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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months ago

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eddie's 1st xmas

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'ornament'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 940 words | cw: mention of character death in the past | tags: established relationship, sentimental, christmas fluff

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

The ornament is hung in the back of the tree when Steve first notices it. He’s sweeping the pine needles up when he sees it glittering between the lights, pushed back so it’s almost hidden from view.

He recognizes it immediately, even though it’s been 12 years or so since he’s seen it.

He’s careful when he touches it, knows that it’s already broken at least once and has been glued back together with gorilla glue and patience by Wayne. He sees one of the cracks as he tilts it closer to one of the lights on the tree, smiling sadly when he remembers exactly how devastated Eddie had been when it fell and shattered into pieces. Luckily, only a couple of the pieces couldn’t quite fit back together, and they were small.

Eddie’s mom’s handiwork deserves a better place on the tree than facing the wall.

Steve sets the broom down and gently lifts the ornament off the branch. The glitter on the top of the ball is nearly gone, and what’s left is dull. Steve thinks he has this exact color in his craft bin, but he wouldn’t dare touch it without asking Eddie.

Unless…

Eddie won’t be home for hours. Rory’s at practice. He already caught up on his lesson plans for the week.

All he has to do is touch up the glitter. It’ll make it look brand new, might even distract from the cracks.

He walks carefully to the spare room that’s mostly used for storage and sets the ornament on the table. He finds the glitter he needs, the clear liquid craft glue he saves for his own projects, and gets to work.

It’s a simple task, but he can’t risk the ornament falling or even cracking further.

When he’s done, and he manages to set it up to dry properly, he smiles.

Eddie’s 1st Xmas is painted in red around the middle, glitter covering the top.

Wayne explained to Steve why this one ornament meant so much while he was fixing it years ago. Eddie had been so upset, he locked himself in his room and wouldn’t even let Steve in.

“She made it while she was still pregnant with him. Before things got hard for her. It’s the only thing he really has as a reminder that she loved him.”

Steve knows he probably kept it hidden in the back so there was no chance Rory would accidentally break it while playing knee hockey, but they can set new rules for Christmas. Eddie deserves to have something special on display just like they do.

Steve finishes up with his chores and starts to head back into the spare room when the front door opens.

He walks to the living room and suddenly feels nervous.

Eddie is removing his jacket and shoes at the door, hasn’t even noticed Steve yet. He may not even realize Steve’s home since he insists on Steve being the one to park in the garage.

“Hey baby,” Steve greets him.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. Something seems off.

“Yeah. Just a long day.”

Steve nods and plants a soft kiss on his lips. Eddie kisses back, but it’s not his usual enthusiastic response.

“Can I show you something?” He asks, hoping it will cheer him up to see his ornament with a makeover.

“Sure, Stevie.”

Steve leads him into the spare room and tells him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. He places the ornament in his palms as carefully as possible, leaving his hands there to catch it if Eddie accidentally drops it.

“Open your eyes.”

Eddie is silent. It’s alarming. The strange mood, the quiet, it’s enough to put Steve on edge. He tries to stay positive though.

“I saw it on the tree earlier and thought it could use a little fresh glitter. I hope it’s okay,” Steve is ready to start apologizing for touching it when Eddie bursts into tears. “Shit.”

Steve takes the ornament from him, or tries to, but Eddie holds it to his chest instead.

“Today’s the anniversary of her death,” he sobs.

Steve pulls him close, wraps his arms around him and squeezes as tight as he can while keeping space between them so he doesn’t crush the ornament. He didn’t even realize the date, and he’s not sure he would’ve remembered anyways. Eddie doesn’t talk about her much.

“I didn’t realize,” Steve whispers against his hair, kissing the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, this is-” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “This is amazing. Thank you for doing this. I’ve been so scared to touch it up.”

“Do you wanna hang it up in the front of the tree?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “No. I don’t want it to break.”

“We’ll make Rory play in her room if she plays while the tree is up. I think it deserves to be front and center.”

Eddie pulls back and tries to wipe his eyes on his own shoulder. It’s useless as more tears fall.

“Okay. As long as we’re careful.”

“You wanna tell Rory about her?” Steve asks. He knows Eddie doesn’t remember a lot of his mom, that she was sick from the time he was a toddler, and died before he even started school. He knows most things Eddie can tell are things Wayne’s told him. But maybe it will help to talk about her, especially today.

“Yeah, if she wants to hear about her.”

Steve takes the ornament from him and leads him out to the tree. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie holiday drabbles #steddie events #steve harrington x eddie munson #bear hugs universe #ornament

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aspirationalpeony · 1 year ago

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Quit Playin' Games (With My Heart)

Summary: While you're trying to puzzle out the mysterious Ms. Schemmenti, Janine invites you to a dinner party--at Melissa's house. Board games, bonding, and lasagna... What could go wrong? (See author's note at the end for prompt credit.) Content Warnings: A brief paragraph discussing homophobia. AO3 Link

Does Melissa Schemmenti like you?

You've got everyone else figured out. Janine would befriend an electrical pole if it had a smiley face stapled to it; Jacob befriends anyone Janine befriends. Gregory stays a little aloof, but he's been warming up the more you show him your LEGO sets. Barbara--well, she sees you as another one of the kids, you think, but you know she appreciates your self-sufficiency, tolerates you with a smile when you're in the conversation. And Ava is... Ava.

Melissa? Who knows? She called you by the wrong name the first month you were at Abbott, knowingly, watching your face with a wry twist to her mouth, waiting for you to take the bait. When you didn't, you earned your name back. She started making dry comments to you, like "You got enough glitter glue there, Martha Stewart?" as you passed her in the hall, arms full of art supplies. She saw you struggling with the copy machine one day and said, "Here," giving it a swift kick that brought it wheezing to life, but followed up with, "Thought your generation was good with tech. What do we keep you around for, huh?"

After those backhands you'd be in a spin, wondering and confused; then later that day or the day after she'd say something else, like, "Hey, not bad, shortstop," when you got something off a high shelf for her (why shortstop when you’re taller than her? Reverse psychology?), or "Good job on lunch duty. They didn't kill ya," and you'd go warm all over and your confusion would deepen and all you would think was: does she like me or not?

You’re just not sure. So you try not to listen the day they’re all in the break room, talking about a party at Melissa’s house. You can’t help but overhear snatches—Janine insisting she’ll bring lasagna, Jacob saying he’ll do dessert, Melissa saying “oh, brother” and Barbara assuring her gently, a smile in her voice, “And I’ll bring the wine”—but you keep your head down over your lunch and turn the page of your lesson plan and ignore them until Janine realizes, suddenly, that the room isn’t empty, that you’re at the table just next to them, and burbles, “Hey, you should come, too!”

Your eyes go to Melissa right away. She glances up over her cat-eye glasses and her look is inscrutable.

