or sell it, I really don't care, just don't go making a name for yourself with it.”

Oh…OH SHIT!

Your eyes widened at the new information. In what world did Gitae think drugs would make an amazing secret santa gift. Who even let him participate? Couldn't he have just bought you something with the drug money instead of making you work for it yourself?

“What the actual fuck Gitae! I’m dragging your ass down if I get caught with this” That earned you a hearty laugh.

----------------------- Gongseob Ji

Gongseob stood close to you, too close. Even when you side stepped, he followed, leaving almost no room between the two of you. Finally, you had enough and decided to ask what his deal was. 

“What do you want?” It came off harsh but he didn't care.

“I'm your secret santa, exciting right?” His tongue was sticking out as he spoke.

“I got you an amazing gift, one of a kind.” He kept yapping on, but you drowned him out.

Your attention was brought back when you heard the sound of a zipper being undone. Looking down, you were greeted with Gongseob, who had started to pull out Gongseob junior. Oh fuck no!

“What the hell!” You exclaimed. How did he think his dick was a gift? Cocky man! This gift SUCKED!!!

You moved automatically, your form would make even the best boxers swoon at how good it looked. With speed never seen before, not even by him, your fist swung swiftly, yet hard, landing right on his family jewels.

He fell to the ground, clutching his damaged merchandise, moaning in pain. You let out a sigh before shaking your fist out. A smile grew on your face as you let out a laugh

“I take it back, that was an amazing gift.”

----------------------- Seokdu Wang

Seokdu pulled out your seat, allowing you to sit down before pushing the chair in. For such an unassuming and rough looking man, he sure knew his manners.

The food was served as soon as he sat down. An assortment of dishes scattered across the large table. This was quite the luxurious gift, one you weren't expecting from him.

“Thank you for the meal, everything looks amazing”

Your words held only the truth. Everything looked yummy. Looking at his plate, you noticed a salad, just a salad. Confused, you decided to ask about it.

“So…what's with the salad, you look like the type to eat raw meat.”

“I'm vegan.”

Ah, there always was a catch. Something you would never have assumed by looking at him. You decided to change the subject, to a more pressing matter.

“I wish you had told me what the gift was beforehand. I would have dressed up better to fit the vibes of this place. I look like a rat.”

You didn't actual look like a rat, you looked like wet rat who survived a hurricane. You were wearing sweatpants that hadn't been washed in weeks, a baggy sweater and your hair was all over the place.

“Don't worry about others seeing you. I booked the whole restaurant.”

How are all the king's so rich???

----------------------- Jaegyeon Na

“I've driven a million kilometers on it and it's still good as new, I swear.” Jaegyeon spoke, placing the car keys in your hand.

You look at the car he was gifting you and well normally you would have been crying tears of joy at the gift, you just stared, annoyed. Initial N, as he called it, was the ugliest car you've ever seen. And that was before whatever happened to it 

Looking at it now, the front hood was smashed, and the roof was gone. It also smelled like piss, more so than usual. Did he think you were stupid.

“No” Is all you say, too insulted to speak otherwise. How dare this man try and give you an ugly car.

“What do you mean no? You can't say no to a gift, especially one as good as this one. Who else am I supposed to give this to?”

“Not my problem.” You tell the man, before walking away, done with the man and his ugly cars. You look back at the sound of crying. This man was hugging the car, telling it how special it was.

Well Jaegyeon was special, no doubt about that.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Welcome to part three of the secret santa series! We have one more part to go! I'll give you a spolier in that in contains 5/6 characters and it will be posted on the 24th. It will be the last part of the secret santa series.

If you don't see your favourite character in this part, go check out the others!

Easiest to write for: Gongseob Ji

Hardest to write for: Jichang Kwak

[yuikomorii]

Happy 12th anniversary! 🎉

// I can’t believe so many years have passed since Ayato’s first CD drama, which marked the beginning of Diabolik Lovers and the introduction of my girl, Yui. Even if it got its flaws, I will continue to support this franchise! 💘

I have prepared an edit and a scenario for this special day! It's meant to be a "funny" one, so there will definitely be some cringe moments, but overall it's quite lighthearted. I sincerely hope you find it enjoyable! Besides, I had a blast writing Laito; he always channels my inner mischievousness.

Yui: Hmm… I believe I have all ingredients now!

( Come to think of it, the Sakamaki brothers are vampires but they surprisingly allowed me to celebrate Christmas this year. )

( It’s honestly so ironic that it makes me wonder whether or not they actually did it for… me? )

( A-Ah no, that’s definitely not the case! I’m probably just getting selfish at this point, but I genuinely do appreciate it. For this reason, I’ll try my best to cook all of their favorite dishes so as to show my gratitude! )

( Christmas is such a magical time of the year. It brings back memories of my father and I organizing the annual Christmas Mass together. We used to decorate the church and bake sweets for children, who were so cute when receiving them! Those were activities that truly brought joy to my heart… I sort of miss those times. )

( My father… I wonder, is he preparing for Christmas too? No, he most likely isn’t… )

( I don’t even know where he is to begin with but I truly hope he’s alright… )

( Anyway, I shouldn’t ruin the mood with those thoughts. Now that I've got everything ready for the dishes, I just need to find the right spot to hide Ayato-kun’s pre— )

Ayato: Yo, Chichinashi!

Yui: G-Geez! Ayato-kun, I told you already not to sneak up behind my back!

Ayato: Haa… Fine, fine, I’m sorry.

Yui: It’s— Eh?

( Wait a little, did he just apologize? )

Ayato: Why are you making such a dumb face? You don’t believe my words, do you?

Yui: Y-You got it wrong! It’s just that I wasn’t expecting Ayato-kun to apologize for something so trivial, you see.

Ayato: Hmm, I guess you’re not wrong. But, since Christmas is coming soon, it’d be a pity for Santa Claus to write me on the naughty list after trying to avoid it the whole year.

Yui: Naughty list…?

( Is it just me, or does Ayato-kun really believe Santa Claus will give him a present? I mean… Santa is told to only deliver them to children, and I'm not sure a 17-year-old still qualifies as one. )

( But I can’t straight up tell him that! It will only ruin the magic otherwise… Besides, when that thought crosses my mind, it somehow makes him appear so pure. )

Ayato: Hah? What are you grinning at? I swear, I've made an effort to be a good boy this year!

Yui: That’s really… amazing, Ayato-kun! I’m sure Santa will remember that!

Ayato: Heh? So you really think he’ll bring me something?

Yui: Uhm… Definitely!

( His eyes started sparking, I really can’t say “no” to that…! However, that only means I'll have to get him another gift so that he can have one from "Santa" and another one from me. )

B-By the way, I think I forgot to buy gingerbread syrup. I suppose I should leave before ——

Ayato: No, no, I’ll go!

Yui: You will? Ah, but you don’t have to! I was the one who forgo—…!

( He’s covering my mouth! )

Ayato: Stop blabbering already! Ore-sama offered to buy it for you, so you could try being a bit more grateful!

Yui: That’s… you’re right.

( Maybe it’s for the better. This way, I'll be able to find a hiding place for the present I already have for him. )

Ayato: I’ll be right back!

—Timeskip—

Ayato: Tsk, I can’t believe that shit was out of stock!

Chichinashi will surely be disappointed, if I come home with nothing! After all, she takes all that Christmas stuff seriously…

What's worse is that I tried really hard to find it, but it was already sold out by the time I arrived!

Tsk, damn it! Why must this be so complicated!?

Laito: Well, well. Seems like Ayato-kun is quite moody today.

Ayato: Get lost you pervert, it’s none of your business!

Laito: Haa… how rude of you, Ayato-kun. And there I was actually intending to give you this, but I guess you don’t need it anymore.

Bye bye~!

Ayato: Wait… What’s that thing in your hand?

Laito: What you ask? Nfu, it’s gingerbread syrup, of course. I was able to get the last one today.

Ayato: Wha—! Oi, you better give it to me or else—

Laito: Or else what~?

Ayato: I’ll—… Nevermind.

Look, you know I’m not into cheesy stuff but Chichinashi really loves Christmas, okay? Getting that gingerbread syrup might make her happy ‘cause maybe it’d remind her of how she celebrated it with her pops. That’s why… I can’t believe I’m saying this but… give it to me, please!