“Oh,” you say, “um, I don’t know. I have, like, a thing—“

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Janine says. “We’ll eat some amazing food—“ she flicks a curl over her shoulder, playing at an Ava-like preen—“we’ll play board games, we’ll bond…”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding!” Janine looks imploringly at her friends. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa says at last, still looking at you. Your heart thumps. “You should come.”

And that’s how you end up here: Melissa’s house. You crossed the welcome mat reading GO AWAY, a cheesecake in your hands, and tried not to make it obvious how badly you wanted to stare around yourself, scrutinize every photo and every piece of furniture, trying to get a window onto this woman you can’t figure out. Everyone’s piled onto the couch or onto chairs, plastic creaking under them as they lean forward to the table to swipe a snack or their glass of wine, and there’s an open box, a few stacks of cards.

“I found this amazing get-to-know-you game,” Janine declares, sliding down to sit on Mel’s carpeted floor. “So, you spin the spinner, right, and whatever it lands on, you take a card with the same color, and then you ask the question that’s on it, and everybody answers, and—“

“How do you win?” Melissa says. She’s holding a glass of wine, its rim printed with her pink lipstick. She’s got her hair in a ponytail that leaves lots of little curls hanging everywhere. She’s wearing a tank top. These details feel incredibly important; you try not to think about them.

“Oh, uh…” Janine frowns at the instruction booklet. “I don’t think you win.”

“What’s the point of a game if nobody wins?” Melissa leans over to the coffee table, grabs a grape off a serving plate, pops it into her mouth. She glances over at Barbara, who’s perched very straight-backed in a plastic-covered armchair, nursing a little bit of wine.

“I, for one,” Jacob says, “think competition is over-valued in our society. American individualism—"

“Just spin it, Janine,” Barbara says.

Beaming at the approval of her mentor, Janine spins. She plucks a blue card: “What’s your favorite sexual—“ her eyes widen. “Uh.”

“Oh, this just got interestin’,” Melissa says, and sits up straighter.

“Let me take another one.” Janine puts that card aside. “Have you ever had a threes—okay, no. Are they all like this?”

Gregory, a silent presence sitting stiffly alongside Janine, turns over a card from the green and red piles. He reads one: “How do you like your partner to style their pubic hair?” Then, the red: “Confess to a sexual fantasy you’ve had about… A member of the group.” The questions sound even more bizarre in his level voice, although his lifted eyebrows and widened eyes telegraph his discomfort. His gaze darts to Janine, then away.

“Janine, what’s the name of this game, please,” Barbara says, looking as though she’s one syllable from combustion.

Janine lifts the lid of the box. “Adult Dinner Party. But I thought, you know, adult dinner party, a classy kind of—oh.”

Jacob picks up a blue card gingerly and turns it over. “Have you ever had sex in a public place?”

“I have,” you say. Every face in the room turns toward you. Your cheeks heat. Your eyes flicker between each incredulous look. “What? We’re supposed to answer them, aren’t we?”

“This just got interestin’,” Melissa repeats. There’s a strange look on her face, not quite amusement; you wonder if it’s respect. “Me, too.”

“Melissa!” Barbara gasps.

“What? You never got fingered in a dark ride at an amusement park?”

Barbara stands up with her wine and walks out of the room, muttering to herself. Glances pass between the rest of you. The corner of Melissa’s mouth curves up. “Spin again,” she says.

The next few questions are mercifully tamer: do you think French kissing is overrated, what’s one thing you’ll never do for a partner? More wine is poured, Melissa going around and topping off each glass, saying to Gregory and Janine, “Lighten up a little, will you?” Eventually she comes to sit on the floor with everyone else, four people around the coffee table. She’s picked a spot right at your side, your knees bumping, thighs aligned.

“Is Barbara okay?” you ask. You can smell her perfume; it’s spicy and floral and it makes you feel tipsier than you are.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Melissa says. “You don’t wanna know how many of my parties she’s walked out of. Hey, Barb!” She bellows it close to your ear, making you wince; it’s followed by a twinge of peculiar affection that so much volume can come from one little woman. “Check the lasagna, will ya!”

There’s an indistinct answer from the other room, full of barely-contained irritation. Melissa slugs back another swallow of wine as Jacob flicks the spinner.

He draws a card and reads, “Have you ever kissed a member of the same sex? Oh, well—obviously.”

Gregory and Janine shake their heads.

Melissa says, “Listen, what happens in cheer squad stays in cheer squad, alright,” to scandalized gasps from her audience. She looks at you. “How about you? No girls, huh?”

You’re arrested by her green gaze so close, the wine on her breath, the question itself. You start to tell her, yes, plenty of girls, but you’re blushing again, embarrassed, all your bravado from earlier draining away into the floorboards.

“Here,” she says, and leans in. You register the thought Holy shit in the moment before her lips touch yours. Her nose brushes your cheek. Her mouth is very soft and a hot breath puffs over you in the instant before she delicately parts her lips and you feel the sweet flick of her tongue. She leans back again. “Now you’ve kissed a girl.”

“Melissa!” Janine says, outraged, bewildered.

“I bet Ava would have come, if she’d known it was this kind of party,” Jacob mumbles to the bowl of pretzels in front of him.

“I’m going to go check on Barbara,” Gregory says, his shellshocked eyes firmly on the ground as he gets up.

“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Janine says, all nerves, “maybe the lasagna needs more parm,” and scrambles up after him.

Melissa’s pouring herself the last of the wine. She’s smiling to herself. You don’t get it: what was that for? Was it bait, like your name, like the ribbing comments, trying to get a rise out of you? Or maybe just out of the people around you—trying to be the most shocking in the room? You stare, trying to read the look of satisfaction on her face.

"I'll--the bathroom," you say, and get to your feet. "'Scuse me."

You've got kind of an idea where it is. The problem, you realize, is that you have to cut through the kitchen to get there. It's savory-smelling, rich with tomato scent, and full of furious whispering that dies instantly as you cross the threshold; Janine, intently grating parmigiano into a bowl, gives you a guilty look as Gregory quickly parts from her side. Barbara is at the island counter, maybe only half-participating, but she looks at you, too, and you know they've told her.

You feel it all over again: these are people who've had years to get to know each other. Who are you to them? Not really a friend, just a colleague, half-acquaintance. You're the new invitee, the odd one out, and even though it was Melissa that kissed you, you'll be the one who gets the blame for the ruined party, the awkwardness now swamping Mel's rowhouse. Your gut clenches. "Excuse me," you repeat and dart past them to the bathroom.

You run cold water from the tap and stick your wrists underneath the faucet, like you've got heatstroke. You wet your hands and press them to your cheeks, your neck, your nape, trying to quiet your thumping heart. You look in the mirror: there's a glazed look in your eye; you're conscious your lips are tingling. Why'd she do that?