Laito: Woah, it’s honesty hour, hm?

Well, whatever, I don’t really care about that gingerbread syrup anyway, so you can take it if you want to.

Ayato: Really? Gr—

Laito: You didn’t let me finish though. I will only give it to you, if you promise me something.

Ayato: Hah? What the hell is it this time!?

Laito: No need to get so worked up~. All you have to do is to ensure that Bitch-chan consumes at least one glass of syrup at the time you bring it to her.

Ayato: That’s it? Pfft, easiest task ever!

Wait… almost a bit too easy.

Oi you perv, you better not plan something behind Ore-sama’s back, understood?

Laito: Normally I would, but Christmas is just around the corner, right? Who would risk being added to the naughty list at the last minute, right?

— hands Ayato the gingerbread syrup—

Place: Living room

Ayato: Yui! Yui! I’m back and look what I found!!

Yui: Good job, Ayato-kun! Thank you so much for helping me!

Ayato: Now take a seat!

— forces her to sit down —

Yui: Eh? What’s happening?

Ayato: Nothing to worry about, just drink this!

— shoves glass of syrup down her throat —

Yui: Mmh…!!

(What on earth!? I can’t breathe—!)

— Yui swallows it —

Ayato: So~, how is it?

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: It’s… it’s not as sweet as I remembered. This one is quite bitter.

Ayato: Bitter? Don’t spout nonsense, gingerbread can’t be bitter!

Yui: Yeah… thought so too… but..

(My head started spinning around…)

Ayato: Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?

Yui: Uuh… Sorry, Ayato-kun, I’m suddenly feeling so dizzy…

Ayato: How—?

( The heck’s wrong with her? Is it ‘cause she swallowed that too fast or…? )

Yui: Ayato-kun…

Ayato: What’s it?

Yui: Has anyone ever told you before that you are… extremely cute?

Ayato: Hah!? I mean, yeah, but what’s up with the random confession?

Yui: Eh? Am I not allowed to compliment the most adorable boy in the whole wide world…?

Ayato: Huh—?

Yui: You see, when I look at you like that… you might not be very clear, yet I can’t help but want to protect you…

Ayato: Protect me? D-Don’t say shit like that, it should be the other way around! After all, Ore-sama is the stron—!

(She pinned me down!?)

Yui: Fufu, you’re just so funny when you praise yourself like that…!

Everything about you is so beautiful… your hard yet nicely textured hair, your jade green eyes, your long eyelashes, your ——

Ayato: Tsk, get off me!

— pushes her away —

— Yui falls down —

Yui: Ngh…!

Ayato: …!

Oi! I… I didn’t mean to! Wait, gimme your hand!

— Yui takes his hand and looks up —

Ayato: (Don’t tell me… did that push bring her back to normal? Heh, if that’s so then—)

Yui: Mistletoe…

— puts her hands on his cheeks —

Yui: Holding your face like this makes me realize how soft your cheeks are… They are so round that I wish I could give you more and more Takoyaki until they become even chubbier…!

Ayato: S-Say what—!?

( It’s not like I dislike cheeky women but she’s nuts! )

— Yui gets closer to his lips —

Ayato: …!

*Smooch*

Laito: Fufu, hahaha, look at your face!

Ayato: Oi, Laito! Don’t just stand there staring, help me!

*Smooch*

Laito: Now why would I? After all, I already did you a favor by giving you the gingerbread liquor~!

Ayato: But you— Did you just say gingerbread LIQUOR!?

*Smooch*

Laito: Ex-act-ly! I was simply curious to see what kind of ‘drunk’ Bitch-chan is, and it seems like she’s the honest and horny type.

— takes picture —

Ayato: O-Oi! Don’t you dare to send it to anyone, delete it right now!

Laito: Oh my, look at the time! Now excuse me but I have to take my leave~.

Ayato: You can’t! Save me first!

Laito: Sorry Ayato-kun, no matter how delicious it feels watching you on top of each other while making out in plain sight, I've got better things to do, so... nfu, enjoy while it lasts!

— winks and disappears —

Ayato: You… You bastard! You will pay for this, I swear you wi— Mmh… Mm!

( Now how will I get myself out of THIS situation!? )

( Ugh, that’s what happens when you try helping others. I should have learnt my lesson a long time ago! )

— Yui stops kissing —

Yui: Will Ayato-kun… suck my blood?

Ayato: …!

( Heh, suddenly this doesn’t seem half bad anymore. I might actually grow to like being desired like that~. )

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 1/5

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 2.5k Rating: M Read on Ao3

-

Chapter One

Tommy reached into the little wooden chest offered to him and pulled out a tiny pink folded post-it from the sea of similarly folded post-its. 

A finger was pointed to his nose. “We’re capping it at $50. No swapping. No telling anyone who you got. No gift cards. Since we’re on shift over Christmas we’ll swap presents then and it better be wrapped or in a gift bag.” 

Tommy pushed Hen’s finger away. “I know how Secret Santa works, Hen.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything as she walked away to find her next victim. When Tommy turned away, he found Howie. 

“Who did you get, Kinard?”

“Do you want Hen to kill me?” Tommy asked. “I’m not breaking the Secret Santa rules.” 

Howie laughed. “Alright. Fine. Just don’t come crawling back to me when you need help getting Cap something.” 

“If I got Cap, I know exactly what I’d get him,” Tommy said. 

“Nice to know you know what I like, Tommy,” Bobby said. He was holding his own pink slip and stuffed it into his pocket. 

He clapped Tommy’s shoulder as he passed him to head upstairs. Chim followed and Tommy walked behind them, opening up his post-it. Evan Buckley. Tommy almost groaned. He got the probie. Alright, so he wasn’t a probie anymore, but he was still both the youngest and newest member of the 118 and Tommy didn’t really know him all that well outside of work. 

Within that scope, Tommy knew that Evan was hotheaded, impulsive, and too eager. He was good at the job, had apparently beat all kinds of records at the academy, but he’d also almost lost his job by stealing the ladder truck to meet up with some girl. Tommy had been on vacation that week so he’d missed the whole firing and re-hiring of it all. So what did you get someone like Evan? A big box of condoms from Costco? A self-help book? 

When he made it to the top of the stairs he spotted Evan in the kitchen. Bobby was already behind the counter getting out ingredients for their dinner and Evan was sitting at the counter watching. 

The thing about Evan was that he was kind of gorgeous. Tommy had noticed that right on his first day when he arrived a little nervous but excited. He’d seen his blue eyes, the pink mark over his eyebrow and the pout on his lips and Tommy had wanted him. Of course he wanted him, and it was exactly why he had decided right in that moment that he needed to stay away. 

And he had stayed away. He didn’t freeze Evan out of anything. He worked with him, showed him a few things when it looked like he needed it, but he didn’t talk to him during downtime, he didn’t invite him along when he invited Hen and Chim to go out for drinks. So, he knew nothing about him or what he might want for Christmas and since it was Secret Santa, there was no way he was getting any help from Chim or Hen. 

Logically, Tommy knew he could just go to literally any store and just buy a giftset or something, but it felt so impersonal and lazy. Eyeing Evan as Bobby put him to chop veggies, Tommy wondered what he might find out from the man himself if only he tried to get to know him. 

So, he walked towards the fridge, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the top, he leaned against the counter. 

“Learning how to cook?” he asked Evan. 

Evan’s knife paused on the bell pepper and he looked up, somehow surprised to find Tommy there. He smiled easily, though, and Tommy hated how appealing it was. Hen had described him as a golden retriever once and she was not wrong. 

“I — yeah, never had anyone that could teach me before.” Evan glanced back at Bobby. “I like it.”

Cooking supplies? Maybe a nice apron? It was definitely an idea. Then again, he didn’t really know Evan’s living situation and he was pretty sure he didn’t live on his own. Tommy drank his water in a few gulps. 

“Kinard, stop distracting my sous chef,” Bobby said. “Unless you want to be put to work.”

When Tommy looked at Evan, he found that Evan’s cheeks had gone pink. He’d gone back to chopping though.  

He got lucky when the call came in. Saved by the bell and all that. He rushed down with the others and when he settled into his seat in the truck found Evan at his side. It wasn’t that it never happened, it was just that Tommy tried not to think about how nice it felt to have Evan’s shoulder against his or how he could feel the warmth of his thigh. 