You've been played with by straight women before. Not always out of conscious cruelty: some women, you've realized, are hungry for a kind of attraction that doesn't have fear and imbalance, and they can't always have that with men. They want to be wanted by someone they think won't hurt them, and they pick you--never thinking about what it does to your heart; never imagining that desire for a woman can be real, that it can mean anything to anyone.

Is that Melissa? She said that thing about the cheer squad. If she likes women, too, why would she mess with you? If she thinks you're straight, is she just trying to shock, the way she did Barb with that dirty answer about fingering, needling at what she thinks are your reservations and limitations? Because that's what she does, what she's been doing. Poking and poking, trying to get a rise. Should you have shouted? Should you have cried? What would satisfy her?

"Melissa Ann Schemmenti," you hear Barb say from the kitchen, muffled on the other side of the door. You freeze a moment, heart pounding all over again, then turn the water down to a trickle and inch toward the door, leaning closer. All you can hear are bits and pieces of what must be a thunderous lecture: "That girl... Well, I won't... You know that... Sweet, but... Learn to behave."

There's a sulky rumble in Mel's voice in answer.

You're going to have to go out there eventually. You listen a few more seconds, but if there's footsteps of people dispersing, or more conversation as they linger, you can't hear it. You resign yourself, turn off the water, dry off your hands. You give your cheeks a last press with your cold fingers, trying to ground yourself. You'll go out there and pretend it didn't happen. You'll make it through the night and see what happens tomorrow. That's all you can do.

Of course, you go out into the kitchen, and everyone else is gone, and Melissa's there.

She's frowning deeply and scrupulously wrapping the parmigiano in plastic. She says something under her breath; you catch a Sicilian curse and a "kids don't know..." When she hears the bathroom door click, her head goes up, and there's a moment, her eyes meeting yours, where she looks as nervous as you feel. She looks back down at the cheese, tightly sealing and wrapping its edges, then crosses to the big stainless fridge to put it away.

"Guess I scared you back there," she says. There's a challenge in her voice. Suddenly, your fear and loneliness uncoil; they spool out into anger. It's one thing to mess with you in words. You could call that friendliness, call it teasing. It's not fair to mess with you like this.

"You didn't scare me," you say. Your voice is stronger than you expected. Not loud, but sure. "I've kissed more girls than a cheer squad."

"Huh, look at you," Melissa says, "big player."

"What is your problem with me?"

The question catches her in the act of moving to the oven. She looks sharply at you--then away. There's something strangely un-Melissa about the act. She fiddles with the oven dial, then leans her hip against the counter and folds her arms over her chest. "Hon, if I had a problem with you, you'd know."

"Then what the hell was that?" You catch yourself starting to cross your arms, to mirror her, and lower them to your sides, where your hands clench tightly.

"I kissed ya." She lifts her chin and looks at you. "What, you didn't like it?"

Your anger wobbles; the question stumps you. "It--that doesn't--look, you've been doing this all year. Pushing me around. I don't get it. I didn't do anything to you. Maybe you think I'm annoying, or stupid, or--"

"Pushing you around?" Mel moves closer. Her voice gets a little tighter, a little louder. Her eyes glitter with challenge. "I invited you to my house."

"Yeah, you invited Jacob and Janine to your house, too."

"I don't like them the way I like you," she says, and freezes. You have a sense she's blurted something she didn't mean to say. It's stopped her right in the tracks of what she might have made an argument, draining the confidence out of her posture.

Your heart is thundering in your ears again. You replay that delicate, barely-there kiss: her face leaning toward yours, spicy scent of her perfume, wine on her breath, her green eyes, her soft, hot mouth. Her tongue. "What?" you say.

Her mouth twists. There's something faintly absurd about it, how it turns a grown woman toddleresque, and you get another pang of that strange affection from before, when she yelled right in your ear. It's strong enough to filter through your anger.

She shifts from foot to foot. With her shoes off in her own home, she suddenly looks half her usual height. Fondness washes against you. "Look," she says, "I'm forget-about-it years older'n you and I don't have time to play games, so--"

"This isn't playing games?"

She ducks her chin toward her chest. It's another gesture that's strangely unlike her. You hear Barbara's voice in your head: Melissa Ann Schemmenti... Learn to behave.

You move closer again. Her eyes flick up to yours and there's a sulky defiance in them, even when they drop briefly to your lips.

"Is this..." You don't know how to ask it. How do you ask Melissa Schemmenti do you want me in her own kitchen? "Melissa, what do you want?"

"C'mere," she says. She takes your chin in her grasp and brings you closer and kisses you again.

Wine, perfume, her skin. This time, it's not some playful schoolgirl thing. You can feel intention behind the slow press of her lips against yours. She lets it linger for a second, two, then leans back, looking into your eyes.

Whatever she sees has her turning you, your back against the counter, a hard line of granite. This time, you lean forward into her kiss. Her body presses into yours, all hips, soft belly, breasts. Her hands bracket your body against the edge of the countertop. Her way of deepening the kiss is to nip your lower lip and make you gasp, so that her tongue can flick into your mouth, brushing against yours and sending tingling ripples through your whole body.

You cup her jaw. She’s so, so warm. You slide a hand back and brush some of those loose, careless locks of red hair behind her ear. You kiss her and kiss her; when your tongue teases against hers, deliberately now, she makes a sound like a whimper that you feel head to toe, like a current of lightning passing through you, dispersing into the ground.

“So,” she says, with you securely pinned, flushed, breathing hard, “what do you think?”

What do you think? You go back in for another kiss. She chuckles against your mouth and can barely kiss you back for her smug smile. This time, it’s your kiss, not hers, and you explore exactly how you want to: sucking and nibbling her lower lip, licking into her mouth, your hands dropping to her waist, pulling her against you. She melts into you, and there’s a thunderous sense of power and desire in you, tied to how her arms come up to loop around your neck, how her spine softens and her body sways into yours.

When you’ve got your breath back, you ask her, “Should we go back out there?” You know you have to, but you don’t know how you’ll manage it. You’re sure you have this moment written all over your face, glassy-eyed and out of breath. Melissa does, too: her lipstick is smeared. “Maybe in a few minutes?”

“I think,” she says, “I should kick all of ‘em outta here, and you’n’me keep the game and the lasagna, and we have some fun.” Her hand drops, intervening between your body and the counter so she can firmly grab your ass. You squeak. “Huh?”

“I—I think that would be pretty rude.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, though she doesn’t let go of your ass. “And they planned this whole thing for us, so…”

“Wait—” you lean back a little to get a clear picture of her face. “What?”

“Janine’s idea,” she says. “I found out after they invited you. They knew I thought you were cute—“

“You told them that?”