“So,” Evan said, “what does everyone want for Christmas?” 

Hen actually kicked him. Tommy couldn’t help but snort. Chim chuckled. 

“What?” Evan asked. 

“What about Secret Santa says ask everyone involved what they want for Christmas?” Hen asked. 

Evan sputtered. “I just — I mean I figured — if we all talk about it then that helps everyone right?” 

“Secret Santa,” Hen said, “is supposed to be Secret.” 

-

Tommy Kinard. 

That was what his pink post-it read and Buck had folded it neatly back into a square and stuffed it in his pocket after reading it. What the hell was he supposed to get for Tommy? 

Since Buck started at the 118, Tommy had been standoffish. Not during a call or when they had to do something together that revolved around work, but anytime it wasn’t related to the job. Buck knew about all the times that Tommy asked Hen and Chim to join him for drinks. The invite never seemed to extend to Buck. He’d hung out with Hen and Chim a few times and even took Bobby to a concert once, so it wasn’t like he felt excluded from the team. It just felt like Tommy didn’t like him. 

Buck was used to not being liked. So, anything he felt about how Tommy saw him he just pushed out of mind. The guy was professional and he didn’t seem to mind working with Buck. Did he think it was unfair of someone to judge him without really knowing him? Yes. He also knew that he might have done it to himself. After all, Buck was the guy that borrowed the ladder truck for sex and as far as he could tell Tommy didn’t even date much less hook up with anyone. Or, at the very least, he didn’t talk about it. 

He certainly shied away from conversations about Buck’s hook ups even when they came up on the way to or from a call. So what did you get a guy that was built like a brick house, who could probably pick Buck up easily, and who was maybe not into sex? A book? The Kama Sutra? Puzzles? Buck had no idea what Tommy was into. 

Asking everyone in the truck what they wanted for Christmas had seemed like the right move, but he should have done it when Hen wasn’t present. 

“Tough luck, kid,” Chim said when they arrived at the apartment building, “you just gotta figure it out on your own.” 

“Apparently.” 

Tommy made a noise that sounded amused and when Buck looked at him, he winked at Buck, holding his gaze for a second too long. That was unusual. 

“Hen takes Secret Santa very seriously,” Tommy said and then walked off. 

“You coming, Buck?” Bobby called out. 

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah.” 

So maybe it did bother him that Tommy didn’t like him. 

That first day, he’d been more than a little captivated by Tommy. He was all big muscles and a defined toned chest. The one time they were in the locker room together, Buck had even gotten to see that Tommy had the start of a six pack. Buck had wanted to ask him all kinds of questions about his workout routine and maybe even his diet, but Tommy had made himself unapproachable to Buck pretty much at all times. 

At first, Buck had figured that was just how he was. Then, he saw him laughing with Chim. Then, he saw him talking to Bobby and Hen. Then, he saw how he was around kids during calls. So, it was Buck that was the problem. Tommy didn’t like him and Buck had no idea why. 

The call turned out to be relatively simple. A stuck elevator with four people inside. No one in distress. Just a power failure due to some bad wiring. They got the door open and the people out and were headed back to the station just as quickly. 

Buck went back to helping Bobby with the stirfry. 

“Three weeks,” Buck said. 

“What?” 

“Until Christmas. I guess that gives me time to figure out what to get for my Secret Santa.” 

Bobby chuckled. “Don’t overthink it, Buck. I’m sure whoever you got will be happy with anything you get them.” 

Except he didn’t want Tommy to just be okay with the gift. He wanted Tommy to realize that Buck knew him or that Buck was worth becoming friends with. This felt like his chance at friendship with Tommy and he wasn’t going to squander it. 

-

“Drinks tonight?” Tommy asked as he passed Chim boxes to add into the ambulance stock. 

Chim grinned. “Nothing better for me to do. I’ll see if Hen’s available.” 

“I wouldn’t blame her if she wants to go home to Karen and Denny more than hanging out with us.” Tommy paused and then, “Invite Buck too, if you want.”

Chim eyed him for a moment but he didn’t say anything. Tommy just handed him another box. When they were finished, Chim hit his shoulder. 

“Hey, I’m glad you’ve decided to include Buck. I know it takes a while for you to let us in. He’s a good kid.” 