“Course I didn’t,” Melissa says, “I look like somebody who goes splashin’ their business everywhere? ‘Specially where Janine can hear it? I’ll tell you about what she did to me’n my sister some time. They figured it out on their own. I mighta been lookin’ at your ass at work.” She gives it a pinch.

“So the board game…” You frown.

“I think that was an accident for real.” Her face pinches in a frown. “‘Magine Janine tryin’ to get us to talk dirty to each other out there?” The frown vanishes and the leer she gives you makes you feel very, very naked. “We could talk dirty in here, if you wanna.”

“Okay,” you say, “I think we have to go serve dinner.” If you let her keep going, you don’t know if you’ll have the will to stop her. You hear the next thought in her voice: What? You never got fingered in a kitchen with all your coworkers right outside? “Wait—“ your brow creases. “Did Barbara seriously go along with this?”

Melissa clears her throat. “She didn’t know at first—and then, I wanted her here, y’know, in case, uh…”

“Things went badly?” you supply. Melissa pinks. You smile at the sweet strangeness of it. “Were you guys going to drink a bottle of wine so you could… Mope about me?”

“I wasn’t gonna mope about ya,” Mel says, “because I knew you weren’t gonna turn me down, and you’d be an idiot if you did, so.”

“I would,” you agree, and have to go back in for another kiss, two, three. “I would be an idiot,” you murmur against her.

“Okay,” she says when you can finally stop kissing her, “okay.” She gives your ass a slap that makes you gasp. Her eyes narrow, cataloguing that response, and her smirk, of course, resurfaces. “You take the lasagna out of the oven. I gotta fix my lipstick.” She steps away, and pauses. “You might wanna…” She gestures to her mouth.

You rub your tingling lips and your fingers come away with the pink of her lipstick. Your face heats.

“Or keep it,” Melissa says, “looks good on you,” and she gives a preening toss of her high ponytail as she turns away to the bathroom.

You watch her go, her hips swaying as she moves. You have a sense of the world tilted on its axis: all that teasing and game-playing—because she likes you? More than likes you—wants you? Janine inviting you, Jacob and Gregory playing along—because they really do care? Barbara scolding Melissa in this kitchen—because she wants her best friend to treat you right?

You find a napkin and scrub the lipstick off your mouth. Each step you take across the kitchen feels like levitation, an inch or two above the floor. You check the lasagna. There’s two: one big lasagna, and another small, plain one for Gregory. You lift each casserole dish out of the oven, and they smell better than ever in a house full of friends.

You cross to the doorway and peek out into the living room. “Lasagna’s ready,” you say to the four faces that turn to yours, and you know you’re smiling like an idiot, but you can’t help it.

Janine bounces up. “I can’t wait for you to tryyyy itttttt,” she sing-songs. “I learned from the best!”

Barbara passes you to find plates and ready the table. She gives your arm a little pat as she goes—the first time she’s ever touched you. You feel a Janine-like burst of effervescence at the thought that Melissa’s best friend approves.

Melissa reappears. She picks up a cutter for each lasagna, an armful of cloth napkins, another bottle of wine. Jacob and Gregory gather the glasses from the coffee table. You stick your hands back into the oven mitts to carry each dish in.

As everybody gets settled in, pulling out chairs, Janine proudly adding her bowl of grated parmigiano to the table (“just in case!” she burbles), you catch Melissa’s eye. She’s looking at you, a soft fondness in the gaze; the tender creases at the corners of her eyes make your chest squeeze around your heart, which feels three, four times as large as it was before.

“What do you think?” you ask the table. “Should we bring over the cards?”

Your friends laugh. Barbara shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Melissa Schemmenti, looking at you, smiles.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Author's Note:

My next fic was intended to be a sadder hurt/comfort fic, but I received the following prompt from @morgana-larkin:

I love your first fic and I wanted to know if you could do one more on the fun side. Where the whole group goes to either Melissa or reader’s place for game night and they all end up playing truth or dare while drunk and someone dares one of them to kiss the other. Then after everyone leaves the two of them end up admitting their feelings. Thank you!

I did make some tweaks to the premise to suit my storytelling style, which I hope is okay. I did my best to honor this fun and lovely prompt. Thank you so much!

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months ago

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Gunk and Glitter (Sun x Reader)

"Admin didn't you just write this for iteard-" SHOOSH I love this prompt sm OOOUGH

That being said I don't think I'll write a moon or eclipse version for this, at least not for a while- idk we'll see!

Plot: You help Sun clean his hands up after a particularly messy day

Notes: Reader is gn and human, they work as an assistant/handler for the DCA, non established relationship but he's got a huge crush on you word count: 2k

CWs: none

Typically Sun liked keeping things… as neat as possible in the daycare… whether it be cleaning as he tended to the children or turning the clean up itself into a game for them. However… there were days where things were going to get messy whether he wanted them to be or not.

Today had ended up being one of those days, and it was rather… bad…

The children had wanted to paint- and Sun… that poor sweet animatronic, wanted to pull out everything. Glitter, glue, googly eyes… glitter glue. Everything, he even took out the stickers!

You were lucky to avoid a lot of the mess- the carnage as you had called it under your breath to Sun as he walked off to hand the last child in the Daycare to their parent.

Sun raises his arm up high in a wide wave as he watches the pair walk away from the Daycare and to the exit of the Pizzaplex. Once they’re far enough away he tugs the massive doors of the Daycare shut and spins on his heel. Now that he was away from the children his rays shrank into his head out of discomfort as his hands locked together and picked at the mess stuck between the creases of his fingers.

Even you were crawling on the inside at the thought, at least you had skin to stop things from getting in between your joints and bones… you couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have muck stuck deep in there.

“Are you having regrets?” You called out, trying to keep your tone light as you reached across the plastic tables scattered across the Daycare to gather up the various drawings left behind… you weren’t sure where Sun wanted him… surely collecting them together would make his job easier.

His rays spun about two rotations before halting and clicking into place.

A glue covered hand stiffly waves you off as he chuckles. “Oh course not Friend!” and he’s already skipping towards you- past you, actually, as he walks to a cabinet that’s too high up for a child to reach even with a stepping stool. He opens it, and takes out a bottle.

“What’s that?”

He darts towards you so you can get a look at the Fazbear branded bottle… Hand sanitizer…

“I use it to get sticky residue off after days like this!” Sun explains. His faceplate lowers to look at your arms. His neck snaps straight up and he nearly snatches the pile of drawings out of your arms and rifles through each piece… The slow rotation of his rays stutters for a moment each time he needs to carefully pull his fingers off of the paper.

“I’ll hang these up once I’m cleaned up!” Sun decides out loud. He walks to one of the plastic seats by a table and makes himself comfortable in an effortless display that he has more balance than you- you always seemed to fall out of the tiny chairs.

Sun puts the drawings to the sides as you follow him.

“You have… a little something right here,” You point to your own cheek and watch as Sun mimics you with his own face. “Glitter glue I think,”

“Oh!”

You take a spot in the seat next to him and try to fit your legs comfortably under the table… you fail, and instead keep your legs folded against your chest.

“You’ve got something too!” Sun suddenly exclaims as his hand approaches you- stopping in midair before continuing with the motion. He carefully pushes the tips of his fingers that were spared from the mess close to your ear.

“I don’t have something in my hair do I?”

Sun quickly whips his hand back and waves a small cloth in the air.

“No! You just had a little something I needed!” Sun chuckled.

“How do you keep doing that? You and Moon do that every other week…”

Sun pauses and thinks for a moment, bottle of hand sanitizer in his hand as he taps his fingers along the outside.

“Magicians never tell!”

You pout, and pull your legs closer as your nose scrunches from the smell of the sanitizer. It was scented, but the stench of the alcohol still cut through it and made itself known… dyed blue with raspberries to mix in with Freddy’s color scheme… actually you were almost surprised they didn’t try to make it pizza scented. With how committed they were with making everything Fazbear themed…

You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Sun’s soft frustrated grunts break the near silence… The cloth he had seemingly pulled out of nowhere was clinging to the glue on his hands- it was leaving some fuzz in patches, too.

Once more you find yourself cringing at the idea of what that must feel like, and in a moment of compassion- or perhaps pity- you reach your mostly nonsticky hands towards the cloth and take it from the animatronics hands.

“Here… It won’t stick to me as bad, I didn’t really participate in your activities today,” You quickly snagged the sanitizer and put a few drops onto the cloth… would it be better to put it on his hands outright?

The animatronic turns his faceplate towards you, but he doesn’t try to fight you on this. “If we’re lucky I won’t need to pick through the…. Bits between your fingers with something….” You pull his offered hand closer, and he busies the other with trying to pick the stickers off of his body.

You push the cloth into the back of his hand and begin scrubbing. It takes a little force, but eventually the once white cloth begins to pick up the colors of the glue and the resistance dies down with each movement. You pause for a moment… “This won’t ruin your paint, right? Are… you guys painted or is it just…”

You didn’t know what you were talking about but Sun understood. He nearly rips one of the stickers in half as he jumps to reassure you.

“No no- and thank goodness! I don’t like going down to maintenance… even if it’s just for a paint touch up!”

You can practically hear him sticking out his tongue in his voice.

“I’ve done this looooooooooads of times before, and there hasn’t been any problem yet!” Sun finishes pulling the sticker off and puts it with the others he managed to get off… there was still some residue of the glue left behind where they once were… scattered everywhere- his faceplate, his arms, and torso. Not one part of him seemed to be spared. You swear you saw one stuck somewhere on one of his rays but they keep rotating too fast for you to get a good look.

“If you say so,” You continue on with your work and finish with the back of his hand… you flip it over, and grab the hand with your other to keep it in place. You were too preoccupied keeping it in place to notice him jolting at your touch.

“Palms aren’t too bad…” You mutter under your breath and move to his fingers. You shift your hand once more and wrap it around his- slipping the tips of your fingers between the gaps of his own to spread them enough to get the cloth through them.

“I didn’t even know you could use hand sanitizer to get rid of glue and stuff… I always used rubbing alcohol…”

“It’s easier to keep on hand than rubbing alcohol, and the kids prefer the smell of them… they like collecting the different characters on the bottles!”

You pause… Of course the company would capitalize where they could, they probably had a design for each character, or at the very least they had one for each of the glamrocks.

“Are there any for you and Moon? I wouldn’t mind having one of those on hand… are they all scented with their own thing? I bet they made your oranges… or maybe lemons? What would Moon’s be? Blueberries?”

Sun’s fingers twitch.

“Lavender.” He says shortly.

You wrap the cloth around one of his fingers and work along it with your hand to relieve it of the glue- making sure to use the nail of your thumb to clean through the creases of each joint.

“I guess that makes sense… naptime and all…”

Sun perks back up, “Mhm! The kids don’t like the scent as much, but I think it’s quite nice!”

You pause.

“But you can’t smell? You don’t…” You trail off as Sun begins to laugh.

“No but I can imagine… I bet you smell nice,” He teased.

“Nah I smell like straight ass actually,” You grin as you wipe the last of his fingers clean and release him from your grasp.

“Language!” He hisses.

You only chuckle softly to yourself as you reach a finger towards the edges of one of his popped out rays and gently push it back to its standard position, or rather, Sun had put it back for you and let you feel like you were able to do something to him.

At least now you were able to see that you were wrong in thinking that there was a sticker slapped onto one of them.

The rest of his rays follow and sink back into his faceplate.

“Give me your other hand, I’ll knock that one out real quick for you!” You make a grabby hand for it, and without further scolding he lets you have at him.

“This one’s not as bad, so it won’t take as long hopefully…” You mumble and get right to work.

You were right.

It didn’t take long at all in order to finish cleaning up his hand… if anything you needed to apply more force behind your scrubbing in order to get the thicker areas off but in the end you were successful in scrubbing his hands clean.

You look at the cloth… once white it was now stained and smudged with pinks and blues and greens and every other color a five year old could get their hands on when humored by an overly excited animatronic.

And glitter… can’t forget the glitter now forever imbedded into the fabric. Cursed to remain until the last dying sun.

You pass it to Sun as you’re not quite sure what to do with it now. Did he want it back? Did he have another or was this his only option?

“Here,” You press it into his shiny hands- except he pushes it back to you.

His rays rotate slowly.

“Can you… get my face, too? I can’t see it, and you clean faster than I can- it’s lights off soon after all! I don’t want to keep you waiting from clocking out, and…” He trails off sheepishly as a quiet giggle resonates from his voicebox.

You blink.

“Oh!”

“I think I can knock that out real quick… just the face? You don’t need any help? No stickers on your back?” You asked. Sun swivels his head backwards and angles the plate downwards. His arms struggle backwards only to be stopped by the sockets.

They built him to be able to turn his head around in a full 360 degrees, but they don’t make his arms flexible enough to be able to reach and fold enough to pick anything off of his back efficiently…

“I’ll get that, too… Moon wouldn’t mind if I pull my phone out for light, right?”

Sun goes quiet for a long moment.

You’re about to repeat yourself before he finally speaks.

“He wouldn’t but only if you play some of your songs for him, he likes them,” Sun hummed and scooted away from the table so you can comfortably walk around him to get what you need done.

“Alright,” You grunt as you push yourself up to your feet- palms pressed to your knees- and shuffle towards the animatronic. “I’ll try to make this quick so neither of you get held back on… whatever it is you do when I’m not around,” You mutter as your fingers hook the bottom of Sun’s faceplate and angle it towards you. He leans right into the movement easily, letting you fully take the reins.