He saw Chim ask Evan if he was up for drinks and saw him nod. So, that was a start. Tommy had no idea how much he would actually learn about Evan at a bar, but it would probably be more than what he already knew. He hoped. 

They had a few more calls. One car accident — the tree won. One incident of a toddler locking mom out of the car and finding the whole thing hilarious. The kid was adorable and Tommy didn’t want to admit it, but Evan had done really well convincing the kid to unlock the door. A grease fire at a Chinese restaurant which was a shame because Tommy loved getting take out from that place. All in all, a regular day with nothing too crazy. 

When Tommy was changing out of the uniform, he found Evan lingering at his own locker. Chim broke whatever tension existed. 

“You guys coming? Hen said she and Karen will meet us there. I got us an Uber.” 

Evan closed his locker and then he glanced at Tommy with some surprise in his eyes, before he walked out after Chim. Tommy followed a moment later and yes maybe his eyes did linger on Evan’s back. He looked good in uniform, he looked good in jeans and that short sleeved button down whose sleeves hugged his biceps in such an accentuating way. Evan probably looked good in anything and nothing. Tommy…Tommy hadn’t gotten laid in a while. 

It wasn’t easy for him. Tommy had known he was gay as soon as he realized that he wasn’t looking at the girls the way all the other boys in his class were. He’d also known that he couldn’t ever say a word about it. Not with how his parents were. Then, there was DADT and years under Gerrard. It was only in the last couple of years that Tommy had embraced that part of himself. 

He didn’t keep it Secret, but he didn’t advertise it. It wasn’t that it was hard to go into a gay bar and find a hook-up. Tommy had done that often enough. It was that he had yet to find even one person that might want more than that with him and once he’d gotten past the excitement of getting to openly be with men, Tommy had lost most of his interest in one-night stands. He wanted more and just never seemed to find it. Sometimes, he thought that it just wasn’t in the cards for him and that he didn’t deserve to find someone when he just hadn’t been the best person for most of his life. 

The badge and ladder bar was moderately busy. A lot of firefighters and police officers taking some time to decompress from their day. Mixed in were the guys and girls looking to chat up someone in uniform. Both pool tables were in use and Christmas music played over all of it. A glance around told Tommy that the place had even been decorated for the holiday. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll get the first round,” Chim said. “Grab us a booth.” 

Tommy spotted a free booth in the corner and he motioned for Evan. 

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” Evan said. “Chim didn’t say.” 

“Is that a problem?” Tommy asked. 

Evan immediately shook his head. “No. No. No. I just…I’m glad. We’ve never hung out outside of the fire station is all.” 

Evan slid into the booth first and Tommy followed. He left some space between them and watched as Evan took his phone out, frowning at his screen and why did that look so cute on him? 

“Everything alright?” 

“Yes,” Evan said quickly. “It’s fine. Just my roommates.” 

Roommates. That probably meant that it wasn’t a good idea to get him any fancy cooking equipment. 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

Evan bit his lip. “I guess they’re throwing a party tonight.”

Tommy didn’t know why that had caused a frown. “Do you want to go to the party? You can if you want. Chim and I won’t be offended if you want to spend tonight with people your age.” 

“No,” Evan said with a shake of his head. “No. And you’re not that much older than me.” 

“I have like ten years on you, kid,” Tommy said. 

“More like eight which…it isn’t much,” Evan said and he was pouting. 

“Except that you act like you’re twelve sometimes,” Chim said, arriving at the table with three bottles. 

“What is that?” Evan asked, looking at Tommy’s bottle. 

“This guy is particular about his beer,” Chim offered. “What are we talking about?” 

“Evan’s roommates,” Tommy said. 

Chim chuckled. “What did those guys do this time?” 

So, there was an ongoing issue. Interesting. It gave Tommy absolutely nothing to go off of when it came to figuring out what to get Evan for Christmas. 

“Throwing a party,” Evan said. “Again.” 

Tommy took a sip of his beer. He saw Evan type something into his phone and then he placed it on the table and drank from his own beer. Tommy watched him, the way that his lips touched the rim of the top of the bottle, how his hand held it and how his throat moved as he swallowed. Gorgeous.