His plate felt warmer than you had expected, but you made no comment on it as you focused on keeping your hand steady so it didn’t slip across his face. It remained like this until the lights of the Daycare shut off…

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queenofthekings · 2 years ago

Note

Babe, wake up, new prompt coming!

I found this cute image on Pinterest and it had me thinking: what if reader spends a whole afternoon crafting these little messages and then she sneakily hides them around Eddie's stuff. Every time he finds one, goes to reader and gives her a kiss, then stores it in a tin box 🩷💋

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼

Summary: You make love letters for Eddie.

Author's note: Mea I'm so sorry it took me forever to write this request! I hope you enjoy it! Also thank you to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple, @ryan-waddell11 and @orchidmunson for their endless encouragement <3

CW: None, just a whole lotta fluff and Eddie being a dork.

Word count: 1.2k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

Being at Eddie’s apartment alone while he was away working wasn’t an uncommon thing for either of you, he had given you a key to his apartment for a reason, after all. Although you two hadn’t made the full step of moving in together yet, you still spent a lot of time at his apartment whenever you could fit it into your schedule.

You were sat at Eddie’s kitchen table with every kind of stationary imaginable scattered all around you; every shade of pink and white paper, felt tip pens, glitter and endless amounts of glue.

Since Eddie’s phone had broken several days beforehand and he was far too busy with work and couldn’t fit it within budget for the month to get it fixed, you decided to make love notes for him to read every day. You made notes for every occasion; if he felt sad, if he did something amazing, he missed you or even just needed to be told he was loved.

Although your arts and crafts skills weren’t perfect and you ended up with far too much glitter and glue all over your fingers, you were still proud of the notes you were able to make. You knew your art teacher from primary school would be proud of what you’d made, even if when you had lessons with her she hated your guts.

You had almost finished the final note and put them in a jar by the time Eddie walked inside, you felt him gently scratch the top of your head before wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Well this is a nice surprise to come home to.”

You felt the warm burn inside your stomach as you squeezed his arm, happy to be back where you felt like you belonged. “I missed you, of course I’d be here.”

It had only been a couple of days since you last saw each other, but it always felt like an eternity. Being with Eddie was the only place you truly felt safe, it was like coming home every time he brought you into his arms.

Before you and Eddie had gotten together; you’d never believed in that kind of stuff, that home could be a person instead of a place and you thought the people who said that stuff were talking nonsense. But now you understood them, and you just had to wait to find your person.

Eddie glanced over at the mess on the kitchen table, not daring to touch anything with his dirty fingers from working on cars all day. “Whatcha doing here, princess?”

You leaned into him, rubbing his arm with your hand. “It’s a surprise.”

He placed a hand over his eyes once you revealed it was a surprise. “I’m not looking, I swear!” he moved away from you, keeping his hand over his eyes, causing you to laugh. “I’m gonna go have a shower, you wanna order a pizza?”

“Sure,” you answered through your continued laughter as Eddie felt around his apartment to get to the bathroom, hitting his feet and legs on various pieces of furniture along the way. Your boyfriend was an absolute dork, but you loved it far too much, although you knew he acted like that just to make you laugh and he couldn’t ever get enough of that laugh.

You waited until he was safely in the shower to finish the last note and put it into the jar before promptly hiding it in your backpack, being sure Eddie would never find it accidently, not that he’d ever go through your belongings, but you were still cautious. After washing your hands thoroughly, you cleared the kitchen table of your project and grabbed your laptop to order pizza.

Sure, phoning Dominos to place your order was easier but Eddie’s pizza orders were always special to put it simply. That man couldn’t settle for a simple margarita pizza to save his life, nay, he had to have some weird combination that changed in a frequent basis. His current favourite pizza? Tandoori chicken and burger sauce with stuffed crust. As odd as it sounded, you did have a slice and it was pretty good, so you couldn’t exactly hate him for that.

You’d just finished placing the order when Eddie came out donned in just a towel, another towel in his hair trying to dry it before lowering it to cover his face completely. “Is it safe to come out?”

You let out another laugh, nodding your head. “Yes, you muppet, it’s safe. Pizza’s been ordered and it should be here in a bit.”

Taking the towel away from his face, he smirked at you and began to slowly walk across his apartment towards you, deliberately allowing his towel to slip down his body. Watching him with a smirk matching his, you shook your head. “Don’t even think about it, mister, we got pizza coming and I don’t wanna get interrupted by the doorbell again.”

He pouted and pulled up the towel, sulking his way into the bedroom. He came back a few minutes later in his usual jeans and dark red hoodie, one you’d frequently steal from him to wear when the weather got a bit cold.

You closed your laptop lid as he wrapped his arms around you again, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head once you rested your back against his chest. The pair of you stayed in content silence until the loud knock on the door to signal your pizzas had arrived. You began to get up, but Eddie placed his hands on your shoulders to keep you seated, “I’ll get them baby,” he murmured into your hair before answering the door.

Eddie had fallen asleep after devouring his pizza and watching a season and a half of Derry Girls while cuddling with you on the couch, his head nestled into the crook of your neck, feeling his breath on your skin with his arms wrapped tightly around your middle, keeping you close to him.

You slowly got out of his grasp, being careful not to wake him up, although Eddie was quite a deep sleeper and not a lot of things woke him up. As quietly as possible, you moved around his apartment, tidying up the pizza boxes before turning off the TV and putting a blanket over Eddie.

Getting the jar out of your backpack, you began to place the notes around Eddie’s apartment; on every table, in some books, in the wardrobe, on the fridge and in every single pocket you could think of. Once you’d finished, you gently shook Eddie awake just enough to get him in bed and properly asleep before you followed him soon after, cuddling into him as you easily fell asleep.

In the morning, you were woken up by an endless amount of kisses all over your face, lips, neck, chest, and hands. At first, you were too sleepy and groggy to fully realise what was happening but as you slowly started to wake up, you moved Eddie’s kisses up to your lips and kissed him back. “What’s all the kisses for?” you whispered against his lips.

Eddie gave you a couple more kisses before answering your question. “I found some of your notes, and I thought since my girl was being so loving with her notes; I thought I would be loving back and wake her up with as many kisses as I can give her before work.”

#spilled ink #requests #lunatictardis #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction

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the-offside-rule · 2 months ago

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Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Ugly Sweater

Day 25 of Christmas

Prompt: Ugly Sweater Contest

25 Days Of Christmas

Happy Christmas!

The camera zooms in on the bustling training ground of FC Barcelona. The players are gathered for a unique challenge, and the atmosphere is electric with excitement. Pablo Gavi and Y/n Y/l/n are at the center of it all, surrounded by an array of colorful fabric paints, glitters, and other crafting materials scattered across a large table. “Hola culers, I am Y/n Y/l/n, here with Pablo Gavi and we are here to see who can make the ugliest Christmas jumper.”

“Vamos, Y/n!” Pablo exclaims, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Who do you think is going to make the ugliest jumper?” Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, a grin spreading across her face. “Please, Pablo. You’re the king of ugly. I’m just here to help you look good for once”

“Yo y lo feo no deberíamos estar en la misma frase. A veces me sorprendes, Y/n.” He responds with a laugh, grabbing a neon green paint. “This is going to be epic!” Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the new word he learned just earlier that week: epic. As they dive into the challenge, they begin painting and glueing random materials onto their sweaters. Y/n grabs a handful of googly eyes, sticking them haphazardly all over her sweater. “Mira, Pablo. Un monstruo.” She declares, giggling. Pablo, not one to be outdone, quickly snatches a handful of bright pink feathers. “Ves esto? I’ll make a flamingo sweater. Que original.”

“Original? Creo que quieres decir horrible.” Y/n teases, sticking a paintbrush covered in blue paint into his hair. “Ese es el punto de este desafío, no?” The crew laughed behidn the camera as Pablo tried dodging the paint, but failing miserably. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Y/n laughed, not meaning to actually paint his hair. Pablo laughs, attempting to swipe the paint off his head but only making it worse. “You’re going to regret that, Y/n. Just wait until I win this challenge!”

As the clock counts down, they both put the finishing touches on their creations. Pablo, with a shirt that looks like a flamboyant bird’s nest, and Y/n, with a monstrous creation covered in eyes and glitter. “Okay, time’s up! Muestra tu suéter!” Yhe crew shouts, eager to see their creations. They step back, proudly displaying their sweaters. Pablo poses dramatically, striking a pose that makes the crew burst into laughter. “Mira esto! El más feo del mundo!” He declares. “More like the most ridiculous.” Y/n laughs, sticking her tongue out at him. They both turn to the camera, their playful rivalry shining through.

“Okay, final round is a catwalk.” Y/n says, glancing at Pablo with a mischievous glint in her eyes. As they both momentarily turned around to put their jumpers on, the crew let out a few quiet laughs. They counted down from 3 and turned to face eachother, looking one another up and down. Y/n hummed. “You know, it’s hard to have an ugly sweater when you have a face like that.” She gestures playfully at him, her words laced with flirtation. Pablo’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, and the crew erupts in laughter. “No te rías de mí!” He protests, trying to hide his embarrassment. But his playful smile gives him away.

“Sorry, Pablito, but you really can’t help it.” Y/n adds, leaning closer as she pretends to inspect his sweater. “Qué dices? I’m handsome?” He grins, his blush deepens. “Pero, mi suéter es más feo.” Y/n scoffs. “Más feo? Have you seen mine?” Y/n raises an eyebrow, unable to contain her laughter. “I think you've lost this challenge, guapo.”

“Alright, alright! Let’s just let the viewers decide who’s the winner.” Pablo says, regaining his composure, but the smile never leaves his face. “But we both know it’s going to be me.”

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puppys-tiny-space · 1 year ago

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🎨Craft prompts for kiddos:🎨

🚀Toilet roll rockets, the roll is the body and you make the wings out of cardboard, then you paint it and add fire out of paper🚀

🎀Paci box, you can get a wood box or cardboard box from a crafting store and then decorate it with stickers, paint, glitter stones, fabric and all sorts of stuff🎀

🍼Paci clips or bracelets, with beads and string you can easily make bracelets or paci clips, most crafting stores have the clip part for pacifier clips and anything else you might need for this craft, you can also use pretty ribbon from seeing stores for the clips🍼

🧸Weighted plushies, first you need a plush of your choice, some fabric, sand and sewing needles, with the fabric you make a ouch and fill it with sand, or other weighted materials of your choice, then you cut a hole into the back of the plushie, take out some stuffing and replace it with the pouch, then sew it back together🧸

🪡Fluffy journal, for this you need a journal, fluffy fabric, glue and anything else you want to decorate it like ribbons, charms, lace or stickers, you open the journal and trace it's shape on the fabric, then cut it out a little bit bigger then the journal itself, then glue it onto the journal and add any other things you want🪡

Fun fact of the day: it is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky

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chilling-seavey · 2 months ago

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Winter Warmers: Day 28 — Lactation & Cozy Hobbies

↳ A/N: I know 'lactation' was supposed to be a kink in this prompt list but I couldn't help but lean into the fluff here!

↳ Summary: Your family has a little craft day in the early days of winter.

↳ Word Count: 999

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

By the time you and George reached your seventh year of parenthood, you had come to terms to the fact that craft time — especially Christmas crafts — were going to involve a lot of glitter. And by a lot, more like you’d be finding remnants of it throughout your upholstery, your carpets, your clothing well into February. Despite the hassle, it was just a staple of childhood, you thought. What better time to make messes than when you were a kid?

You just tried not to cringe too much when your son and daughter ended up with half the glitter container sprinkled all over themselves and the sunroom floor mid-craft. At the kid-sized table, they sat on opposite sides, cutting out paper snowflakes and slathering them in glue and glitter and various other crafty decorations. George was sitting on the floor between them, his phone laying screen up on the table (and certainly receiving its own heaps of glitter into all the technological crevices against his knowledge) with the craft tutorial page open. He was carefully cutting out another paper snowflake, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and his tongue ever so slightly peeking through his lips.

“Make it prettier!” your daughter demanded to him.

“Prettier?” George echoed in half exasperated offence, keeping his voice gentle for her sake, “I’m making them as pretty as I can, jellybean.”

“More frillies.” she stuck her finger towards the lines he was cutting along on the folded piece of printer paper.

George sighed softly, nodding, “More frillies. Yes, ma’am.”

From your spot on the sunroom couch, you reminded your four-year-old, “Say ‘please’ to Daddy.”

With a smile as sweet as his own, your daughter offered to him, “Please, Daddy.”

George just smiled right back. He was never able to stay frustrated with them for long. Not really.

From his other side, your son held up the paper snowflake he had just covered in blue glitter, so much so that when he lifted it vertically, a plethora of glitter fell onto his lap. He beamed, “Look at this one!”

You and George admired his handiwork in shared ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s and brief compliments. It was a routine both of you had perfected over the years. It worked every time. Your son glowed under your praise and went back to decorating another snowflake.

When George had finished cutting out the next one, he carefully unraveled it and showed it to your jury of son and daughter for their opinions. He received rave reviews. He set it in the pile of yet-to-be-decorated snowflakes between them on the table.

With his hands cramping from excess scissor handling, he also set them down on the table for a break. George pushed himself up from the ground with a tired grunt, his knees cracking slightly. He definitely wasn’t as young as he used to be; but you smiled over at him regardless, always finding him incredibly endearing at every phase of life you had gone through together.

He then joined you on the couch, sighing as he settled into the cushions, and glanced over at you. In your arms, your youngest was snuggled in a swaddle, nursing contentedly from your breast. The soft mewls and sighs from the feeding baby was a sound you’d never tire of and, with this now certainly being your last child (the two of you had said that once before, after your second, but life had ways of surprising you), you had to cherish every single moment of it.

George gently caressed his fingertips over the baby’s soft downy hair in little strokes. A content smile was held on his face as he leaned in a little closer to your side to watch the hypnotizing movement of the baby’s lips and jaw moving with every suckle. Breastfeeding wasn’t a strange phenomenon to George; even before you met, he had witnessed it before around his sister, some cousins, and family friends. But, it wasn’t until he had kids of his own and a wife of his own that he really fell into the magic of it.

It was a wonder, watching you feed and nourish your children from the moment they took their first breaths, providing for them so naturally right from your body. It felt like a blessing—one not every woman was able to experience—and neither of you ever took it for granted.

Every time, when there was a lull in the craziness of your life and George could have a second to just watch you like that, he always felt his heart start to race. Just a little faster. So warm and full of love for you and your family, a protectiveness swelling up inside him like the strongest human nature, so raw and real.

George leaned his head back a little to look at your face and you turned yours to meet his gaze. The two of you shared in a content smile, gentle and true, and like part of the same wavelength, you both leaned in just enough to meet halfway for a quick kiss. He then rested his cheek against your shoulder, snuggled up on the couch side by side, his fingers still tracing the soft hair of the baby’s head and down to the full cheeks that flexed with each impressive suckle.

The screech of a chair across the floor had you both looking over to your son and daughter at their craft table. Your daughter was jumping up to show off her creation, bringing over the newest snowflake of her collection.

Stopping in front of you, she held up the sticky and glittery snowflake towards the unbothered newborn, “Look, baby!”

In her haste, a flurry of glitter fluttered down right onto the baby’s face and, ultimately, at the same time, over your breasts. The newborn was unbothered, but the adult humor behind the sight of your glittered chest had George snorting from beside you, eyes trained downwards.

All you could say to keep from laughing was a flat, “Oh—”

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#🩵#twig mini drabbles #twig winter warmers special #george russell x reader

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jerzwriter · 4 months ago

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Thank you to @liaromancewriter and @peonierose for these prompts. I decided to merge them into one fic. I hope you enjoy them and Happy Halloween! 🎃

Story: Open Heart (Book 3 timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 867 Summary: Casey can become a little obsessed when she wants something to be just right. But will another obsession thwart her plans?

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge Picktober - Laughing & cuddling

Tobias looked at his phone for the umpteenth time. It was 8:00 PM, and he still hadn't heard a word from Casey. No calls. No texts. Nothing. It had been like this for days now, and if it weren't for her roommates, he would have thought he had done something terribly wrong or that she had been abducted by aliens. Thankfully, Sienna knew he was worried and kept him in the loop.

“You know she's pretty passionate about things. Once you two agreed to a couples costume for Halloween... there has been nothing but tulle and ribbons flying around our place.”

“But we didn’t even agree on a costume yet,” Tobias insisted.

“T. Casey has been locked in her room working on this for days... I’ve had to slide food and drink in her door to make sure she stays alive... if I were you, I’d just go along with whatever she picked for the good of humanity.”

That was the final straw. If her roommates weren’t going to do a wellness check on his girlfriend, he'd have to do it himself. So he rushed over to her apartment, and Elijah let him in. He warned Tobias; he had no idea what Casey was like when she was fixated like this. Undeterred, Tobias headed to her room

“Godspeed,” Jackie called out, not bothering to look up from her magazine as Tobias walked by.

He stood outside the door and knocked, concern and curiosity on his face. “Babe?” he said softly. “Are you alive in there?”

“Just barely,” she sighed through the door. “But do not come in here! You’ll distract me!”

Tobias chuckled with amusement; he found this crazy side of her irresistible. “Hon, I promise I won’t distract you. I just want to see you and make sure you’re still breathing.”

“Baby,” she retorted. “Be real. If I’m in a bedroom with you, I’m gonna be distracted.”

“Point taken,” he laughed. “It might not be safe to tell you this... but I stopped by the store and got us costumes. An angel, for you, and a devil, for me. I thought that was perfect for us.”

The door flew open in a flash, and Casey appeared, fire in her eyes as she stared him down. “Oh, no, no, no. No. You've made the mistake of thinking that just because this is a couples costume, you get any kind of say in it.” She crossed her arms, giving him a half-amused grin. “You don’t, actually.”

Tobias held his hands up in mock surrender, a grin spreading across his face. “All right! This is not the hill I choose to die on. Now, can I come in, please?”

She considered saying no, but the desperation in his voice was hard for her to ignore. “Fine,” she gave in, “but only if you behave yourself. I’m almost done, and I won’t let you get in the way now.”

He crossed his heart, but the hint of mischief in his eyes should have served as a warning. Stepping inside, he shook his head when he saw the chaotic mess of fabric, glue, and glitter scattered around her room. He picked up a beautifully made black-and-white striped jacket lying on Casey’s bed, next to it, a deep red bridal gown.

“Beetlejuice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey gasped playfully. “Be careful! Don't say it two more times! Or else!"

He had to laugh. “Why Beetlejuice, though?”

“Because we love the movie, and Beetlejuice has it so bad for Lydia. Just like you have it so bad for me.”

“But Lydia didn’t have it bad for Beetlejuice,” he pointed out.

Casey crossed the room, a seductive smirk on her lips. Wrapping her arms around him, she planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Well…we can rewrite that part of the story.”

Tobias took in a deep breath, his promise not to distract her already a distant memory.

“Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’m definitely breaking my promise to behave.”

Casey smiled, running a hand down his chest as she replied. “Well, in that case, it’s a good thing I’m basically done.”

That was all it took for his lips to come crashing on hers. The meticulously laid out costumes were gently pushed aside, and the two of them ended up, limbs tangled, on her bed. The sound of their laughter and kisses filled the room, and costume making time was officially over.

Just a couple rooms away, the roomies looked at each other, eyes rolling as they heard the muffled giggles coming from behind Casey's door.

Elijah looked at Sienna with a grin, extending his palm as she plopped a ten-dollar bill into it. “I called it,” he laughed. “Ten minutes, tops, with those two! Tops! He needs to come by more often. This is easy money for me!”

Jackie shook her head. "I have to admit, Beetlejuice is the perfect choice because Casey has his levels of obsession with that costume and with Tobias!”

Sienna smiled, seemingly unfazed over losing the bet. “Honestly? They’re a perfect pair! But,” she turned to Elijah. “You may want to put that ten toward a white noise machine. If he keeps passing by, it will help us all!”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #open heart fanfic #open heart choices #choices open heart #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #tobias x casey #halloween fics

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